What really matters

Summer's been quite the roller coaster ride, and I'm not even a month in.  So far, in chronological order, it's featured:

1) Nathan's appendicitis
2) Tornadoes at home while I was in Kansas and my 3 days post-surgery child (who, at 18, is hardly a child but still my baby) was home alone.  Once again I drop in the Mother of the Year rankings.
3) Yet another DNF at Dirty Kanza.
4) The death of one of my former students, a 9 year old boy who had been fighting a brain tumor for basically his entire life.

And in order of importance, some updates...

1) Joshua was the coolest little kid, sweet and funny and very much his own person.  In his 9 years, he touched an amazing number of people, including the entire St. Louis University mens' basketball team.  I hope you click that link, read the post, and watch the video.  It's worth a few minutes of your time, both to see that sweet boy and his wonderful family, cheerful and uncomplaining in the face of being dealt a pretty cruddy hand of health cards, and to see what great men those SLU boys are.  Jake, the player in the interview with Joshua, spoke at his funeral, and I could only hope to be as eloquent.  Joshua's dad also spoke, displaying the kind of grace, faith, and strength that have marked every interaction I've ever had with the family.  The funeral truly was a celebration of Joshua's life, one richly lived in spite of its short duration, and if I spent an awful lot of time crying there was also laughter.

2) Nathan's all recovered and hoping to play in a volleyball tournament with his dad on Friday night. 

Pretty typical of what our trails looked like post-storm

3) Despite significant storm damage in town including many tree limbs down on our street, we didn't have more than a small branch or two down.  It's almost like there was a bubble over my house.

4) Though looking at this list definitely puts DK's importance in perspective, I won't pretend I'm not disappointed.  Worse than last year, even, when I felt more proud of my effort.  But I'm going to use a quote from my friend Aaron: "There is no failure, only feedback."  So here's my feedback:

Pictures don't do justice to how beautiful and BIG it is out there.  You just have to be there.

• The race: Kansas is beautiful.  Those gravel roads are super cool.  The race is such an experience. I was afraid that with so many more racers this year (between the different distances going on race day, there were nearly 1000 riders competing) that things would be too crowded or congested, but that wasn't the case at all.
• Equipment: The bike (Airborne Delta CX) was great, no mechanicals, no complaints.  The tires (Continental Travel Contacts) were bombproof and will be my go-to tires again next year. 
• Nutrition: Using the Camelbak was absolutely the right choice for me.  While I probably should have eaten more pre-race, I did much better staying on top of nutrition though I kind of shot myself in the foot by bringing some foods which worked for me (nuts and dried fruit) but were difficult to access/eat on the go.  If I'm going to use those again I've got to have something like a mountain feed bag next year.
• Training: While I did go out in "not great" weather, I never really forced myself out in bad weather.  I focused on getting in miles rather than getting in miles at a certain pace; that's great if all you have to do is finish but not so awesome if you have a time cut-off.  I didn't ride nearly enough miles.  I was trained to finish if everything went well.  Next year I want to be trained to finish, period.
• Quitting: Quittting is like eating too much pizza or that extra big bowl of ice cream...it feels so good when you're doing it, but once it's done you're miserable and uncomfortable.  I had valid reasons for quitting -- I still don't think I could have made that third checkpoint in time -- but I still wish I'd ridden that third leg.  Next year I need to bring a stronger mental game.  Monika Sattler, who took second place at DK, had a great post about what it takes to finish something like this or Trans Iowa.

Nice words :)

If you were paying attention you might have noticed the phrase "next year" creeping in there.  Whether it's a case of being a glutton for punishment or not knowing my own limits, I'm not ready to give up yet.  Hopefully, as a couple friends have suggested, it's a case of third time's a charm.  What's the half-life of kryptonite, anyway?

The silver lining to falling far short of ones goals is that the recovery period is pretty brief, and the week after the race looked like this:

Monday: ride 12 miles, hike 2.5 checking out storm damage
Tuesday: run 6 trail miles (my first running since April 13)
Thursday: run 6 trail miles
Friday: hike 3 miles
Saturday: mountain bike 6 miles

It's a little different from last year, when I basically sat on the couch for the three weeks between DK and the Indian Camp Creek 12-hour.  I had plenty of time to do whatever I wanted since my husband and youngest were in Colorado for Jeff's family's vacation, which I'd skipped due to money and because I'd already committed to DK. It wasn't particularly fun to see the pictures and hear all about what I was missing, but I was also missed.

J reading to me from the journal he kept while they were gone.

My independent, doesn't-really-need-his-mommy boy has been much more snuggly since they got back.


At Six Flags on Monday

And then on Tuesday this happened.

The boy who really didn't want to ride a bike is out on singletrack!

We'd talked about mountain biking in the past, and he'd never been interested.  For whatever reason, suddenly he's up for it.  We went to Cliff Cave Park, where the trails are just right for a beginner.

Any time there's a tree to climb is a bonus

He was pretty tentative for our first lap, but the second one went much faster, enough so that he was making me nervous with how (relatively) fast he was going.  He had to walk most of the uphills, but he didn't get frustrated about it, and he was carving turns like he'd been on trails before. 

He had a couple of small falls, and then right towards the end took a switchback too fast and crashed hard.  He didn't want any part of riding his bike for a while, so we pushed them as we headed off in search of the way out.  Eventually I coaxed him into getting on and just coasting downhill, and before long he was riding again. He certainly hasn't let me forget that he crashed, though...or that he wouldn't have fallen if I'd gone the right way back to our car.

It's thirsty work mountain biking on a 95* day.

  In all, we rode a little over three miles.  And guess who wants to go back tomorrow. :)

Curses, foiled again! (Dirty Kanza 2013)

As astute readers might surmise from the title, my return to Dirty Kanza wasn't quite the triumph I'd envisioned. Quite the opposite, really.

108 miles. Contrast that with the 160 miles I managed last year on just one month of training, and you might detect a hint of failure in the air. It's ok, I can smell it too, a scent enhanced unwittingly by a couple things I saw/heard. But I'll get to that later.

Two weeks before Dirty Kanza I started stalking the 10-day forecast for Emporia, Kansas. DK200 has a history of brutal weather conditions...temps into the hundreds, strong winds, even a scary storm one year. Last year's pleasant temperatures and light winds were a bit of a freakish aberration, one I hoped would repeat itself at this year's event. The forecast started out reasonable and then cooled further, and by race day a high in the low 70's was predicted. While the temperatures looked favorable, the precipitation threatened to be a little less so as it bounced from moderate chances of rain to dry skies and back again. In the end, while the Emporia area got pretty well soaked in the days leading up to the race, we lined up at the start line with a 0% chance of rain and winds forecast of 15-25 mph.

A couple of points before I go on...

1. The weather is part of the deal when you sign up for Dirty Kanza or, really, any race. Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don't. I feel pretty confident that I could've finished the race in the weather we had last year, but that's like saying I could've gone faster if the whole course was downhill: that's not the race I was at.

2. The wind kicked my ass; however, 331 people, over half of the field, fought through the wind and did finish. It could definitely be done; I just wasn't tough enough this year.

Lining up for the start with the Granada Theater lit up on the right.

Race start was 6:00 a.m., and though we were there in plenty of time to get everything prepped, 5:55 saw me sprinting down the block to the bathrooms in the Granada Theater. Organized as I'd been that morning, somehow I hadn't made time to take care of that all-important bathroom stop, a matter which had become urgent. As if I wasn't calling enough attention to myself with the mad dash, Luke advertised my plight by shouting, "Kate's going to POOP!! Good luck pooping Kate!!" Matters taken care of in record time, I rejoined my team amid cheers and congratulations for my successful mission. We got to see and wish luck to Team TOG, the Lederhosens, and the ROCK Racing crew before the start, which we basically missed bc we'd lined up so far back that we were behind the Half Pint (110 mi version) riders.

That's the view behind us at the start.

Team picture: Travis, Austin, Robby, Luke, Bob, Casey, me, Adam.  Friends Justin (visible between Robby and Luke) and Robin (next to Adam) also in the picture.  Photo credit: Sarah Brown

We rolled out of town, down the pavement and onto the first stretches of gravel.  All of my training has definitely paid off, because I was far more comfortable on gravel this year than last year.  Robby had started ahead of the rest of us, and Casey shortly took off too, wanting to log miles while he was feeling good. 

The recent rains, as well as the 600+ riders in front of us, had left the roads pretty smooth and dust-free, and the first leg of the race had a distinct lack of headwinds.

Race start was at the top of the picture, in Emporia.

Remember that the winds were out of the northwest.  You'll notice that, other than a couple of short stretches towards the beginning of the race, the first leg was primarily south and east.  This resulted in a lot of tailwind during the first 50 miles.  Luke, Bob, Adam, Travis, Austin, our friend Justin, and I rolled together for quite a while.  It was a great time.  Luke, hopped up on his first Spike energy drink in who knows how long, was displaying the manic energy of a hyperactive puppy who's just escaped the yard.  It was pretty hilarious, and we all pretty much had a blast as we rode and joked around.

All of the recent rain had been reason for concern about the condition of the B roads.  Basically dirt farm roads, they can quickly become a muddy mess once they get wet.  Luckily, there was only one muddy section on the first leg, and the previous day's dry weather and earlier riders had dried and packed this segment into something mostly rideable.  Thanks, fast people!

Photo credit: Chuck Vohsen

Last year I only made it about 25 miles with the group before dropping off.  This year was a little better and I was always at least near another teammate on the first leg, but while the guys kept remarking on the relative lack of difficulty, I wasn't finding it nearly as easy.  Much like the first half of Cedar Cross, I was having a harder time than I'd expected in keeping up.  Watching the growing calorie count on my Garmin I wondered if my struggling was partially a fueling issue and started trying to eat even more. 

Nutrition was a mixed bag for me on this race.  Early this year I'd decided to go with more of a liquid fuel strategy to accommodate for my shaky handling and difficulty in letting go of the bars to eat, but I never moved from the research to implementation stage.  Another big fail was bringing food that was difficult for me to eat on the bike; one thing I'd used successfully on training rides was a mixture of nuts and dried fruit, but without a mountain feed bag or something similar it was too hard for me to actually get them out to eat.  Luckily I also had rice cakes, almond joy bars, Slim Jims, Ensure, and sport beans.  One thing I remembered this year was to open all of my food packages before taking off so that I could easily get to them.

Anyone who thinks Kansas is flat just hasn't been to the right parts.

We stopped at the top of this hill for a bathroom stop.  As you can see from the picture, it's just wide open.  You could see forever.  Thankfully my awesome teammates made a man wall for me so I had a little privacy to pee. 

Hills are always my nemesis.  I'm not as strong as the guys, so I fall behind going up, and I'm a huge chicken, so I really get dropped on the downhills.  While I have a long way to go, I'm slowly getting my big girl panties closer to my waist, to the point where as I rode past Bob on one hill he commented, "It's like watching a little bird leave the nest!" Of course, there are always things to remind me why I'm so timid.  At the bottom of a big hill we passed a group surrounding a woman on the ground on the side of the road.  Her face was covered in blood and it looked like she'd knocked out a couple of teeth.  Bob told me later, "I was hoping you didn't see that," but that's pretty much what I picture every time I go downhill.  Since she was already surrounded and we didn't have any skills to offer, we rode on.  Hopefully she was ok.

There were a lot of water crossings on this leg, and I was always happier when I was close enough to watch the guys go through first so I knew how deep the water was and where a safe line was.  Not all of the crossings were little, though.  Coming down one hill we saw jeeps and a lot of water.  I really appreciated the volunteers being there so that we knew it was safe to cross.  Bob rode the whole way across, but being gun-shy after listening to my screaming bike for 20 miles at Cedar Cross (and probably incapable of riding all the way across anyway) I opted to shoulder my ride.

I was also glad to be carrying my cross bike and not my two-ton mountain bike.  Photo credit: Luke Lamb

About midway through the first leg had started to feel a little better, though looking at the elevation profile I'm thinking that's probably a function of the downhill trend of the second 25 miles.

Whatever the reason, we cruised into CP1 in Madison, KS, to the cheers of our fantastic support crew.  They updated us on Robby and Casey (doing awesome) and got us all set for the next leg.  I felt good and was trying to avoid sitting down because I hoped to minimize my stops and didn't want to get too comfortable.  I was really glad to be able to change into some dry socks while the girls refilled water bottles and made sure we had what we needed.  After 15-20 minutes we were on the move again and faced almost immediately with a big hill.  Boo.

At the top of the hill, though, were three little kids standing at the side of the street giving.  We all rode close enough for a high five, and the little girl told me, "I've only seen like one girl today!"  I told her there aren't many of us silly enough to be out there (though I think there were over 40 women registered for the full 200).  Pretty soon we were back onto the gravel and experiencing a serious drop in our ride satisfaction index.

Remember when I mentioned the winds coming from the northwest?  If you look at the map, you'll notice that the vast majority of leg 2 was due west.  The wind was brutal and nothing if not consistent. In the leadup to the race, Travis had suggested using a paceline to work together and this seemed to be the perfect time for it.  Drafting on a bike always makes me nervous (who me? Go figure), and doing so on the unpredictable gravel surface took that to a whole new level.  It ended up that my nerves didn't really come into play, though, because I only made it through the first person's pull.  On the second person, we started uphill and I was really struggling to keep up.  Not wanting to ruin it for all the people behind me, I dropped out and watched the guys ride off.

Obligatory picture of minimum maintenance sign

Well, shit.  I'd hoped that my better training would help me keep up, but I've ridden alone in Kansas before.  I spent as much time in the drops as I could manage and kept pedaling, watching as my pace dropped down into the single digits.  Around mile 60 I came across Austin stopped in the road looking at his map.  "You ok?" I asked him.

"I think I'm going to drop out.  I can't ride into this wind for another 40 miles."

Not having actually looked at my map and ever the optimist, I told him that surely eventually we'd turn out of the wind.  Maintaining that sunny disposition was a little harder when he showed me the westward trend of the map, but I pointed out that we had a few turns ahead of us that might give us a break.  Then Bob rolled up and asked what was going on.  "I'm thinking about quitting," Austin told him.

"Well...." Bob said, "Think about it a little longer."

Shortly after this we hit the anticipated turn, which was unfortunately north into a headwind that seemed just as strong, and about two miles later we turned back to the west.  It was like being trapped in a gigantic wind tunnel no matter which way you were going.  I started telling myself to get to mile 65 and then I could walk for a minute, just so I wasn't riding into the unrelenting wind.  Just 5 miles before I'd helped convince Austin to keep going, and now I was wondering how I'd make it any further, wanting to stop but knowing there was no way I could write on my blog that I'd only made it 65 miles.

The long-awaited turn to have the wind at our backs.  You can see the flags on the route markers blowing and my twitter friend Cody, who I met in person on the course, in front of Austin.

This turn was the beginning of a 10-mile section that gave me a new lease on life.  Having a break from the wind was a huge relief.  We hit a pretty sketchy downhill with much bigger rocks than the normal gravel, and Austin took it much faster than I did but had to stop to go back and get a water bottle he'd dropped.  I crept downhill and rather than stopping just pedaled easily waiting for him to catch up.  When he did, Adam was with him.  I fell behind on some uphills, and pretty soon the boys were out of sight and I was on my own again.

I passed Austin again around the 75 mile mark and made sure he didn't need anything.  "You'll be on your way again soon, right?" I asked, and his unenthusiastic response made me wonder if I was going to be seeing a crew car on its way before long.  Once I turned back west I was hoping not to see one of our crew out on a pickup because I was afraid I'd give in and ask for a ride too.

In a kind of cruel twist, the last 20 miles of this leg was both primarily uphill and into a strong wind.  I remembered this section from last year's race, and when I wasn't wishing for death I could appreciate the difference in how I felt.  It's hard to tell from the picture, but between 80 and 90 there are a bunch of rolling hills, and last year I did a lot of walking here.  OK, this year I did a lot of walking too, but it was more strategic.  I rode until my pace dropped down and I felt like I was struggling too much, and then I'd walk.  At the top of the hill, I'd climb back down and shoot downhill.  Of course, "shoot" is a bit of an exaggeration due to the wind; even pedaling downhill I was lucky to get above 15 mph.

I passed Kyle from Orange Lederhosen, who was feeling really nauseous and struggling.  We talked for a minute and I gave him some ibuprofen before riding on.  I kept looking at my Garmin and doing the math with grim results.  Before the turn out of the wind I'd been pretty certain there was no way I could make the cutoff, but those downhill miles with a tailwind had boosted my pace enough that there was a chance.  24 miles in 3 hours...I can do that....that's only 8 mph.  17 miles in about 2 hours...I've got a chance, that's just under 9 mph...15 miles in 1.5 hours...ummmm....is that 10 mph??  My math skills suffer along with my body as I get more tired.

Eventually I saw Adam ahead of me and caught up.  He pulled ahead of me on a hill, and as I crested the top I saw him stop and turn around.  There was a long snake crossing the road.

You can't really tell from the picture, but this guy's at least 3 feet long.

I'd seen a ton of snakes along the course, including one huge one -- seriously, its body looked as thick as those big snakes you see in the zoo -- but this might have been the first live snake I saw.  And honestly, that's one too many for me.  We plugged away against the wind, and I felt bad that Adam had to hear the repeated sniffle - cough - spit - gasp that I'd been doing for the last 40 or so miles as my medicine wore off and my sinus infection spoke up.

The worst was the wind, though.  I know I keep mentioning it, but I had such a hard time against it, and it was so demoralizing to be constantly riding into it.  For so much of this leg I just wanted to sit down in the middle of the road and cry.  It was such a different experience from my first Kanza experience.  Last year, my body hurt so badly and everything felt so hard.  This year, it was tough and my MawMaw hip acted up at times, but overall my body felt pretty good.  I was just exhausted, even more mentally than physically, from fighting against the wind.  I hated the race and Kansas in a way I never did last year and decided I was finished with Dirty Kanza.

I'd hoped to make it to the second checkpoint before going to the bathroom again, but by mile 95 I really couldn't wait any longer.  I felt 1000% better afterwards and my pace jumped up (although now looking at the elevation profile, it seems that this improvement was probably partially a function of the downhill trend of the last 5 miles). When I caught up with Adam, he asked if I wanted to try to make the cut-off.  I did, so I jumped on his wheel and we pushed hard towards Cassaday, the site of CP2.  We'd had about 3 miles of pavement on the way into the first CP, and I was hoping for a repeat, but instead we were on gravel almost the entire way.  It's hard to complain too much about that, though, because the gravel was pretty smooth and packed.  Still, it wasn't hard to find things to complain about after 100 miles.

As we neared the town, Adam told me, "I almost want to just stop here and wait until the cut-off is over." I responded that I was pretty comfortable with making the cutoff and saying I'd had enough. Without a map showing a less windy third leg, I was finished.  I just didn't have the spirit to fight that wind any longer.  We made it into the CP with 8 minutes to spare (a full 5 minutes ahead of my previous year's 3-minutes before cut-off).  Austin and Bob were there, having been picked up around mile 78.  Robby and Casey were long gone, and the rest of the team had beaten us in by several minutes.

This time I was happy to sit down. When our crew asked what I needed, I said I didn't know. Looking at the map for leg 3, there was a 14 mile stretch with a tailwind followed by the remainder of the leg into the wind. I couldn't do it. Michelle reminded me that I'd said the same thing last year and then later was happy I'd gone out, and Luke said I could ride out with him as long as I knew he'd be slow (having trained for an ultra this year, he hadn't really been on his bike since the end of April and still rode circles --sometimes literally -- around me for the first 100 miles). Everyone on the team was going back out to at least see how they felt, though I think it was kind of a game of chicken. If one person didn't go, there might have been a lot more dropping.

Totally faked smile

Very unenthusiastic and resigned, I ate half of the sandwich Michelle had picked up for me while Austin got the light on my bike.  Having left CP 2 with only a dim headlamp and no intention of staying out on course for long enough to need it only to spend 3.5 hours alone in the dark, I wasn't taking any chances this time.  After a long break, we reluctantly rolled out with around 5 hours left to ride 52 miles and, with the majority of the leg into a headwind, little chance of actually making the third cutoff.

Since the first 14 miles were east, we had a nice tailwind.  Even so, none of us felt great.  The rolling hills were pretty fun, though, as I was too tired to bother with braking when each downhill just fed into the next incline.  Some of the guys were making noises about quitting, and while part of me wanted to go on more of me was just waiting for someone to drop.  8 miles from the checkpoint, Luke and Adam were ready to call it.  Travis, his friend Garrett, and I stood there for a minute.

I was torn.  I didn't feel great but didn't feel terrible.  I could definitely ride a little longer.  On the other hand, I really didn't want to face that wind again and was convinced there was no way I could make the cut-off.  I knew I could eventually make it to the CP, likely far faster than I went last year, but I wasn't going to get there in time and this year CP3 was at mile 152, still 8 miles shorter than I went in 2012. I rode by myself last year in the dark.  It sucked, but I did it.  I really didn't feel like I had anything to prove or to gain by doing it again this year.  I signed on for the ride back.

What we think of the wind.

I'm disappointed.  I'm disappointed I wasn't able to finish or at least surpass what I did last year, and frankly I'm disappointed in myself for quitting.  But it's easy to sit here in my computer chair and say that when the wind is a memory and not the reality, and it was very sweet to get to be at the finish line cheering when Emily, Casey, Robby, and Aaron crossed.  I wish I'd been there to see my other friends finish, especially Chuck who did so many training rides with me and whose DFL, I'm here to tell you, far surpasses a DNF.  And if the sting of watching the finish line and crossing it myself wasn't sharp enough, there were a couple of unwitting twists of the knife. 

First was a conversation with a friend (who is a total badass) after she finished.  I'd mentioned her hope that conditions would be terrible and someone asked why she'd want that.  "Because if it was really bad out, other people would quit, and I wouldn't."  Ouch.  And then this picture that I saw posted.

I did quit.  I didn't want it badly enough.  Those things wouldn't hurt if they weren't true.  If you'd asked me during the race I'd have sworn this was my last attempt, but with a little distance, that's not a sure thing.  I keep thinking, Ok, I was trained to finish under favorable conditions, next year I need to be able to finish, period.  Next year?  What am I saying?  So thanks to everyone who cheered me on and encouraged me.  I really appreaciate all the support, and I'm sorry if I let you down.  Huge thanks to my awesome teammates and our fantastic support crew.  I couldn't ask for a better group of friends.  And thanks to Kansas, for another lesson in humility and my limits.

To be continued...maybe

Dirty what?

A quick look back through my blog posts since February will give evidence of the main track my mind has been traveling over the past four months, and "track" is a good term for it because some of the roads I'll be riding in Kansas are little better than dirt tracks between farm fields.  That's right, Dirty Kanza weekend is almost here. 

I've reread my posts about last year's race, especially the section about my feelings about my DNF, over an over again.  I've read and reread every other race report I could find, not even so much for information as to relive it through someone else.  I bought a new bike (and even made sure it was all tuned up for the race).  I've tried to turn over a new leaf as far as training, with moderate success.

May '12 is basically every training mile I rode before last year's race.  This year, I have 888 since the beginning of Feb.

I've ridden a lot of challenging gravel miles.  Thank goodness for Chuck, who got roped into this crazy race and lives much closer to me than my teammates.  He was way more conscientious with his training than I was, but he was always up for a training ride...and for figuring out where and how far and when we should meet.

Part of our North Hermann ride, perhaps my favorite of the year.

I've worked on my nutrition and know things that work for me. Perhaps more importantly, I've learned several times over how important it is to keep eating...something that tends to elude me on the bike despite never being an issue in real life.  And hey, I'm not riding my saddle for the very first time in a 200 mile race (like I did last year...not recommended and yet very much the right decision for me).

In short, I've done pretty well for me.  I spent the long weekend fighting a sinus infection and doing family stuff and planned to start packing yesterday.  And then Nathan woke up with a bad stomachache. 

The medicine didn't really help, so by 9:30 we were sitting in our doctor's office.  I always go into his appointments with him, but yesterday I thought, He's almost 19...he can go in by himself, and stayed in the waiting room.  That lasted until our doctor poked her head out the door and motioned me back.  Uh oh.  "I'm worried about appendicitis," she told me.

Along with appendicitis, I was worried about the fact that we're still paying on the boy's last surgery, so when she told us we could go home and see if the pain went away (if it wasn't appendicitis) before going for a CT scan I was up for that plan.  Nathan napped, and while I could've spent that couple of hours getting things together, instead I spent it freaking out and crying about medical bills.  But that's OK, because then I had it out of my system when he woke up still in pain.

Nathan was actually scheduled to see the doctor who did his previous surgery that very day and I had hoped we'd finish with the scans in time to cross the parking lot to the other office, but when his appointment time came we were still waiting for results.  I called the doctor to explain why we were missing, and he asked if I wanted him to find out the results.  It was a short jump from getting my answers to offering to do the operation, which is how my boy was in surgery within two hours and home by 9:00 yesterday evening.  A stressful day, made so much better by someone I knew and trusted stepping in and taking care of things.

Today, Nathan is sore but recovering.  Even though he's 18 I feel a little guilty leaving him on his own for the weekend right after surgery.  I'm leaving tomorrow evening, and I have almost nothing ready.  I spent tonight watching Harry Potter with my boys.  It'll all get done, or it won't.  It's so weird to have been thinking about this race so much for the last few months and now feel so...huh...it's almost here.  Detached, I guess. 

I'm sure the excitement (or terror) will kick in once we're on the way.  I've got a lot of online friends I'm looking forward to meeting this weekend, and every trip I take with Team Virtus is a blast.  You never know what will happen with weather or mechanicals, but if everything goes well I think I can finish.  Not fast, but honestly just dragging my ass across the finish line will be win enough for me.  We leave at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning, and I'll try to post some updates on my facebook page or the SuperKate page; remember that my phone is my only way of calling for a rescue, so I'll probably keep the posting to a minimum.  You can also check for updates on the Team Virtus facebook page, where hopefully our crew can post some information about how it's going. 

Also, good luck to Cory, Cheri, and Christina, who are all tackling their own monster events on Saturday.  I can't wait to hear all about it!

Broemmelsiek +

With all the gravel riding I've been doing as Dirty Kanza prep, it's been easy to ignore my other bikes.  The road bike has been languishing on the trainer ever since February, when my cross bike arrived, and the mountain bike has been resentfully lurking in the garage, waiting for its turn for fresh air.  Despite really really wanting to do well ("well" defined as finishing) at DK, though, one of my major goals for the year was to improve on the mountain bike.  This goal, like my bikes, has been sadly neglected. Goals aside, I really love mountain biking, though this love is complicated by layers of fear and self-loathing interspersed with dashes of joy, relief, and pride.  I've never stuck with something so difficult for me in my life.  Well, except my first marriage, and mountain biking is definitely more rewarding than that.

When the Broemmelsiek race showed up on the schedule two weeks before Dirty Kanza, I decided to do the 3 hr race and then ride gravel afterwards. That would give me three hours of mountain bike practice as well as some additional training miles.  I wasn't the only one thinking along these lines.

Great minds think alike!

So that was the plan, though my excitement tapered as the race neared. I rode Cliff Cave with a friend on Monday, and the fun swoopy trails had instilled some confidence in me.  This was reversed Wednesday night when I felt much more slow and tentative on my home trails.  Then Friday night I woke up remembering a tricky root followed by a short, sketchy downhill where I'd struggled last time I rode Broemmelsiek.  Nerves commenced.  Having been chastised by a friend for my relentless negativity about my (lack of) skills, though, I made a real effort NOT to say anything negative (out loud) during my pre-race preparations.

Marathon (the 3 hr division - as many laps as you can ride in the time given), Cat 3 (they ride 2 laps), and Juniors all started at 9:30: first marathon men, then marathon women, then cat 3 men, then cat 3 women, then juniors.  Since I was racing marathon, that left basically all of the cat 3 men and likely all the women and juniors to pass me within the first section of the race.  The thought of being passed used to really stress me out (I'm not competitive enough to care that someone's passing me, but I don't want to hold anyone up), but once I started racing I realized it's not a big deal.  The cool person to douchebag ratio is super high among the people I've encountered in the St. Louis mountain biking scene, and it's not as hard to get out of the way as I'd feared.  On the other hand, having to constantly get out of the way is a pain, so it was a relief once they were all past.

Each lap started with a slight downhill into a creek crossing, then a climb to the field.  Broemmelsiek has wooded areas connected by prairie paths.  Due to the wet weather, the field paths were badly eroded and hadn't had much bike traffic to smooth them out.  Never a particularly fun section of the race, the joy was compounded by the near 90 degree temperatures as the race went on.  This being my first ride in real heat, I struggled, and the realization that everyone else was dealing with the same conditions wasn't much comfort.

Don't I look like I'm having fun?  (Photo credit: Mike Dawson)

If the fields kind of sucked, though, the wooded sections were pretty awesome.  While my pace was nothing to write home about by anyone else's standards, it was good for me.  Better yet, I felt much more comfortable and confident on the singletrack than is typical for me.  I spent most of the first lap waiting for the tricky section I remembered from 2011, and when I reached it I went over the root with no problem and down the loose rock of the hill without stopping.  Progress! If nothing else, this year's race serves as a benchmark showing that yes, two years of mountain biking have led to improvement.

Compared to other racers' pictures from the day, I'm still very stiff. (Photo credit: Mike Dawson)

The laps ended with a gravel downhill that was a blast, back through the beginning creek crossing, and across the grass to a hairpin turn in front of the feed zone, where you could stop for a new bottle/nutrition or head back out past the scoring table.  Though each lap ended with this easy opportunity to eat something, I struggled more with nutrition in this setting than I do on a long point-to-point ride or race. I'm not steady enough to eat much of anything on the bike, let alone get it out of my jersey pockets, and my instinct at the end of the lap was always to go back out right away rather than stop.  I did stop after a couple laps for a quick GU or some bites of an energy bar, but I definitely didn't eat enough or at well-timed intervals.  I'm sure that contributed to how crappy I felt as the race went on.

One thing I did right was wearing my Camelbak.  I'd considered just using bottles, but again because of my bike handling opted for the hydration pack.  I definitely needed the easy access to water in the heat, and several people mentioned wishing they had theirs.  The decision was further reinforced the one time -- in a field section -- I tried drinking from one of my bottles.  The drinking went fine, but the path was so rough I couldn't put my bottle back into the cage.

Finishing up one lap/heading out on another. Still stiff-armed.  (Photo credit: Jim Davis)

I really wore down as the race went on, and a perk of my super slow pace was that I got to briefly chat with lots of friends as they passed me.  It's really cool how many people say hi and encourage you during a race.  I ended up riding 5 laps (around 20 miles) and coming in 7th out of 7 in my division.  I finished my last lap a few minutes too late to go out for another (which would have put me in second-last place instead of last place), but I'm not sure I'd have gone out for another lap anyway.

It was definitely a tough race for me, and a little discouraging.  I didn't anticipate placing well or being fast, but with all the biking I've been doing (and not flat, easy rides, either!) I'd expected to feel ok riding three hours at endurance pace and didn't.  I'm sure the heat and poor nutrition didn't help, and another likely factor is that we've been training with long, steady efforts rather than higher intensity pushes.  It also might have helped if I'd been on my mountain bike more than the 35 miles I've logged this year prior to the race.  But whatever; that's why I was looking at the race as training.

We hung around a while to eat some free Qdoba (one of my favorite fast food restaurants), talk, and cheer for the winners and then headed to the Mound with a decision to make.  The wind was blowing 20-25 mph, which would make at least half of any out and back ride suck, but our preferred wind option, Busch Wildlife, is short on shade.  Opting for shade, we hopped onto the Katy Trail via the Hamburg Trail after a couple of other routes didn't work out.

"Hopped" sounds a little peppier than my riding actually was.  My knee had stiffened up between rides, so pedaling hurt, and my allergies were bringing on a major headache.  I actually had both allergy medicine AND ibuprofen in my car, but for some reason (possibly heatstroke) opted not to take any OR bring it with me.  This proved to be a very bad plan.

We were at 10 miles when we hit the Weldon Spring trailhead, so we planned to ride 10 more miles down the Katy into the wind and then turn around to enjoy a tailwind.  That would give us around 30 miles.  Not what we'd planned, but OK considering I'd wanted to get back into my car ever since the first mile.  Despite trying to eat my way back out of the nutritional hole I'd dug earlier, nothing sounded good and my stomach was clear that another GU was unacceptable.  When Chuck offered me one of his rice bars at mile 18 I just wanted a little piece but ended up eating the whole thing. Good lesson: rice bars work when my stomach hates me.  Those are definitely going to Kansas with me.

My knee loosened up as we rode, but my allergy headache only got worse.  By the time we made it back to the trailhead again I had dropped nearly a half mile behind Chuck while I daydreamed about sitting on the trail and refusing to go on.  "Do I look as bad as you do?" he asked as I rode up.  (He didn't.)  I sat down miserably on the bench and asked Chuck if he had ibuprofen.  He didn't, but a couple at the trailhead did.

These people were my saving grace. Talking to them after taking as many ibuprofen as my liver (kidneys?) could handle, I found out they're doing the Katy Trail bike ride next month.  I did that ride in 2009 and 2010 and have lots of great memories of the experiences.  Another lady there was also registered for this summer's ride, so they all started talking and I sat down again and joined Chuck's conversation conversation with a couple who recently moved here from Atlanta and LOVE the area. By the time we finished talking, the ibuprofen had kicked in and my headache was gone.  I felt like a new woman.

We made pretty quick work of the trip back, and I've rarely been so happy to get off my bike as I was after that 30 miles.  I know it was a full day, but that was by far one of the toughest days on a bike I've had in a long time...and I'm saying that just two weeks after riding 114 miles at Cedar Cross.  Because we'd done a little exploring before hitting the Hamburg Trail, we had passed our cars about 5 miles into our gravel ride, and I was already done.  The only thing that kept me pedaling past the parking lot was the knowledge that I'm going to feel done more than once at Dirty Kanza, but I'm not going to be finished until I cross the finish line.  I'll just file Sunday under "mental training".

Another weekend, another bike ride

This has been an atypically chilly spring for our area, but this weekend seems to have been a breakthrough of sorts with reasonable temperatures and sunshine, which have been in short supply lately.  Because of Dirty Kanza, I pretty much have one day each weekend reserved for the bike, and that day was Saturday.

I started out with 30 miles on the Great River Road with my friend Kristen.  It was pavement, not gravel, but the Mississippi River views are beautiful and the company was good.  It was good for my ego, too, as even with a decent headwind on the way out I felt comfortable.  We'd hoped to ride to Pere Marquette Lodge, but that plan was short-circuited by river flooding.  Annoying.  We were flying with a tailwind on the return trip, and our shorter miles made it possible for me to meet Chuck and Lori in Weldon Spring to tack on some gravel miles.

I actually got there earlier than planned (crazy, I know), so I had a few minutes to get ready while I waited for our meeting time.  I spent most of it trying to figure out how to put on my new Garmin Edge 500 (happy birthday to me from all my wonderful family and friends who gifted me with money and bike shop gift certificates :D) before finally sort of figuring it out (still put the mount on sideways).  Lori handed Chuck off to me and headed home.

This was so pretty in real life.

The wind was getting progressively stronger (I think it peaked at 20-25 mph), and after some route discussion we decided on Busch Wildlife.  Because it's a network of gravel roads around the many lakes, we'd never be stuck riding into a headwind for too long.

Snack break.  This made me laugh.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, and it felt great to finally ride comfortably in just shorts and a jersey.  We did our best to ride every possible road we could find as well as some short stretches of singletrack.

Loved this short trail

Heading down a service road we passed a couple at their truck.  The road dead-ended shortly after, and on our return trip we were obviously interrupting a romantic moment...or one that was going to get romantic pretty quickly.  Oops.

Old bunker we passed while exploring

We did our best to eat about every hour.  I was also testing out some of the beet juice powder samples I got at Cedar Cross.  I mixed it with lemon-lime gatorade powder that I had on hand, and while the taste didn't really float my boat it wasn't bad either.  I have other friends who liked the taste plain, so maybe I'll try it that way.  And I will be trying it again, because as we found ourselves at the far back of the park shortly before our designated time to meet Lori, I felt great climbing the hills.  Now, these aren't monster hills or anything, but I was maintaining 17+ mph pace going up, and that's not characteristic for me.  Maybe it was just a good day, or maybe there's really something to that beet juice. Stay tuned...

Because we were running late, we took a shortcut back to the Mound.  Remembering a short, steep dirt hill I'd had to walk on our night ride, I downshifted so I'd be able to ride up it. Chuck coached me from in front, "We're both going to downshift, then pedal fast and ride right up that."  I was all in, right until it looked like he was riding straight up a wall.  And this is so stupid, because it's barely more than a mound of dirt; I don't know why it gets in my head, but I slowed down, got about halfway up, and put my foot down. Lame.

I really ought to quit wimping out on "scary" stuff, because the same type of thing always happens.  We were riding back to the parking lot, and as we made our last turn (on the flat crushed gravel path) my wheels dug into some deep, loose gravel and I went down.  At least if I fell on something trickier I'd have a better story.

Laughing at myself, not with myself.

Since I landed in the grass, it was a pretty easy fall as they go. Walked (rode) away with a bruised hip and a lot of laughing as Chuck and I cracked up over my crash about 50 feet from the parking lot. On possibly the easiest terrain ever. Typical.

So close to making it back with no bruises.

My stomach was pretty crabby when I got home, but J was in the driveway waiting to go for a bike ride. Earlier in the week we'd gone for a bike ride and his rear wheel started locking up. Seeing as it's a Wal-Mart brand bike that we bought at a yard sale and has non-working hand brakes (the coaster brakes do work) and weighs as much as my mountain bike, I didn't think it was worth fixing. I posted on Facebook about the bike's demise and asked is anyone knew of a cheap boy's bike available. Within the evening, three friends had offered him a bike , and the second one worked out.

Look out...now we have two people in the family in love with bikes. :)

He was delighted when he tried it out. "This bike is so light!! It's so easy to pedal!" He's all about riding his bike now, and though I really wanted to sit down and relax, I couldn't tell him no. We rode laps for a couple miles in our neighborhood and then headed home when he wanted to.  I only ended up with around 57 miles for the day instead of the 100 on the plan, but I couldn't have asked for a nicer day.  That said, I'm hoping for another day just as nice this coming Sunday, when if the weather cooperates I'll follow a 3-hr mountain bike race with some more gravel miles.  18 days and counting to Dirty Kanza...

Cedar Cross

About a year and a half ago, my friend Bob started talking about how he thought he could put together an epic monstercross (basically, cyclocross on steriods) course.  Because I'm the kind of person who totally lacks follow-through, I thought it sounded cool and then didn't think much more about it, but lo and behold, last May 6 Bob held the first annual Cedar Cross, 100+ miles of gravel, singletrack, hills, and natural obstacles like creek crossings and steep run-up hills.  Intending the race to basically be a fun way to spend the day training for Dirty Kanza with like-minded friends, Bob was slightly overwhelmed by the response when nearly 200 people signed up for his free race.  In the end, 100+ racers showed up for what was an epic day.

Family first, even when it hurts a little

Me, I wasn't there. My 8 year old son was making his First Communion, which is pretty much textbook can't miss. So while many of my friends were out sweating and suffering in high-90's temps on a course that Amnesty International just might term cruel and unusual, I was being proud of my little boy while simultaneously suffering from intense KIMO (knowing I'm missing out). When the 2013 date for Cedar Cross was announced, I was relieved to have no family conflicts and registered immediately.

Everybody knows that one of my charming quirks is my willingness to sign up for events way above my pay grade and then finish them out with slow but gritty performances, but I've been working hard to change that this year.  While my "consistent training" remains equivalent to most peoples' rest weeks, I've been logging many more bike miles than I did in the lead-up to last year's Dirty Kanza, including several forays onto gravel.  I went into Cedar Cross feeling nervous about the downhills but comfortable with my body's ability to do the distance.

Like much of the country, the Midwest has been experiencing goofy weather, and the days leading upto the race were filled with rain and dropping temperatures.  I drove to Jefferson City Friday evening in a downpour, fully expecting to spend my race being rained on, and I wasn't looking forward to that at all, except for the silver lining that good stories would surely come from a bad day.  Luckily, while the sun only made a couple guest appearances, the rain stayed away, though it had left in its wake a mixed bag of well-packed gravel, high creeks, and sloppy singletrack. 

Despite the terrible forecast, people had continued registering right up til the last moment, and there were quite a few race-day entries.  By the time I got to the race start around 6:45, the parking lot was filling up nicely with a lot of super cool people.

It makes me happy to see so many cars with bike racks.

I was early enough to get to say hi to other friends who were there racing, including Emma, who was riding the Cedar Sapling route for her longest ride ever, and Todd, who I met for the first time on race day despite the fact that we live within 10 minutes of each other.  I even managed to be organized enough to be ready by race time.  After the National Anthem, which was played on electric guitar by a 13 year old kid with some serious skills, we rolled out behind a pace car.

Photo credit: Christina

I've ridden parts of the course in past rides with the guys but wasn't familiar with the whole thing, and though I did have a cue sheet I had no way to attach it to my bike.  Luckily, the course was well marked and I latched onto Adam and Travis pretty much from the start.  None of us were killing it from the beginning; after all, 114 miles is a long way and our primary goal was just to finish. Having ridden a lot of gravel lately, I was slightly less chicken-ish than normal though still slower than the guys. In fact, at one point Travis even noticed that I managed to ride an entire downhill without braking.  It's sad that occasions like this are still rare enough to be news, but there you go.

About 15 miles in, we turned off the gravel into the Mark Twain National Forest. Much of his stretch, rather than being the "forest" implied in the name, was actually a big field where farmers are allowed to pasture their cows.  Once into the field, we took a quick break to eat something and then took off up the mushy trail through the pasture, doing our best to avoid the cow shit liberally splattered throughout. 

Travis eating. You can see how wet the trail, which narrowed to a single track, was.

The field section was actually a lot of fun.  The muddy sections reminded me of my second cross race, which was pretty much a sloppy mess, and I was happy with how well my bike handled in tricky-for-me conditions.  After a short, rocky stretch we emerged at the top of a gentle hillside.  The downhill was great, but riding back up the other side (and it was barely up...more of a gentle incline rather than a hill) seemed to take a lot of energy.  The field trail took us through a cow gate and onto a short, very muddy stretch of singletrack.

I basically kept one foot clipped in and coasted this section, pushing with my loose foot.  Coming out into a clearing, I waved goodbye to Jody and Kevin, who were splitting off on the Sapling route, and headed across a bridge with Adam and Travis onto the long course.  I think it was around here that my front wheel started making a terrible squealing sound.  It had been great until that muddy singletrack, so I assume it had to do with the mud, but I couldn't figure out what to do to make it stop.  It went from regular to constant squealing, so we stopped several times as I tried readjusting the wheel to make it shut up...to no avail.  I really need to accumulate some bike maintenance skills. 

The sound was awful; I told Adam and Travis that I'd totally understand if they wanted to ride away from me so they didn't have to hear it, but they wouldn't do it.  The whole bike thing really put a damper on the race for me; it was an incredibly annoying noise, I didn't know what to do to stop it, my bike is pretty new, and I was afraid it was messing something up.  The thought of riding another 100 miles with that sound in my ears was enough to make me want to drop out.  Instead we kept riding.

At about 25 miles in, we hit the next stretch of singletrack.  This was probably my favorite part of the race.  Normally, I'd feel terrible about riding in these muddy conditions; it's a huge mountain biking no-no because it destroys sustainably built trails.  These, however, are multi-use trails that have been around forever and are primarily used by horse riders, who can and do ride in any conditions.  Rather than destroy pristine trail, our bike tracks could smooth over horse damage.  I couldn't ride it all, but the parts I could ride were a blast.  Once again I was pretty pleased with how well my touring tires (slick in the middle with knobbies on the sides) handled in the slop, and I rode some things that would make me nervous on my mountain bike (of course, I'm a wimp, so that's not saying much).  It was hard, but it was silly fun, like running in mud. You can't help but laugh as you're sliding all around, and since your feet are already covered from pushing through the unrideable sections it's no big deal if you have to put a foot down.  This section also had two creek crossings and a run-up.

Creek crossing #1

Creek crossing #2

The run-up, which is even steeper than it looks and was more of a "stagger up, hoping you don't drop your bike".

At the top of the run-up was a doubletrack fire road where we stopped and ate again.  Travis loosened my front brake, which finally helped make the noise go away while still leaving me the ability to stop.  Getting ride of that noise did wonders for my ride satisfaction index.  It wasn't far from here to mile 34 and a water stop, where Christina was waiting with bottled water, donuts, bananas, oranges, and apples.  Thanks for volunteering!

We crossed Rutherford Bridge after leaving Christina and endured a long, sloppy uphill hike-a-bike onto another gravel county road.  This is the same road that just a couple weeks ago was covered with brand new gravel, making the downhills pretty much an exercise in terror for me.  Time and rain had helped the gravel to get packed in much better, and this time only the first downhill, which was very soft towards the bottom, was scary.  The others were almost fun, and then we were 13 miles from the bag drop, just shy of the halfway point.

 The day was mostly gray, chilly, and overcast.  I started out with a windproof/waterproof jacket over my jersey, but I was cooking on the climbs.  After a while, I stuffed my jacket into my pack and stuck with the jersey and long sleeves.  That was great on the climbs but got chilly on the descents.  Even so, it wasn't nearly as bad as the weather forecast led me to expect, and when the sun would occasionally peek out it was downright comfortable.

Happy to see some sunshine

For most of the morning, we'd been riding around Mark and Rhonda, two members of Team Fohty. Out of our whole group, I'd say I was the weakest rider. This was most clear on the hills; I'm always dropped on downhills because I get scared and slow way down, and I was repeatedly passed on the uphills. I spent almost the entire first 50 miles feeling sluggish; I remember thinking how discouraging it was to do so much riding and still come out and feel like it was my first time on the bike all year. I was definitely glad to hit the bag drop and take a little break.



Pretty much the coolest team vehicle ever.

With the keg of beer Team Fohty had brought for the midpoint, there was definitely a bit of a party atmosphere as we pulled in.  We sat around and ate and talked.  I ate so much I was sure I was going to be stuffed as I rode away.  While we took care of food, drink, and bathroom needs, Don lubed all of our chains, which was much needed after the repeated mud baths they'd been through.  It was so nice to have a break from the bike seat, but I also wanted to get going and not be out all night.  Travis and Adam joked that they were just going to quit at the bag drop and sit around and drink beer, but thankfully they both headed back out.

Team Virtus minus Robby, who was way ahead of us.

If I'd spent the first 50 miles feeling lousy, the second half of my race was a much different story.  I felt great as we left the midpoint.  Going up a hill I passed Adam, which is super rare because he rides a singlespeed and is a much stronger climber than I am.  "Look at you!" he laughed, and I responded that I knew he'd be passing me again soon.  He didn't, though, and I just kept on riding with Mark and Rhonda, who'd left the bag drop when we did.  After a while I looked back for the guys and saw Adam a little bit behind me and no Travis.  He caught up, telling me Travis was just around the corner.  We pedaled on, but after a while of not seeing Travis we decided to stop and wait so we could all ride together.  When he didn't show up after a while, Adam called Luke and Bob to see if they'd heard from him, and it turned out he'd decided to drop because his knee was hurting him.

Checking the cue sheet

We went on, bummed that Travis wasn't going to be able to finish with us.  We had to make a few quick stops to check the directions; even though the course was well-marked, we wanted to make sure we weren't missing anything.  I must've been drinking a ton of water, because I had to pee every time we stopped.  It was a little ridiculous, but I guess it helped me get over the need to wait for trees to hide behind.  This 20-mile stretch went pretty quickly, and I pulled into the Hams Prairie gas station/convenience mart feeling good.  Kyle was just leaving as we arrived, and he filled us in on who he'd seen when he got there.

You can see how filthy my bike was from all the mud. 

An order of mozzarella sticks, a Starbucks mocha, and half a Mounds bar later and Adam and I were ready to take off.  Rhonda and Mark decided to hang out for a while longer, so we went our separate ways.  Our next landmark was the nuclear power plant about 18 miles away, and it was a pretty quick ride there.  The first, paved stretch of road was pretty sweet.  Adam's singlespeed gearing meant that he'd spin out if we got going too fast, so I tried to strike a balance between keeping up a good pace and not losing him, something that was complicated by my crappy bike handling and difficulty turning around to look behind me.  Really I'm bad enough at this bike thing that I probably ought to just take up crocheting or something.

I've actually ridden this section of the race route a couple times before, so it was surprising to me how little I recognized as we rode.  There was no forgetting the big hill leading up to the power plant, though. I've actually never walked that hill before, but of course there's a first time for everything and this was it.  I knew I could ride up it, but by the time I was maybe a third of the way up the first part I really didn't want to.  Having already ridden 80-some miles and being darn close to last place anyway, I still had another 30ish miles to go and nothing to prove.  It wasn't even a bad little walk...and it gave me the opportunity to go to the bathroom yet again.  The hill briefly flattened out before climbing again, and we both rode this second section.

After the nuclear plant, it was pretty much all downhill from there...nice flat gravel leading into a big downhill.  Adam, who's ridden with me enough to know how much longer it would take me to descend, called back, "See you at the bottom," and took off in a quest to hit 40 mph.  I, on the other hand, exercised my brakes in an effort not to hit 30. Maybe I could crochet myself some big girl panties and then pull them up and actually ride.

Though the last 30 or so miles were all flat, I really wasn't looking forward to them at all.  Hills are hard, but at least they're interesting and break up the monotony.  Still, for the first 15-20 miles I was feeling pretty good, enjoying the easy ride and not having to look out for potholes or cars, and cheerily considering our chances of finishing before dark (we figured it would be dusk but not full-on night).  I'm sure that Adam was really enjoying the steady stream of chatter that's a hallmark of happy Kate.  By the time the course detoured us off the Katy for a gravel road loop, I was glad for the change of scene, but things kind of fell apart when we hit the trail again.

We'd only ridden maybe a quarter of a mile when Adam, who was handling the directions, stopped and said he thought we'd missed a turn.  We rode back, looking for markings or the right road sign...nothing.  We rode up the trail a little bit...nothing.  We tried calling Luke and Bob...and they wouldn't answer their phones!!

Here's the section of the directions that tripped us up:  

 

93.42mi Stay on Co Rd 4000 til Cty Rd 4010

Cty Rd 4010 loops back to the Katy Trail. Take a left onto Katy Trail, Then take your first left onto 4038,leaving the Katy.

103.19mi Follow Co Rd 4038…follow the tape.

We had gotten to the "take a left onto Katy Trail" section, but the "first left" was almost immediate and did not lead to 4038.  Now, a couple things might have helped us out:

1) The mileage...if we weren't around 103 miles in, we probably weren't far enough...except that Adam's bike computer was a little off and my Garmin had died (I either need to get faster or get a longer lasting battery).

2) Pulling up a map on my phone...except it was dead.

3) Bob's course markings, which hadn't failed us yet...except for the possibility that maybe someone had torn them down.

4) Riding on ahead to look for the markings...except that we'd already ridden 100 miles and really didn't want to tack on extra miles.

Mind you, at this point we were only like 10-12 miles from the finish, and our goal (if not our route) was straight down the Katy.  It was so frustrating to be so close to the end and only now have a problem.  The sun set and John caught up with us while we were considering our options.  Thankfully we were able to get ahold of Bob, who directed us further down the trail.  The darkness fell quickly, and I was both glad to have my headlamp in my pack and jealous of John's far superior light.

Within a mile or two we found our turn, which was well-flagged, and we turned onto one last loop of gravel.  This last stretch is where I really started to struggle.  The road had more potholes than our last stretch of gravel, and while my light is decent it wasn't lighting up the road like daytime. :) The guys were way ahead as I crept cautiously along.  Eventually John took off ahead of us and Adam babysat me the rest of the way in.  I was just not in a happy place at all, and he managed to say all the right things to keep me from sitting in the middle of the road and crying.  He probably felt a lot like I do talking to my 9 year old ("just a few more miles"..."we're almost to the pavement..."), but it worked.  I was basically following him like somebody's whipped puppy and only a vague idea of where we were when I finally broke down and asked, "How much longer?"

His answer, "About a quarter mile," was almost too good to be true but, indeed, correct as I looked up to see the pavilion and our remaining friends ringing cowbells and cheering.  The worst thing about finishing last (or second-last as it happened, but only because John had missed a turn and came in after we did) is that you miss the party and hearing firsthand about everybody else's races.  It wasn't really the kind of weather that's conducive to hanging around outside, everybody else had had long days as well, and many had little kids to get home, long drives ahead of them, or big plans the next day so I totally understand them having to leave, but I also sure appreciated everybody who was able to be there. 

Hopefully next year I won't be so slow and people won't have to wait so long for me, but I said all along that my only goal this year was to finish, and I'm proud that I did.  114 (or whatever it was) miles of Cedar Cross was no joke.  Honestly, being so slow makes me a little nervous about making the cutoffs at Dirty Kanza, but I made the first two last year with far less training.  So we'll see.  Big thanks to all of the volunteers, to the sponsors, and to Don for taking care of my chain.  And huge thanks to Bob for putting on a great, tough event and sending me home with an extra dose of bike humility and lots of souvenir mud.