State of Gravel is billed as Georgia's unofficial gravel state championship. In its second year, it was postponed from last spring to this past Saturday due to COVID-19. Last year I didn't have a very good race, and so I was determined to make up for it this year. I didn't think I'd win this year - lots of tough competition - but I simply wanted to keep my head in the race and do my best.
Robert and I headed out early Saturday morning. It was only about an hour's drive, and the race started at 9:00 AM, and so it wasn't an unbearably early morning. The staging area was Camp Swamp, a really nice camp facility near Union Point, GA.
I felt the usual pre-race jitters (no barfy...). I've done enough of these things to know that I would be fine once I got into a groove during the race itself. I got fairly close to the front of the pack for the mass start. The first thing I focused on was being careful at the first turn about 100 m from the start line. Last year a group went down right off the bat! Fortunately, no one did this year.
I pedaled steadily but not too hard; I would be on the bike for more than four hours on the 69-mile course. Almost right away I spotted my friend Jennifer. Because I just turned 50, I was in the same category as her this year, 50+ Women. Jennifer is such a strong racer! She's 64 and crushes most of the women half her age. I hung with her for a few miles, but she dropped me, as I anticipated. She trains hard but also has alien genetics (like a female Bill Causey). Although I wish I could race like Jennifer, I used the situation to my advantage by finding some humor in it. Thinking about Jennifer being an alien, I remembered a song that some of my elementary school classmates wrote for a project on commercials and advertising, "Crater."
I was sent to the moon
I was jumping around
When I fell into a crater
And I didn't make a sou-wound
I was jumping around
When I fell into a crater
And I didn't make a sou-wound
My cord didn't hold me
It began to break
So I took my chances
I began to faint
It began to break
So I took my chances
I began to faint
When I ran into an alien
And we went on a date
In a crater
And we went on a date
In a crater
My classmates probably would be amazed that I still remember the lyrics to "Crater." This was the first of several songs that ran through my head during the race, sustaining me through the pain.
One of Jennifer's Sorella teammates was also riding with us at first. She looked to be about my age, and so I assumed she was another 50+ competitor. I got into a break with Jennifer and a few guys, leaving the other woman behind. After I got dropped, I was by myself, but I knew not to fall into the trap of letting up. I kept going, maintaining that balance of going hard but being able to keep it up for several hours.
After some miles, a group of beardy hipster dudes and a younger woman whizzed by me. How does that happen? I'll be going hard for a while, and a group passes me like I'm standing still. It seems like they should have passed me way earlier. Oh, well. I didn't worry about the woman because I didn't think she was 50+.
Right as the hipsters were passing me, we got to a section of dirt road with a lot of potholes. Because of the group and the shade on the road, I couldn't see the potholes until I was right on top of them. I made a split-second decision to maintain my line and as much momentum as possible. Whomp! Whomp! Whomp! Whomp! Although it was a little rattling, it reminded me to keep my cool.
Later, a teenaged guy passed me. Another guy also came up about then. I hopped on his wheel to draft. Then, here came the 50+ Sorella woman! The three of us rode together for a bit. She wound up on the front at about the time the older guy pulled ahead to catch the teenaged guy. I figured I would take advantage of drafting her for as long as possible. However, when we got to a moderate climb, she was going a lot more slowly than I wanted to. So, I climbed hard and dropped her. Would I be able to stay away?
I mentally fixed on riding as hard as I could solo. Then, another group of four guys came by - not unsustainably fast, and so I hopped on the back. Gonna hitch a ride, head for the other side - Boston.
I hoped I would get a good jump on the 50+ woman as I rode with this group. I stayed with them for a few miles, but they dropped me on a downhill. Guys usually drop me on downhills because I'm lighter, but also I'm not an aggressive descender. I'll take safety any day.
Lo and behold, here came the 50+ woman! Eek! She was like a zombie, coming after me again and again in a bad dream. Cue the next earworm:
In your head, in your head, zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie - The Cranberries (appropriate, as I had had cranberries in my oatmeal that morning - rocket fuel!)
Obviously, I wasn't going to drop this woman easily, and so I determined to put as many seconds into her as I could on every climb. Even if she caught up (which she always did), I hoped this would wear on her mentally.
One time when I had pulled ahead, I heard someone come up behind me. I assumed it was the zombie, but it turned out to be a guy. I told him that I thought he was the woman behind me. He said that she told him she was getting tired. I tucked away that bit of data, strengthening my resolve to beat her.
The race director had told us at the pre-race meeting that there were four creek crossings. The zombie was with me at the last three. I walked all of them because with my recent bad luck on creek crossings, I didn't want to injure myself. It was worth the few extra seconds it would cost me. On the fourth one, the zombie rode through it and got a pretty good lead on me. However, it was a long, steep climb out of the creek, and so I put the hammer down and passed her on the way up. I got ahead again, but I fully expected her to catch me yet again.
She did.
The final SAG was in Maxeys, about seven miles from the finish. I was low on water, but I didn't want to take the time to stop. But the zombie did! I put my head down, continuing as hard as I could but assuming that was all she wrote.
The last guy who had passed me earlier caught up to me again after he stopped at the SAG. Correctly assuming that I would welcome intel, he confirmed that the zombie had stopped for water.
It's alive!
Dang it, can you believe she caught me again! Kudos to her for fighting so hard.
After all that, I couldn't let up in the final few miles. Melissa Etheridge started singing in my head: Somebody bring me some water, can't you see I'm burning alive. Actually, I wasn't hot. The temperature was great. In fact, the weather was about as beautiful as it gets for November.
I was slightly ahead of the zombie, but of course every time I looked over my shoulder, there she was. At each hill, no matter how big or small, I went hard, trying to gain a few seconds and/or put a dent in her psyche.
We turned into Camp Swamp. It was less than a mile to the finish line. Don't give up now!
I made the last turn toward the finish line. A guy was on the left, and I took the right, essentially blocking the zombie (an intentional tactic on my part). She rode up on the grass as if she might try to pass. Tens of meters from the finish, I gave it one last push across the line - right before the zombie!
Whew! That hurt. Slowly I made my way back to the car. Wait...I had been toward the front of the pack at the start line. If the zombie had started behind me, she might have rolled across the initial timing mat significantly after I did. Therefore, even if she crossed the finish line after me, there was a chance her overall time might have been less than mine. I simply had to wait for the results...
In the meantime, it was fun to catch up with Jennifer.
I congratulated both Jennifer and Karen on a great race. Karen said, "Did you do the Red Clay Ramble?" I replied, "Yes." She said, "You beat me there, too." Sorry not sorry.
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