Red Clay Ramble 2018

Yesterday was the Red Clay Ramble.  It has been in August in the past but was moved to June this year.  It definitely was cooler, but we had the threat of rain due to remnants of subtropical depression Alberto.  Fortunately, the rain cleared out just in time for the race, and the roads drained well.

Seven of us from the Georgia Neurosurgical Institute team signed up for the race.  The guys had several masters categories: masters (40-49), grand masters (50-59), and ultra masters (60+).  Women had only one masters category (40+).  Alas, I’ll never be grand or ultra.

As we gathered at the start line, I looked around to size up my competition.  One of my teammates had said there were six in my category, but I didn’t see any other women at the start.  I was close to the front, and so there might have been other women lined up behind me that I didn’t see.  Regardless, I wasn’t going to make any assumptions.

We were off!  I have exactly three fast-twitch muscle fibers.  I know because I counted them as most of the guys passed me.  I expected to get dropped quickly, but I have to admit it was a little disconcerting that it took only about half a mile.  Oh, well, I simply remembered one of Jack Handey’s Deep Thoughts: If you ever drop your keys into a river of molten lava, let 'em go, because man, they're gone.

I did see one woman in the wave that passed me.  She looked like the really fast one who won the open category last year.  I couldn’t have caught her if I wanted to, but she wasn’t in my category anyway.

So, in my solo state, I settled in for a three-hour dirt time trial.  Just keep it steady.  I tried to gauge the fastest speed I could maintain for three hours.  That’s what racing is all about: the maximum pain you can endure for the particular time/distance that you’ll be racing.

After a while, I caught up to a few guys, including my friend Jason.  He called out encouragingly as I rode by, commenting on how I was doing my own thing, picking off other racers one by one.  I hadn’t thought of that as my strategy, but I’d see how it worked.  It sounded more fun than pure time trialing anyway.

I passed one guy.  Pick.  I passed another guy.  Pick.  Here came a guy in a Waffle House kit.  As I passed him, I said, “Mmm…waffles.”  Actually, waffles didn’t sound very appealing at that moment.

Keep on keeping on.  Around mile 16, I caught up to group of about half a dozen racers including – a woman!  How did that happen?  I knew her, too.  It was Laina from the Sorella team, who was in women’s masters category.  I had no idea she was ahead of me.  She was the woman who had passed me near the start line; it hadn't been last year's winner after all.  This is why I knew I couldn’t take anything for granted on my positioning.

As I approached the group, I debated whether I should glom onto them immediately or keep going and see if they caught me.  They were going slower than me at that moment, and so I opted to continue in time trial mode.  If they did catch me, I could jump on the train then.

Within a couple of miles, they did catch me.  I joined the group.  Whew, what a relief to ease up a little from my time trial pace!  I would have been completely justified to let the guys do all the pulling because I wasn’t competing against them.  However, I did take a few short pulls because I didn’t want to seem like a leech.  Besides, my energy level was good.

We dropped a few guys about 20 miles in.  When we got to a several-mile paved section on Fortville Road, it was just Laina and me plus two guys I know, Mark and Nathan.  The guys each took a turn pulling.  We picked up another guy.  I took a short pull as we approached the next turn onto Joe Miller Road, another dirt road.  We had dropped Laina!  Again, I wasn’t going to make any assumptions, but I hoped this boded well.  I was still feeling strong.

More pavement, and we picked up another guy.  I ate the Clif Bar from my jersey pocket.  (I had stuck it in there unwrapped for easy maneuvering during the race.)  My water situation was good.  I had two big bottles.  If it had been a typical hot August day like in previous years of the Red Clay Ramble, I would have barely stretched two bottles to last the whole race, perhaps also grabbing a cup of water as I rode past the last aid station.  Yesterday, however, my two big bottles were ample for me in the cooler weather.

The four guys and I rode on.  More dirt, and then more pavement as we approached Otis Redding’s house.  (I think some of his family still live there.)  We turned onto dirt again, paralleling Highway 11.  There was my friend Chris.  I called out for him to hop on as we rode by.

A mile or two later, we approached another turn in Round Oak.  Mark and Nathan stopped there at the aid station.  I didn’t need any food or water, and so I continued on without stopping.  I was in race mode!

Then it was just Chris and I.  We rode together for several miles and picked up another guy right before the next paved section, Hillsboro Lake Road.  We were back on my home turf.  I pretended it was simply one of my regular after-work road rides to Hillsboro Lake.  I had been pulling a while, and so I moved left to let one of the guys take a turn.  Nobody moved up.  I felt OK, and so I continued on without them, keeping up a pretty good pace.  I suppose I had several mental advantages.  I knew the road and wasn’t demoralized by its constant climb for a few miles.  Also, all those hours in the saddle on brevets surely count for something.

So, it was back to time trial mode for the last 10 miles.  I turned onto Dumas Road, on dirt once again.  I estimated the maximum speed I could maintain for the remainder of the race.  I doubted that Laina (or any other woman) would catch me, but still I glanced over my shoulder every so often, looking for anyone overtaking me.

My fastest time on the Red Clay Ramble several years ago was just under three hours.  Early in yesterday’s race I had determined that I wouldn’t break three hours this time.  My fitness isn’t quite as good as then, and I was pretty sure the road conditions were slowing me down.  Regardless, all I could do was ride my best, which is what I tried to do the entire time.

At the racers’ meeting before the start, the organizers had cautioned that Dumas Road was the muddiest part of the course from all the recent rain.  Still, it turned out not to be as bad as I anticipated.  I kept pedaling, pedaling and even passed a few more guys.

I was kind of sad to pass up my friend Benny’s beer stop, but I was still in race mode.  I was pretty sure I was the first masters female.  Just a few miles to the finish…

I rode as hard as I could across the finish line.  I made it – yea!  Although I didn’t feel quite like my guts were about to spill out like after a regular time trial, I was whooped.  I changed clothes and walked toward to staging area.  My legs felt like lead.

Gratefully, I refueled with a plate of delicious spaghetti prepared by Tom Glover and the other Bike Walk Baldwin volunteers.  I sat with my Georgia Neuro teammates and listened to the blow-by-blow of their race.  Additionally, Van gave me something to aspire to:

Podium time!  I was thrilled to have not only the fastest masters women's time but also the fastest overall women's time (3:14:11 from Strava).

I got a great swag bag, including a really cool item I had never seen before: Hide Your Hiney.  It's essentially a large sheet (tie-dyed!) you connect between your car doors to make a small outdoor changing room.  This will be so much more comfortable than ducking down in the front seat like I've been doing for years.  The Hide Your Hiney has magnets to attach to the car doors, and recycled bicycle tubes cover the magnets to protect your car from scratching.

No hiney here!

My overall takeaway from this race is how different it was from every other mass-start race I’ve done.  During yesterday’s race I never had to surge or bridge a gap; i.e., I never had to burn any matches.  It was all about putting out a steady effort – the maximum possible – the entire time.  Don't get me wrong; it was hard.  It just felt like a different type of spent at the end, maybe one I could recover from more quickly.  Either way, a several-hour nap later that afternoon was just the ticket.