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| Spoiler alert: I finished |
Last Saturday, I completed the 208ish mile Coast to Coast Gravel Grinder, riding from Au Gres, Michigan, on the shore of Lake Huron to Ludington, Michigan, on the shore of Lake Michigan. It was one of the more impulsive and it was crazy and I cannot wait for more.
Backing up -- for the past few months, I’ve been helping an athlete I coach, Jack, prepare for the Coast to Coast race, which he’s had his eye on since 2019. At first, I admired Jack’s thirst for adventure and desire to enter these crazy ultra endurance events, but thought it was a little crazy. But then, as I read more about the race, trying to figure out how best to help him prepare, I got more and more intrigued. I’d recently (like, late April) purchased a gravel bike myself, and was really falling in love with off-road riding. Still, I was a total rookie, hoping to jump into a gravel event at some point, but figuring that point was way down the line.
But I kept reading about Coast to Coast, and the intrigue grew. I really don’t know why, but about 10 days out, I got an inkling of an urge to sign up myself. I was in Ohio, staying with family, so it was possible from a logistics perspective, but who knew if it was possible from a physical perspective. I gave myself a couple nights to sleep on it to see if it still seemed like a good idea, but as days passed I got more excited about the idea. Coast to Coast requires riders to have SAG support, or at least someone within range to pick you up if you decide to stop, so I threw the idea out to my dad, who also seemed slightly intrigued if not perplexed as to where this idea was coming from. One step closer. Finally, not wanting to steal his thunder by making his event about me, I ran it by Jack. He seemed pretty stoked by the idea. So on Sunday, 6 days before the race, I pulled the trigger and entered.
It’s hard to really explain how underprepared I was for this event. I’d had my gravel bike for 2 months, but could still almost count on 2 hands the number of actual gravel rides I’d done. My longest ride since last July was 5 hours (on roads), and I hadn’t gone longer than 40 miles at a time on gravel. Plus, perhaps more worrisome, my ability to deal with my bike mechanically was limited. Disc brakes and tubeless tires were new to me -- I had vague ideas of how to deal with a flat tire with a tubeless, but hadn’t actually done it, but really if something more significant happened to my bike (very, very possible over 200+ miles off-road), I wasn’t sure I’d be able to manage it.
But at the same time, I had years of endurance training, coupled with knowledge of how to physically and emotionally manage long, long days. This was going to be way longer than any Ironman I’d done, but the basics were the same -- keep eating, keep drinking, pace appropriately for fitness, accept and manage the highs and lows, and just keep going. I was perhaps naively confident in my ability to complete the race, and was enough of a rookie that I was able to wrap my head around the idea that I wasn’t out there racing, I was just trying to finish. It’s been a long while since I was able to do an event with the simple goal of finishing, and it was refreshing.
After a lot of last minute shopping, both for gear AND food (we took SO much food), my dad and I took off for Michigan on Friday afternoon. For almost the entire 5+ hour drive, it poured rain. I occupied my time with repeatedly looking at every weather app I could find, and the conclusion was becoming pretty obvious -- after soaking rains across the whole course on Friday, we’d be riding in the rain for most of the race. The course for Coast to Coast actually isn’t much gravel-- it’s sand-based dirt. I got a little nervous. I was confident that I could ride 200 miles on gravel, but on wet, sloppy sand? I really had no idea what to expect.
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| Food Prep - and this was only some |
We arrived in Michigan around 5:00, and met up with Jack and his crew (his wife Allyson and her BFF, Cami) for dinner. The nerves and excitement were pretty palpable -- Jack and I were both rookies at this sort of event, but so were our crews. We discussed logistics, the weather, and all of the rumors we’d read on the race’s Facebook page. Worried a little about how the bikes would hold up after riding through mud, my dad decided to stop in at Meijer and buy a fertilizer sprayer that we could fill with water and use at the Checkpoints to clean our drive trains. I think that decision saved our races.
The pre-race meeting was pretty short and informal -- the vibe much more chill than the typical pre-Ironman meetings I’ve sat through, with the athletes a lot more “normal” looking than the “M-Dot head to toe” sorts that I see at triathlons. I dug it -- I liked this crowd. We all laughed early on when the RD stated the obvious -- that we’d better all adjust our expectations with the weather. “Maybe double your planned finish time,” he joked. But when he promised that they’d stay at the finish line until 5 AM if necessary, I had a feeling he wasn’t joking that much.
I headed to bed early after plugging in my many devices, with a 3:30 AM alarm set. Morning came quickly and it was absolutely delightful to wake up with a feeling of excited anticipation, instead of the crushing anxiety and fear I typically have before triathlons. I loved the feeling of being a total rookie with absolutely no idea what I was in for.
The Race
The race started promptly at 6:00 A.M. under clear, but somewhat ominous skies. I was really quite nervous about the mass start -- I don’t have much experience riding in groups of more than a few, and had heard that a lot of these gravel races are fast and furious at the beginning. I started heading towards the middle of the pack, then fortunately ran into Jack and his friend Kevin. The race started without much fanfare, and off we went -- a slow roll out for the first couple miles on a pretty beat up, technical road, then onto a bit of pavement where the race actually started and the pace got hot.
I told myself about a thousand times before the race that I needed to be smart and steady -- conserve energy, don’t burn any matches, ease into a very manageable pace. But when the race started, I couldn’t control those competitive urges. I saw a fairly large pack up the road, and I immediately switched into Zwift mode, hearing an urgent “close the gap!” in my mind and definitely wasting WAY too much energy trying to catch the group in front of me. But, I did what I did, and that group was pretty solid, with a couple strong girls in the mix. I hung with them for a while, doing some time on the front, some time on the back, through the early miles that were predominantly tarmac.
But then we finally hit the dirt, and I was a bit more tentative, not wanting to be too close to anyone, and struggling to find good lines through the wet sand. With the combination of stress from riding in the group and navigating the conditions, and the somewhat hot early effort, my heart rate was way higher than I wanted, so I dropped off a bit, and was shortly thereafter swallowed up by another, bigger pack of 15 or so, that I rode with for most of the first 50 miles.
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| Typical early roads |
I’m not sure we were even an hour into the race when the torrential rain started. I’d made a rookie mistake of not bringing sunglasses with lighter colored lenses, so I’d taken my glasses off when it was still a bit dark and put them in my pocket. Now, with the rain, then were soaked and I didn’t even try to put them on. The terrain got super sloppy, wet sand kicking up from the riders in front into my face. I accepted the mouthfuls of sand but was so worried about my eyes and my contact lenses. I kept blinking as fast as I could, trying not to let anything stick in my eyes, and crossed my fingers that I’d make it through these sections. Anxiety was high, as was my heart rate, but I just kept trying to follow the other riders, observing the lines they were taking and trying to follow suit.
The first 54 miles to Checkpoint 1 were the least technical and had the most pavement. I gradually grew a little more comfortable with the pack riding but still didn’t fully give in. Every time we hit pavement, I went straight to the front of the line, into the aerobars, and pulled the group. I knew I was riding like a total idiot, putting in way too much effort and burning matches unnecessarily (I could hear the voice of my coach Tim, who DSed a lot of our Zwift races last year, saying, “get off the front!”) But it was my comfort place and what I knew, so I just kept burning those matches. I got lots of thanks and kudos for the pulls, but one (extremely nice) girl asked me at one point if I was a triathlete, so I have a feeling my lack of pack riding skills were coming through loud and clear:)
Quicker than expected, we rolled into Checkpoint 1, having averaged almost 19 miles per hour, which was great in light of the conditions. My dad had parked and set up shop. The wet sand was absolutely decimating the bikes (the sounds coming from them were so alarming), and priority #1 at ALL the checkpoints was cleaning as much sand off the drivetrain and brakes as possible. He went to work on the bike, using the sprayer to clear the cassette, while I bathroomed, inexplicably put on a new jersey and socks (I mean, it was raining and whatever I put on was going to get wet, but it seemed important at the time), switched hydration packs, and reloaded my bike with food. All my plans to “not race” had kind of gone out the door when the race actually started, which was Mistake #1, and when my dad told me I was 3rd or 4th woman coming through, I felt a bit more urgency than I should have. But we got the bike mostly cleaned, the chain re-lubed, and I headed back out for more.
Segment 2
The next portion of the race, another 50 miles or so, was more of the same. Wet, sloppy sand, plus a little more elevation change, minus the packs. I felt a sense of relief no longer being with the pack, but as the field spread out and most were riding solo or with one or two other, the miles ticked by slower. Every road was a different little puzzle - all were wet and sandy, but the line was different for each. Some were more dry on the sides, some more dry in the middle, some would start relatively dry and smooth, and then there’d suddenly be a wet and extra slow section. There were ruts from wheels and holes to dodge, so in addition to the physical difficulty of having all my watts getting sucked up by the sand, it was mentally exhausting constantly trying to figure out the line. I almost bit it a few times but stayed up, but as I saw riders on fat bikes seemingly float on by, I spent a lot of time questioning my own gear choices. Would wider tires have been better? (I was on 38s). Was my tire pressure too high? (I have no clue). Is that horrible metallic sound my brake is making bad? (yes, it was).
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| Filthy! |
But there wasn’t much I could do beyond carrying forward, so I did, singing songs and chanting mantras in my head, putting my feedings at specific times so that I could look forward to a Clif Blok in 7 minutes if I just kept pedaling, etc. etc. I was generally catching people and not being caught by a lot, so I felt like I was riding decently, and rolled into CP 2 really wanting a fast transition to keep me in the race.
CP 2
When I rolled in to Checkpoint 2, my dad said I was in 2nd or 3rd, which surprised me a bit, and probably contributed to me rushing too much here. Up to this point in the race, I’d been wearing my road shoes and road pedals -- I have gravel-specific shoes and SPD pedals, but the shoes weren’t well broken in and when I’d ridden in them on Friday, I had some odd ankle pain, so I’d opted to go with shoes that felt best for the first half of the race, knowing it wasn’t technical and I probably wouldn’t need to put my feet down or unclip. The plan had been to change pedals and shoes at CP2, as I knew the next segment was very technical and I’d 100% be doing a fair bit of hike-a-bike. But sand was everywhere. We got the road pedals off, but the spindles were full of sand, and I couldn’t get the SPD pedals screwed in. I kept trying, growing increasingly frustrated and very, very aware of the clock ticking, and eventually just said, “forget it,” put the road pedals back on and rolled out, overly rushed and also forgetting my sunglasses and gloves. Major Mistake #2.
Segment 3
At this point, we rolled into the Manistee National Forest. The hills truly started in earnest, and the wide farm roads turned into narrow multi-use trails under a canopy of trees. It was beautiful in there, but on the narrow double track, and then single track, I started to feel totally over my head, from a technical perspective. That together with the increasingly rickety sounding bike, and I was growing more and more concerned that getting to the finish line might not be as easy as I thought. Fortunately, I was going back and forth for a while with another gal. She was definitely riding stronger than me at that point in the race and I was duly impressed -- the only reason she was staying in range was because she was having issues with her chain -- but I’d also figured out by this point that highs and lows would hit each of us at different times, so I tried to motivate myself to stay close and hope that my next high might correspond with her low and I’d catch back up.
In the meantime, the wet sand got deeper, and I started to lose it. The first very soft sand pit we hit, I tried to ride through, and I promptly toppled over and landed on a bush, slicing my hand up in the meantime (and kicking myself for forgetting the gloves that would have prevented that!). I knew a few steps in that crap in my road shoes would mean that I wouldn’t be able to clip in any more, so I took my shoes off, carried my bike through the sand in my socks, put my shoes back on, and rode on. So pro!
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| Too much for me |
One time of doing that would have been OK, but those sandy parts kept popping up, so I went through that whole rigamarole over and over and over, growing increasingly frustrated by my lack of skills, improper shoes, and hemorrhaging time.
And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I rolled fast through a puddle for the sake of the photographer sitting right there, and a couple minutes later, realized my front tire was flat. Ugh.
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| The puddle that caused my flat |
I’m no stranger to flats and the guy at the shop had promised me that with his fancy plug tool, I’d be able to repair a puncture in 30 seconds, so I started inspecting the tire, looking for the hole. The tire was covered with sand, and my hand covered with blood, but I kept searching and could not figure out what had caused the puncture. You’re not supposed to be able to pinch flat tubeless tires, so I was totally perplexed. A kind guy stopped to ask if I needed help and I asked him if he could find the puncture. He couldn’t find it either, so he suggested just putting CO2 in the tire and hoping it’d hold. Either I botched that process or it was the wrong approach, but all the air quickly went out and I was minus 1 CO2 cartridge. Option 2 was putting a tube in the tire, so I got started on that process, and he carried on when I assured him I knew what I was doing.
And then, like a complete moron, I ended up blowing a second CO2 cartridge, and was now without any way to pump the tire. The field had spread out quite a bit at this point, so I had to wait quite a while for the next rider to come through. Thank goodness Jake was both very helpful and also carrying a hand pump. He helped me get the tire pumped up, and I was on my way, so very, very thankful for the kindness of this community, but also frustrated with the turn of events.
All in all, that ordeal took me about 28 minutes. That’s horrible! I saw at least 2 women roll by while I was on the side of the road, so at that point, I switched completely out of race mode, and just tried to get myself to the next checkpoint, at mile 173. In a way, that was a blessing, because mentally I was a lot happier dealing with the technical stuff when I no longer felt the pressure to go fast. I kept on keeping on, and after what felt like an eternity, rolled into the final Checkpoint at mile 173.
CHECKPOINT 3
I was a bit shelled by the last 69 miles, which had taken so much out of me mentally and physically, so I was much less rushed when I rolled into CP3. I took time for the bathroom, realizing sand had really worked its way into places it never should have been, helped to clean the bike thoroughly, tried to clean myself up a bit, and had several sources of caffeine and a pop-tart. I think I spent almost 15 minutes there, the longest of my stops (aside from the mechanical) We were well into evening by this point, and while I actually felt OK physically, I was just mentally tired and a bit stiff. Hopping on the saddle again did not feel particularly good, but after 173, 34 miles felt very manageable. The rain had stopped and there were actually moments of sunshine. If the bike held up, I knew I’d make it.
Final Segment
The last segment of the race started with some technical (to me) single-track, complete with climbing over logs and trees, and I grumbled a bit and took my time. The sounds of brakes squealing echoed through the forest -- our brake pads were all on their very last legs. I let faster people go ahead of me and just tried not to fall, and soon enough, we were back on wider farm roads. I started checking my watch and realized I was racing the sun -- there was a special award if you finished before sunset. I wasn’t sure exactly when the official sunset was, but figured it was around 9:30 P.M., and I was cutting it close. I’m thankful for that little carrot as it definitely helped me to push through the last 90 minutes or so, when it just seemed like every mile was stretching for an eternity. I never felt that bad, physically, but I just didn’t really have the ability to push anymore. My power had gotten lower, my heart rate had dropped. I was just pedaling it in, and willing myself to keep going.
When we started getting close to 200 miles, I somehow had in my head that I only had 6 miles, and started promising myself that they’d be downhill! And pavement! They weren’t. And it was actually 8 more miles, which is not an awesome realization at that point in the day, but that sunset was approaching so I kept forcing myself into the aerobars. Eventually we did hit civilization, and pavement, and I counted down every last tenth of a mile, finally crossing at 9:23 p.m. with a huge smile and a very, very tired body.
Post-Race
There wasn’t a huge crowd or anything at the finish line, but I didn’t need it. I was so overwhelmed with what I’d just done. On completely insufficient training, on a whim, I’d completed a race that was well over 4 hours longer than any Ironman I’d done…. My longest ride ever by a ton, my longest day of exercising ever, by a ton. When I got off the bike, things immediately seized up, specifically my upper hamstrings, and I was totally unable to lift my legs or bend over. Imagining if that had happened any earlier, I threw up a thanks to the muscle gods.
We collected my stuff, cleaned the bike a bit, and participated in a little awards ceremony (I ended up 6th overall but 1st in my age group -- actually second but the 1st place girl was the overall winner). While the others beat me in by a fair bit, I wasn’t too far behind 2th - 5th -- kind of leaving me wondering what would have happened minus that mechanical nonsense -- but I’m certain that EVERYONE out there dealt with their own adversity and issues. Mostly, I was super impressed by the strength and kindness of the other women (and men!), and motivated to maybe actually train for this gravel stuff and see what I can do with a little more knowledge and skill.
Many thanks to my dad for being an excellent support team with only a couple days to prepare; Epic Racing for putting on an awesome event; Paradise Garage Bike Shop for selling me my bike and giving me tips on how to survive this event; VeloScience bike shop for repairing my bike after it went through the wringer; Jack and his team for inspiring me to do this race and sharing the experience (and lending me aero bars); my coach, Tim, for not dropping me on the spot when I told him I was doing this the day before, and instead giving me some helpful hints; my friend Angela for inspiring me with her jaw-dropping performance at Unbound 200, sharing tips, and creating an awesome new venture, GirlsGetGritty, that I’m thrilled to be a part of; and my Zwifting besties for keeping my love for cycling going through a pandemic. Excited for more!
Nitty Gritty for Those Interested:
Rode: Cervelo Aspero GRX Di2, 2X 31/48
Tires: Panaracer Gravel King SK 38
Nutrition:
Total +/- 6800 calories over 15hrs
Most calories liquid - a mix of Gatorade Endurance, Skratch SuperFuel, Nuun Endurance
Also had about 6 sleeves of Clif Shot Blox and 10 - 12 Gatorade gels
Had Red Bull and Coke at all Checkpoints, and Starbucks canned Double Espresso at the last 2. ½ a Pop-Tart at the last CP but didn’t really want any of the other food I brought
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| The aftermath -- brake pads |
