Little Girls Dream Race

A little girl's dream came true. I don't know a lot of girls dreaming of completing a 60-mile race in the middle of nowhere, but ever since I learned what the SM was, that was the dream. The SM was an untouchable dream, something that I thought I would never do. I watched on the sidelines as all my friends completed a race that is like a rite of passage in the central Virginia riding scene. This year (forgive me for using this term), I locked in, senior year, I gotta go complete a check off the bucket list. This weekend I lined up for the mass start at the Shenandoah Mountain 100k, 60 miles of some of the roughest trails in the George Washington National Forest. It was definitely a ride to be remembered. I placed myself somewhere in the middle, knowing eventually we would all spread out because we had 60 more miles to go. The first three miles had their sketchy moments as any mass start on a road does. When I saw people dropping like flies from mechanicals up a gravel road, I knew we were in for a fun day. All the way up the first gravel climb, I was chilling. I knew I couldn't go hard, and one of my favorite things to do as a cyclist is plug and chug. Essentially, I pick a pace I like and stick with it; this ability has helped me greatly. Hitting the trail for the first time was to descend on a trail called Tilmans, the only good descent of the whole race. It was a great descent. I got passed by some faster guys who somehow ended up behind me, but I was able to pull a draft off them for a couple of miles (and steal their lines). Erik, who is so amazing in everything, the best coach that anyone could ask for, decided that he was going to ride this one with me, and boy am I so glad he did (we'll get back to that). We had to take a quick stop at the aid, which in hindsight I probably wouldn't have taken, but oh well, you live and you learn. We hit the road again and I really enjoyed this stretch of the race (of course the road was my favorite part of an MTB race :) Going into the next section, however, things got funky. A good old coach of mine comes up behind me and asks if I've ever ridden this trail before and I answer an honest no. “Oh well, it's a light 2% grade, you'll have so much fun.” Liar. Lynn was an average of 18% grade that was extremely narrow (we all know how I feel about steep narrows). It was at this point in the race that I started throwing up. This got me so frustrated. It wasn't hot, I was eating more than I usually do because I knew that I would need it, and I was still getting sick. As I was literally hiking myself up Lynns, the frustration kicked in hard, “Why can't I just be healthy?” “Why does it have to be so hard to go out and do things?” I felt like I was letting everyone down because no matter how hard I train, something kept knocking me on my butt. I had so many moments up that climb, I wanted to just sit and cry because I honestly felt dejected at biking as a whole. It was an odd feeling of just overwhelming depression, but I knew that if I wanted to finish this ride (which I did more than anything) I needed to get out of my head and make it to the top of Lynn and keep going. We get to the top, and I somehow feel better. I still don't understand why this happens, but it looks like for the near future, I just have to get used to being sick with the first hard effort or two, and then it's all gone and I feel great. The descent was hard, it was so rocky and rough, a staple of the GW. About 2/3rds of the way down, my bike started to get squirrelly, and I shouted back, “Erik, am I flat?!” and all I hear is a dejected yes. Luckily, we come around the corner to a flat rock that we promptly turn into a mechanic station. This is where Erik becomes my savior. I was prepared for this race, I had lots of sealant out into my tire in case I went flat, however, being a dummy, I did not check my tool bag before heading out. I had pretty much nothing; the only thing I had was tire levers and a thing of CO2 with no inflator, so without Erik I would have been thoroughly screwed (excuse my language). We tried and just hand-pumped it at first and found out that I managed to rip a hole in the sidewall too. Sidenote: If you are doing trails that are not flow and smooth, do not run Trek Saint Annes, I've flatted three in four months. Anyway, Erik luckily had a tube on him, and we were able to start the process of extracting my rear wheel from the bike and getting a tube put in. This is where Erik is truly the GOAT (I know so much Erik glaze). He was able to complete this process three times faster than I would have been able to on my own and ended up with sealant all over himself (not all over me). We then proceed to hand pump this tire for like ten minutes, switching off because our arms hurt. We are finally done and getting my bike back together and Bill comes around that corner like “how can I help?” Well gee, Bill, we could have used you five minutes ago (holy crap I have a lot of time to make up). We get to the Aid at the bottom, and I am met by my amazing mom and friends working as a support crew. I come in hot, letting everyone know that I need air, and the awesome aid station staff pumps up my tire for me as I chug a coke (USAC take notes). After that, dobacil and I'm refueled it's time to hit the road again (literally). Up and around the campground for our next trail climb. Hankey, now Hankey, was a climb that I found fun (not many would agree). It was my kind of climb, not that steep, long and gradual. I picked a pretty good pace and felt really good until… we got to an intersection, the first time around we went right, and the second we went left. In hindsight, I should have known this was going to be brutal. The trail is called Crying Tree for crying out loud! (pun intended). After I walk a little bit of that and maybe cry a little, we are descending again. You know a race is brutal when the two things that hurt the most at this point (40 miles in) are my butt and my triceps. This descent was absolutely gnarly. I was riding as cautiously as I could, running a tube, but on multiple occasions, I literally just had to huck it off a rock and pray I didn't die. After my hands literally locked up from gripping my bars so hard. We make it to the final aid station, fifteen more miles to go (no way it's actually real). That's when it became real, I am going to finish the freaking SM. Eight road miles later (Thanks Erik and this older couple for the pull), we are back climbing Hankey, this time was just as fun (maybe a little more) because I knew it was almost over. However, I got a little too caught up in that fact, and when we made the turn left, it got a little brutal again. But I just kept looking at the mileage tick away and saying, “Anyone can ride five miles,” “You can do it.” Stokesville was never a more welcoming sight coming onto the end of the race course. I was so excited I almost slid out, which would be the most embarrassing thing considering I was able to stay on my bike for the majority of the race. As I came across the line to all my friends screaming with me, and the announcer telling a little of my story. I never felt more loved, love for Erik, who got me through, love for my friends for being there, and love for my family for doing everything they could to support me. Getting to lay my bike down and hug my team is a feeling I am not soon to forget. I finished with a total time of 8:15:24, while I really wanted under eight hours. We are going to blame the 30 minutes I lost at my flat and leave it at that (hey, that rhymes). The SM is more than just a bike race; it is a community event. I got to ride and meet new people that are really rad, motivating and showed me how vast our little cycling world really is. It is a show of love, a love for the game (No sane person does this), and a love for the people around you, from cheering to finish line hugs. I would like to say thank you to my body for getting through, and everyone who was out there making it great. The SM made me fall even more in love with endurance racing. This is just the beginning. Sam and 3-Cats-Racing have so much more to show you.

Hang along because this is going to be a fun journey, we only get one life and I am determined to live it as much as i can 🫶🏻.