Jennifer Dilworth Hynes — mtbchk

“WHATAREYOUDOIN’?” 

It’s a phrase spoken by a now former co-worker every time she enters a room or sees someone.  It’s said loudly in a Cherryville (that’s “Churvull” for the locals) accent.  I’ve picked up this habit and can do a pretty good impression of her.  Now, when I do it, nobody “gets” it.  Oh well.  I’ll start a new trend.

Anyway, What have I been doing?  Here’s a very quick rundown.

The week after the Burn, I rode up at Tsali with the Divas for the Spring Trip.  I took the SS and geared it easy (32×20).  I didn’t really ride at all between the 24-hour race and the trip, and I could tell I was still recovering when I had a difficult time even keeping up with the “intermediate” group.  No offense to the intermediate group, I just usually ride the geary in the advanced group.  It was a really fun trip with some fun people, but my riding hadn’t gotten back up to usual.

The following week, we went up to Sugar Mountain for the NORBA National race.  I don’t have much of a report.  The course at Sugar has changed since last year, with a much more challenging singletrack descent than before.  It was tough, but worthy of a National-level event.  That wasn’t necessarily my problem, though. 

I’ve done this race for the last two years.  It starts with a tough 4.5-mile climb up the mountain and then a fast descent.  The climb hasn’t changed.  They started us (Sport Women) with the Beginner Women.  It was 3:30 in the afternoon and quite hot.  The climb is steep at the bottom and then becomes more gradual as you wind around the mountain.  It’s brutal for me, as climbing is not my strong point (OK, I’m still trying to find my “strong point”, but I know it’s not climbing!).  So, we started the race and I think I was in the back.  All the Charlotte folks were at the beginning of the climb cheering. (Thx, guys!)  At the first steep section, Brian was taking pictures and I told him to hurry up and take it because I was about to hop off and start pushing.

The rest of the climb was uneventful.  I rode with a beginner chick for a while.  It was her first ever race, and she had flat pedals, gym shorts and a big chushy saddle.  She smoked me.  I picked my way through the descent, tried to ride some, walked what I couldn’t ride, and finished out my lap in a less-than-spectacular time.  I was totally wiped out. 

 As I started the next round of climbing up the mountain, I bonked.  Badly.  I passed Patty at the start of the climb and proclaimed, “I really want to quit this one.”  She encouraged me to keep going.  I got to the point where the climb gets really steep and my body just wouldn’t go anymore.  Mary Beth was standing there and asked if I needed anything.  All I could say was, “a shoulder to cry on”.  At that point, I turned around.  I felt ill (physically and mentally).  I decided to put my health ahead of my pride.  I cried on the way down the mountain.  I’ve never cried in a race before.  On my way to the start/finish to DNF, I saw Brian and cried on his shoulder.  I let myself down.  I laid on the sidehill in the shade behind the Southpark tent and closed my eyes.  I couldn’t get my HR down. 

OK, so I’ve put this behind me.  The best I can tell, I wasn’t recovered from the previous two weeks’ activities.  At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.  I’ve done that race before and yes, it was hard, but not THAT hard.  There’s always next year.

The Monday after the Sugar race, I turned in my two-week notice, but only worked until Tuesday (took my remaining vacation days — I needed to get OUT of there).  I also needed to get to Atlanta to visit the family, my Grandmother, and my friend Lesley.  I spent the weekend shopping for wedding dresses and visiting Grandma.  (NO riding at all).  I found a kick-ass dress from designer Rivini.  It’s very simple, and looks really good on me — makes me look real skinny.  I’m stoked about this dress, and if you know me, I don’t get too stoked about any dresses.  But this one is the BOMB.  Trust me.  Good weekend.

The following Monday, I started my NEW JOB!  That’s right — after 10 years in the world of manufacturing and chemicals, I have taken my Engineering degree and love for the outdoors to what I think will be a great job at the US National Whitewater Center.  I’m the Engineering Manager, with responsibilities for the whitewater pump system operations and maintenance (pumps, filters, conveyors, gates, etc.), along with all associated facilities maintenance, landscaping, custodial, security, etc.  No, I don’t know any answers to “when are we going to open” and “what’s the road situation”.  I just work here.  But really, I’m having a blast.  It’s a great place with great people.  I’ve gotten more actually done in the last week than I did in three weeks at my last job.  And it doesn’t feel like work.  I actually look FORWARD to going to work.  OK, so it’s only been a week, but I’ve had enough jobs to know what feels good and what just feels like “a job”.  I’ve been really busy all week, and have had NO time to ride.  So — two weeks with no riding.  But, good things are happening!

Yesterday was the Cowbell Challenge 12-hour race at the aforementioned USNWC (my work).  It was held on the trails that have been there since the 90s, built by the Tarheel Trailblazers.  They are my favorite trails in Charlotte, and it was nice to finally get out there and ride them.  I’ll do a full race report later.  I’m still sore.

OK, so I’ve been a little busy since the Burn Race…. more on that later.  First, a race recap…

After two years of racing the Burn 24-hour race on all-female teams (which is really fun and I highly recommend it…), and a solo 12-hour race last year, I decided to take the plunge and race solo this year at the Burn 24-hour.  Once I convinced myself to commit to the solo race, I spent a LOT of time thinking about it.  If you’ve been reading my blog, you might have gotten that idea.  I figured I could do it physically, but I wasn’t really sure how I’d hold up on the mental side.  I tend to get emotional when I haven’t had much sleep, and I didn’t know how the overnight hours would find me.  To try to combat the emotional stress, I spent the weeks leading up to the race making packing lists, nutritional plans and formulating my strategy.

The race is held on Memorial Day weekend, which is convenient.  Brian and I took Friday off from work to go up to the Dark Mountain trails in N. Wilkesboro, NC and set up camp.  Officially, camping opens at noon.  Last year, we were there at noon and had our pick of campsites.  This year, we arrived at 12:09 and got the last campsite along the much-coveted first section of track after the trail exit.  At least we were set up next to some local buddies, the “Beerrun” team (Terry W., Chris R., Cheech G., Joe R., Chris W….) and fellow 1st-time 24-hour solo racer Dave Branch.  Here’s Dave and I in our pit on Friday afternoon…

After we set everything up and sat around the campsite debating the chance of rain for a while, we set off to ride the trail late that afternoon.  I rode my SS to see how my 32×20 gearing would do in the off-chance I would need to use that bike as a back-up.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t really eaten anything, but I figured I had an easy gear, we were going slowly, and if anything happened, we’d all be together.  About a mile into the trail, I realized my rear brake calipers were up against the rotor after my hurried cog change-out the night before.  They weren’t just rubbing, they were binding to the point that I couldn’t adjust the pads out to compensate.  Of course, all my tools were in my seatbag on the other bike as part of my strategy to not carry a camelback during the daylight hours of the race.  So, I rode the trail in what felt like 36×16 with no food.  I bonked pretty hard.  Luckily, I was riding with Meghan (a teammate from last year’s team who was racing on the Dirt Divas’ team again).  She had some Envirite which she shared.  I felt better after that, but embarassed about the mechanical issues and lack of food and tool planning for the pre-ride.  I guess I should take these rides more seriously.

Friday night, it was early to bed in the tent.  I wanted to get as much sleep as I could.  Unfortunately, some of our neighbors that we didn’t know decided to show up late that night and make a lot of noise.  Then, of course, they were talking and laughing loudly again before sunrise (I estimate around 5:00 am).  After much shhusshhing and sighs, I finally got up and gave up on sleep.  I sat around the campsite while Brian rode three laps before the start of the race and before his pit-bitch duties began at noon.

Finally — the start of the race.  It starts at noon Saturday with a run (ok, for me, a jog) around the track, then you hop on your bikes and start riding.  I was determined to be the last one on my bike, since I wanted to pace myself and be very conservative at the start of the race.  Unfortunately, several others had similar ideas, or just wanted to be in the back too, so I was fighting for last place.  Some (ahem, Teamdicky) were there to “not really race”, so I ran with them in the back.  Here’s the campsite — we ran around the perimeter to start the race…

The first 7 laps were slow and hot.  I started to wonder why the heck I thought I could do this.  My heart raced, and I tried to drink a lot of Hammer Heed and gel to ward off cramps.  I started thinking there was no way I could do 24 hours of this.  How the heck had I done 12 hours last year?  Although those laps hurt pretty badly, I stuck to my plans to take a break after every 3rd lap.  After a while, my heartrate started to come down.  My shoulders were beginning to hurt, but Brian was rubbing them during each break, which really helped a LOT.  The Heed was mixed a little strong, so I craved water and started drinking more straight water.

Here I am early in the race — slow and steady…

As the sun started to set, I braced myself for depression.  Much to my surprise and delight, I was energized by the darkness.  I was happy to be out of the heat.  My body began to fall into a groove where I didn’t have to think about pedaling anymore.  It’s like everything went into automatic.  I moved from drinking mostly water with some Heed to drinking some Perpetuem (and mostly water).  I had a hard time eating any solid food, so I stayed away from it.  I was feeling good — even energetic.

At 10:30 pm, I had done 9 1/2 laps.  I came across a guy on the trail walking his bike with a small flashlight strapped to his helmet.  His regular light had died and that’s all he had left.  I stopped to help.  I had an extra back-up halogen in my pack which I gave him so he could finish his lap and get his teammates out on the trail.  We fiddled around with the light for quite a while to get it onto his helmet and get it working.  He thanked me profusely and we were on our way.  That’s why I bring a back-up, right?

I got down to the campsite and waited for him to meet me there.  By the time we got there, I realized I didn’t have enough battery left in my HID light to go out for another lap.  My back-up halogen that I had just loaned out was dimming, and my other battery for the HID wasn’t done charging.  So I waited.  Impatiently.  For an hour and 20 minutes.  I watched my other solo female comptetitors pass my tent.  I tapped my feet.  I talked to Beerrun.  I sighed in frustration.

Finally, at 12:30 am, I was back on the trail and very ready to make up some time.  Halfway through my 10th lap, I heard this horrible hissing noise.  I had just gone off the trail to let a faster racer pass and I ran over a small tree stump.  Surely that didn’t cause a flat.  I tried to convince myself that the tire was just low on air.  I filled it using what was left in my current CO2 canister.  It lasted about 50 feet and was flat again.  I changed the tube.  I blew out my other CO2 by not fully attaching it to the pump.  Luckily, a nice guy handed me his hand pump.  I tried to fix it using that, but was getting nowhere fast.  Taylor Sullivan stopped to help.  Thanks, Taylor!  Finally, my tire was fixed after an embarrassing 25 minutes of fumbling around in the dark.  I realized shortly after Taylor took off that we hadn’t put enough air in the tire.  I fumbled some more until a nice girl from Raleigh (I’ve raced against her in XC before) gave me another CO2.  A quick burst, and I was back in business.  I was still riding well, my legs moving in the “zone” on automatic pilot.  My shoulders finally quit hurting, but my crotch was starting to feel the effects of a bunch of hours in the saddle.  The saddle sores were beginning.  They weren’t too bad to begin with, though, and were more tolerable after a liberal dose of Assos (minty-fresh!).  During this lap, I encountered the much sought-after alien abduction.  Dirt Rag magazine caught a picture of me coming through…

The next lap (11) was great.  Toward the end of the lap, I decided I was starting to get hungry.  I stopped at the pits and grabbed some fruit and I’m not sure what else.  I immediately felt nauseous.  I sat at the pits for about 15 minutes, and finally decided that I was too cold to sit there sweating in the dark, so I started riding again thinking I’d warm up and the nausea would pass.  It didn’t.  My 12th lap was pure hell.  I walked much of it and stood there with my head down on my handlebars for a very long time.  I must have stood at the top of the hill near the midway point for 15 minutes.  Everyone who passed offered words of encouragement.  I wasn’t the only one experiencing this, apparently.  I couldn’t ride.  The motion of the headlight made me feel sicker.  Bouncing around made me sicker.  I’d ride for a while and then hug a tree for a while.  I didn’t think I could physically make it out.  I figured I’d still be out on the trail when the race was over at noon.  I’ve never felt quite like that before.  I think throwing up would have been a welcome option, but it wasn’t happening.  There wasn’t enough in my stomach.

That lap took me an hour and a half to complete.  As I was approaching the final climb, the trail went near the lake and I realized the sun was coming up when I saw the deep purple/pink reflection in the lake.  Oh, thank GOD.  That alone picked up my spirits tremendously.  When I got back to the pit area, I sat in my chair for another hour and a half trying to find my stomach.  When I realized I was craving a sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuit, I realized my nausea was gone and I was just plain starving.  Brian had some lunchmeat which I ate and that made me feel much better. 

I had 4 1/2 hours left to race.  I didn’t know where I stood, nor did I really care.  I figured I was getting slammed.  I just wanted to finish the race.  With the exception of the nausea, I felt really good about how I’d come through the previous 19 hours.  I had been riding pretty strong before, and the sunrise reinvigorated me.  I was determined to meet my goal of 15 laps. 

During my 13th lap, I met up with two of the other solo females.  They too had experienced some bad nausea.  I also found out that Dave B. had bowed out around 10 pm after 10 laps with nausea and vomiting.  It was nice to know I wasn’t alone.  As I rode with the other ladies, we talked about the upcoming post-race pizza.  Man, what an incentive!  Pizza never sounded so good to me.

My 14th lap seemed to fly by.  I was climbing the last climb when Chris W. passed me, patted me on the back and said, “You’re doing awesome!  Keep it up!”.  I actually got a little choked up when he said that.  This whole time, I expected that I would cry out of frustration during the night.  That never happened, and here I was about to cry with joy and accomplishment!  Shortly thereafter, Teamdicky passes me on his SS (the Meatplow) wearing nothing but pajama pants.  That’s not something I expected to see.

After lap 14, I stopped in the pits to wait for Brian to come off the hill from taking pictures.  I had plenty of time for a 15th lap, but not enough for 16.  This was the time to break out the “team kit”.  I raced my last lap in the “team kit”, while B wore his matching kit.  It was really fun and an entertaining way to finish out my race.

I ended up 6th (out of 6 solo females), with 15 laps and about 97 miles.  I would have been 23rd out of 40 solo males, though.   

After a couple of pieces of pizza, I collapsed in my pit area and didn’t have the energy to go over to the awards ceremony.   Brian graciously tore down our campsite and packed the car while I laid in the middle of track.  We left the venue and stopped at Burger King so I could have a cheesburger.  I was REALLY hungry.  I still wanted a sausage/egg/cheese biscuit, but it was too late in the day for that.  Brian drove home while I slept.  Once home, I took a shower and collapsed in the bed around 7:00 pm and didn’t wake up until 9:00 am (at which point I drove in my pj’s to McDonald’s for a sausage/egg/cheese biscuit).

I’m already planning for the next one.  I’ll know to have back-ups to my back-up lights and batteries.  I’ll carry extra CO2.  I’ll take in more calories and follow my original nutrition plans (which I failed to do, which is why I think I had the nausea).  I figure the lights cost me 2 laps total, the flat cost me 1/2 lap, and the nausea cost me 2 laps.  Realistically, I could have done 19 or 20 laps at a very slow pace if I had had no “issues”.  Next year….. Next year….

Bottom line, I’m stronger than I thought I was.  My body was able to take the riding.  My emotions didn’t fail.  It was really surreal to have my body go into auto-mode.  That’s never happened to me before.  It gives me a new confidence in both my physical and mental abilities to perservere.