Entitled "12 Hours of the Canal Loop", the race is a loop of 11.3 miles and 95% singletrack. As the website says, "The loop is situated...smack dab in between Kentucky Lake and lake Barkley. It's a very beautiful place with the nature and scenery. Try not to look too hard while you are riding. We don't want any accidents." Indeed the trail would follow the shore lines occasionally giving spectacular glimpses into the serene lake, at least Friday it was calm. I saw only 2 sailboats and the water was like glass in some places. With a breeze on Saturday, white sails were hoisted and glided all over the place.
I snagged this map from the Woodnwave site. Unfortunately, I have no other pics as I was too busy racing. We raced counter-clockwise.
So, I took Big Wheel with the Thudbuster. I must say the 29er was a PERFECT choice for me as the trails are very rooty with rocks in numerous places. The first 5 miles reminded me of Nebo Ridge only with longer hills and rocky. It was up and down & down and up with roots everywhere. A couple of rocky sections, some loose, made for some grueling pedaling. well not as grueling since I opted for the granny gear on several occasions. Nevertheless, the big wheels seemed to float over the roots and washed out sections; I could fly on the downhills when I wasn't too busy being a chicken sh*t grabbing the brakes.
The next 6 miles was an undulating single track with very nice, smooth flow. Many points in the trail had technical sections with big logs or a board across a small ditch with options to go around. If I were a good technical rider, I could have gained a few seconds; most of the time I took the alternate, slightly longer routes.
During my first lap, Heather and I rode together; she was instrumental in helping me pace myself. During the second lap, I went around her on the hilly part and continued on my way. At one point I dropped my Nutter Butters--package and all--on the ground. I vowed to pick up my litter in the next lap. Heather met me at the car as I was refueling with gatorade and water; I had run out of both by not stopping between laps 1 & 2, but I was plenty hydrated.
Lap 3 was slower than the first 2, which were running about 1 hr. 15 minutes. Since I had picked it up a little on the second lap, I thought I should be conservative again. Like a good girl, I saw my Nutter Butter package and picked it up. The 4th lap would be my final; not because of time but because I wanted it to be. During this lap my body was giving me all kinds of warnings like, "Hey...this hurts and that hurts. You might want to reconsider this effort. Don't we still have to drive 4.5 hours home? Aren't we planning to run a 1/2 marathon?" I agreed. YES, YES, YES. No matter what, this would be my final lap. Sure, it's an easy way out to quit when it hurts, but the race wasn't a high priority for me. So, I picked up the pace. I started flying--as much as I could anyway.
About 15 minutes from the finish I heard a familiar sound, "pppppppppffffffffffffffffffffffffffff." No, it wasn't gas; my rear tire had gone flat. ARGH! Where was Heather? How far behind was she? Not far, I know. Checking first for poison ivy, I threw my stuff to the ground and started the repair. Let it be known I am the world's slowest bike mechanic. Luckily, I didn't have too much trouble, and I was able to keep the tears at bay while calmly finishing my task. As I neared the finish, Heather was in the truck. She explained she was having a bad day when her body said no more and didn't complete a 4th lap. I went through the finish line opting to forego my opportunity for a 5th lap that would have put me in a 6.5 hour race or longer. I was cooked and truly didn't want to climb the hills again in the first 5 miles. And, it didn't matter since Heather and I were the only ones in our category, 6-hour solo women.
My first stop was for the port-a-pot. I have NEVER been so thankful for one of these. While racing, I actually considered peeing in my shorts as I didn't want to take the time to stop. With a quivering voice, I let out an audible gasp of relief; the guy next door managed a smile when we both exited at the same time. Similarly, on the way home I had another funny bathroom experience. For some reason, I waited 2.5 hours to eat and found my choices were very little along SR 57 in Indiana. I came upon a McDonald's in Petersburg. Shuffling to the restroom as quickly as I could, a lady was outside waiting. My exasperated look was met with her own.
"I have to go really bad," she said.
When the gentleman left his restroom, I gave her first opportunity. She declined. It was mine!!!! Unfortunately, the port-a-pot at the race was cleaner than this one. YUCK! Again, it was almost worth it.
Knock, knock, knock! Someone's rapping at the door.
I exited and smiled to the elderly gentleman waiting outside. Standing in line at the counter, I saw him enter the restroom, come out, look at the sign on the door (that said MEN), walk down the hall to the door that said WOMEN, then walk back in to the appropriate room. Two patrons watched me watched him. When I met their gaze they quickly looked at the floor.
Come on, people! As if you've never used the wrong restroom on purpose!
Too funny. Tired but wired, I made it home by 8:30 Saturday evening. What fun trails and beautiful scenery. It's a must-do on the trip list.
1 comment:
way to go Angela!
thought for sure your bathroom experience was going to involve an xlerator for sure :-)
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