DownEast Mudfest

(All photos by Paul Weiss-none of me this week to share...)

The north east's recent weather pattern has been ideal for the mudders. Monday-Friday has been sunny as can be with temperatures in the mid 50s to 60s making training through the stunningly beautiful fall foliage even more perfect. The rain has been timing itself just right so that it has rolled in just before race day and has stayed put all weekend long. Training in the rain is no fun but racing is the perfect excuse to go out and play in it.

This past weekend I headed up to New Gloucester, ME for round 7 & 8 of the VERGE series. It was the first race I had to do without Nate pampering me, so having to do the 2 hour drive in the pouring rain solo was a bit unsettling. I made it in one piece, showed up to the venue and pulled out my dad's easy-up tent he so graciously lent me for the weekend. I returned the favor by breaking it in three places (which I must have done in the windy conditions at Granogue/Wissahickon the week before). Oops. Sorry Dad. Luckily, my new pal Paul let me warm up under his Seaside Cycles tent, so I was able to get a dry warm up in.

Man-o-man, was the weather miserable. Barely 40 deg. pouring and windy. We all lined up at the start, shivering in our silly little skinsuits. The gun went off and 2 seconds later-BAAM-Mo slammed into me from the left. She got boxed in and cut off by someone on her left, she leaned into me and I just couldn't hold up the dominoes...Mo and I went down hard, together. We got up, untangled my seat from her rear wheel did a quick bike/brain/body check and got back on. The pack was long gone and I knew we were in for a long day at the office.

Somehow we both managed to make our way through the pack and reached the chase group by 1/2 way through the first lap. Mary and Andrea fell off and Mo and I eventually closed the gap on Natasha with a lap to go. Mo threw down a sick attack on the last 2 corners, rode them flawlessly and left me in the dust (okay, ankle deep mud, really). I pulled in 2nd and Mo and I celebrated with a muddy bear-hug, incredulous at the fact that we started the race with a pileup and a furious chase from DFL to 1st and 2nd place

I got a fitful night of rest after putting in a late-night effort to finish an assignment for my current class "Performance Enhancement in Sport." I did a good job I think, but I mostly learned that staying up late the night before a race to finish a powerpoint presentation is not good for actually enhancing my own performance.


Sunday was be-U-tiful! Sunny and warmer, Maine delivered a perfect New England fall day. Unfortunately, the course conditions didn't reflect the weather. The organizers simply reversed the direction of the previous day's course, meaning we had to ride in the same okefenokee swamp-like conditions (you can't blame them, really. Can you imagine their post-race landscaping bills?) In terms of food offerings, Sunday's mud was much more like peanut butter whereas Saturday's mud was more like New England Clam Chowder (the clams representing the many, many rocks hidden in the hub-deep puddles).

I had a great start but managed to crash myself out in the first downhill. I set my wheel into one of those invisible sucker holes in the mud and endoed directly onto my head. Ouch. Rang my bell pretty darn hard and had to use what mental capacity I had left to assess whether or not I could/should keep riding. I ran for a long time (remounting in those conditions was impossible) but had long ago lost the lead group. I spent the next 2 laps riding around feeling fuzzy, blurry and unsettled from crashing. I finally came to my senses in the last lap, but it was too late. I managed to roll in solo for 5th place, thankful that I was able to finish the race with nothing but a headache and stiff neck.


I celebrated the weekend with a trip to LL Bean with my parents, just like old times. That store has the cheeriest darn employees on the planet. Must be a Maine thing. I took home a pair of pink plaid Wellies Boots to brighten up the next wet-weather weekend.

The best part about this past weekend was the overwhelming conclusion that I have discovered another wonderful community of people through cross racing. I have met so many great people, made lots of new friends and have truly enjoyed the "we're all suffering together" attitude that comes along with racing cross. It makes lots of other stuff in life seem easier. So, when I am shivering on the chairlift in Jackson Hole this winter, thinking of complaining yet again about the bitter Wyoming wind-chill factor, I'll just remember the times where I actually chose (on purpose) to ride in stupid-cold, wet muddy conditions while wearing nothing but spandex. Good reality check.

Granogue and Wissahickon

LVG showing me who's boss (Photo by Todd Leister)

This past weekend we made the hellacious drive through NY and Jersey traffic to enjoy a special brand of mud in the Granogue and Wissahickon races. I felt like a rockstar on Saturday but my bike just wouldn't cooperate. I ripped off my derailleur in the first few turns of the first lap while riding in the front, had to run a loooong way to the pit for a bike and then continued to drop my chain 3 times killing all time I was making up each lap. Super frustrating day of mechanicals in conditions that suited me.

I managed to make up 15 seconds on Laura Van Gilder in the last half a lap and caught her right before we hit the pavement. I probably don't need to explain to anyone why LVG is the last person in the world you want to have to sprint for a win ;) She passed me as if I was chillaxing, riding a fixie cruiser and wearing business attire with a coffee in hand on my way to the office. I ended up 4th on the day.

It was as muddy as it looks at Granogue (Photo by Marco Quezada)

Clearly, I was not feeling the love at Wissahickon (Photo by Todd Lesiter)

Wissahickon was a true sufferfest for me. My legs just felt like frozen, dead stumps and I couldn't hang on to the accelerations of the leaders on the faster conditions. I felt pretty spent after the amount of running I did the previous day. I rode the entire race in no man's land in the very windy and cold conditions and rolled into the finish in 6th.

School has started up again, so the blog has been forced down my priority list. Thankfully, Colt from Cyclingnews has been lurking immediately after my races document my true feelings about what really happened out there.

Granogue Interview

Wissahickon Interview

Gloucester Gran Prix

Turns out I am a mudder. Who would have thunk it? Certainly not me and definitely not the majority of the folks who looked at Saturday's start list. Richard Fries, (the announcer and a guy who knows a thing or two about cross) stuck a microphone up to my face after the podium and the first question he asked: "Who the hell are you?"

Apparently, I am someone who likes to ride her bike in heinous deep mud.


Saturday's edition of the Gloucester Gran Prix was my 3rd UCI race ever. Gloucester had been described to me as a "grass crit" so I was mentally prepared for a fast day...until the heavens opened up the night before. A flood warning was issued by Saturday morning and the rain continued until after our race. I was excited for the conditions-come on, isn't this cross racing thing just an excuse to go out and play in the mud anyway?


I started on what I think was the 2nd to last row in a race of just shy of 40 women. A long pavement climb led us up to the mud where the race started to unfold immediately. To my surprise, I was extremely comfortable in the conditions. What I quickly figured out was that riding in mud is a lot like riding in deep sand. You have to put consistent power to the pedals (especially in the corners), stay seated and be comfortable with your bike squirming all over the place under you, trusting that it will right itself without you grabbing a handful of brake. I was able to pick my way through traffic and make it up to the lead group about 1/2 way through the first lap. Once I got there I just rode as hard as I could. Really. No strategy whatsoever. Just pedaled. During the last of 3 laps Lynne Bessette, Natasha Elliot and I were close to each other the entire time. I felt them on my wheel and tried my best to shake them-no attack really, just tried to ride them off my wheel with a steady power through the slop. Natasha hung on, Lynne fell off and then Natasha threw in a monster attack in front of the last pit. Good lord, I was so tapped I couldn't respond to this last one like the others. She got a little gap, rode and ran the next few corners flawlessly and I was toast.

I was second by 4 seconds after leading much of the race. Yes, I am still in shock. Thanks, Mom, for being there to wipe my face off before the podium. Gotta love family.


Day 2 of Gloucester highlighted one of the great realities of this silly sport: conditions can change in a heart beat, exposing your strengths and weaknesses like you're wearing your birthday suit-no where to hide. The track was still a little sticky in some corners, but generally speaking it was more like traditional Gloucester: fast and dry. Saturday taught me that I am very good at steady power and at running with my bike (thanks, Eric). Sunday taught me that I need to work on my speed and especially my accelerations. After a long endurance mountain biking season, I'm just not there yet with my fitness.


Sunday's race saw me line up again in the back. But this time I blew my start completely by missing my pedal 3 times. I watched the front of the race go off at a blistering pace and knew I was in for a long day at the office. I put myself in all the wrong places at all the wrong times on Sunday. Unlike Saturday, the pace was so high in the opening corners it wasn't nearly as easy to move up.

I got myself tangled in a girl who took out the tape and the metal stake holding it up in about the 3rd corner, losing a bunch more places. By the time I got back up, most of the race was gone. I got stuck behind 3 crashes total...man, I need to choose better wheels to follow. Anyway, after riding in about 30th, I was able to pass my way up to 8th in the closing corners. I was with one other gal at the end and totally got my ass handed to me by her with a brilliant inside pass in the final corner. She finished me off with her killer sprint-something I ain't got-and I settled for 9th.



I learned sooooo much this weekend. It confirmed my suspicion that cross really is the endurance mountain biker's dream scenario for "off season" training. We are used to being cheered on by the voices in our heads, not by hundreds, if not thousands of rabid, cowbell shaking, screaming, heckling fans waiting for us to eat it on a set of barriers. The motivation is sweet.

I think the most important thing that dawned on me is how important good support is in cross. Nate has been a saint and has been so key to my endeavors. Having a clean bike waiting for you to warm up on, one to take in the pits and someone to help you with the EPIC clean up after a mud race is essential. Having a husband there to change all your cable and housing before the next race is priceless. What a guy. My thanks to him was a 1/2 dozen cider donuts fresh from the apple orchard. Gawd, I think I have a lot more thanking to do.

The best thing about the weekend was that it was 20 min from where I grew up, so the friends and family came out in force. Thanks everyone who made the trip and tolerated the muddy bear hugs after the race. Also, special thanks to Nate's cousin Preston for all these awesome photos. I was glad I was able to put on a good show for my peeps.

Thank you Mr. President

Here are a few photos from our ride in Texas that I promised a while back...