“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.”
-Eleanor Roosevelt
When I signed up for unPAved, I have to admit, I was terrified. The 120-mile course that included 9000+ feet of elevation, Class IV fire road climbs and descents, and a very strong field of fierce women competitors would be the longest — and possibly the most grueling — race in my competitive cycling career to date. Plus, I had never raced gravel before. But, signing up for an event like this fits my MO perfectly: jump into the deep end of the pool with both feet and fiercely believe that I can swim.
Truth is, as much as I was terrified of this race experience, I was equally excited to visit Lewisburg, home of Bucknell University, my alma mater (‘ray Bucknell!), and to experience the gravel community first-hand. Central PA is home to the farm country roads on which I learned to love cycling many years ago; however, the Bucknell Cycling Team training rides often avoided gravel roads, so I was eager to see a part of landscape that was still foreign to me, and yet familiar at the same time. With the new Seven Cycles KellCross SL in my stable, I was was ready to take on the rockiest, graveliest adventure possible.
Enjoying being back on Bucknell’s campus for a short while after wrapping up the “Friday Ride” Cycling Team route.
My Seven Cycles KellCross SL Evergreen.
Coming into this race, my primary goal was to have fun and enjoy the experience. Of course, I always toe the line with the goal of winning, but that’s typically a results-oriented goal that relies on several factors outside of my control. This year, I have been working to identify process goals, because I have much more control over how I respond to the race-day conditions, listen to my body, and make decisions about fueling and hydration. These things, ultimately, lead to an enjoyable race.
It’s been said that you shouldn’t try anything new on race day, particularly food. But, because we already know that I’m a “both-feet-in-the-pool” kind of gal and I’m already racing more than double the length of any race I’ve done this season, I decided that my first half of the race should be fueled by pretzel rods, a peanut butter & banana sandwich, and a peanut butter & jelly sandwich, none of which I have ever eaten during a workout, never mind during a race. Interestingly, I don’t even like jelly. I’m not sure what compelled me to think that after a couple hours of suffering, this would be my fuel of choice. For the second half of the day, I had some energy waffles, energy chews, and caffeine-infused gels. All of this was paired with my First Endurance EFS drink mix in my bottles, to keep me hydrated full of electrolytes. With calories counted and portioned for what I expected to be an 8-hour race (that was the female winner’s approximate time from last year, so I convinced myself that was reasonable), I packed my two bags — one feed bag attached to the stem and head tube and one larger saddle bag — with the food and necessary tools, to the point of bursting.
Pretzel rods. Because, calories. Maybe not the best life choice — more on that soon.
Fast forward to race day morning — October 13th, 2019. True to form, I slept terribly the night before (silly pre-race jitters!), and was very behind schedule by the time we arrived at the Miller Center in Lewisburg. We arrived at 6:30am for the 7am start, and it was incredibly foggy and cold (34 degrees Fahrenheit, to be precise). Also true to form, I had to pee twice in those 30 minutes before race start, while also managing to pull together all the last-minute essentials (what gloves should I wear? Do I use booties or just toe covers?). For the first time ever in my professional racing career, I didn’t have time to do a warm up. I was a bit frazzled and, to be honest, feeling like I should have just stayed curled up in bed back at our Airbnb. Luckily, running in and out of the Miller Center to use the bathroom and shedding layers only to put them back on again — twice! — was a good way to get the heart pumping. By 7am, I was at the start line.
Race day jitters or freezing cold temperatures?
The race ended up starting 15 minutes late because of the heavy fog, which was perfect because I had an extra 15 minutes to freeze while thinking about how I didn’t get to warm up. When we finally rolled out, we cruised at a conversational pace on the Buffalo Valley Rail Trail for a 4.5 mile neutral start. Then the race truly began, with the pace picking up as the men up front started to break away. We rolled along some farm & country back roads to the base of the longest climb on course — Jones Mountain.
As we entered the climb, I was in the lead for women. But that was short lived as badass racer Hayley Wickstrom caught me and said “Hi Sharky!”, and then proceeded to pedal away as if I was just out for a leisurely Sunday spin. Hayley and I were competitors during our collegiate road racing days. She used to call me “Sharky” (a play off of my maiden name Desharnais, which some people said sounded like “de-Shark”), and I used to call her “Dino Girl” (and for the life of me, I can’t remember why).
Hayley pedaling away on the climb was a pivotal moment for me. I was super proud to see how strong she still was (I had no idea what she had been up to the past several years) but was a bit disappointed to watch her pull away while also seeing my heart rate climb. I knew that in order to enjoy the day, I had to race my own race and stay patient. I then proceeded to settle into a pretty steady pace (and, as it turns out, my second highest all-time average power interval for 60 minutes). I had to remind myself not to “burn too many matches” too early in the race, so I stayed within my limits based on perceived effort (I don’t actually monitor my watts during races), but I could already feel that my body needed energy.
Let me ask: have you ever been riding above your threshold for an extended period of time and then tried to eat a pretzel rod? How about three pretzel rods? I knew I needed to get calories into my system but I just couldn’t justify eating a sandwich earlier than 8am, so I turned to the unforgiving pretzels. It felt like I was coating my throat with pretzel dust on every vicious inhale and spewing crumbs on every exhale. This was a mistake. But, I had to consume my calories. So, I laughed at myself, made a silly comment to the guy who was climbing alongside me and observed my antics for far longer than I would have liked, and continued to follow my fueling plan. At that moment I made a note to self: if I ever get tasked with planning a torture method, it will be riding intervals on a bike while eating pretzel rods. Pure evil. After you pass the stage of poison dust, the fun doesn’t stop there. Then you hit the stage of un-swallowable cement stuck in your mouth. Luckily, I’m persistent and stuck to my plan. Plus, we had a really beautiful gravel downhill in the Bald Eagle State Forest to keep me distracted.
By the time I had finished my first pretzel, it was time to have the next one and I just couldn’t. So, I moved on to the PB & Banana sandwich. I’ll spare you the details on how difficult it is to eat a large half of a sandwich while maintaining race speed on gravel roads. At one point, one guy yelled “enjoy your breakfast!” with a big smirk while he passed me noming on what must have looked pretty ridiculous, especially because I had to frequently grab my handlebars for stability while keeping the sandwich hanging out of my mouth. But, I did enjoy it and I laughed at myself again. And my eating escapade subsequently led to many well-fueled miles, and finally, I made it to mile 50.
Mile 50 is the second aid station (I didn’t stop at the first one), and the point of no return for the riders doing the 120-mile course. The 30-mile difference between the 90-mile route and the 120-mile route is called “The Difference” (see the purple outline in the map below) and it is BRUTAL. It starts and ends at the aid station, and includes a serious amount of elevation, as well as several miles of Class IV climb and descent.
“The Difference” (outlined in purple): Miles 50-80, full of climbing, gnar, and pain.
This aid station was the first time I have ever had to fill up my own bottles and re-fuel mid-race (I’m spoiled, I know). Unlike the rest of my race experiences, this event is self-supported (even at aid stations, you have to put your foot down and take care of your own food/drinks). I always have Joe to take care of these details for me, so I was a bit disoriented. I re-filled all three of my bottles with water, mixed in my EFS drink mix (yes, I packed my own baggie and scoop to fill them!), and grabbed a couple energy chews. I also stopped to pee because I was — shockingly! — staying on top of my hydration, which is unusual for me mid-race. Next up: The Difference.
As I started The Difference, I settled into a rhythm on the first, long climb. The short aid station break felt refreshing, and I was able to pass a few guys in the first couple of miles. Then, we hit Longwell Draft (the Class IV fire roads), which was full of large loose boulders and enormous potholes. Luckily, my MTB skills kicked in, and I navigated the chunky road smoothly (albeit with white knuckles at some points). I passed a few more guys on the downhill, and smiled because, actually, I was having a lot of fun.
The rest of The Difference was full of what felt like never-ending climbing, but I stayed vigilant about my fueling and hydration, and powered through.
At mile 80, I filled two more bottles and headed out for the final 40 miles. At this point, the short aid station break didn’t feel quite as enjoyable on my legs as the last time I stopped, but, luckily, I had those wonderful, leftover pretzel rods from the morning to bring me back to life.
Around mile 82, I passed Joe on the side of the trail taking photos and didn’t even realize it was him almost until I had passed him. I decided not to turn around to say hi because 1) it was a race, and 2) I’m not sure I would have wanted to keep pedaling if I stopped.
One of Joe’s “action photos” as I pedaled by him in a blur. He didn’t realize it was me, and I just barely recognized him by the time I passed. Believe it or not, this is one of the best photos of me riding a wooded/gravel section of the course from the entire day.
Around mile 90, the course meandered up a gorgeous fire road in some back woods and I couldn’t help but appreciate the foliage. My legs were really starting to fatigue, but I pushed to catch up to a guy who looked strong in front of me. I’m not sure he knew I was there, but for about a mile, I sat on his wheel while he set a steady pace on an uphill, and was able to recover. His pace was a bit slower than mine, but I enjoyed the mental respite because pedaling alone for the better part of 90 miles is mentally taxing. I then told him that I would be happy to do some work and lead for a bit, and decided I would pick up the pace. To my surprise, he kept up with me, and we pacelined for the next mile or two before I learned his name was Ian. Ian and I shared the work and pushed each other as we made our way up to Hobo Vista.
On any other day, Hobo Vista would have been just another vista overlooking the beautiful Susquehanna Valley. But on this day, Hobo Vista was a glorious prize. Signs leading up to the vista read “Chasing Something?” and “Velvet?” — which were clear indications of something amazing: The Chaise. Salsa Cycles had started a fun tradition at some of the larger gravel events in North America where they would bring a Victorian-era chaise lounge and lamp to an undisclosed part of the race course and set it up for racers to sit and take a professional photo. I had never experienced the #chasethechaise movement before this day, so I didn’t fully understand how incredible the experience is. But, as Ian and I climbed up the steep dirt road to the large group of people (maybe 10-ish riders from the 90-mile and 54-mile routes) waiting by the classy couch, I had a rush of adrenaline that enabled me to output some VERY heavy watts.
I should note that at this point in the race, I had already felt victorious. We were at around 95 miles, and I was truly having fun. I made a couple new friends along the way and, frankly, I had no idea how far ahead Hayley was in front of me. In fact, after she dropped me, I was pretty certain she was long gone and the next time I would see her is at the finish line. And, truthfully, I was completely content with 2nd place. I was racing my own race, enjoying the scenery, and strangely embracing the pain of miles upon miles of gravel roads.
But then, as I pulled into the Hobo Vista, wheezing and nearly cross-eyed from the incredibly hard interval I just completed up that hill, ready for a short sit on that classiest of couches, someone yelled to me “Kelly! Quick, get onto the chaise! She’s only 2 minutes ahead of you!” Then, the game was on. In spite of my incredible fatigue and uncontrollable wheezing, I took a relatively composed photo (see below, you be the judge), and immediately hopped back onto my bike, cyclocross style.
Salsa Cycles’ Chaise photo — relatively composed and professional-looking, all in under 30 seconds.
I learned later that Ian was pretty disappointed I jumped right back onto the bike before waiting for him to take a photo (“I thought we had a good thing going” he told me later). What Ian didn’t know was that I had to pee incredibly bad and I wanted to get a head start on him so I could pull off into the woods down the road and be able to get back on the bike right before he passed me. To my surprise, this plan was executed almost perfectly.
After Hobo Vista, I knew I had 2 + pee-break minutes to the Women’s overall leader. I pushed the pace pretty hard for the next several miles (sorry, Ian), and by mile 100, we had passed Hayley on a downhill. We had passed her so fast that I was certain we had left her behind. To my surprise, she caught onto our train and we formed a three-person paceline for several miles. We maintained a fast pace and I kept my head down, knowing that I still had several miles to go, and I was running out of water and food.
After taking a hard uphill pull in the paceline, I pulled off and let Hayley lead on a steep downhill. We zoomed down the back country road, with Hayley leading, and Ian and I noticed the bright orange course arrows pointing to the right. We yelled out (as racers do on road bike race-type events) “Right turn!” to signal the upcoming change in direction. Unfortunately, I think Hayley was in the zone, crushing the pace, and she missed the turn. She was quite a ways away from us at that point, as we both turned onto the steep uphill climb. After slowing down the pace for a few minutes to see if Hayley would catch back onto us, she was nowhere in sight. At that point, Ian and I decided to continue pace lining to the end. (As a side note, I still can’t decide if that was the right decision. It was a race, afterall, and these kinds of mistakes have happened to me before and my competitors have capitalized on them.)
The last 9 miles of the race were on the Buffalo Valley Rail Trail, the same trail on which the course began. As we pedaled over those 9 miles of flat, straight trail covered in crushed rock, I felt like I was trapped in some sort of cruel joke that had to do with low tire pressure and the movie the Neverending Story.
Ian and I, turning onto the Buffalo Valley Rail Trail in Mifflinburg, headed into the last 9 miles of the 120-mile race course.
Just like that, my first ever gravel race was complete. My 7hr 45min race time went by faster than I had expected, and I truly did accomplish my goal of having fun. Mike and Dave (the esteemed race promoters) put on a fantastic weekend of community and adventure.
Crossing the finish line in 1st, in a discipline I’ve never raced before, on a bike named after me, after the longest I’ve ever sat on a bike saddle at one time, in the hometown of my alma mater, with my husband waiting at the end, felt somewhat poetic. Even more so, the KellCross was designed to be both a cyclocross and gravel race bike, and I had just added a gravel race win to the cyclocross win from just two weeks prior. What a feeling (and a marketing testamonial!).
The weekend ended with some fantastic time with new and old friends at the DONEpaved celebration (post-race party), full of whoopie pies, silly hats, and podium photos. And for me, it was a realization that I just found a new avenue to explore: gravel racing. I hadn’t just faced my fear, I had conquered it. And gained strength, courage, and confidence in myself, along with some incredibly sore legs (and a terrible stomach ache from all that sugar!).
Moral of the story: Don’t eat pretzel rods.
Post race interview with Mike.
Finish line selfie during my cool-down ride with my favorite Bucknell professor — Dr. Eric Kennedy!
Bucknell alumni crew!