Oh you’re still here? Fine then. Continue.
On Saturday, June 22 I embarked on a new challenge. The second annual Coast to Coast Gravel Grinder. In May 2018 I ran support for two friends in the first ever event. Up to this event, I would have only ridden 50 more miles in one 24 hour period or less, the 2016 24 Hour Challenge, on my easy-pedaling road bike. So I thought about this one for awhile last year and when poked by my friend Jeff to do it with him in 2019, I just went ahead and signed up. I figured this would be the same as the 24HR, but different - as Dad would say.
The C2C is a 210 mile gravel and two-track sort of adventure race with some pavement sprinkled in for fun and/or necessity. The “race” (I will use that term loosely throughout, since it was more of a ride of survival for me) starts at Point AuGres on the shores of Lake Huron and navigates entirely across the state westerly towards the finish in Ludington on Lake Michigan. Coast to coast. See how that works? Besides Michigan and Florida (and I suppose some random little states in the New England area) you’ll be hard pressed to find any other “coast to coast” one-day-possible rides in the contiguous 48 states - so it really is unique in that way. Plus I like the dirt concept. Plenty of that in Michigan. Start is at 6am just after sunrise Saturday. You have to make the check point cutoffs and finish before 3am Sunday morning - 21 hours. My goals were: (1) finish the race and (2) finish before midnight. It is self-supported (no race organized support except food/drink at the finish). The checkpoints are around every 50-60 or so miles where your support person and vehicle will be patiently waiting for you. In my case this year, my lovely wife would be there with everything set up for me. She did one helluva job too and I wouldn’t have been able to do this without her.
I had been thinking about the race ever since I signed up 7 months ago. I must enjoy the long periods of panic, planning and training that goes into these things or else maybe I just sign up then worry about those things later. I don’t know. I will lose sleep. In general, I also have a hard time setting aside time for “me”, so getting in the training miles and long hours in the saddle makes me feel like a bad husband and dad for not being around which makes it hard for me to commit to doing these types of things. However, I do hope our kids see how Patti and I commit to these types of things and realize it’s something worthwhile they should also strive for when they grow up. To add to the stress, the cheap-guy in me realizes I have to replace days of the paid gym membership time with free bike time, thus I feel like I’m wasting money. (BTW, thanks Mom for all these obsessive mental components to my whole-being. Argh!)
Stuff I packed for the ride
First some facts, then the race day breakdown from my perspective:
450 racers registered, 375 started, 320 finished. 85% finish rate
My overall time was 17 hours and 20 minutes
Actual moving time on the bike was 15 hours and 30 minutes
(from what I can recall) In less than 22 hours, I consumed:
(3) 100oz Camelbak hydration pack fills (regular water)
(7) 20oz bottles worth of various Hammer Heed (short time endurance) and Hammer Perpetuem (long time endurance) and Infinit Jet Fuel (I call this “high-octane”) powder drink mixes
(3) gel flasks worth of Infinit TripWire shots (for cramps and added caffeine)
(13) Hammer Endurolytes capsules (again, to keep away cramps)
Two Tylenol
One mini-Coke
One 8oz Redbull
One 5-hr Energy
Two chocolate milks
You get the picture so far? Lots of carbs and caffeine. If I lose my brain during an endurance event like this all hell breaks loose. I usually start to have mis-shifts on the bike or my handling goes to crap, or if I forget to keep drinking entirely, I will continue to lose ground - that’s when my alter-ego MARAVOLO (all caps) shows up to destroy equipment and be generally down on himself and abusive in language to the bike gods. Then it becomes not fun, especially for everyone else within visual or hearing range of me. I can be a peach to hang out with.
Oh, wait. Don’t forget, add all those liquids to the various nom-nom teeth-worthy snacks I consumed like: licorice bites, a turkey sandwich, juicy steak (more on this later), several dill pickle wedges, two Honey Stinger waffles, six Hammer Gels, two mini-PayDay candy bars and 3 bananas. I started all this with strawberry mini-wheats, milk and three hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. Plus probably 200 oz of water the previous 36 hours and many potty breaks - I like to think the potty breaks keep my desk-job legs fresh by getting up every 20 minutes for activity.
At the finish I had 20 oz more water on the way home, another chocolate milk and a BBQ pork sandwich and a handful of Doritos. Now, I’m a big guy, but this would make it sound like I weigh 300 lbs or something. (TMI coming up right here...I will usually only poop once in the next two days after an event like this, so I literally use up just about everything I consume.) I don’t know. I am not good at science, but that’s way more going in than coming out.
It’s a poop mystery.
Now that I can see you shaking your head and blinking in disbelief, let’s get to it…
Pre-race Day training and events
Up to race day, I’d logged 700 miles this year. That is actually really good for me. That’s a mix of trails and roads, gravel, snow, pavement...everything. There have been some years in the past where I don’t even reach 900 miles the entire year. Probably the most nuts thing I did (which actually worked for me and the limited time I had available) was about six weeks out I started purposely training. I did a 35 mile ride. Then a 70 mile ride. Then a 160 mile ride. All on back to back to back weekends. Just kept doubling it up. Why not, right? All of which were pretty flat, but long hours in the saddle. After that, I started adding in hills at lower mileages and even threw in a 77 miler on the fatbike in (mostly) mud and straight into the wind with a 20lb rain-soaked backpack on my shoulders. What joy that one was. I then tapered down 1.5 weeks in advance for a bit of rest and figured that was about all I could do to prepare.
The bike, mounted and ready to go to Kalamazoo for the day
then all the way back upstate to Tawas City.
Patti drove up after work and met me at the hotel in Tawas (10 pm) Friday night. She had my bike and much of the gear we needed for support the next day. It was weird for me to show up to a bike race destination and packet pick up with no bike. Since I rode with my friend Jeff Scofield and his wife Nancy (and their dog Gannet) - in a Ford Escape BTW - there wasn’t room for excessive gear inside or another bike on the back since we also had Jeff’s friend from Rhode Island, Geoff, riding with us. (Good for me, when I would bonk, I only need to know one name and could simply mutter “Jeff. Help. Me.” and maybe one would respond to the whimpering sounds. I’m sure I wouldn’t have cared which one responded.)
Race Day Morning
My alarm went off at 4am. Which would seem totally ridiculous to many of you, but we’re both used to waking up at that time during a normal week anyways, so NBD. I continued futzing around with all my gear, nutrition, bike and stuff, found myself walking in needless circles without having accomplished anything but talking to myself, had breakfast and we were checked out by 5am. We arrived at the start location at 5:30, parked and I got my butterflies stoked and my nervous game-face ready for the 6am start. Weather was gorgeous. Mid-to-upper 50’s for temps. Full sun. No breeze. Dry conditions. All week the forecast was for clouds with lightning bolts shooting out of them, so this was good.
Stage 1: Point AuGres to Gladwin, 56 miles
This section was all the talk the day before the race. A section of road about 5-6 miles in was closed to traffic due to the high water table of the great lakes which gave this section extreme muddy conditions. The organizers did a neutral roll-out to this point, so we could all bunch up and walk through it together and wait for minutes to get through it like herded cattle apparently. (Should this have even mattered? What would be a 12 to 20 hour day for participants...I’m sure wouldn’t have surely come down to this mud section determining winners.) The mud wasn’t that lengthy and once we got past it, that was it for gnarly conditions in this stage.
Friday conditions of the mud bog.
Race day bog. Herd of cattle marching through with bikes on shoulders.
The east end of the state in this region is really flat and most was paved. This was fun, not just because of that, but also because you could actually ride with other people. When you get to Stage 4 everyone is so spread out, you could ride for 30 minutes or longer without seeing another soul or blinky tail light. Jeff, Geoff and I were all working together in a paceline to make quick work of this segment. I’m the slowest of the three of us, so most of the time I was a benefactor of the draft. After miles of doing this together (and then I started taking turns pulling) we realized we had amassed a total of 16 men in our group. Of which only the three of us were pulling everyone for miles and miles. They just all sucked our wheels into Gladwin happily saving their energy to destroy us later. Our pace was 18-20mph in those pacelines and when we got to Gladwin my average speed was 16.4 - which for 56 miles is too much for this man. I knew it would happen though and I felt good at the time. But I was only 25% of the way there, with every stage more difficult than this one. I removed my long-sleeved jersey and switched to fingerless gloves. Things were heating up.
Still all smiles at Check Point #1. (L to R: Geoff, Jeff and me)
Stage 2: Gladwin to Marion, 49 miles
After hitting up the bathrooms I consumed (very little) food, and soon we were off for the next 49 mile section. This would progressively get a little more hilly and be mostly gravel and sandy conditions. I was needing the banana I had stashed in my jersey pocket, so on a nice paved section I was able to break it out...just in time to take a sharp right hand turn onto some two-track riddled with puddles and whoop-dee-do’s. Dang it. (Read: hard to drive a bike with one hand, while trying to breathe and chomp on a mushy banana and not snap it off from bumps.) Oh, then I saw the official event photographer’s car lying in wait. Great. I don’t want my picture taken with this stupid banana in my hand. I have to look badass! But I really need this banana. What do I do? Can I pound it down faster? Oh, look. Nope, there’s Rob. Hey Rob, “wanna see my banana”? I lay it down to my side and hold it out toward the camera. Click. Click. He chuckled, “that’s a nice banana”. What ended up being my only two “official” recognizable photos of the event were of me with a half peeled and eaten banana in my hand. (so what you see here is the better of the two I did actually purchase.)
Me showing off my banana in the woods.
A little later, the sun was out in full effect, beating down on me in the open fields. I began to dwindle off the back of our three-man group, Jeff and Geoff happily surging ahead, but I could tell they were beginning to have to hold back and wait for me. I was slowing badly on even the smallest of inclines. The sun felt like 90 degrees. The Stage One time trail and not eating enough at CP #1 was now catching up to me. I don’t remember much about this section other than beginning to start down those dark places and beating myself up for holding up the guys. Chatter bumps made my head pound with pain. My feet were killing me. My gloved-hands felt like they were burning or developing blisters on the heels of my palms. I removed my gloves to help cool me off. That didn’t work. Now everything was sticky. Neck was tight, cracking. Shoulders stiff. This was not good. Checkpoint #2 couldn’t have come at a better time. I was almost fully cashed and needed a break. (I don’t think I peed more than once this entire stage, and I would classify it as a long dribble anyways, even though all my bottles and camelbak were gone.) I had merely been replenishing my deficit from Stage One. I spent the entire time at CP #2 barefoot in the parking lot, stretching my feet and enjoying walking in some cool grass. I ate a much needed turkey sandwich, drank a mini-Coke and consumed several other things, changed jerseys and gloves again and also threw in a fresh pair of socks. I was soon to be...a new man.
The three musketeers at CP #2.
My dammit face, ready to get pedaling again. I guess.
Stage 3: Marion to Dublin, 61 miles
I was reluctant to leave Checkpoint #2 and continue on. 105 miles in and I was rethinking how this was going to become a reality. The upcoming Stage 3 got the “WTF was that all about” reviews last year. Lots of hills. Lots of sand. Some walking. And, to boot...the longest mileage between checkpoints. Sounded messy at best to me. With a kiss and less than enthusiastic “see you there” for Patti, I was off with the boys. Jeff convinced Geoff to take off and ride like the wind. Jeff and I were not going to and had not planned on making the 9:30 pm cut off to earn a “sunset award”, but we thought Geoff could do it. Be free, GeWilli! You’re from Rhode Island. You can do it!
He took off and Jeff and I rode this section quite handily, I think. The hills didn’t kill me as bad as I was anticipating. There was lots of sharp climbing. Never a twinge of cramps. The entire day, the bike was shifting on point, which was not the case all spring until I literally spent 45 minutes on it one day a few weeks prior. Somewhere in this section there was an older gentleman down in a sandpit between two hills. Some riders were on the phone with 9-1-1 trying to give them a location. He didn’t want to be moved. We stopped long enough to make sure we couldn’t be of any assistance and continued riding. Within probably five minutes, two separate ambulances showed up to assist. (According to Facebook later, the man suffered a cut on his nose (from his glasses) a broken clavicle and two upper fractured ribs. I’m not sure what he was hoping to accomplish riding like a crazy man, but I’m sure he at least got a nice, bumpy ride in the back of an ambulance to the hospital.)
I told Jeff, rows of Pines are my favorite thing to take pictures of. He says they're fake.
No. They're real trees and its amazing how mother nature seeded pinecones all in a row like that.
Two-tracks near the Pine River went on forever - which was fun at first, a nice change, but then maniacally evil after miles and miles of them. C’mon now. Done with this. We wanted to be at Low Bridge, climb that super giant incline and get to Dublin so bad - and like, right now. There would be freshly marinated and grilled steaks waiting there and nice camping chairs for us to sit in. I needed an ice cold Redbull. Nancy’s steaks didn’t disappoint, in fact they were way better than what I furnished the guys last year. Marinated for days in advance and then cut nice and thick, grilled to a perfect Medium Well. Mmmmmm. (This became a tradition last year when I cooked up fajita strip steaks for their surprise food of the stop, which they claimed had magical powers that enabled them to finish the race.) I may have started the tradition, but Nancy has set a new standard. I would again change jerseys, gloves and socks here. The worst terrain was over and with the exception of a few sharp uphills, it mostly (generally) downhill from here.
Low Bridge from up above on the trail.
Note about the jersey changes: At the last CP, this became a “thing”. Jeff was worried he wasn’t going to keep up with remembering what my color schemes were. I started with lots of “red” as the color of choice, but then I went rogue and put on my Team J-tree yellow jersey. For me, I just can’t suffer through the stink. Refreshing key items on a long ride like this, really helps me mentally refresh and concentrate on other things.
Working hard on my sock-tan-dirt line combo.
Two happy dudes, ready to kill the last Stage with the worst of them now behind us. Oh, and we have warm steak in our bellies.
I'm not sure what happened here. Maybe I farted?
Stage 4: Dublin to Ludington, 44 miles
There were warnings shared with riders of the 2019 re-route of the 2018 course around some sand that everyone was complaining about. This new portion, “Koon Rd”, was reported to include hills capable of propelling men downhill on bikes up to 45mph - with dangerous sand pits at the bottom. Dirt two-tracks people. On 38mm wide gravel tires. Woah. Let’s plan on using some brakes. Boy, what a blast though. Then it was solid, speedy hills that you could coast all the way up then start the next right away. Within about an hour or so, dusk would be upon us, we’d turn on our head and tail lights and settle in to finish this thing out.
I must have calculated time vs mileage to get average speed we needed to meet to make 11:30 a reality like a dozen times. There were some really dusty, long farm roads in this section. Very little climbing, but very dusty. The 5-hour energy shot I kept with me for “emergency use only” I decided to consume sooner rather than later. What else was I going to do with it, just take it back home to sit on my shelf? We only had 20 or so miles to go, I drank half then and saved the last half for about 10 miles to go. The sun went down, we continued pedaling. We reached a section of pavement which felt so good and we didn’t even realize we were done with dirt for the entire event now. Just before this section both mine and Jeff’s derailleurs started giving us fits and mis-shifting. Too much dirt. Too much work. Past their bedtime? I don’t know. We paid no attention to drive train maintenance all day. (Whoops.) I so appreciated the time riding on pavement, regardless of shifting issues, happily chatting with other riders cruising into the finish with 40 minutes to spare before midnight. I got a shake of the hand from the one and only Ultra Endurance Salsa sponsored rider, Matt Acker, received my finishers goods and washed off my nasty legs in the gentle waves of Lake Michigan.
Finished. 11:20pm
All three Musketeers finished.
As I sat on the bench changing clothes there, thinking about the day and looking at the clear sky I saw hundreds of shining stars. Clear as day. I had a lot of personal thoughts to help get me through the ups and downs of the day. Memories of Mom and others close to me that I’m sure were watching over me. A close friend who recently had a family tragedy they were all trying to comprehend. The state of our world and nation and all the retards fumbling their way through running it in a reasonable way. This was just a bike ride. Me against no one. Just 17 hours and 20 minutes to reconnect with myself, my thoughts, humble myself and explore some most-excellent middle lower Michigan scenery.
Next year? Yeah. Might have to.
Thanks to all my friends and family that cheered me on from afar.
To my wife for her support of my craziness. We are both too retarded to know any better. ha
To Jeff and Geoff for the fun shared experiences that day.
To Tad and Kyle and all the Fitbody Bootcampers that push me each week to sweat a little more and work harder.
Good stuff. A well run event. Simple. Straightforward. Go West, they said. Wonderful course.
Big shout out to the weather gods for the sun, optimal conditions and a rare Easterly gentle breeze. Aside from the hole I was digging myself into in Stage 2, I’m not sure it could have been a better day.
Custom dirt pants.
Yeah, I drank from these.
Custom stem cap in goodie bag. Now installed for good luck on all my future rides.
Packet pick up SWAG and finisher mug.
Patti took this in Ludington at sunset. We missed it by less than 2 hours.
