Coming Up Short on TATR #3

Credit for  Top Photo:  Bob Rainville

 

   Lighter gear, hard training, endless hours of strategy – and 1 mindless mistake.

Putting my body parts back together this week has taken me back down my TATR path, causing me to reflect on every decision I made on the race course. Sometimes I find myself wondering if I should have called it quits as I did at mile 393.

At mile 67 I went over the handlebars on an easy gravel stretch approaching Speculator.  It was a lapse in focus when I hit the front brake.

I documented selfies of my left brow, my point of impact on the road, over the next week. My concern had been concussive symptoms but none seemed to surface.

Just prior to crashing, I learned that Mike had dropped out at Indian Lake due to saddle sores.  Our son was driving him home when my Garmin bike computer sent an “Incident Detection” message, along with GPS coordinates, to each of them.  They detoured and found me in the road.  That Garmin is worth every penny it cost!

Mike stayed at the Cedarhurst in Speculator with me the night of my crash. At this point I wasn’t sure of the next day, but the ice helped and I seemed fine in the morning..

My friend Shannon rode with me the next day through Fawn and Mason lakes to Indian Lake. All still seemed fine. On my own the following morning, I realized I had either tweaked my ribs or my intercostal muscles. Mind over matter, I continued.

I took it easy for another day, Day 4 of my race, to make sure my head was doing okay.

I seemed to gain energy as the day went on so I pedaled into the dark.  I planned to go as far as my legs would carry me, but my Garmin went dead as I turned onto another dirt road.  It wouldn’t reboot when I attached the external battery.

Since I knew the next few miles of the course, I continued but decided to camp at Soft Maple campground. My memory of a few turns after that was sketchy so stopping was the smart move.  Fortunately, the campground was closed so I slept on the porch of the caretaker’s cabin.  Dried berries blanketed the ground, and all I could imagine was sleeping on a pile of them when a hungry bear came foraging for food!

The electrical outlet on the porch was still powered so I had the bonus of recharging all my electronics. Turns out I needed to install the external battery first and then reinstall my Garmin.  First electronic catastrophe of TATR 2018 resolved!

Day 5 I picked up my pace. For the first time in three TATRs, I made it to Coffee Fever in Star Lake before they closed. My reward was the best cappuccino of my life, aside from the ones my New Zealand friend Roley Dallas made us a decade ago!

Fueled by the caffeine, I continued through the Moore Trail, arriving in Wanakena with soaked feet and mud-caked shoes.  Coming out of the Moore Trail is a steep, narrow and crooked pitch to get to the road. Although it is a very short climb, it took me close to 30 minutes to conquer it in prior years.  This time, I had my loaded bike up to the road in less than 2 minutes!  My fitness was obvious to me, a thought which pushed me onward.

Of course the coffee helped immensely.  I had taken to cooling a cup to carry in my juice bottle to get me through the woods and to the next java source!

In retrospect, I should have stopped to address my feet and camp for the night. I did neither, continuing into the Peavine Swamp Trail and then the Cranberry 50 trail at dark, made all the more difficult at night. My feet were hurting and I could feel blisters starting on and between my toes. I lamented the skimpy moleskin I had packed but kept pushing through.

At this point I was 16 hours ahead of my pace last year.  Although I had been training since January and I had started the race at my absolute fittest of 62 years, I knew a 7-day race was out of reach for me now.   I was still hoping to shave at least 2 days off my 11-day personal best.

Both the Peavine Swamp Trail and the Cranberry 50 loop though were in much rougher shape than last year and I camped mid-way through.  It was a slow, tough hike out of there the next morning and I missed a turn and had to backtrack, which also sapped time.

When I reached the trailhead and started for the Tooley Pond easement tract, my lead on last year’s time had dwindled to 4 hours; but I did make it through this wilderness tract in the daylight this year.  The rocky, muddy snowmobile trail that I so struggled with in the dark last year was completely rideable!  I pitched camp before dusk for the first time and slept well.

Day 7

I sensed a downshift in my energy as I pedaled the long miles north to Lamphear’s store.  Once there, I took too long of a break.  No moleskin available for my battered feet.

I pedaled on and once the road turned to dirt, deep dirt in places, I was so focused I missed the iconic bathtub spring water to refill bottles.

Last year’s stop to refill at the spring water “bathtub”!

I was still post-crash skittish about dirt or gravel downhills. Once Blue Mountain Road turned to Keese Mills Road, and the dirt gave way to pavement, I started passing houses.  I hesitated to knock on doors for water though because it was dark.

Then a group of people dining in the window of a lovely home saw me.  I waved, made a u-turn and was at their doorstep in a flash.  Lydia not only filled my water bottles but added a plate at the dinner party she was hosting and fed me an incredible meal.  These are the people you meet along TATR!

I only made it a mile or so farther and decided I would sleep in the lean-to on Route 30 across from Paul Smith’s College. I thought if I could sleep just a few hours, I could get ahead of the morning storm and get to the other side of Debar Mountain.

As I was pulling out my bivy, someone came by calling my name.  Chris Grant, a cyclist from Lake Placid, had loaded some provisions for me and his bike in the car and was looking to either help me or ride with me! Chris had read my blog and was following me on the trackleaders map, but had no luck locating me over the last few hours while I was inside having dinner.  If only the timing had been better I would’ve taken the coffee and his offer to ride with me, but I was done for the night!

Day 8

As it was, I didn’t start pedaling the next morning until the rain started at 6 am.  By the time I made it to Meacham Lake Park, I was in the midst of a steady downpour. The campground seemed deserted except for the squirrel sitting on my Garmin when I exited the restroom.  I chased him off and momentarily panicked when I saw the foreign screen he left on my Garmin! He didn’t cancel my ride though and I was able to return to the proper screen.

Just as I was about to pedal off, a worker drove into the main lot and I took off after him, asking to buy a cup of coffee. Not only did Jason and the park crew supply me with as much hot coffee as I needed, but they opened their warm garage to me.

Donna loaned me a sweatshirt, Ginny set me up to charge all things electronic, and Bruce, the boss, put my wet layers in a dryer.  Ed, a former Marine, arranged blowers in the garage and meticulously pinned up my rain gear to dry.  Ed told stories of how he couldn’t sit still when he retired at 80, so he landed this job at the State Park three years ago!

For 2 hours, we watched the torrential downpour.  I was ever so grateful to be inside.

When the storm finally eased and I took off, my next morale boost waited on the other side of the trail around Debar Mountain.

Bob Rainville was set up to take some awesome pictures when I came out of the woods! Bob was around for my next tech glitches of this TATR.  I had lost satellite reception starting in Meacham Park.  Fortunately, I remembered the trail from last year.

Once Bob helped me get the Garmin working again, the power dropped low.  It kept going to sleep and wouldn’t connect with the external battery.  Once he charged the Garmin up to 15% in his car, we got it to pair with the external battery.

I took off, remembering the long climb up to Wilmington.  For the next few hours, though, it was fun to come around a corner and see Bob perched in some odd spot with his camera!

Then Bob left me with this final shot, the fun and games ended, and the climb began in earnest.

I did well, even on Gillespie Drive, until my left calf revolted.  It didn’t cramp; it just felt like it blew up large.  I could no longer put pressure on that foot to turn the pedals, at least not going uphill.  So I walked up the rest of Gillespie, with the wind howling, the skies darkening and trees cracking.

I seriously considered going off-course because of the storm and heading straight down the highway into Wilmington.  But I didn’t. At dark, at the top, I turned into the woods once more.  I did not have the strength or the focus to ride the Poor Man’s Downhill (PMD).  Too rocky, too steep, too slick with all the rain, and way too dark.  So I walked, holding my bike back with my left side, front breaking with my left hand.

The PMD is a long stretch and on my misery hike-a-bike that night I sorted my options.  I could ride a short and easy ride the following day to Westport to the next motel.  Motels would be a treat after 5 nights of camping solo.  My feet were okay on the pedals so that seemed reasonable.

Or, I could stay 2 nights in Wilmington to heal body parts.  The downside of that option was the weather.  It would likely put me in the midst of the next storm on Tuesday.   The upside of this option was I could probably work out my legs and lower back enough to continue.

The wall I kept hitting though was my feet. My feet were simply not going to recover enough to deal with the terrain through Lester Flow, Cheney Pond “Road,” the Arrow trail and the Wilcox Lake trail.  The remoteness of these trails near the end of the course add an additional level of concern.  It’s one thing to have a problem in these areas when all other conditions are in your favor.  It would be simply too risky with my feet.

Mike had gotten me a motel room in Wilmington, fearing I would get in too late.  It took me nearly an hour to articulate my decision to drop out to him, but once I did that leg started to cramp and my left arm and hand started to revolt.

Second Guessing        

Mike had made the decision to drop out due to some horrendous saddle sores so he was good to talk to about the frustration and disappointment.  I am so lucky to have him and all his support.

I think my feet turned out to be a signal to get me to stop.  My left hand and wrist went numb and heavy like a brick within hours of dropping out. Turns out I overstretched my brachial plexus when I went over the handlebars at mile 67. I also have hairline fractures in 2 ribs. The nerve damage is temporary and the ribs will heal.

While the outcome of the race is disappointing for me, I may have done some more lasting damage had I continued into Lester Flow and the other remote terrain.  Thank goodness for my screaming feet – which felt pretty fine soon after dropping out!

As the days continue, I continue to second guess my decision.  Maybe I should have given it another day before dropping out….were my feet really that bad….I was the fittest I’ve ever been in my life….if only I hadn’t crashed on Day 2…….as the Women’s Record Holder for TATR (and the only woman in the race this year) I had really wanted to cut my 11 days down at least to 9………maybe I will tour the route next year with Mike….but I said from the beginning, this would be my last TATR race, no matter the outcome.