Author: adkhealthycoach

Day 1:  I have a mechanical in the Murphy Lake Trail, about a mile from crossing Pumpkin Hollow Road.  I limp my bike out to the road where a good Samaritan on this dead-end gets my chain and gears working together again.  Whew!  My friend Shannon surprises me at this point by coming out to ride for the weekend with me.

The Good:  No leg cramps in my traditional spot at mile 35!

The Bad:  Mechanical with my chain and gears…but a good Samaritan on a dead-end road fixes it!

Day 2:  Drizzly damp day to complete the Pine Orchard Trail, pedal though Griffin Gorge and on to the logging roads.  I arrive in Speculator about 3 pm but am too chilled and tired to continue when the Cedarhurst Motel has a room.

The Good:  I have 2 day-old coffee for my break at the Jimmy Creek water filtering spot!

The Bad:  Only make it to Speculator on this chilly damp day.

Day 3:  An early start and long day land me in Inlet.  Shannon leaves me shortly before Wakely Dam and I continue on.  Again, too tired to continue to my Plan A destination of Marion & Joe’s Stillwater Hotel so I stay in a very expensive motel.

The Good:  As I’m biking in the dark through the Moose River Plains, an enormous bird swoops down in front of me and leads the way for several minutes.  My lights on my helmet and handlebars seem to give him the line he wants as he travels about 10 feet in front of me.  Friends later say it was likely a Great Horned Owl!

The Bad:  I’ve developed blisters in a sensitive spot after riding “side-saddle” to take pressure off a cyst.

Day 4:  I stay too long at the motel in Inlet and, as a result, don’t get very far on Day 4.  I take a nap in a camp spot shortly before Stillwater and then stop at Joe & Marion’s hotel for dinner.  I ride in the dark for a few hours and then sleep some on the caretaker’s porch at the Soft Maple Campground.

The Good:  I invent a “fix” for saddle sores & more that relieves all pain & discomfort for the remainder of my ride!

The Bad:  Just seem to lose all energy.

Day 5:  My goal is Cranberry Lake for a motel but I know that is ambitious.  I start off around 5 am and have an uneventful ride until I enter the woods going toward Long Level Road.  There, I encounter a delightful surprise.

Folks at the Oswegatchie Educational Center had taken me in on Year 1, fed me, given me shelter and reoriented me when I backtracked after being wildly lost for 26 hours.  Each year since, they watch the TATR map and I pedal slightly off course to say hello and have a cup of coffee with Bill, Robin & Todd.  I never timed an overnight stay though since I felt I had an unfair advantage there over other racers.  This year, Todd decided they should do something for all the racers and their signs in the woods say it all!

Todd meets me at the trail junction and asks if I’ll take the time to meet his daughter.  I have a great chat with Hannah and hear all about how she thinks that she and her dad need to do TATR.  It’s so nice to see teenage girls get inspired by a goal.  After coffee with Robin and a chat with Bill, I’m on my way again.

The Good: The Oswegatchie folks!

Con: A frigid night camping in Wanakena’s lean-to since I had no hope of making the Cranberry Lake motel. And, I nearly lost my bike to the Oswegatchie River on an eroded part of the Moore Trail.

Disappearing trail under my front tire & my bike nearly drops to the river.

Day 6:  I’m slow to leave Wanakena as always.  I spend a great deal of time warming up me and my biking clothes in the heated bathroom in the village square.  Although I have a good ride through the Peavine Swamp Trail and the Cranberry 50, I am spent and pedal off-course to the Stone Manor in Cranberry Lake.  (Although Stone Manor sounds luxurious……)

Pro:  Annette, a new transplant from Oregon, brings me a steaming mug of coffee as I’m repacking my bike in Wanakena.

The Bad:  I am exhausted after this 11-mile day and bemoan the fact that I dropped out last TATR so I had to come back this year to finish.  Mike Whiting’s FB post once again gets me through.  “Take a layover day, or 2, or whatever you need.”

Day 7:  I am up and out at 4 am.  I need no layover day after all.  In fact, I’ve slept more than 4 hours only twice in 12 days.  I finally realize my sleep deprived state, which started 5 days before TATR, might be due to allergies & I start popping the Claritin.

St. Lawrence County is doing a super job on their multi-use trail projects.  The climb up into the Tooley Pond Easement is so much easier without all those chunky rocks.  Of course they’ve added a few barriers that make it very tough for a short girl to hoist her bike up and over!

I don’t need to filter water in the Tooley Pond tract, and I soon meet Shirley & her partner just off Rt 56 who fill all my water bottles for me!

As I eat my chicken sandwich in the Cedar Bar & Grill, I hear locals talk about a bridge being closed.  As I listen, I have this vague thought, “That can’t be my bridge….”  I never ask.  I just leave and keep riding.  Even when I turn down the 2.3 mile Jones Road and see the warning signs, “Bridge Closed, local traffic only,” I’m thinking it must be some little bridge over a culvert.

As I near the bottom of this incredibly steep hill, I know.  I start looking at the river for a place I can walk across with my bike in case I can’t get around the barrier.  Well, I can’t get around or over the 6’ wooden barrier nor would I be able to hoist my bike chest high to clear the concrete barrier that comes next.  And the river is too high to cross.

I start pushing my bike back up that hill from hell, thinking that if there is no other bridge in the area, I might be forced to go back south to Rt 56 and around on the major roads.  I want to make it to Deer Valley Trails for a night in a cabin so bad, but hopes of a warm bed are dashed.  I’m growing really annoyed that no other racers have alerted me to the bridge closure.

Then, down this closed road comes a truck, the first vehicle I’ve seen in hours.  There’s been absolutely no traffic since Rt 56.  Rick, a local guy with a camp on the road, tells me that DOT surprised everyone that morning by closing the bridge down.

After I tell him about TATR, he says he’ll get my bike over that barricade, no problem.  Back down the hill we go and as he’s balancing on the 6’ wooden barrier and I’m trying to boost my handlebars up to him, a car drives up to the barrier on the opposite side.  At first, I think it’s a random guy who is walking across to help Rick get the bike onto the concrete wall, but then I realize it’s Dan, a friend from Canton!

Rick & Dan easily get my bike up and over the barriers on the far end of the bridge.  I manage to get my pack and myself through the wooden slats, because I don’t have the energy or the stability to climb up and over. Dan had been tracking me on the map and drove out to say hello and deliver a snack.  The timing, for both of these guys, could not have been planned!  Somehow, in my most trying moments on TATR something, or someone, falls out of the sky in my favor.

The Bad: Nearly have a meltdown at the bridge over the Raquette River.

The Good:  Meltdown averted and I do make it to Deer Valley Trails.

Day 8:  Although I know getting to Wilmington will be a really long day for me, I can’t seem to move too fast.  At 4 am I’m thinking layover day.  I pack anyway and stretch a little.  I sleep again from 6 to 8.  At that point it’s, “Maybe I can ride today.”  Then, Mike surprises me with Julie Hudson’s homemade biscotti and some outstanding coffee.

There isn’t just one big “Good” of the day!  I mention to Mike that since my last mechanical (that I had fixed) in the woods going into Star Lake, my Granny gear will not hold.  Voila! My Granny gear is back in business.  After over 150 miles without it, what a treat to have Granny back!  Just in time for the climbs enroute to Wilmington!

A few miles down Blue Mountain Road, a guy and his Golden Retriever stop to talk bikes and give me a GoMacro Sunny Uplift bar—just the boost I need.  Then as I’m filling water bottles in Meachem Lake Park, Pat and Cheri from Ottowa make me a cup of coffee in their Sprinter Van!  As we part, I let them know that if I make it to Wilmington that night, I will owe it to them and that cup of coffee!  Actually, I owe much of my improved riding to getting Granny gear back.

I fly around Debar Mountain.  I ride faster than I ever have.  Although I left Meacham Park at 4:00, by dusk I’m on the snowmobile track that will lead to Thatcherville Road.  I stop at the spring for water, and am grateful that I’ll be doing the climbs that come next in the cool evening.  A few hours later, Shannon surprises me and appears in the dark for the second time on this TATR – the first sign of life I’ve seen since the afternoon.

My intention (or hope) is to make it to Wilmington but I feel a few twinges in my legs around 11:00, so I opt to camp at Franklin Falls and save the climb up Gillespie Drive for the morning.  Pat and Cheri’s coffee got me that far!

The Bad:  There is hardly a downside to this day.

Day 9 is a brutally hot one.  While it still takes me all morning to get to Wilmington, I do appreciate riding Pour Man’s Downhill in the daylight.  I remember well how tortuous that was in the dark last year.  We stop for my grilled chicken sandwich at the A&W and we’re off again.  The single track off Quaker Road is simply fun!  After that though, the climbs soon begin and I feel myself sliding downhill physically.

I need a nap on the climb up Stylus Brook Road.  20 minutes helps but I still drag through the afternoon.  When it becomes clear that I don’t have it in me to make it to Westport for a motel, I choose to pedal 2.5 miles off course to a motel in Elizabethtown.

The Good:  Finish my round of antibioitics for the cyst.

The Bad:  Don’t feel instantly better like I had hoped.

Day 10 starts with an easy ride into Essex where Shannon leaves me.  Although closed, the Essex Tavern is so inviting!  The owner makes me some coffee and I continue on to Westport.  I resupply and pedal up over Mountain Springs Road.

The Good:  Jellystone Campground gives me the pavilion to sleep in so I don’t have to pitch my tent!

The Bad:  I don’t make it up Blue Ridge Road to camp as I had hoped.

Day 11 is planned to be an easy half-day to North Creek with a half-day recovery.  Instead, this is TATR Hell Day.  My pre-dawn ride up Blue Ridge is fantastic.  I feel good, the climb is manageable, the sunrise is beautiful and the colors are looking good.

I had already made the decision to skip Lester Flow and bike the alternate route.  Word from a much faster racer is that the blowdown in Lester Flow is horrendous.  Solo, I would need to lift my bike chest high in order to clear downed trees.  I’m not physically capable of that but my strong suit has always been to find a route around blowdown that I can’t get over.  That isn’t an option in there this year.

I know that I could be stubborn and go try the regular route anyway.  A part of me wants to do just that, but it wouldn’t be putting only myself in jeopardy.  It would place my would-be rescuers (Mike for sure and possibly others) in harm’s way.

So off I pedal onto the alternate route which, of course, includes tortuous climbs in place of the woods.  Somewhere on Route 28N I bonk.  However, I don’t realize that at the time.  I am close to getting sick, my head is so weird it’s scary, and tears are rolling down my face.  At that moment, Mike drives up to say hello.  My TATR timing…..   He has me rest, drink a recovery drink and eat a bar until I feel okay again.  I think I’m okay.

I continue on to my turn toward Olmsteadville, which will lead me to the regular course again.  Unfortunately, I hesitate a mile or two later when I see the Olmsteadville sign pointing straight.  I get distracted by a pink road to the left on my Garmin and a familiar road name two turns later, the Irishtown Settlement Road (a dreaded name from the regular route).  So I turn.

A car stops and I ask the driver if the Irishtown Road goes to dirt.  It doesn’t so that eases my mind.  The driver tells me the best way to Olmsteadville is behind me.  My response is, “I’m on a really rugged mountain bike race and they make every route really hard.”  I’m becoming convinced that Mikey (the race organizer) has made the alternate route really tough and this is the way to go.

That driver leaves and then I try calling other riders to ask whether I’m on track.  No answers.  I have service so I check Trackleaders, which shows I am right on the alternate route.  I realize now that my tracker hadn’t pinged yet and if I had waited, the map would’ve shown me off course.

I have no recollection that I had written down the alternate route directions, had recited them, and know that Olmsteadville is ONLY a 3 mile ride from Route 28N.  I see now that bonking means your brain is scrambled and you have difficulty with the thought process.

So off I pedal for many many miles of tortuous climbs.  (I still haven’t had the nerve to look at my tracker map to see how many extra miles and extra feet of elevation I climbed.)

At one point I realize there are ruby red lines on my Garmin (the regular route) and figure the alternate route would hook me into that.  I remember thinking, “mmm….is my route pink or ruby red?”     My legs are feeling pretty good so I keep going.  When I hit a dead-end road, I stop to get directions to Olmsteadville.  Kindly folks give me the best direction and I’m on my way again.  I’m starting to tire.

Then, a Subaru pulls over in front of me.  As I try to pedal around the car, Derek Snyder climbs out saying, “You’re tough to track down!”  I remember thinking Derek sounded pretty worried …. or maybe exasperated…not sure.  Derek lives in Olmsteadville, so my hero Mike had called him, directed him to the online map and asked him to get me back on course.

Derek loads my bike in his car and returns me to the proper route (legal if you return to the course where you left it).  He follows me into the convenience store where I need to buy food.  He is not impressed with the selection and is concerned with my diet.  Derek says he’ll go home, make me some good food and bring it to me.  My response is, “Well, how long is that going to take?”  My gosh, I was obnoxious!

He says he’ll be at a corner by a church along my route in 10 minutes and impresses upon me that I need to stop there and wait.

I heat up some soup at the store and take off.  I pedal 5 minutes and then realize I’ve forgotten to fill my water bottles so back to the store I go.  As I approach Derek’s corner, I see him pacing back and forth across the road—I’ve probably taken far more than his 10 minutes.  He has me eat a few bites of the most delicious sandwich I’ve ever had.  Just a little spicy, amazing bread….but I have no idea what is in that vegan sandwich.  I only know I needed that!  Derek puts the rest in my pack and reviews the next turns that will get me to North Creek, stresses the correct turns, and off I go.

This vegan sandwich was the best.  Thank you, Derek!

I arrive in North Creek around 4 pm I think. So much for a short ride and part recovery day.  Instead I am so exhausted I can’t sleep.  After tossing and turning a bit, I realize I’ve forgotten to get avocados and bananas that will help get me through the next day.  I run out and hop on my bike to get to the supermarket before it closes and before it storms.  Once back at Heads ‘n Beds Hostel in my comfy bed, my mind seems to clear and I’m able to review my mistakes of the day and how I will continue the next day.  I realize at this point that I had probably bonked.

The Good:  People love me and watch out for me!

The Bad: Bonking

Day 12:  I have an earlier start out of North Creek on Day 12 than I ever have before.  I eat on a strict schedule, not ever wanting to bonk again and certainly not on the remote stretch I’m traveling that day.  It is a joy to pedal through the Bear Pond section in the daylight.

Took me 3 races to get a shot of this peacock on the back roads.

At 4 pm I’m on the Arrow Trail, well-nourished and carrying plenty of water.  I ride the Arrow Trail in record time for me: 2 ½ hours.  I exit in the daylight.  When I reach the “Stop – Barrier Ahead” sign, I whoop and holler, knowing I’ll get home tonight.

I enter the last remote section of TATR, East Stony Creek, with a little daylight to spare.  Again, I ride well and complete all but the last mile or so in record time.  The trail becomes pretty rocky and technical and there are several “mud” crossings.  I walk a good bit of that.  I slide off a plank into the mud and the shoes and socks I’ve so carefully kept dry all day are toast.  I’m soaked from the knees down and it is cold.  I struggle to get my front wheel out of the mud and nearly lose a shoe in it.  Yet, I am ecstatic when I came out of the woods and hit pavement!

It is 10 pm, I’m so close to Northville but I am exhausted.  I think for sure I’ll be walking up every last hill but somehow those hills are a lot easier than I had imagined.  As I race toward Waterfront Park, blinding lights of an enormous truck are lighting up Main Street.

My dulled brain thinks, “Oh, did they get the fire truck out for me?”  As I race closer I think, “That truck is coming right at me!”  Then I finally realize the truck is parked and I need to move around it—fast.  It would have been so bad to crash into a tow-truck just feet from the finish line!

Even though it is close to 11:30 when I pull into Waterfront Park, pitch dark and freezing, there are still 5 wonderful people cheering me in.  All I can think, all I can say is “I’m done.  I’m TATR done.  I’m a 3-time finisher.”

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.

Race starts at 8 am Friday, September 14th.  My goal is to beat my time from last year–by days!  In 2016, TATR took me 16 days, and in 2017, 11 days.

For much of this year I’ve been obsessed with getting to Speculator (mile 71.4) on Day 1, thinking that will position me to finish in 7 days.   Last month, however, I came to the realization that I simply might not be able to do that.  Following a short depression about that, I decided that if I can make it to mile 60 on Day 1, then all I need to do is average 85 miles per day to finish in 7 days.

I get overwhelmed thinking about how difficult the first 70 mile stretch is, but I think I can still make up any gap in later days once I acclimate.

I’m switching out my McMenamins beer jersey for my new Biker Chick jersey, my tent for a cuban fibre bivy & tarp, and, most importantly, my Liv and its heavy rear rack for a new carbon Juliana bike!

To watch, go to http://trackleaders.com – then double click on Adirondack Trail Ride 2018.  I’ll be the pink dot!

I’ll post when I can, but it’s time to rule the mind.

The Adirondack Trail Ride (TATR) is an annual 585+ mile race through the wilderness of northern New York.  TATR 2017 was the 3^rd year of this solo, self-supported mountain bike race.

• In 2015, 1 of 6 racers finished.
• In 2016, 9 of 14 racers finished.
• In 2017, 7 of 14 racers finished.

There are no rules about where racers stop to sleep. You race as far as you can, sleep, and do it again the next day.

For navigation, racers carry a GPS. For safety, a spot tracker monitors the racers via satellite connection, transmitting each individual’s location to a map that is available online to anyone who is interested.

Day 1 at the start I activated my spot tracker but I didn’t appear on the online map. Dejavu…..last year my spot tracker failed for the first 3 days.

As Mikey Intrabartola, the race organizer made the final announcements, my GPS screen went blank. My husband, Mike Feldman, quickly changed the batteries out and rebooted it. That did the trick although I had put new batteries in it the previous night. Something about me and electronics….

My friend Steve Williams rode with me out of Northville and up to Jackson Summit. Steve took off then to ride with some others on this first day of TATR. I continued up, leap-frogging back and forth with Mike Roe.

Ultimately, Mike took off ahead of me and I didn’t see him again until the Murphy Lake lean-to. From there we rode together until Pumpkin Hollow Road. I chose to go off-course to knock on a door for water and was treated to a delicious baked pumpkin doughnut, still warm from the oven!

Once back on the course, I passed Mike’s campspot and continued on for a couple of miles. There is one tiny square of land in this remote section where cell service is available. I stopped there to learn that my spot tracker was once again, not working. I was not showing up on the online map. I exchanged texts with folks who gave me directions to rectify the problem, and I followed those directions but to no avail. I camped there so I could re-check the tracker issue in the morning.

Day 2 I left “Cell Service Corner” in the Pine Orchard section of the woods at 6 am. My spot tracker was still not online but I had ground to cover. The bridges were slick and I used my boot spikes to negotiate across them. The hills were not as long or as steep as last year. Had I been delirious or was I simply stronger this year? My bike was lighter than last year for sure. Still, it took me hours to get through, and I had already done 2 ½ miles of it the night before.

I filtered water along the East Branch of the Sacandaga, but I should have done so much earlier. I wasn’t paying attention to hydration the way I should.

I pulled into Speculator at 3 pm and got a room at the Cedarhurst motel—a whole day earlier than last year. My friend Dan Remington drove up to troubleshoot my spot tracker but he found everything in order on my end. Eventually I got an email back from Trackleaders saying the issue was on their end—and voila, I was on the map!

The next morning I awoke to a migraine—a dehydration headache. I did a few exercises for it, drank coffee and lots of water and still left Speculator much earlier than last year, by a little more than a day.

I had an uneventful ride to Fawn Lake and then up to Perkins Clearing.

I arrived at the Indian Lake Restaurant & Tavern at dusk and posted my whereabouts online. Magically, my friends Tom and Kristee appeared in the twilight! They had stopped for a beverage across the street, on their return trip from Tom paddling the Adirondack Canoe Classic 90-miler race, when they saw my message. We couldn’t have planned that timing!

As we had a wonderful dinner and visit, the hostess found me a cabin to rent along the Cedar River. Off I went in the dark to an amazing setting along the river. Linda had cleared a spot in the wood shack for my bike and made sure I had coffee for the morning.

Day 4 I left my lovely Cedar River cabin and started across the Moose River Plains for Inlet.

Part way across a big yellow van pulled up to check on me and provide water. Misha and Nancy were from Pennsylvania and we swapped bike stories before moving on.

In Inlet I bought new bike shorts and energy drink mix since I was running low. All restaurants were closed on a Monday night so I bought my turkey subs and started across the dreaded logging roads.

Last year I rode that section at night—until my bike light failed. Then I walked. Once the rapid gunfire started, I trotted, ran when I could and just keep moving and yelling. I didn’t get across that section until 2:30 am last year. This year I managed to get some good foliage shots and made it out at dusk with a fully operational light system!

I rode across the dirt road from Big Moose Station and arrived at the Stillwater Hotel at 9 pm. Joe had locked the place up and told me they were closed. I finally convinced him I had reserved a room that afternoon. Once I got inside, Marion made me a hot dinner and entertained me with her stories, after berating Joe for locking me out. What a great pair!

Last year, I spent night 4 back in Indian Lake. I was ahead of “last year’s me”!

Day 5 I left the Stillwater Hotel at my usual 9-10 am “go” time. I intended to refill water bottles at the Oswegatchie Educational Center, about a quarter mile off-course. Last year when I had been off-course for over 26 hours, I backtracked to this spot and the Center’s Director, Bill, and his crew had been so generous and kind to me. They had helped orient me with my map, had given me a place to rest and some good food to eat. I definitely wanted to stop by to thank them once more.

Earlier that morning, I had found quite a nice knife in the dirt on some torn-up trail near Soft Maple and thought I would give that to Bill. However, I was so dialed into my GPS this year, I never saw my “wrong” turn into the Center. I was part way up Bald Mountain Road before I realized I had missed them. So I stopped at the Oswegatchie River to filter water and I left the knife on the bridge rail so someone would find it.

More atrocious snowmobile trail. Standing water, and mud to mid-shin. It was a long push into Star Lake. At 10 pm I was huddled in the convenience market with a cup of coffee and all my warm gear. I may have thought about quitting that night. A Facebook post from Mike Whiting though told me to hang in there and that’s just what I needed. Eventually I pedaled on to the Inlet Road to find my campspot before tackling the Moore Trail in the morning.

Number 6 was a stellar day. I awoke in my sweet little camp spot tucked into the woods near the Moore Trail. No flat tire that morning like last year!

The trail, however, was in pretty tough shape….like all the single-track and snowmobile trails this year. I was glad I hadn’t done the trail the previous night because I would have missed a few excellent pictures.

I did well on this trail until the very end. There’s a super steep pitch up to the dirt road and a couple of misplaced boulders. I must have braced myself near the top trying to get my bike up over the very last yard for at least 20 minutes. Every time I’d try to hoist my bike up, the rear wheel skewer would catch on a boulder and there was no budging it. I was just clearing my panniers between a tree and that boulder, but it wasn’t letting that hub through.

I briefly considered going back down and starting again, but I couldn’t see an alternate outcome. I was willing a car to drive by with someone who might see my predicament and come to help, but there aren’t too many cars going through Wanakena.

Eventually I was able to kick my back tire out an inch, and then do the same with my front tire. Then I was able to gather every bit of strength I had to push up and over the last of that pitch. Once more, I realized how much stronger I am than last year.

Otto’s Abode was open and although the little store doesn’t offer a big selection, I enjoyed some instant oatmeal as I sat talking to Nolan, the owner-resident artist. I then moved out to the sunny village square for my coffee, Fig Newtons, and a Facebook check!

I took off through the Peavine Swamp Trail where I ran into two different sets of hikers on the Cranberry 50. The first one startled me when her sunglasses and hat seemed to appear out of nowhere!

Once out and in the parking lot, I was greeted by Curt Cess, a 2016 TATR rider, and Sally Wilder, the daughter of the wonderful couple who generously welcomed me into their home for the night last year. Curt and Sally certainly lifted my spirits and fired me up to continue on into the Tooley Pond Wilderness area.

I made good time, yet it was dark when I hit the snowmobile trail in there. That was definitely one of the worst trails on TATR and I didn’t pop out on Rt. 56 until late that night. It was midnight, and yet there was my good friend from Canton, Dan Palmateer, waiting for me with a cup of coffee and the best tuna fish sandwich I’ve ever had! I had planned to continue to Lamphear’s store, the most northern point on TATR, but my external battery pack had died and that was getting in my head. So I found a spot to pitch my tent and called it a night.

At this point, I was 3 ½ days ahead of my 2016 pace.

In the morning, I had a paved ride north to Lamphear’s store where I was sitting when Michelle DuLieu caught up to me. She was the only other woman registered for the race but started two days later on a time trial format because her bike repairs hadn’t been completed in time for the Grand Depart. At that point, Michelle was 2 days ahead of me and I never saw her again!

I had hoped to increase my lead over my 2016 time on Day 7, but I camped in the same place as last year in Meacham State Park and the following day I just barely made it to the same North Pole motel in Wilmington.

I left Meacham fresh for the ride around Debar Mountain but started losing steam once off the Thatcherville Road, where the climbs really start.

I filled my water bottles at the spring near the bridge over the Saranac River but soon realized I’d need more water before the climb up Gillespie Drive to Wilmington. Houses were sparse but I pulled into one yard to ask for water. Dogs and unknown animals from the neighboring compound started an ear splitting cacophony. Their angry owner is the only person in the Adirondacks who has ever refused my water request and turned me away.

Although I was hesitant to stop at the next cabin up the road, a very kind young man not only filled my water bottles but insisted on giving me a large bottle of Gatorade. That made all the difference that day. I ran out of my hydrating/energy powder a few days before and this was the day I started dragging. I was looking forward to my Post Office general delivery box where I would resupply this drink powder that had been making such a difference for me.

After the vicious climb, there’s a few miles of downhill, single-track into Wilmington. I jumped off the trail to let 4 young guys go by. The last one called out to me saying how tough the rocks are. Under my breath I said, “Yeh, try it on a fully loaded bike and when you’re 61 if you want tough!”

The A&W served up the most delicious chicken sandwich I’ve ever had in my life, so I ordered an extra for the next day’s lunch and pedaled across the street to a well-deserved motel room.

I had a rough start when I woke in Wilmington—a sore throat, a cramping toe along with plantar fascia pain, and an arm and hand that were constantly falling asleep. Some yoga, pranayama, myofascial release and MELT work, copious amounts of coffee, and I finally got started. I actually pedaled out of the North Pole Motel 2 hours (AND 4 days) earlier than I had the previous year. The newly added single track to TATR on the way out of Wilmington is sweet and was a terrific start to the day.

My husband surprised me between 2 good climbs with a cup of coffee and a chair!

My goal was to camp at the Boreas River but since I hadn’t made any of my daily goals yet, I set the seedy motel in North Hudson as my backup plan. A single-track section enroute to Essex had been removed from this year’s TATR and replaced with some more climbing.

Somewhere on one of those hills, Shannon Thomarie pulled up behind me with her bike on her car. What a trip it is when someone follows you on the map, tracks you down and then rides a day with you! At that point I still felt strong and had the Boreas as my ultimate goal. Shannon, having a better grasp of reality, drove south to leave her car near Moriah. She then biked north to meet me and found me in Westport sucking down coffee at dark.

Shannon biked up and over Mountain Springs Road with me, for her second time that night. Hell, I remembered it from last year and didn’t want to make that climb once!

Our stretch of pavement soon turned to dirt and I finally realized I would not make Plan A, so I called the North Hudson motel and got their last room. Who knew that place was so busy!  Just making it there was a very long night, as we pulled in at 2 am.

Day 9 was a tough one.  I had only 3 hours sleep the previous night and this day started with a 13-mile brutal climb up the Blue Ridge Highway.  I said goodbye to Shannon at the Boreas River. Thankfully, the crossing was actually easy, and the woods through Lester Flow were much more manageable than last year.

Then across another creek and I went down in the slippery mud, with the bike coming down on me.

Onward and upward along Cheney Pond Road….but it’s really not a road. It’s rocks and boulders with long stretches of muddy, standing water.

It was well after dark when I finally hit pavement and pedaled on to Olmsteadville. No one was there—not a single light in the little village. The convenient market was dark. I nearly cried but instead called Beds ‘n Heads in North Creek and reserved a spot for the night. I had nothing left in my quads and walked up the slightest of inclines. A shower and food didn’t help much that night but at least I had a bed.

Leaving North Creek for me on Day 10 was incredibly slow.  I had injured my right arm the previous day, when I slipped in the mud and the bike fell on me—on that Cheney Pond section I despise.  Since my left arm and hand had been falling asleep continually, I was a little concerned that both arms were compromised. In addition, my right foot just did not move right due to a plantar fascia issue.

So I sent out some texts and found a wonderful massage therapist from Indian Lake who would drive to North Creek to meet me at her raft company base, Square Eddy Expeditions.

After my massage, it was to Izzy’s for lunch where I ran into Ed, Linc & Jeff, and met Kathy.  On to Sarah’s Cafe for a double macchiato, and only then was I ready to roll out of town at 3 pm – all my aches and pains a dimming memory!  The benefits of Lori’s massage held for 24 hours – exactly the time I needed.

I hit the woods and started climbing up and around Crane Mountain, starting my regimen of powdered energy drink/calorie supplement in late afternoon instead of my usual mid-morning.  That did the trick and I felt good long into the night.  I started down the trail to Bear Pond after dark.  The guy who lives across from the gate stopped to check on me since Michelle, the rider who went through the previous afternoon, had told him I’d be coming through.  He expressed concern about us being out there on our own, but agreed it was probably safer than being in a big city.  He assured me the bears wouldn’t bother me on my way to Bear Pond – always my biggest concern!

I continued onto the dirt roads and eventually stopped at a remote little cabin around 9 pm because it sounded like a party was in full swing.  There was a sound system on the porch with a ball game blaring and a large screen tv could easily be seen from the road.  The 80+ year-old sweet man who opened the door was startled at first since he’s only accustomed to such visitors on snowmobiles.  He filled my water bottles and threw in an extra 32-ounce bottle of water.  That was the magic–just enough water to get me to the finish line.  I filtered water only twice on the entire race–choosing instead to spend time talking to whoever might provide water.  It was also faster that way!

My goal was to make it at least to Baldwin Springs on East Stony Creek to camp–15 miles from the finish.  It was 1 am when I did, but I was still wide awake and feeling good.  So, I pushed on through the Arrow Trail—a tough 5 miles—much of it hike-a-bike.

Just to make sure I could make it out the other side before needing to camp, I pulled out a GU packet with caffeine that Steve Williams had given me at the starting line, just for such a time.  Typically I do not take my caffeine in any of the energy options–choosing coffee only when I want caffeine–but I figured this might get me through.  I tried….I ate half of it…..tasted like medicine…..wondered if Steve was trying to poison me.  Must have ingested just enough caffeine in any case, since I kept going until 5 am when I reached the “barrier” which often signals the start or end of an Adirondack trail.

The barrier in this case, however, was a natural one, and it was a problem–a stand of enormous trees that had come down, criss-crossing over one another. Eventually I made my way through and around that and found the gate.  I threw my sleeping bag down right by the gate and slept for 2 hours. I wanted to get in on that day—8 am signaled the start of the following day—but there was no way I would make that.

I still had loads of standing water to get around on the Harrisburg ATV trail and then more hike-a-bike out through the West Stony Creek Trail.

By the time I came out of the woods in Hope Falls, I was spent and it must have been about 1pm.  Although it was another 6 miles or so of pavement to the finish line, I had to walk up a couple of hills.  I had nothing left in my legs.

When I turned onto Main Street in Northville and saw my welcoming committee out in full force, I was able to momentarily pick up my speed for the final quarter mile!

In my muddled mind I was a bit down about my time, thinking it was Day 12, but everyone at the finish was so supportive I pushed that to the back of my mind.

Once I had a good nap at home and a little more food, a question on Facebook drew my attention to this year’s time compared to last year’s. It was only then that I was able to sort out the correct days and realize I made it through this year in 11 days—a whole day less than I had thought all along and 5 days less than my time last year. I’ll take that!