2019 Half Growler

Going into this race I had three goals: to keep my eyes on the prize, to never settle, and to not crash. I got cleared from my second concussion only a week before this race, therefore I had 1 week of training under my belt. I knew all I could do was prepare the best I could. We pre-rode just a few sections of the course on Friday and picked up our race packet. The conditions were perfect, and I was so incredibly grateful and excited to be back racing. We only live about an hour away from the trails so we decided to drive back home and drive up the next day, to ensure the best sleep and preparation.

That night I prepared 6 water bottles, half with carb drink, half with water. I wanted to have carb drink and water on my bike at all times, and I knew my dad would be at, at least half of the aid stations to switch out bottles. I also prepared a recovery shake, labeled them all and stuffed the pockets of the soft-sided cooler with some of my favorite shot blocks, GUs and snacks. (Thanks dad for being a trooper with my preparation shenanigans). My Garmin was charged, I was hydrated, my bike was ready, and we were off to bed.

We woke up early Saturday and thankfully the weather was perfect. I got on my kit and my lucky bracelets, and was feeling good. I ate a healthy, lite breakfast and we got in the car to drive the hour to the race venue.

All I could hope for at this point was for my vulnerable head to get through this race. My athletic trainer warned me that at this point if I were to crash, the recovery consequences would be months and months. She instilled faith in my riding abilities, and with that I was hopeful.

After a good warm-up and coffee, I lined up at the start line. Something I love about this race is the police escort out of town and onto the trails. It allows for a really good 2nd warm up (4 miles) and a good pace. Seeing familiar faces at the start line was awesome and relieving. I knew where my dad would be on the course, how often I needed to be drinking and eating, and where the aid stations were. The shotgun sounded and we were off. The first, most famous part of this race is called kill hill. It's immediately after the police escort drops us, and the spectators love it. It's about a quarter mile of straight up-hill elevation gain, a single speeders worst nightmare. I knew I had to be in good placing when I reached it, because a lot of people walk it and I knew that if I got too far behind, that I would be walking it too. I got in good placement and ended up beating my 2017 time up it by about a minute. This year they reversed the course's direction and there were a couple new trails added, which was about to be a crazy adventure I didn't know I was in for.

After hitting the single track, I felt I was in good placing with a woman in front of me and a few men behind me. After about 8 miles, a group of 4 of us passed the woman we were following and were chasing down the next group. I was drinking on perfect schedule and was feeling good. I've always struggled with drinking and eating enough during races, so I was very excited with how I had followed through in this race. I knew my dad would be at mile 15 with fresh bottles, so I relaxed a little and just focused on racing my bike. I could see a girl out in front about 15 seconds ahead that looked my age, so immediately my mind was set on catching her. At the aid station at mile 15 I saw my dad, but I looked down and realized I didn't need new bottles quite yet, and the group I was in was not about to stop. Thank goodness he could read my mind, and knew all I needed was a "good job girl!" We continued on, my mind set on catching this girl, the people behind me set on catching me.

I didn't expect to be feeling this good after almost no training, but I knew I wanted to finish this race with nothing left in the tank, so I made a move. I passed a few people in front of me, and now there was only one person in between this girl and me, and she was only about 5 seconds ahead of me. At this point I still didn't even know if she was in my age group, but I was going to race like she was. We came through the next aid station at Skull hill, and I stopped for bacon and to refill my water bottles. To be honest, if it wasn't for this bacon I don't know if I would have made it through what was ahead. It was so hard for me to stop, but I knew if I didn't I'd be paying for it later. The consequences of not stopping and bonking later, completely outweighed the consequences of stopping. I got back on my bike feeling fresh and ready to conquer debatably the 2nd hardest part of this race: the hike-a-bike of skull canyon. It's a hike-a-bike both directions, so I knew what I was preparing myself for. I got through it and at this point my whole body was feeling it. To be in the motion of riding, and then get off and run, and then get back on and ride again, is tiring and hard. When I got to the top, the girl I was chasing had completely dropped me. As a racer, I'm like a bunny trying to catch a carrot, I need something to chase. I started up the next hill and all I could think was how much more fun this was to go down than up. After reaching the top, I was wasted. My dad would be at mile 25 and that's all I could think about. I got there and he gave me new bottles with fresh, cold water and carb drink in it, and my favorite honey stinger GU. He knew just what to say to make me laugh, and I was off again. "7 more miles Paige, you can do it"-I kept repeating in my head.

My legs started to feel a little more life in them as I got to mile 30 on a trail I knew very well called Sea of Sage. I was ready to give everything I had in me to catch that girl no matter how far ahead she was, and ride my ride until the end. I was expecting to turn left, but instead the race markers were indicating a right turn, going back out instead of towards the finish. Mentally this was so hard for me. It was a huge blockade that just blocked my whole mentality of "2 miles left" and everything else I had prepared for this point.

I knew that what was happening was, since the police escort lead us 4 miles, they wanted to subtract that from the actual course mileage making the race actually 36 miles (4 miles of police escort + the 32 miles of actual trail). Now I had to change my race mentality to 36 miles, and continue to ride my ride. My legs were spent, but all I could do was trust the process. I've had plenty of harder rides under my legs, but not yet this year, and nothing can prepare you for riding your bike, like riding your bike. I knew that if I finished these 2 miles, the last 2 miles were on one of my favorite trails ever, and that's what I could now look forward to. After finally reaching the trail I'd been waiting for all race, I let everything I had left in me go. I beat my previous time down this trail, by almost 10 minutes. The woman who won for single speed was right behind me, and to battle it out with her was so fun. When all else fails, I knew my downhill skills wouldn't.

We reached the last big climb and I started to feel a really weird feeling in my quads. (Keep in mind I've never cramped before, so I had no idea what was going on). The single speed woman was way behind me now, so I had no one to ask what was happening. I stood up, shifted into my easiest gear, drank a lot of water and just kept spinning hoping it would go away.

It went away for the next downhill, but at the next little rolling up hill, the pain was back. It was so debilitating that I fell off my bike. A spectator came over and grabbed my bike, and told me I was cramping. "What do I do?" I asked. I was so close to the finish, I didn't have any time to spare. He helped me up and I did the best walk/run I could to get to the top, and from there I could see the finish. The single speed woman had caught back up and was so nice in helping me get back on my bike and finish. I started again knowing it was all downhill from there. I reached the finish line, and pedaling in I could feel the pain coming back, this time just in my left leg. I saw my dad, and once I crossed the finish line I fell (literally fell) into him. He caught me and took me over to sit down where I drank as much pickle juice as my little body could handle, and drank my recovery shake. After about 5 minutes I needed to move over for the next "cramper" to come in. Thankfully I wasn't the only one, and I got my first cramping experience out of the way.

My dad checked the results and confirmed I had finished second for high school junior/seniors, and I realized that the girl I had been chasing was in my age group. I couldn't help but think of how I could have had her if I could have trained, but I knew that wasn't a healthy way to look at it. Instead I thought of the three goals I had set and the fact that I accomplished all of them, and of how amazing it felt to be back racing. This one sure felt extra special.