Fort Ord 50 race report: fueled by gratitude

Is it over already? Goal races are like that. You train for the better part of a year, slowly building up to the event by training, taking on smaller goals, taking notes, and trying to stay in the moment appreciating the process instead of looking ahead. Some of those smaller goals get met, some of them turn red as you skip them in Training Peaks because your body needs to rest or heal from something or other. But you keep building.

I made it to the start line of the Fort Ord 50 on Saturday September 13, feeling good, which felt like a win in itself. I also made it to the finish line 3rd in my age group (women’s 35-49): 50 miles in 4:47:43, with 5,627 feet elev. gain. It was a big day.

I mostly loved the course, despite the sand and poison oak bodily sacrifices that were made during pre-rides in the prior week(s). I almost raced with arm sleeves for protection but decided not to at the last second. We’ll find out what that cost me in a few days.

Zanfel is the best, btw. Then Ivarest. Then Ditch the Itch.

I felt prepared training-wise and excited (not nervous) the day of the race. I’d been doing structured training on the bike for two years, coached by my amazing mtb professor Hannah Otto, and this was my first full year of consistent training (with a few hiccups). I’ve learned so much from training with a coach that I can’t list it all, and it has undoubtedly made me stronger physically and mentally. The hard workouts, shorter races in the CCCX race series, and weight lifting gave me confidence as we rolled into Fort Ord. My bike (2022 Blur TR) had some fancy upgrades for the occasion: a blingy new set of carbon wheels (thank you husband and Excitement Wheelworks) and a fancy new Fox fork with a lock-out lever that at first I thought would be too many buttons to manage while racing, but with some practice I learned to love it. I even treated myself to a better bike computer (my old one couldn’t route its way out of a paper bag) and bought myself a Wahoo Roam v3. I did have some shifting issues with the new cassette, but there’s always something imperfect to manage. I made it work and tried to focus on what I could control. 

Side bar: I can’t quantify the gift of starting a new sport in my 40s. Learning to ride and race my mountain bike has changed my life.

The race started faster than I expected for such a long event, and I fought my usual instinct (read: ego) to chase the pro/open women. Instead, I let them go (eek) and stuck to my plan of being consistent and riding within my sweet spot and trying to be smooth for 3 laps and conserve my power. Then, ideally I would have gas left to try hard on the last lap (there were 4 laps). I was excited to see my teammate Krissy on lap 2 just before we started lap 3, and I took my first planned feed zone stop to grab two new bottles for laps 3-4. Krissy zoomed onward and was riding really strong. A hydration pack will save me some time on my next long race.

I started lap 3 and stuck to my watts and gels plan, still feeling pretty good, grateful for the cool, cloudy weather after so much hot summer training. I saw a coyote cross the trail in front of me. There was a very positive couple racing together who I followed for two laps but then dropped during lap 3 on the main climb. On the final lap 3 road climb, my teammate William Kemper lapped me, which I always look forward to for a mid-race jolt of inspiration.

Then hello leg cramps, from where did you come? One leg, then the other, alternating, and I just kept pedaling and decided they would go away. They did not. So I stopped quickly before lap 4 to grab the bottle of plain water from the cooler for the last lap — maybe I just hadn’t hydrated enough with all the Tailwind carbs gunk in my system? Cramp solutions were not part of my plan – I will need to figure this out for my next long race or long training ride. On lap 4, I kept trying to stand on my pedals and push, since I had paced well all race, but my legs would cramp and say “sit your butt back down,” which was somewhat hilarious. I nursed my legs, spun as hard as they would let me, and managed to have a pretty fast last lap, giving it all that I could. I finished proud of myself.

During our pre-race meeting, my coach asked me what’s next. Declare it the off season and take two weeks off? Is there another race I want to prepare for? I honestly don’t know. I get a lot out of setting big athletic goals and working hard to complete them. This is part of how I express myself, I’ve learned. I also know that my history living with chronic pain has made me an incredibly grateful performance athlete. I consciously took at least one moment on each lap to appreciate and feel gratitude for being physically able to be there doing the hard thing I had trained for. I do not take these magical days of training and racing on my bike for granted. This is what the absence of pain feels like: It feels like joyful, breathless, muscle-burning gratitude surfing dirt on a racy mountain bike for hours, crossing a finish line happy, and collapsing on the ground (in goose poop). I’m so thankful.

Race photos by Seabright Photography https://www.seabrightphotography.com/.