Sea Otter Fuego XL April 18, 2026

I’ve been eyeing this race for three years now. Health issues in the last couple years have kept me off the start line, but not this year. Winter training was going so well that, with about 2 months to go, I made the firm decision to train for and race the XL. I also started lifting this year after taking a decades-long break from the weight room (climbing doesn’t count), so I knew that would help, too.

A smarter person would have thought: 2 months is not enough time to switch from training for 20-25 mile XC races to a 70-mile race with 8k of climbing. Fortunately, I am not that person. I loved the feeling of not knowing if I could actually do it and thinking I could maybe just pull it off if I was gritty enough.

The XL race began on Saturday morning, with the elite waves starting at 8am and age-groupers starting in waves at 10 minute intervals thereafter. I had already been super inspired by watching the pro LTGP gravel race on Thursday, and I also watched world-champ Kate Courtney start the XL at 8am. She looked like she was ready to light the hills on fire.

The women’s 40s+ started last, at 8:50am. Before I get into the race, I want to highlight that the cut-off times for lap 1 and each Aid Station during lap 2 are not equitable, especially for those of us starting later or last. The cut-off for every racer to start lap 2 is 12:30pm, and for every racer to continue lap 2 at Aid 1 is 2pm, and at Aid 2 is 3:30pm. Therefore, if you started in a men’s 30’s wave, you had an extra 30 minutes of race time before cut-offs that women’s 40+ racers did not have. (And don’t tell me they’re going so fast that they don’t need the time — I passed some of them, they needed it!) Let’s say we who started last crash, have a mechanical, or in my case, need to boot-and-rally (hello lap 2), that 30 minutes would be awfully nice. In my case, that 30 minutes would have meant I could have *finished the race* and would not have been timed out at Aid 2 on my second lap, just 8 miles from the finish.

Lap 1: my strategy was to not be lured in by racers gunning it up the corkscrew. They were in a different race LOL. I rode at threshold up the corkscrew and did not have to fight anyone to get onto the single track, nor was I held up by slow descenders — it all just took care of itself, which was lovely. I was really proud of my descending – there had been some trail work since my last practice ride and I was happy to be able to see all of the tight singletrack — it was no longer obscured by tall grass. My plan for lap 1 (thank you, Coach Hannah!) was to ride just below sweet spot, not to exceed threshold except for when I had to on punchy climbs, and to take as much free speed as I could get on fire road descents. I was going to have to really boogie to make the cut-off and nothing could go wrong. I felt amazing through the first 5-6 miles of singletrack (fun descending, punchy climbing), and through the fire road business to Aid 1. Between Aid 1 and 2, I linked up with another woman who I kept passing on descents but she would catch me on climbs, and we worked together. We exchanged looks of horror when we saw a dead rabbit in the middle of the trail, looking right at us, during a section of fun little jumps. We suspected death by Maxxis. We went through the sand pit together — I almost accidentally rode all the way through. We caught a small group joking about how the event name should be “Sand Otter.”

Weather was cool when we started, but began to heat up a bit between Aid 2 and the long climb up trail 50 (I think) and then Lookout. The woman in front of me on lookout was stopping and posing for selfies with the Sea Otter signs that say something like “You chose this, now it’s time to make good on your promise to yourself” and “Time to show yourself what you’re made of” — I hated her, just briefly, for being so chipper on the climb. But then I remembered her from a TRM shop ride, so I liked her again.

Topped out Lookout Ridge, joyful, proud, ready to ride to Michael and get a hug, a Coke, etcetera, but then I met the corkscrew climb. I had *completely* forgotten about it. When I saw it was between me and my Coke, I said out loud “you have to be kidding me.” Got it done and with 15 minutes to spare, made the cut-off and was prepping for lap 2.

I was so happy to see Michael, but like the best crew he was all business. Get your gels, chug this Coke, take off your pack, do you want ice socks, rub in your sunscreen. I did not feel good. I probably looked like the dead trail rabbit. A teammate was nearby and he said “you’re going back out for another lap?” I was mad at him for suggesting that it was bananas to go back out. I made the cut-off, so the next step was to keep riding until I finished or someone dragged me off the course.

Lap 2 started like a death march. I had no idea how much lap 1 took out of me until I started off again. Sweet spot wattage was out of the question. My job was to keep pressing and to always eat and drink when my 30-minute timer went off. I kept saying to myself: this is temporary, it will get better. I accidentally ran over a snake that was so long that it spanned the singletrack, and I was so busy managing how I felt that I didn’t care at all about the snake. Then – this was new – I started having trouble keeping things down. I needed to burp but couldn’t get the air out, and it would come up as vomit — more and more. But I kept forcing myself to take my gels and drink anyway. I rode with a USWE pack of Tailwind (neutral) and a bottle of electrolytes on my bike, and while feeling pukey I alternated electrolytes and Tailwind. I cramped badly near the top of the last very steep hill out of the singletrack and had to walk my bike up and over. How was this hill so painful now and so NBD on the first lap?

I kept fighting cramps and pukiness, but not really nausea, all the way to Aid 1 (~12.7 miles) and was half hoping to be timed out. Nope! I was well enough ahead of the sweep. The liars at Aid 1 were the best: they told me I looked amazing! I was pedaling so well! No one would know I was suffering! They poured 2 bottles of cold water on my head and it literally brought me back to life. I chugged a bottle of plain water, took more with me, they shoved a banana in my pocket and pushed me off! I guess we’re going to Aid 2, so LFG. And soon thereafter, I actually started to feel GOOD. I had booted, and I had rallied! The wind was cool, I was passing men, I hadn’t felt any cramps in a long time, and I was really enjoying myself! Some racer I passed said: I haven’t seen anyone out here look as fresh as you. I put that compliment in my pocket for when I would need it on the climb out. I went back through the sand, and was zipping along really gathering stoke with ~8 miles left and then, at AID 2: a course marshal walks toward me with his hand up. Nuh uh, no way! He said he was sorry, but no more racers could finish on course.

I begged him: I know I timed out, you said by 14 minutes, but can I finish? He said, no. I had no idea what came next: a truck to take us back? Nope. The marshal said we (there were 3 more of us timed out right there) had to ride our bikes up Barloy Canyon Road and then back down to the venue. If we had to ride back anyway, and it was nowhere near dark, why not let us climb the course out if we want to? The road climb is 3 miles long and about the same elevation gain as the trail climb. The only direction we got from the marshal was to take a right at the stop sign, so we were also a bit confused as to how to get back into the venue and did some “extra credit” loops looking for the best way in. I was singing Post Malone’s “This One’s for the Losers” in my head, still pretty proud of myself for nearly making it through the course. It had been a big day.

Notes:

• I rode my SC Blur TR, with Fox 34, I used my remote lock-out lever a lot to make climbing as efficient as possible
• Aspen tires on front and rear, very happy with them
• I bought a lighter helmet than my usual MTB helmet — I was very comfy in my Giro Aires helmet. No regrets on spending that money (got a great deal on it through Sports Basement)
• course map on my wahoo was key, since signs for the Fuego XC and XL on course were very confusing at times, XL in orange and Fuego XC in red — I was glad to have audible turn cues for when my brain started to go. I pretty much just looked at the screen with a map, my watts, and the clock time.
• USWE race pack (pink, obviously). Tire inflator, phone, car key in there. Phone should have been in a baggie, it got wet and wouldn’t connect to my car that night to drive home.
• If you know me, you know how I think comfortable shorts are the key to enjoying riding. I was wearing Terry Bella Maxes and had no chafing or discomfort issues all day related to shorts.
• Thank you to my coach Hannah Otto, teammates, and especially Michael for believing that I could finish and for supporting me before the race, all day during the race, and afterward. I almost did finish, and I’m coming back next year because I now have unfinished business with this course.