Chequamegon

I remember back a year ago when Cam was leaving to go to Chequamegon. I was waffling about going up with him to watch. Eventually, I determined that it was best for me to stay home and get a few extra days of training for the Longhorn 70.3 I was doing a few weeks later. By the time the race day rolled around, I was really disappointed in my decision. I didn’t realize what a big race it is, nor was I aware of just how great a group of people from Des Moines would be there as well. As soon as I figured all that out, I vowed to go for the 2009 race.

Going to the race isn’t the tough part. The tough part is getting into the race! The Chequamegon 40 accepts 1700 competitors through a lottery system in March. Cam gets a reserved entry for the following year based on his high finish the previous year, so he was in no matter what. I submitted my entry for the lottery, and through a great deal of turmoil and adventure, nearly missed getting it to race headquarters by the deadline. However, even with amazing set of circumstances that allowed the entry to get there on time, I still wasn’t selected as one of the 1700. Cam and I were both pretty bummed.

This race is popular enough that the race director receives bribes of cash, merchandise, and favors from folks trying to get in after missing the boat in the lottery. In order to keep things fair (and probably get a few laughs on the side), they have one final way to get a few more folks into the race. The Fifty Ways to Ride the Chequamegon contest is the last legal way to get into the race. This contest encourages those left out of the lottery to write (or draw or sing or design) an original piece that represents why they believe they deserve an entry to the sold-out race. Many will enter, fifty will win. I started tossing around ideas on what I could do to earn my entry. Cam and I came up with a few ideas, but they would be pretty time-consuming, and time was not something that I had a lot of as the entry deadline grew nearer.

I had an idea bouncing around in my brain, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. In my typical fashion, I had to throw my idea into action quickly in the last week to make the deadline. I bought a long roll of blue paper, got out my markers, scissors, and tape (just like in second grade) and went to work. It was cheesy and I knew it. So cheesy, in fact, that I wouldn’t let Cam see it. I told him that the only way he was going to see it was if, by some miracle, it worked and I won the contest. Otherwise, I was too embarrassed to show him (or anyone else, for that matter).

Soon after submitting my entry, we left for Colorado. We really only talked about it once on the whole trip, and I said that I had pretty much come to terms with the idea that I wasn’t going to get to do the race, but if I did get selected, I would be thrilled. After that conversation, I totally forgot about the contest. However, upon arriving home, in among the 10 days worth of mail, was a thick envelope from the Chequamegon office!! I was in! Thrilled was an understatement, I was stoked! Now came the challenging part; I had ten weeks to get myself ready for a 40-mile mountain bike race.

Training went well, and soon it was race week. Cam and I loaded up the Jeep and hit the road early Thursday morning so we could enjoy some of the great Wisconsin outdoors for a few days before the race. We arrived in Hayward and found the rest of the Des Moines gang hanging out in the rental house awaiting our arrival. We all suited up and went to recon the first third of the course. On Friday, we did the last third of the course, including the infamous Fire Tower Hill climb. Much of it was exactly what I expected it to be, but some was quite different. I figured that as long as the middle third didn’t hold any surprises, I would be okay!

Race morning came early. At 5am, those of us without preferred starts hopped on our bikes in the dark and rode to the starting area to leave our bikes somewhere near the front. Those that slept in would be relegated to the rear. The morning was awesome – perfect temperature, no rain, just a few clouds. Thankfully our house was within a short walk of the starting area, so we could walk home, then easily get back a few hours later when we were ready to race. The next few hours we ate breakfast, then sat around and looked alternately at each other and at the clock. Not much to do til go-time…

The starting area was full of people and bikes when we arrived. The thirty minutes before the start went by quickly. I spent those last few minutes trying not to freak out about the start – the stories I’d heard put the fear of death in me. With that many people taking off on bikes at the same time, things can and will happen.

I lined up to the outside and hoped for the best. I was around Ken, Jim, Sally, Brian, and Lang, so I figured I had a couple guys around me that I could trust. The first few miles alternated between fast and slow with nothing but a whole lotta slamming on the brakes and accelerating in between. Soon enough, though, we hit Rosie’s Field and that’s when the real racing started. It was fast and furious and a whole lot of fun. The hardest part was staying out of the way of the people moving slowly up the hills, swerving with every pedal stroke.

Once we hit the first gravel road, we began to encounter the sand. It has been a very dry end of the summer in northern Wisconsin, so the sand was pretty abundant. Traditionally, I am not a big fan of the stuff and find riding through it to be far more challenging than any rocky decent. After a few trips through the sand, I started to feel like I had a decent handle on things. That was until about mile 10 where the road curved around to the right and the sand on the road directed my bike straight ahead. That would have been okay had there not been a faster dude trying to pass me on the outside. We banged wheels and both went down. He jumped back up and asked if I was okay before he headed away. I grabbed the bike and my glasses out of the dusty sand and assessed the damage. There was a bunch of blood, but I wasn’t sure where it was coming from until I checked out my elbow. I looked down and saw a pulse of blood squirt out. I immediately thought that my day was over, but a little pressure applied with my other hand slowed the flow to a trickle. Knowing that I wasn’t hurt badly and that no one was going to come get me if I stayed where I was, I got back on the bike and pedaled slowly, trying to see out of my glasses which were totally coated in dust.

I found a water stop a few miles later, and I got some first aid there. By then I was pretty sure I could at least survive the rest of the race, even if I couldn’t do it very quickly. I used the extra adrenaline to push the pace a little, knowing that things might start to hurt a bit more once that wore off. I felt very little pain and was able to race pretty well for the rest of the race. I got a quite a few comments about the blood running down my arm, and the best was when I passed a tandem a little later and one of the riders remembered swerving to miss me when I crashed! The worst injury I saw all day was another rider who had crashed and hurt his shoulder. He rigged his Camelbak to hold his arm like a sling, and he rode the rest of the course one-handed (and thus with limited gears). Having ridden behind him for a short stretch, I only hope he was able to finish without crashing again. He looked pretty unsteady on some of those descents!

Soon after the notorious Fire Tower Hill climbs, I caught up to Brian and we stayed in close proximity to each other, crossing the finish line at the same time. We were both Chequamegon virgins, so it was fun to end together. Cam was a little distressed when he saw me at the end. Someone had told him that I went down, and he got me to the med tent ASAP to get my wounds cleaned up. The EMTs went back and forth about whether I should go for stitches for my elbow, but I eventually decided against it. Two hours had passed since the crash and it would be another couple of hours before I could actually get in at the hospital. I opted for the open wound, and I am hoping that my body will just clear any leftover grime out of the wound by itself. I also ended up with some interesting “crop circle” looking bruises on my legs and a large scrape on my hip. I was pleased that my new Zoom kit came out okay. I was afraid there was a big tear in the butt and that I had ridden the last thirty miles with my cheek showing!

I had three goals going into this race. First and second were to be top 10 in my age group and top 50 women. Finally I was hoping to go sub-3 hours. When I crossed the finish line I could see that the sub-3 hour finish was gone, but I sorta had a feeling that was gone when I hit the deck. It wasn't until I got my results from the trailer after the race that I saw I had narrowly missed my other two goals - 11th in my age group and 51st overall. I am so ready to do this race again next year!

The rest of the Des Moines gang had good races. The only other casualty was Kristin’s crash in the Short & Fat race. She went down near the start and ended up with wounds almost identical to mine. She, however, spent the rest of the day in the ER getting those stitches I decided against. Beer and pizza was on the post-race menu. We all spent a beautiful evening on the deck rehashing the day’s events, laughing a lot, and enjoying the great day. Good friends, good food, and good times.

Cam’s race was not the race he had hoped for; he ended up 19th. It was his best time yet at Chequamegon, but his legs weren’t up to the challenge of keeping him with the front pack. I think we are both already excited for next year!