Lu Lacka Wyco Hundo 2024

do it for the tacos

Capping off my Spring Classics trio is the iconic Lu Lacka Wyco Hundo in Pittston, PA. This, along with Rasputitsa, was the main reason I spent the winter on the trainer three days a week.

2024 marks 12 years of LLWH goodness. It’s the ride I read about when Selene Yeager was writing as Fit Chick for Bicycling Magazine back in 2013ish, brand new to cycling, and thought “I want to be able to do that event someday.” Wisely (for once – ha!), I didn’t attempt it back when I was a novice cyclist.

Last weekend at Rasputitsa (admittedly a very different latitude), it was cool (40s*F) and it snowed. Yesterday it was 80*F and brilliantly sunny. LLWH definitely won in the weather department because it was relatively dry leading up to the event and the gravel roads were in excellent shape.

Saturday afternoon I made the relatively short drive (2.5hrs) to Pittston, PA – an easy jawn down I-84. The pre-ride materials indicated packet pickup was from 1-8pm at the brewery, however when I arrived at 7pm, I learned they had closed it at 6pm. Since I’m not a beet drinker, I found Tony’s Pizzeria and picked up a pie and a salad before returning to my hotel room for the night.

I’m still dealing with GI issues, and Saturday had been one of the “bad” days for nausea. This, of course, triggers my anxiety because I know hard efforts require good fueling strategies, and I was having issues just eating enough for baseline caloric needs. I’ve added digestive enzymes into my repertoire as my food logging doesn’t provide insight into triggers.

I signed up for the event solo and rode by myself most of the day, yo-yoing with a few people throughout the day. The routes had various offshoots from a core route, making it possible to see people who had gone out before you on a longer distance later in the day. I originally signed up for the 75 miler, but downgraded to 63 the morning of based on the previous day’s feeling. Knowing all routes go to the first rest stop, I knew I had an out if I needed/wanted to end my ride early.

Pennsylvania is vastly underrated for cycling, featuring wide open farmland, steep hills, and abandoned highways that nature is slowly taking over. Riding this event reminded me of my time living just outside Philadelphia and going on bike explorations every weekend with my best bike friend Ken. Also of my multiple tours on the Ride for Homes fundraising event benefiting Habitat for Humanity Philadelphia. It just felt familiar and comfortable.

One of the things I appreciated about this event was how down-to-earth the ride was intended to be. The pre-event communication included logistics, but also a pace sheet so you could make sure the aid stations were open for your given pace and route. “take pictures and enjoy the ride. If today isn’t your day, just follow the next shorter route. Don’t use Google to get back to the start – it will put you on roads that will be a very bad time. We won’t leave anyone out there.” It felt like a friend of a friend was giving pro tips on a route they created. The only time limit was to be done by dark.

the ride

It’s cloudy and misty as I roll up to the Jenkins Township firehouse. The temps are in the mid-50s*F, which felt nice for my running-hot tendencies. I picked up my ride plate, t shirt, and bought a poster. I decided I probably only needed a vest over my lightweight wool t shirt. Paired with my trail shorts, mesh bib liners, and a zero-weight baselayer, I was ready for a long day in the saddle. I was also one of Very Few not wearing a full road cycling kit. Most of the Very Serious Cyclists on the hundred-miler had already left at 8am; I had planned to go out with the 9am Mass Start.

The mass start had the founder, Pat, leading us out in his truck which was helpful due to the first few miles rolling through downtown Pittston.

The route itself starts mellow and flat, riding along the east side of the Susquehanna River. I stopped to take a photo of a roadside waterfall and continued along at a measured pace. The first hill arrived at mile 13 and was a model for most of the hills to come. It was about 8/10ths of a mile averaging 8.5%. Many were already walking. By now, the sun is out and many of us are taking off warmer clothing from the start. I ditched the vest and switched to fingerless gloves.

The route meanders around the farmland on mostly exposed roads with very little tree cover. Exposure is my nemesis, but it was temperate out. Sweat up the hill, cool down on the descent. I was glad I applied sunscreen and bug spray before heading out.

The first aid station was at mile 25 and was well stocked with bananas, pb&js on white bread, oranges, and plenty of water and Hammer nutrition electrolyte mix. I grabbed a banana, refilled my water bottle, and examined the routes. I wasn’t nauseous, but I also wasn’t feeling hungry. I ate the rest of my Clifbar and the banana. Looking at the 40, I would be going back on roads I’ve already ridden on; looking at the 63, I’d get to see the other side of the river and hit all three counties (Luzerne, Lackawanna, and Wyoming Counties). Plus, it’s only 20 miles to the next aid station and only two or three big hills. I decided to keep moving on the 63.

Every time a group of men passed me, at least one said “good job” as they floated by. I know it’s not condescending and intended to be supportive but it always irritates me. Do they say that to other men when they pass them? I doubt it. I may not be fast but I am strong and I can ride bikes all day long and not be completely useless at the end of the day. I do my best to ignore my feelings.

As luck would have it, I also saw the photographers on the course many times. I’m hopeful at least a few came out nice; I always smile or laugh and try to make it look like I’m not mashing my granny gear up a steep hill.

The second aid station was the taco stop. Lots of people sprawled out on the grass across the road from the tent with sodas and tacos; other offerings included oranges, bananas, pb&js, and other typical aid station fare. I wanted to get a taco and just chillax for a bit, but my stomach was not happy and I was forcing myself to eat. I ate a banana, refilled my bottles, and headed out after a brief break. Only 20 miles left in the ride and only 3 more significant climbs before an epic descent back into Pittston.

Sometime around mile 53 I stopped to eat some fruit snacks and almost immediately felt queasy. I dialed back the pace even more as I pedaled up the final climb. I even got off and pushed my bike up a short but steep hill to see if that helped. (it didn’t, but it did give me a chance to work different muscles for a bit)

Rolling back into town, I overshot a turn and saw the photographer waving his hands at me from the side of the road. I doubled back and the route put us on a trail of railroad-grade gravel next to the tracks that eventually gave way to a grassy doubletrack trail. I hope that photo turned out!

I checked in at the finish (every rider was accounted for at each aid station to ensure no one was left out on the route) and decided to skip the post-ride meal in favor of getting back on the road towards home. (fear not, dear reader, I picked up fast food to eat on the drive) It looked like they were offering pizza or pasta and beverages. Perhaps if I had a friend I would have stuck around to talk about the day and how nice the ride was.

in closing

Overall, I’m glad I gutted it out (again) to do the whole route. LLWH is hard in a different way than Vermont gravel is hard so it would be difficult to compare the two. After the first 13 miles, there are almost no flat portions – you are either riding up a hill or down a hill. I also got sunburned because I didn’t get as much sunscreen on my arms and legs as I thought. ope.

Would I recommend this ride to others? Enthusiastically yes. There are options for fast people, slow people, and everything in-between. The vibe is chill, the food is bountiful at the aid stations (and have port-o-potties), and the route is beautiful. For $85, this was exactly what I needed it to be.

You just need to be OK with lots of roads trending up.

I have a few weeks before the Girls + Matt MTB weekend up at Slate Valley in Vermont that I’m looking forward to. No training rides, just a few weeks of fun rides with friends as the weather gets nicer.

See you out there!

Rasputitsa Dirt 2024

like the weather, a mixed bag

Rasputitsa is an iconic Northeast spring classic in all the best ways: ridiculous route, unpredictable weather, and conditions that might be amazing but just as easily might bring you to your knees. Originally hosted at Jay Peak, the event moved to Burke Mountain for several years and experienced tremendous growth as gravel took off and riders kept looking for events that were ever more bonkers. Their signature Cyberia section has humbled many a rider, with either deep snow or mud depending on how the spring thaw is going. Photos and hype reels from past events show a party atmosphere and plenty of party-pace riders enjoying post-ride fire pits, a beverage, and some hot food.

A friend did Rasputitsa a few years back and reported it was an incredibly challenging route, especially Cyberia, but was fun overall. Good vibes, good times.

With 2024 seeing the 10th anniversary of the event and a return to Jay Peak, I finally decided to register and test my legs against Vermont Gravel in mud season. A few friends also registered so I was looking forward to a great day on the bike.

Unfortunately, I’ve been dealing with some severe anxiety issues rooted in unprocessed grief and stress that blossomed into physical manifestations. My biggest concern going into the day was if I would feel well enough to eat enough food to support the effort this ride would require.

The morning of the ride, Karen and I sat in the living room of the cottage we rented and stared at the snow falling outside. This day could go any way weather-wise; we prayed the sun would make an appearance and we would finish before the rain was expected in the afternoon.

Let’s start with the positive

Rasputitsa’s route did not disappoint. At 55 miles and nearly 6,000′ of climbing, it’s already one of the longer spring gravel rides in late April. I definitely spent my winter consistently on the trainer and riding outside on the rare weekend it didn’t rain (thanks, global warming) to ensure the ride wasn’t a death march – and that work paid off. The bulk of the ride was on the rolling hills of the Northeast Kingdom, with fully half of the climbing in the last 6 or 7 miles.

Was there mud? Of Course! Right off the start, we were sent onto a thawed XC ski trail that quickly devolved into ankle-deep, greasy, smelly mud. A few people tried to ride and discovered random deep pits of sludge. Lots of hike a bike here. The next section of mud was on the logging road – the south side was rideable but the north side was back to the thick, greasy mud and more hike a bike. The final section was in the last 2 miles, back onto the XC ski trails.

The dirt roads that comprised most of the route were in spectacular shape and offered up the best Vermont farmland and gorges. It’s always a pleasure to ride bikes in Vermont – especially when the hills are there but not super steep, long, or brutal.

The rest stops had friendly volunteers. Every intersection had law enforcement and/or volunteer to help riders through intersections by stopping traffic as needed – which was refreshingly nice. Even backroad turns had a volunteer with a cowbell yelling encouragement.

Makesi Duncan of DadBod Cycling fame. Super nice guy

Quite possibly, my absolute favorite part of the ride was the 4-mile climb up a logging road. A mile or so into the climb featured an unexpected aid station and the Grounded Nebraska hype squad. We paused to take a swig of a Coke, eat some fruit Newtons, chat with the homeowner, and pet his adorable, wiggly dogs before continuing up the mountain.

… and now the not so great

If I’m being super honest, I didn’t get the party vibe. I didn’t get the inclusive vibe. The event felt like a hollow husk of what Rasputitsa is known for.

When we showed up to get our bike plates and drop off non-perishable goods for a community donation, it wasn’t acknowledged; we put our stuff down on the table while the volunteers chatted behind the table. We got checked in very quickly, but no further information given about where the expo booths were located.

The rest stop fare selection was meager – water, maple syrup, and potato chips. No port-o-potties. I didn’t see any EMS or SAG. For $160 registration fee, I expected more options – even if I was in the last quarter of the riders out on course.

(I was not feeling well due to aforementioned stress-induced GI issues; I almost didn’t ride but decided I could always make a decision at the first rest stop. When I asked a volunteer if there was a way to get back to the start, the only vehicle designated as a potential option was at the next aid station with no plan to come back to the first aid station. I decided to keep riding and hope I didn’t feel worse.)

The thick mud at the start was like “of course. rasputitsa; impassable mud season. I get it” – the thick mud at the end of the ride felt casually unnecessary. Believe me, I really enjoy challenging conditions and perk up when the road tilts skyward. I didn’t love dragging my bike through the thick mud while trying to keep my shoes on my feet when I’m within 2 miles of the finish.

Someone might say that is part of the charm; I won’t die on this hill. Perhaps another day I would have loved it.

When we finally rolled over the finish line, no one was cheering; a handful of volunteers were standing around talking to each other. We wanted to rinse off our bikes, but the line was long and our sweat was starting to freeze so we rode back to our accommodations for a hot shower and then getting dinner.

In Closing

Did we accomplish something significant? Yes.

Is this the hardest thing I’ve ever done? No.

Would I recommend Rasputitsa to a friend? MAYBE.

I get the sense that Rasputitsa used to be a wild party good time; this year felt like the exact opposite. The price is high and I didn’t feel like I got my money’s worth.

We didn’t participate in the shakeout ride (I had a 6 hour drive to get to Jay); we skipped the concerts in favor of hanging out and talking; we skipped the Day After day at the waterpark; we didn’t go watch the film. So it’s not like there weren’t things to do; I just don’t think those make the ride experience.

Maybe I was spoiled attending Mid South last year and being absolutely blown away by how real the hype is. Maybe I missed Rasputitsa’s heyday, like seeing the Misfits when it’s really only one guy from the original band. Did I really see the Misfits?

Although the Grounded Nebraska team was a true highlight and genuinely the best. Their event was on my radar after Mid South last year; now I plan to attend in the next year.

I wanted to have a great time. Likely dealing with GI issues for 40 miles influenced some of this; fortunately, I was feeling much better by the time the hills started in earnest, which was a relief. I ended the ride on a high note.

I’m super conflicted. It cost a lot of money and time to attend this event and I’m not sure I got what I came for: a great day on the bike in a raucous party atmosphere.

I’ve got another event next weekend so hoping to end my three-week run of spring classics on a high note.

See you out there!

Moving forever forward

2023 has been a year of tremendous accomplishment and bottomless grief. I spent some time meditating on what themes 2024 will encompass and two came to me clear as tingsha bells bring us back to the current consciousness.

  1. Bring intention into all decisions.
  2. The right moment to go home will reveal itself in due time.

I’ve started to put bike events on the calendar – Rasputitsa and Lu Lacka Wyco in April and SBT GRVL in August – but am otherwise keeping my schedule clear to ensure I can make intentional decisions on where to spend my energy. Like booking a fat bike weekend in February with my best bike girlfriends and the revival of our annual Girls (+Matt) MTB Weekend over Memorial Day weekend.

Year in Review

January found me in the middle of my first-ever indoor trainer workout plan, fat biking with friends, and lots of dog walks. I had a bunch of photos of my family printed and framed in my home office.

February brought a tremendously fun fat bike weekend in Vermont with girlfriends, a trip to the dog park, and a long weekend in Philly to see my eldest kid.

March saw a long-time friend out to New York for a visit, a trip West to Oklahoma for The Mid South, trailwork, and the passing of my beloved beagle, Beauregard (he was 14.5). I had a very sharp sunburn line that remained all summer. I also completely abandoned any indoor training for three months.

April we brought home two bonded chi-weenie-rat terriers who we love more than anything, a trip to Vermont with the in-laws, my adventure buddy moving away, and the always fun B2G2. I put the two-inch tires on my gravel bike to get used to it for my summer bikepacking trip.

May featured a trip to ride the heart of Greasy Joe’s mixed terrain and the always challenging Farmer’s Daughter Gravel Grinder. My middle kid came home for a visit and fell in love with the new doggies.

June started with my great-uncle Benjamin passing away. The weather was really fickle for the annual KT MTB weekend – so hard to find time to ride without getting soaked or mud-splattered. I spent a lot of time on the indoor trainer again to build capacity and riding the multi-use trails in Fahnestock State Park. My planned trip home to Colorado was canceled – but I ended up having to fly out urgently to see my mom. She had fluid building up in her pleural space that was slowly collapsing her lungs.

July – I was able to get home feeling my Mom was stable again and she was able to get surgery to install a drain for the fluid. I turned 46. We took a trip to Buffalo to see my middle kid and go to Niagara Falls (both sides). Pro tip: border agents do not want to know how funny you can be. I shuttered my Twitter (X) accounts and volunteered to sweep the Macedonia Gravel ride.

August was the taper month and I went to go ride bikes with friends in Connecticut. and then I flew to Minnesota with my friend Jess and spent two glorious weeks bikepacking with zero cares except to eat, ride bikes, and get to the next campsite. Transformative is the only way to describe the trip; by far the most epic thing I’ve ever done in my life. You can read about it here.

September, I got home, sent my tent poleset out for repairs, and promptly got a nasty cold. As soon as my cold was getting better, my mom declined very suddenly. Everything felt nebulous until I was approved to talk to her hospice nurse; I booked a ticket home the next day. I spent Mom’s last 24 hours with her and Dad and the following two weeks in a numb state of grief. Jewish tradition teaches the first month is for the spouse to mourn deeply; for the kids, it’s the first year following a parent’s death. Feels accurate from a kid’s POV.

October was hard. I managed to get out for a bike ride with the women I bikepacked in North Carolina with. I wrote a thank you note to the hospice team who cared for Mom. I didn’t go home for Mom’s interment. Ended the month riding the Gravel Goblin with friends the day before the event (it was 72* and sunny whereas the day of the event was 46* and soggy). Pete and I celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary.

grief is funny – I laughed so hard I cried at this

November flew by – rode a gnarly route I created for an event to check conditions and had to make significant adjustments for the event. Went to Maine for a long weekend with Pete. Mom’s headstone was placed. My dad and my kids all came home for a chaotic Thanksgiving weekend. I found out I was selected as a Bikepacking Roots Community Steward.

And that brings us to December. I rode Ice Weasels in a Bumble the Abominable Snowman costume. I got into SBT GRVL for 2024. I rode bikes and had a blast at my company’s holiday party (it was disco-themed so you know I bought a cheap silver dress and matching shoes). We finally got our kitchen sink and faucet replaced, which means all our kitchen appliances have been swapped out – and it’s functionally a brand-new kitchen. I made homemade marshmallows, which was easier than I thought. I make royal icing for sugar cookies, and while it’s easy to make, it’s not easy to apply if you don’t have the right tools to apply it precisely.

We always say – you only live oncelife is shortlive life with no regrets. This year has driven home that message in a very acute way. I find myself randomly thinking about my mom or seeing things that bring her to mind. The truth is we find immortality in the memories of those who knew us and loved us.

I still feel the pull to move back West but I need to wrap up things out East first. I am thankful we live in a time where we can video call or text (or yes, even make a phone call) to stay connected with loved ones. I’m relishing the time we have here, whether it’s 6 months or 6 years more.

Hope you, dear reader, have a happy, healthy holiday season and a prosperous new year. May 2024 be better to us all.

Grief is fickle

“I’m not good at this” I told my dad as I let the deep, heaving sobs leave my body.

“No one is” he said.


This past Monday, Oct 16, marked one month since my mom died. On Tuesday, my dad was the sole attendee at her interment. When asked how he was doing, he replied “very tearful because I got to hold Mom for another minute.”

All the Big Feelings flooded in.

Dad holding Mom one last time

This post feels self-indulgent – however, I process by writing. And riding my bike and hiking. But mostly in getting thoughts out of my head.

When I stay busy, when I’m working – I feel like I can handle the moving forward part. It’s the weekends that seem to get me, where my motivation to power through and “be strong” falters. I still get up and do the things I need to do … but more often I find myself simultaneously wanting to do something – anything – to keep my brain occupied … and not wanting to do anything at all ever.

I know that time is the only thing that will reduce the impact of this bruise. I don’t want to stay busy just to avoid feeling sad. My sisters all seem to be doing just fine these days – staying busy, working, being with their kids. I feel like I’m off on an island with a rowboat that is still being built.

It’s OK to feel sad too – even though I know my relationship with my mom was strained over politics the past 7 years. I don’t have any regrets about how we conducted our relationship. I often think back to the stories Dad told about their lives together and how much Mom modeled being the Good in the world. Even if we didn’t agree on the definition of Good every time, I see how she met each of us mostly where we were.

Although even a week or so before she passed, she sent me texts about how she still wanted me to reconsider embracing our Jewish ancestry and become Catholic. For your eternal soul. It’s only been well over a decade since I formally converted. Sitting at the Funeral Mass, I have zero regrets.


I think about my dad a lot too. He seems to be holding up relatively well and for the first time in our lives, we get to hear from him and build a relationship with him. He’s clear-eyed about this and I sense he was grateful for the opportunity to care for Mom in a way that helped her feel loved, cared for, and safe. I know he struggled before her death with thinking he might mess up something – but when someone is dying, we know the outcome regardless of our actions. All we can do is the best we can.

At the very least, it’s prompted me to get our wills written and wishes known to our kids. Dad’s been clear about what he wants when he dies, which I am grateful for. Mom never wanted to talk about it – you’ll know where it (her will) is when the time comes. I was literally calling a funeral home 16 hours before she passed to make arrangements. She couldn’t talk at the time so Dad told me what they had previously discussed and she nodded when I asked her to confirm what Dad said was correct. Spoilers: it took Dad a few weeks to find her will.

Failure was never an option in Mom’s book – but death comes for all of us despite all our protests.


I wrote a brief thank you note to the hospice workers who cared for Mom. In looking for the right card, I found this one on Etsy. I love the vibrancy of the image – truly a living, breathing Tree of Life.

Living, Breathing Tree by Madeline Pires

I saw this on a silly Buzzfeed listicle (53 of the funniest text messages or something like that) the other day and laughed much harder than this image deserves – so hard I cried.

Just let me cry / a little bit longer
I ain’t gonna smile / if I don’t want to

-Paramore


A few weeks ago I dragged myself out of the house to go for a chill bike ride with friends. We rode around on beautiful Dutchess and Columbia County roads, stopping at breweries and scenic overlooks before noodling through the Bard College campus. As we were heading back, it started to lightly rain. We popped out next to a field to a beautiful double rainbow.

A nice reminder that there is beauty after hardship.

The emotional whiplash of completing an epic bike journey and coming home to find out your mom is in active decline was intense.


I had plans to ride bikes with my friends today, but canceled because I didn’t feel like I’d be good company today. Instead I took my dogs for a long walk and took a nap; got my house clean and did the laundry.

Pete got the new light fixtures installed in our bathroom so we got to check another item off our list of things we are fixing or replacing in our house. We’re hoping to be in a place to list the house in the spring. I know my feelings of urgency on that topic come from a place of sadness and desire to be with my family right now – but life is more complicated than just throwing things in a UHaul and driving across the country.

The only way out is through. Thanks for reading.

Exit, Stage Left

My mom, Jacqueline Vera Block Haag, died early on Saturday morning, September 16, 2023.

She was diagnosed with recurrent metastatic breast cancer in December 2023. The best case was we might get three years with her; the worst, she would be in hospice within months.

Well, we got 10 months.

I wish we had been able to do more together in that time, but politics and strong opinions and a determination that holistic options are the only valid options got in the way.

After my visit in June, Mom got a drain implanted to remove the fluid that was slowly collapsing her lungs. Within the first week, she had removed over a gallon of fluid, 200 ml at a time. She could breathe again, start to walk again, and sometimes, her voice returned. She found out she wasn’t actually allergic to a number of foods she had avoided for decades – and enjoyed tasting foods she hadn’t eaten in years. I started to think maybe we’d get a decent amount of time with her.

It was the calm before the storm.

Like many advanced cancer patients, she was doing great until she wasn’t. And the decline was precipitous. By the time I was looped into how poorly her condition was, she hadn’t really been eating for a week. She couldn’t walk anymore. Her handwriting, the way she was able to communicate with Dad and us effectively, became illegible. Her body failing was clearly frustrating her.

My dad became her full-time caregiver; my sisters visited when they could but mom would be sleepy and visits were around 5 minutes. She continued to lose muscle and weight and increased her oxygen needs to roughly equate to 2 gallons of air being pumped into her lungs every minute.

Dad gave her hospice nurse permission to talk to me about Mom and I got the real story for the first time. I am so thankful. I was able to book a flight home the next day.

On Friday, Sept 15, I spent the whole day with Dad and Mom. Exactly 7 years prior, she completed her radiation for the first round of breast cancer and rang the bell. I was surprised to see her sitting in her living room chair, but her eyes lit up and she smiled when I walked into the house. I gave her a hug; she was just skin and bones now.

I asked her if she had read about my last bike trip and she shook her head. I asked if she wanted me to tell her about it; she nodded. As I started to tell the story, she put her head down with her hands on the rolling table and motioned for me to keep talking while she rested.

So I told her about the trip. I talked about when we rode Elephant Rock together and when we rented fat bikes to go ride in a creekbed. I talked about my kids and how much they love her.

Mom hadn’t pre-planned her final wishes. So I asked what she wanted and made sure she nodded affirmatively after dad told me what they had discussed. I called a funeral home and got things set up.

Mom rested on the table a lot while I sat with her and chatted with my dad. I gave her a tiny amount of avocado for lunch.

When the hospice nurse came by, she was alarmed Mom was in her chair and insisted we move her back to her bed to avoid the risk of falling. Despite the high flow oxygen, her pulse-ox was only 91. We rolled her into her bedroom and got her sitting on the side of the bed. She immediately leaned into my dad and hooked her hands into his pockets. It took a bit, but we were able to give her the meds to help her relax and breathe easier.

I gave my mom a hug and she leaned into me before kissing my arm and whispered that she loved me so much.

The last thing I did was help mom get her legs into bed, find her sea turtle plush that she slept with, and smooth her bedding over her. I told her I’d be back tomorrow.

The hospice nurse told me what was to come next and I am so thankful she did. I relayed that information to Dad and I think we both hoped for at least one more day.

The next morning I am woken by a series of vibrations from my phone; that usually means lots of text messages are coming through. As I looked at my phone my sister came to where I was sleeping and said “Dad said Mom is not responsive. Are you ready to go over?”

We threw on our clothing, made coffee to go, and raced over there. We alerted our sister who had driven all night from Texas; she and her kids paid and left their breakfast spot immediately. My youngest sister had to drive across town.

I want to believe Mom was still able to hear us when we arrived, but it’s also possible she was already gone. We sat with her and cried, held her hands, and stroked her hair while we told her we loved her, that it’s OK to let go. She’s been through enough. My youngest sister collapsed on the floor when she saw Mom; Dad got on the floor to hug her and cry with her. We all have different ways of coping with immense grief. We all were able to say what we needed to say.

We took turns staying with her body until the hospice nurse came and confirmed what we all knew; Mom had passed. She carefully cleaned up Mom for the funeral home to take her body.

I will never forget how compassionate and loving all of the hospice and funeral workers were. They treated Mom with dignity and respect and informed us of everything they were doing. I am so grateful to those who answer that calling to be with families during their time of enormous grief.

A few hours later, two of my sisters and I decided to go for a strenuous hike to help work through our emotions. We listened to music that reminds us of Mom on the way over. The ability to talk and push our bodies a bit helped give us space to grieve.

We made sure to be with Dad, to cry with him and remember Mom. Friends started delivering food to us, so we had dinner together as a family for a few nights. We helped Dad make a checklist of things he needs to do to close out mom’s accounts, notify people of her passing, and begin the process of donating or selling things he no longer needs. I wrote Mom’s obituary from a 4-hour conversation with my dad about their life together; my sisters helped me edit it for clarity and consistency.

And then real life came back – I flew home and we all went back to work until the funeral, which is next week. It was a nice distraction. But I won’t lie – my mom’s passing has reminded me just how short life is and I don’t want to waste any more time living 2,000 miles away from my dad, my sisters, and my nieces and nephews.

I’m thankful I got to be home with my mom and spend so much time with her on her last day with us. I’m thankful for the love and care my dad gave my mom in her final months. I am thankful for the hospice team and the funeral home team for their professionalism, compassion, and empathy. I am thankful I was able to come home to my own family and be given space to grieve. I am thankful to my boss and my coworkers for not just covering for me, but encouraging me to take as much time as I need.

We’re flying out for the funeral next week and I know that will be deeply emotional. Things will be Final Final. I expect grief will come in waves and hit especially hard when life’s brightest moments happen and I can’t share it with my mom. But I am also thankful that she is no longer suffering because cancer is awful and destroys one’s body.

She was a mom of four girls, a grandma to seven grandkids, an educator, an entrepreneur, a community organizer, and never backed down from an opportunity to stand up for what was right.

She loved spaniels, gardening, sewing, and cooking. Her personality filled the room and she always had big ideas. She remained active as long as she could – hiking, riding bikes, walking. She attended law school in her 60s and was active in her faith community.

Dad and Mom with three of their daughters and one of their seven grandchildren

Rest easy Mom. Your memory will be a blessing.

Behind the Journey: Northwoods 600

it’s a lot of work to make things look seamless

Along the journey, Jess and I fielded a lot of questions from others on how we got to the place of actually going on the trip came together.

First, no – we aren’t sisters. We were internet friends for a bit because I knew Jess’ husband when we were younger. Our first time meeting was on the Green Mountain Gravel Growler 2021 trip – and it was so much fun. So it felt organic to do another trip together.

Second – it takes a lot of planning to go on an epic journey. This was our first time doing a multi-week bikepacking trip – and our first multi-week trip with camping as the primary lodging accommodation. But camping helps keep the overall costs down (even if we did have to bring all our camping gear as well as our bikes and bags on the plane).

My goal is this post will help others feel confident in planning their next big adventure.

Getting There

We don’t live where we were going to ride, so we weighed the options: drive out or fly out. My drive would have been longer than Jess’ (20 driving hours) – so flying was the obvious choice to minimize the number of days off we needed to take from work.

Most airlines have policies around traveling with Sports Equipment so be sure to check out your airline of choice’s rules. I flew on Delta, which allows bicycles as a checked bag (provided it meets the dimension and weight requirements); Jess flew on Southwest, which features a flat fee for bicycle bags over 51lbs (provided it meets the dimension requirements).

Of particular note is the 50lb weight limit. You might think that since your bike isn’t anywhere close to 50lbs you’d be OK – but the bag itself weighs somewhere around 20lbs. Jess used the Dakine Bike Travel Bag (18lbs) and I used an EVOC Bike Travel Bag (19 lbs). Both are excellent choices for air travel and require only a minimal amount of bike disassembly to pack.

Jess crammed as much as she could into her bike bag because Southwest doesn’t charge for the first two checked bags and has a flat fee for bike bags weighing 51- 100lbs. I incurred Delta’s overweight and checked bag fees because my bag weighed 55lbs, which was due to the inclusion of my bike, 2.2″ tires, rack, 3 water bottles, shoes, and helmet.

We also had to bring all of our gear – not just a change of kit and snacks, but also our camping gear and food. Most camping gear can be put in checked baggage so I stuffed everything into a 7-day suitcase that came in at 43lbs (Jess had a larger carryon sized suitcase for the rest of her gear).

Of note, you cannot bring camp stove fuel or bear spray – even in your checked bags. We purchased these items from an REI in Minnesota and picked them up on the way to Duluth.

Campgrounds, Ferries, and Layovers

It was important to us that we knew where we wanted to try to stay each night before heading out.

August is apparently a heavy tourist time for the Northwoods, so we booked our sites in advance as soon as the ability to book a site came up. Jess started booking campsites in January and didn’t stop until sometime in March when the last few campgrounds opened their booking windows.

The only campground we missed was for the first night in Minnesota (Gooseberry Falls) and the second night in Wisconsin (Two Lakes). The first sold out almost instantly; the latter we didn’t realize we’d booked a campsite at the wrong campground until the night before. Both times it worked out, but to avoid the stress of trying to beat holiday travelers to first come first serve sites (which you very likely will not get, especially on a weekend) – book ahead of time. It also gives you a stopping point to look forward to each day.

It also pays to keep trying, even if the campground is full. The third night in Michigan, we had intended to try to get a spot at a rustic campground that is first come first serve because the state campground we wanted was closed for renovations. However, when we rode by, it was actually open and we had our pick of available sites. The ranger said it was a last-minute decision to reschedule the renovations so the campground was slower than usual.

lake views from our tents

The ferries to and from Isle Royale National Park had a bit of scheduling to maneuver around – but it wasn’t onerous or overly complicated. The ferries don’t run every day from Minnesota but they do from Michigan. For planning we picked a date range and then figured out when the ferries were running based on our planned route and adjusted accordingly. We then reached out to the operators to confirm how to book our bikes for the trip as well and got on their manifests.

We also booked all of our indoor lodging in advance as well. This gave us peace of mind as well as targets to look forward to when setting up camp again. Booking ahead is how we got the cute cabin at the Minnetonka Resort instead of a boring motel room. We also were able to build in an additional layover day between Michigan and Wisconsin that we could use – or not use – as we felt.

Things We Couldn’t Live Without On This Trip

Many people asked us what was the most important thing we brought as well as what did we wish we hadn’t brought or didn’t need.

We tried really hard to think of something we brought that we didn’t need and could have left at home and came up with nothing. Even things we didn’t break out were things that could have been needed (first aid kits, trowels, water filters and Aquatabs).

(You can see our planning spreadsheet here)

We agreed the number one best thing we brought was the Garmin Messenger satellite tracking device. Our families back home felt at ease being able to track our location and communicate via text, even without cell service.It’s small (3″ x 2″) and light (4oz), making it easy to find a home for on our bikes (I stashed it in one of my handlebar-mounted Mountain Feed Bag mesh side pockets). The Messenger has flexible monthly plans, so you aren’t paying for service when you aren’t using the device. I chose to pay for Search & Rescue insurance to offset S&R costs should that be a necessary action.

Another item that some may think is frivolous, but we found this item to be worth its (less than 2lbs) weight: backpacking chairs. Jess had an REI Flexlite chair; I had a Helinox Ground chair. We had these chairs out at almost every campsite – to relax, to eat dinner or breakfast, or just stare out across the lake.

With a few days and nights of rain, it was important to know if our gear was waterproof or water-resistant. Jess had awesome panniers with so many exterior mesh pockets – she was able to carry a lot more on-the-fly items than I was. But they were water-resistant, which meant additional packing of key items into waterproof containers (ZipLocks, drybags, etc). I had my Ortlieb front rollers (12L each), which are waterproof, but also had to have an extra-large Sea to Summit eVent compression bag (waterproof) to house my soft goods that needed to stay dry.

We also brought a spare small drybag to use as a pack-out container. We also brought a roll of small compostable garbage bags to use at camp and then packed the garbage bags into the drybag, attaching it to the rear rack until we found a garbage bin.

Oh – and camp toilet paper. We had a few campgrounds where the vault toilet did not feature toilet paper. Having our own was clutch.

Finally – skin care. Yes, that sounds super Extra – but the reality is, if we didn’t care for our faces, the trip would have been miserable. Between heat rash and cystic acne, it’s easier to bring witch hazel and facial cleanser wipes than it is to deal with the aftermath of not taking care of our skin. This is in addition to the body wipes and chamois creams we brought. And sunscreen and bug spray.

Jess also brought her Kindle and probably would say that was a super solid choice to bring.

Fueling Strategies

An epic adventure is not the place to underfuel. Both Jess and I worked with registered dieticians to dial in a framework for how to fuel day after day. We didn’t have “numbers to hit” but discussed real foods that support adequate protein, fat, and carbohydrate needs above and beyond everyday nutrition. It doesn’t have to be perfect – but you do need to eat consistently to ensure your body has enough fuel to cover the last hour or so of the journey.

We started our first sports nutrition bar within 60-90 min after starting the day and stopping every 5-10 miles to eat and drink. Lunch was planned for just after the half-way mark.

It’s also important to know your body’s signals that it needs more or is getting enough. The second day in Wisconsin I started out a bit too fast and by lunch, I knew I wasn’t eating enough of what my body needed. When we got to camp, I set everything up and then relaxed while eating salted nuts and Skittles until dinner, which was the highest-calorie meal in my bag. After dinner I felt much better and was able to get a good night’s sleep for the next day’s ride.

Part of our planning was to assess how many nights we would have access to services in a town vs where we would need to have everything we needed at camp (and for how long).

Breakfast consisted mostly of oatmeal, trail mix, and nut butters. I went a little bougie and brought a small can of Starbucks Premium Instant Coffee. This was a brilliant selection as we both had ample coffee for the entire trip. I prefer sugar and cream in my coffee so I packed sugar packets and non-dairy creamer packets into a tiny ziplock with a 1 tsp measuring spoon.

Lunch was often on the side of the road and more often than not, we ate Bumblebee Snack on the Run! Chicken Salad kits and supplemented with chips, sports nutrition bars, and caffeinated beverages (Cokes, Red Bull). The kits were super lightweight, easy to eat on the side of the road, shelf-stable, and delicious.

lunch almost every day – we packed out the trash in the small green bag

Other options were typical gas station fare – hard-boiled eggs, cheese sticks, salty potato chips, full sugar ice teas, peanut butter sandwich crackers, trailmiz bars, granola bars, Skittles and Snickers bars. And pickles.

Dinners were dehydrated backpacking meals. The ease of just needing to boil water to have a satisfying meal at the end of the day is most welcome after a long day. There are a lot of brands out there, but we used Packit Gourmet, Wild Zora, Farm to Summit, and Good To Go with the last four days being Mountain House Adventure Meals (as this is what is available at Walmart). We carried 6 dinners to get us through the first 8 days of riding as we knew 2 of those days could be a restaurant meal.

For sports nutrition items, we brought Clif Bars, Larabars, Muir Energy, Untapped Maple, Skratch Labs, Nuun, and Liquid IV.

Training

100%, Jess and I did not jump into this trip without building up our fitness and capacity for multiple days of riding with a full load. Even with being careful in what we brought (and I’m sure many ultralight bikepackers would be appalled at the amount of stuff we brought), we had about 40 pounds of gear and supplies loaded to our bikes every day.

Most of our training consisted of just riding – getting out as often as possible.

After Mid South, I put my smart trainer in a closet and forgot about it for a few months. I focused on riding for fun with friends and not worrying too much about speed or power. It was everything I needed it to be. But come June, I knew I needed to start working on building real capacity and pulled the smart trainer back out.

I set up my Trainer Road training plan for a stage race, because Riding Consecutive Days. I didn’t follow it as strictly as I had for Mid South as I could still get out at least one day on the weekend – but this summer has been pretty wet and it was nice to have an indoor option instead of forcing myself into the rain.

I’m sure some would say I needed to train for riding in the rain, but I’ve done enough of that, thanks.

I also put my 2.2″ tires on my Cutthroat so I could get accustomed to riding them. They always feel so plush until the road tips upward – then it’s just extra rubber to push. But I quickly became acclimated to the extra effort and saw an increase in my FTP when I tested it – so it must have helped

Jess did outdoor rides, loaded, that would simulate our longest days. That was an excellent idea as well.

Mental Preparation

The last topic is mentally preparing for the journey. Not just in planning optimally, but also considering back up plans and alternate routes (and when you would have to make a decision about said alternate route). Having this in your back pocket makes heading out easier because you know you have options.

I’ll be honest that when I thought about the entire trip, I would have a mini panic attack. what are we thinking? can we even do this? But when we thought or talked about a section – one state, one day – we felt calm and confident in our planning.

The takeaway here is – break your big trip into smaller, manageable sections. Think about each section when you are experiencing it. Don’t worry about the next section – you just need to get to the next campsite to be successful.

Once we were on Isle Royale, the trip didn’t feel so big and we could think about more than just the next day in front of us. We had just completed 1/3 of the trip!

We also started thinking in terms of how many more nights of camping in that state to mark passage of time. The longer we were out, the less relevant the day of the week or day of the month it was – especially since we had prebooked all our accommodations. The only times we saw others was either in town or on weekends (lots of ATVers enjoying the trails).

Final Thoughts

With exactly one multi-week adventure under our belts, I feel more confident in planning other multi-day/week trips – and confident that with the right planning and training, these types of trips are accessible to those willing to put in the effort. I’m sure over time we will refine and dial in the stuff we bring (or not bring) and maybe even experiment with not pre-booking our sites to have more flexibility – but at this point, that’s the level of planning we feel comfortable with.

I’m already starting to think about what amazing adventures 2024 will hold.

See you out there!

Northwoods 600

a MAMA* trip – *middle aged mom adventure

I’m still basking in the incredible sense of accomplishment and pride in completing the Northwoods 600 – a 600+ mile bikepacking route that circumnavigates the western portion of Lake Superior through Minnesota, Michigan, and Wisconsin. It was nothing short of an epic journey and a test of mental and physical grit.

The Northwoods 600 was created by Bikepacking Roots, a non-profit dedicated to promoting responsible bikepacking and welcoming bikepackers of all races, genders, sexual orientations, and abilities. The route showcases the stunning, rugged beauty of the Northwoods and Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and traverses the traditional lands of the Anishinabewaki people.

Buckle up – this is a long post!

Prologue

Shortly after my friend Jess and I completed the Green Mountain Gravel Growler in Vermont, we started thinking about the Northwoods 600. The original plan was to look at 2022 but the timing didn’t work out so we shifted the plan to 2023. We settled on the last two weeks of August to capitalize on the long Labor Day weekend, cooling temps, and hopefully, fewer bugs. We decided camping would keep costs low and give us more flexibility given some sections were in very remote areas.

Over about 9 months, we collaborated on planning in a Google Sheet – breaking the states down into reasonable mileage days, mapping out campgrounds and resupply locations, and other interesting things to look for. We donated to Bikepacking Roots to get the physical guidebook and the PDF version, which we brought with us on the trip for on-the-fly information gathering.

To be sure, this 2- week adventure was out of our collective comfort zones. Neither of us has done a bikepacking trip of this length, much less with most of the accomodations as camping. Camping adds a layer of stress above the usual miles and load – survival is at stake. Setting up camp, making a meal, cleaning up after the meal, making sure everything is bear proof/bear safe … it’s a lot of psychological stress.

I assumed we would be without cell coverage for at least part of the route, but there were a surprising amount of times I didn’t have cell service. I picked up a Garmin Messenger tracking device, which was really helpful in letting friends and family see where we were, we could message them through the device to let them know we were OK, and even get weather forecasts.

Two weeks before our scheduled departure, my youngest adult-aged kid, who lives at home, contacted Covid, which, fortunately, my husband and I did not contract (she isolated in her room and had her own bathroom) but made for a bit of anxiety around how quickly illness could change all our planning. It might have been overkill, but I rapid-tested daily until departure day to be sure.

I made a playlist of the songs that ran through my head over the course of the 2 weeks, in order of the days. Most of these were used as names for my Strava uploads. Mental music helps the miles tick off faster whe we weren’t talking.

Minnesota (Days 1-4)

While Duluth has a regional airport, it was cheaper to fly into Minneapolis/St Paul and rent a car to drive north. We had timed our flights to arrive within an hour of each other, but ultimately my flight was delayed 4 hours – which wasn’t a great way to start the trip but was a bellwether for things to come.

The next morning we had to get our bike bags and suitcases stored. We had arranged with the local bike shop, Twin Ports Cyclery, so we walked our bike bags up to the shop (Denis, the owner, was there and had spent time living in Colorado Springs, which we all bonded over) and then walked to Whole Foods Co-Op to pick up last minute snacks and lunch. All this meant we got a much later start than intended. And …. it was hot.

In the late morning, we set our way through Duluth on the Cross-City Trail, which led us to the heavily populated Canal Park. The bike path was lovely other than the multi-use path over I-35, which was absolutely terrifying to ride across.

It’s scary because you can see all the way down to the speeding traffic

Then we began to climb out of the Duluth area and the ride started to feel real. The roads were fairly exposed with little tree cover, so we stopped a few times to cool off, drink water, and eat snacks. The climbs overall were never onerous – relatively nice 2-3% grades for no more than a few miles – but when hauling 40 pounds of gear on your bike, it is more of a marathon than a sprint.

highlights from Minnesota

  • Exposed Roads that made the heat of the first two days tough. Lots of taking breaks in the shade to cool off, drink fluids, and have a snack
  • Routing into Two Harbors for food and more water, as we’d already drank the gallon each we were carrying
  • Finding a selfie station on a trail around a tunnel, and of course we had to take a jumping picture. It took several tries to get it right.
  • Rolling into Gooseberry Falls State Park 7 minutes before the ranger station closed and scoring the only available place to put us, which happened to be the best spot in the campground. (Minnesota, Michigan, and Wisconsin have a No Turn Away policy for bicycle travelers who need accommodations at campgrounds even if they are full.)
  • I break one of my tent poles. Thankfully, Big Agnes includes a pole splint.
  • the Gitchi-Gami Trail is a GEM of a paved bikepath from Gooseberry Falls to Silver Bay
  • Stopping in Beaver Bay for snacks and more water, relaxing in the shade by a giant beaver statue
  • More exposed paved roads = so hot
  • Stopping a few feet into a driveway to rest, eat, and drink in a small spot of shade. A little old woman comes out of her house – we think she will offer us water or some other comfort in the heat – but she yells “PICK UP YOUR SHIT AND MOVE ALONG.”
  • Stopping a mile or so later at the Lax Lake Resort to rest in their driveway and chat with the proprietors, who assured us that woman was like that to everyone
  • Getting to Finland, MN and buying a lot of food because it was our last resupply for 70 miles (we were still 30 miles from our intended campsite)
  • watching a beaver play in a pond full of lily pads
  • getting the last open campsite!!
  • RAIN overnight. The first of a few days where temps were getting cooler and every night was soggy. Fortunately, our tents kept us warm and dry; although I realized I had neglected to re-waterproof my rainfly before the trip.
  • Roads are two-tracks and trails are roads. It didn’t make sense. Regardless, there were a ton of mosquitos. BUGGINS Performance insect repellent kept them at bay (mostly)
  • Shorter day but no resupply until we get to Grand Marais for the night
  • OK lunch at Fisherman’s Daughter, then off to our campsite, dinner at Voyageur Brewery
  • RAIN AGAIN. The forecast looked super gloomy with severe weather overnight. We opt to have breakfast in town (Java Moose), and skip the “most remote and rustic” part of Minnesota to ride up the coast on MN61.
  • Wonderful views of Lake Superior as we ride on the wide shoulder
  • Entering Grand Portage Reservation
  • Picking up supplies at the Grand Portage Trading Post
  • Setting up camp at the Grand Portage Marina, which feels like the edge of the world, especially with the strong winds coming off the bay
  • Someone giving us fish caught earlier in the day. They didn’t know we don’t eat fish, especially from strangers. We ate in the casino restaurant instead.
  • No severe weather overnight, but the WIND was so intense

Isle Royale National Park (Days 5-6)

Early the next morning, we packed up our stuff and rode over to the ferry to Isle Royale National Park. We booked our spots on the Voyageur II, a US Mail Boat specifically designed for operation on the Great Lakes. We pre-gamed with Dramamine because the weather has been so iffy.

Sure enough, Lake Superior was in a fine mood and we both felt nauseated despite the anti-motion sickenss meds. A steady stream of Gin Gin hard candies kept things down for us (but others were “feeding the fishes” off the back). Two hours later, we pull into Windigo dock for our park orientation.

Back on the boat for the 6 hour trip around the island to Rock Harbor, where we would be staying overnight.

The first 5 hours of this portion were lovely – calm waters as we sailed the smooth water along the western coastline of Isle Royale. We had a pick up at one of the remote docks and sailing in McCargoe Cove was absolutely magical. (Excuse the noise – we were sitting in or directly behind the engine room)

As we rounded the northern end of the island, things got … interesting. The waves were getting larger, the boat listing a bit more from side to side. Then the doors to the engine room where we were sitting started banging open and closed. The boat listed so hard at one point it felt like it was at a 45* angle and everyone was bracing themselves against what was surely going to be a rollover.

In that half-second, my brain calculated that there wasn’t enough time to grab life jackets and that our bikes were surely headed to the bottom of the lake.

Fortunately, our captain was All Pro and navigated us safely around the island and into the calm waters of Rock Harbor with a jovial “Well, THAT was fun!” Jess chatted with him as our bikes were being unloaded – he said the 10-foot waves we were in were relatively mild compared to how it can get on Lake Superior. Yikes.

The only words on my mind are RESPECT. Respect for our captain and crew and for the raw power of nature.

(we learned MUCH later about the folklore that Lake Superior never gives up her dead)

We got our camping permit, locked our bikes to the racks at the docks, and walked our bags to a campsite to set up and eat some food before retiring early.

I had to walk back to our bikes to get some items we left and on my way back on the trail to our campsite, I noticed a medium sized black dog with pointy ears trotting towards me. My first thought was “oh, someone’s dog is loose!” – but immediately recalled that dogs are not allowed on the island. This is a fox. I stopped; the black fox stopped to observe me, decided I wasn’t a threat, and trotted off into the brush.

No photos, but it did happen! I felt so lucky!

The next morning we slept in late, as our next ferry wasn’t until afternoon, and we had a relaxed breakfast before packing everything up and reloading our bikes. We wandered around the dock, had lunch on the restaurant porch, bought souvenirs and snacks, and then spent a few hours just looking out over the lake. It was nice to not do anything for a bit. We took a short hike to the America Dock and saw the ferry we would take coming in. It was at least three times as large as our previous ferry, which relieved us that the trip to Michigan would be much smoother.

When it was time for the Queen IV ferry to load our bikes up, the crew was astonished to learn we were carrying a gallon of water each on our bikes. We did – every day. While we had water filters, Minnesota is marshland and we opted to just fill up in the morning and as needed along the way. They made us remove some gear so they could get the bikes up and secured on the roof.

The 3.5 hour ferry to Copper Harbor, Michigan was smooth and uneventful. We chatted with a few couples who had been stranded on Isle Royale for a few days because they had come over on the sea planes, which weren’t flying due to weather/fog. Sea plane visitors are at the mercy of the ferries back to the mainlands having space.

Lake Superior Moods

Let’s Talk about Copper Harbor

We landed at the dock and got our bicycles and gear from the ferry. Somehow my fork had been loosened and it wasn’t lining up with my handlebars – but we were only two blocks from our cabin at the Minnetonka Resort for the night so we walked up there, got the keys, and tightened up the fork.

After taking a shower, we decided to walk down to Mariner North to get a pizza and cheese curds.

While waiting for our pizza to be done, a woman walked up to the bar where we were standing and told one of the servers “I can’t figure out how to make my television work.” (the restaurant is also a lodge). The server excused themselves and soon an older man who appeared to be the manager came over. She explained she couldn’t figure out the TV and quipped “This is the strangest place I’ve ever been.” to which he replied, in the most Wisconsin accent ever, “Oh-KEY” You could see his brain working on how to respond to this woman’s issue when he blurted out “Right now. We can do it right now. Right now, or in an hour and a half.” The poor woman was bewildered and agreed to go now to get her TV set up. We left with our pizza and cheese curds laughing the whole walk back to the cabin.

That night as we chatted in the softest, most cloud-like beds ever slept in, we started a list of all the catch phrases so far:

  • … but did you die on a boat?
  • Then pick up your shit and move along!
  • This is the strangest place I’ve ever been – Oh-KEY.

Michigan (Days 7-10)

Copper Harbor is a tiny tourist town at the very tip of the Keweenah Peninsula (which, isn’t actually a peninsula; it’s an island because the canal in Houghton is natural) that is home to some of the best mountain biking trails in the Midwest. It’s also home to an extensive network of ATV trails, which we learned very quickly. Michigan was a tough state, and we adjusted the route almost every day for various reasons (mostly, the ATV roads were rocky and sandy, which sucks energy and speed).

highlights from Michigan

  • Tightening every bolt on our bikes before leaving town
  • Climbing out of Copper Harbor on quiet, gorgeous dirt roads
  • Turning left and seeing “Extremely Rough Road Ahead”
  • Ending up on very rugged, rocky ATV roads – making another turn and it’s been freshly graded with a few inches of loamy red dirt. For the next several miles. We pushed our bikes a lot up hills
  • Putting too much power through my pedals to get up a technical uphill trail when I hear a ka-CHUNK. Get the chain back on the cogs – but Jess notices the smaller front ring is loose. She tries to tighten the bolts but they won’t tighten. And two of them are missing. We put it the chain on the big chainring and I delicately pedal (and walk) the last few miles to the road.
  • We stop in a parking lot of a marina before deciding to ride back to Copper Harbor’s bike shop. We’re in 15 miles, it’s been 3 hours, and we have a 15-mile ride back on the paved roads. I pedal as gently as I can. US41 is beautiful.
  • Losing the two spacers we had at some point, Eric at Keweenaw Adventure Company McGuyver’s my small chainring together so I can finish the ride. I am eternally thankful.
  • As soon as my bike is fixed and recombobulated, we get a Squall Warning and take shelter under the bike barn to wait out the rain
  • We decide to just ride US41 to where we would have picked up the trail and take that in to camp.
  • The ATV trail is chunky and rocky and eats up more time and energy, but we make it to an abandoned copper mine converted to a camp.
  • Feeling a bit tired from the extra long day, we decided to reroute to a more direct way to our next campground. We found some nice quiet dirt backroads, spent some time on US41, crossed the bridge at Houghton, and enjoyed lunch by the canal before climbing out and making our way to the Bill Nichols Trail. It has moments of hardpack but far more chunky loose gravel, random sand pits, and abundant shade.
  • Champion Mine was a nice surprise to check out before continuing on.
  • We originally planned to camp at a dispersed campground, but as we passed Twin Lakes State Park, we noticed it was open. We scored an amazing site with lake views.

We settled in for the night, thrilled with our luck at finding a site that had bathrooms, showers, and an electric hookup to charge our devices. As the night wore on, it felt colder than it had been at any point in the trip. we piled on more layers in our sleeping bags, and cinched the hood over our faces to keep warm.

My alarm goes off at 7am and it’s cold. We pop out of our tents to agree that 36* F is not something we want to try to do anything in – and went back to sleep in our sleeping bags until 8:30am, when it was in the 40s.

  • We pre-rerouted Day 3 in Michgan because the intended route would have been 70 miles and we’re starting to feel tired from hauling 40 pounds of stuff on unforgiving chunky roads. We followed the route until Mass City, which we then jumped on the road and headed up to Ontonagon, along Lake Superior, and into the Porcupine Mountain Wilderness Area.
  • Mass City is the poster child for poverty in rural, small towns. The market didn’t have much food so we went to the gas station for lunch. Two kids on dirt bikes were brapping around; an older guy was providing alcohol to younger girls; the gas station ladies were smoking pot in the bathroom. It was a bit depressing to be in a depressed area.
  • The Porkies were great! We had a site with ample distance between our tents and our cooking area. We stashed our bear bags in the bear-proof trash container for the night.
  • Pedaling out of the Porkies the next morning and making our way to our layover in Ironwood.
  • A really big hill that we had to take a break at the top. Our legs are definitely feeling the previous days now.
  • Overgrown two-tracks that had us dodging babyhead rocks and tree branches – and a culvert crossing with super steep banks
  • Beautiful scenery into Bessemer
  • Iron Bell Bike Path was a welcome respite.

Layover in Ironwood, MI (Days 10-11)

We deeply craved a day off to rest, shower, do laundry (last time we cleaned our clothing was in Grand Portage), and eat. We walked a mile to the laundromat and then had lunch next door while we waited for the washer. Real food tastes so good now, and we ordered the World’s Smallest Sundae each to celebrate how far we’d come.

World’s smallest sundae

The next day we took a taxi to Walmart to pick up everything we would need for our final four days across Wisconsin, as all four days would be mostly without any resupply options. It felt good to sleep in a bed again.

With access to cell service and internet, we were able to connect with out families and started to really miss them. The weight of being gone for so long was hitting hard.

Wisconsin (Days 12-15)

We knew this state was the least amount of total miles but the most remote. The route doesn’t pass through many towns, so it was important to have what we needed each day. Our lunches have consisted of BumbleBee Chicken Salad To Go kits on the side of the road, supplemented with whatever beverage we bought at the last gas station we saw and maybe chips or a ClifBar. We basically eat like college kids again – and eat a lot, all the time.

Unfortunately, the route maps indicated most of the roads were paved; we discovered quickly that most of the roads were loose gravel or worse, sand. This was incredibly disheartening as we labored through another 20-miles-in-three-hours day.

highlights from Wisconsin

  • Leaving Ironwood, we stop at the Hiawatha statue in a town park
  • Within a few miles we are in Wisconsin without fanfare – no sign or obelisk to denote the passage.
  • We are missing our families, tired, and annoyed at every small incline on loose gravel. It’s a mentally tough day.
  • But Wisconsin is a different kind of beauty than Minnesota or Michigan – and we enjoy the changing landscape – even if we are on ATV roads for the rest of the route.
  • We get to our Forest Service campground and have the most magical site
  • The next morning we go out little too fast because I just want to get to the next campsite and relax again. By lunch, Jess is chugging a RedBull and I’m realizing I haven’t eaten enough and don’t have anything with caffeine to fuel the afternoon. OPE
  • Getting to a turn onto singletrack and NOPE’ing it. We ride the rustic road up the the County Road and head west on the pavement.
  • We see a sign for the campground we’re looking for and take the shortcut.
  • We score another great lakeside spot and refuel before turning it in early. The next few days are expected to be hot.
Jess captured this sunset
  • It’s the final two days! I want to tell you that there was some poetic moment of bittersweet emotion about this, but the reality is we were super ready to finish, finish strong, and go home.
  • We stocked up at the local General Store and headed to Solon Springs on quiet dirt and loose gravel roads.
  • At some point we popped out of the forest and found ourselves on an exposed, loose gravel road that was a series of rollers. It was hot and we stopped in the shade for a bit and chat with two hunters who had just finished setting up their stands.
  • Back on ATV “roads” what were mostly sand. Deep sand. Jess floated through it while I struggled to keep my bike upright. We both nearly crashed several times though – the deepest sand would grab the wheels and pull them in whatever direction it wanted.
  • We get to our final camping site in a town park after what felt like the longest day of our lives.
  • It’s hot, we’re sweaty, and gross. So we shower in the bathhouse, but the water is sulfered, so now everything smells vaguely like rotten eggs.
  • It’s 80*F when we crawl into bed at 8pm.
  • Our last day and it’s going to be a scorcher so we get up early and head out by 8:30am to get water from the grocery store.
  • Oh look, more loose gravel backroads!
  • We were chased or approached by aggressive dogs three times before we decided to reroute to more main roads for a bit.
  • Soon the forest gave way to open farmland
  • We saw a flock of turkeys and they scattered as we rolled up – some flew away, some ran under the fence. But one smaller turkey was near a part of the fence that didn’t have an easy way to duck under – and the poor thing just kept running into the bottom of the fence frantically, trying to get to the other side.
  • Superior, WI is remarkably flat
  • One mile before we get to the bike path on the bridge to Duluth, a woman stops at a stop sign and then proceeds even though we were entering the intersection and have the right of way. Her passenger is yelling at her to “stop, bikes!” She does, in the middle of the intersection, but then starts slowly rolling towards us as we pass in front of her. I yell at her “YOU CAN STOP NOW. YOU CAN STOP.” Literally 2 miles from the end of our epic adventure and we are almost hit by a careless driver. We were certainly in more danger in towns and cities than we were out on the country roads.

Epilogue

When we rolled up to our hotel in Duluth, an undenyable sense of accomplishment and pride engulfed us. The sheer intensity of biking and camping and adjusting on the fly; broken bikes and flat tires; creepy campgrounds and freezing temperatures; WE DID IT.

before we could get cleaned up, we had to walk to the bike shop to get our bags, which had our clean clothing for going home

We celebrated with a restaurant meal, doing two loads of laundry, repacking our bikes and bags, and going to sleep in a bed again. The next morning I had Dwarf King taxi take me to the airport to pick up the rental car.

Upon sitting in the driver’s seat I had to think for a minute about how to drive.

We loaded up our bike bags, hit the road to Minneapolis, and eventually our flights to our respective homes.

so good to be home

Overall, I would definitely do this route again with a friend. Jess and I were exceptionally well-matched as adventure partners, making the whole trip so enjoyable. Our focus was to have fun, and we certainly did despite challenges along the way.

the route we rode in 10 min intervals

See you on the road!

How The Story Goes

recounting the last few months

It’s hard to believe it’s been a minute since my last post. Not much has happened – the northeast has had a pretty rainy spring and summer so far, so I’ve been getting out and exploring as the weather allows.

April

April brought a family vacation in Vermont, and my adventure friend moved away. We also adopted a mother-daughter bonded pair of rat terrier-dachshund-chihuahuas after having to make a humane decision for our geriatric beagle, Beau. I love them more than is reasonable.

May

May was more fun rides with friends around the northeast.

June

June saw the rainiest weekend we’ve ever had for our annual Girls + Matt MTB Weekend at Kingdom Trails. That was frustrating because it’s a weekend I look forward to for most of the year to date, and to be limited in time out on the trails wasn’t optimal.

And then it feels like the world came off the rails. Specifically on June 28.

The last week of June

Pete and I had booked a trip back home to see my family at the end of June. As you may remember, my mom’s breast cancer returned, and after aborting a trip to see her in May, it was time to go spend time with her. But we got to the airport on Tuesday, June 27, only to find out the flight had been canceled literally as we were about to enter the security line. Thank goodness we were taking only carry-ons.

With many flights being canceled out of the NYC area, we couldn’t rebook the flight until Saturday, July 1. I grabbed the first direct flight available and decided to not take my previous vacation time since I’d be flying back on July 4 anyway. Pete decided to stay home with the dogs because it was a short trip.

Wednesday, June 28, my mom texted us that she was headed to the hospital with shortness of breath. And then, she checked herself out (AMA) because she didn’t want to stay in the hospital overnight.

It felt urgent to get home to see her.

I spent Thursday, June 29, refreshing Google Flights to find a flight home sooner. Whenever something came up, the ticket was no longer available when I reached the payment screen. Finally, I could land a flight for Friday, June 30, in the morning for an obscene amount of money (and connecting through Atlanta).

I notified my employer that I needed to be with family without any pushback. I love who I work for – they really understand family first. The Friday flight turned into an all-day odyssey, but my sisters picked me up at the airport.

July

Seeing Mom for the first time, in person, up close, since 2019 was jarring. She is a fraction of the size she used to be, uses supplemental oxygen, needs a wheelchair, and can barely speak above a whisper due to paralyzed vocal cords. But after talking with her (she uses a whiteboard for longer conversations), her Self is still there.

Spending time with my family as the sole focus of my trip was fantastically rewarding. We helped Mom and Dad as we could and talked a lot. I helped take Mom to one of her doctor appointments and then spent a few hours with her, making phone calls to set up other appointments, talking, and doing whatever she needed help around the house. She gets tired easily, so I returned to my sister’s for the rest of the day. She seemed stable and was getting her new high-flow oxygen system the next day.

My sister and I stayed up very late on July 4 talking. Like, unusually late for both of us. Around midnight I opted to head to where I was sleeping and get some sleep. As I was about to drift off, I heard my phone vibrate. I thought about not checking it, because it probably was just my email syncing or something.

It was my mom. Asking me to come to her house quickly. Because she was having oxygen issues.

I went upstairs to find my sister still on the couch (miraculously) and asked if she could drive me over. When we arrived, Dad was talking with the oxygen supplier technician about the issues they had all day.

What struck me was my mom. This tiny person, hunched over in her wheelchair, a jacket over her nightgown. My sister and I were able to move her to a quieter part of the house and she wrote like crazy to fill us in on what was going on. We affirmed this must feel very frustrating, and she mouthed YES! and then slumped over.

I reached over to hug her and she clung to me like a liferaft. The role reversal – the eldest child caring for the elderly parent – was palpable. Given I don’t live nearby, I was surprised but happy to be able to provide genuine comfort in a time of crisis. She asked me to help her. Not my sisters. Me. That counts for something.

My sister called the palliative care nurse while I got my mom to her bed and helped ensure her oxygen flow was correct so she could sleep. We talked to Dad about everything and agreed to regroup the next day with a palliative support company representative to learn more about what hospice could do to support Mom through this phase of her life. We were able to confirm she would have 24/7 support and Dad would get some caregiver relief by shifting to hospice. Mom was all about it because they promised it was about her and what she wanted.

I flew home on Thursday, July 6, uneventfully. (I did select First Class because I found a “reasonably” priced ticket and after everything in the last week, I wanted to not deal with travel stress). My friends and I canceled our weekend bikepacking plans (not just because of this – it seems a lot of things came up over the July 4 weekend).

So all this to say – I have zero regrets dropping everything to be with family. But I am experiencing FOMO coming back to see my friends all participating in life as usual. Which is totally normal and I’ll get through it. Mom was able to get a procedure today that has already improved her breathing.

I get that I’m not the only person in the world who has lost or is losing their parent or loved one. But this one is mine and it’s going to be a minute until I’m back to “normal,” whatever that is.

Thanks for reading.

Indoor Training Only Mostly Sucks

It’s all in the approach …

Now that I’m a few weeks removed from Midsouth Gravel, I want to write about the training experience.

What I used

Why I Chose What I Did

Saris H3 smart trainer

I’ve used a “dumb” trainer before and found it wildly boring, no matter what I put on the television. The issue is that while it’s generally the most affordable option and gets you on the bike to workout – you have to get off the trainer to adjust the resistance.

My priorities for a direct-drive trainer were to be relatively quiet, as I set up in a “public” part of our home, and be super easy to set up. The Saris H3 was so quiet my husband didn’t hear the trainer so much as the giant fan I had pointed at me whenever I was on it.

Smart trainers connect to your computer through an ANT+ or Bluetooth connection so the training program can adjust the resistance for you (ERG mode) – or you can put the trainer in standard mode, select a level of resistance, and shift up and down the cassette to work on power output. The resistance controlled by the program in ERG mode is very, very convenient and wonderful. All you have to do is focus on pedaling to hit the target power.

The only place I found ERG to be less than helpful was in Sprints, mostly because it takes the trainer a few seconds to ramp up the resistance so you can hit the target power range – but then it also limits your output by modulating the resistance so you stay at the power target. This frequently limited my ability to hit sprint power targets in the short duration of the sprint. It was much easier in the standard resistance mode because I could manage my power output against the trainer’s resistance.

TrainerRoad

I interviewed several coaches before deciding to find a workout plan and commit to it. I’m not a racer, I don’t intend to race, and it seemed a bit wild to spend $150+ per month just to have someone tell me to do more or less or to keep up the good work.

I looked at the two most popular programs, Zwift and TrainerRoad. While both have solid workout plans, I ultimately decided on TrainerRoad based on a comment I saw while reading comparisons:

Zwift is great for social riding; TrainerRoad is boring but effective.

some random person on the internet

I was not approaching training as a bike ride with miles to track; this was strictly a workout. Time in the saddle, turning the pedals, and working on fitness objectives. This was not supposed to be fun; it was supposed to ensure I could finish a 100-mile gravel ride in early March.

TrainerRoad also has an AI function that will analyze your workouts and outside activities to adjust your future workout intensity. This was both super cool and super hard – because if you crush a workout, it keeps pushing you harder on the next workout. There is no “chill at this level until it feels easy.”

Also, I do not have a power meter on my outdoor bikes, so I’m not sure how accurate the incorporation of outdoor rides actually was. But I did learn that maybe doing a 90min threshold workout one day and then trying to keep up on a hilly mountain bike ride with my faster friends was definitely a Mistake.

How It Went

Honestly, it went really well.

As someone who has been on Operation Avoid the Trainer for YEARS … this was a tough pill to swallow at first. It took me two weeks before I set up the trainer because once it was set up, I would have to use it. And I so vastly prefer outdoor riding and the informal “training” I had been doing …. it was a mental hurdle just to start.

I set up my TrainerRoad account and customized my training plan. I chose a Low Volume plan because as a newbie to indoor training, it was tough enough to get on the trainer three days per week. I assumed I would swap out my 90min weekend workout for outdoor riding as much as possible.

New York had a very mild winter, and by that I mean it rained. A lot. Which severely limited my desire to go outside to ride. It was damp and chilly and unappealing.

So this is where I admit having the trainer as an option to keep working on my fitness when the weather was foul was really, really convenient. I could throw on my bike attire, make a bottle of Skratch Labs hydration, and get a good workout in 60-90min. Even with a fan blowing directly on me at full blast, I finished every workout absolutely soaked in sweat.

Once I committed to follow the plan as closely as possible, the rest came fairly easy. I sync’d my training plan with my Google Calendar so I didn’t make plans over my training days (or moved my training as needed to accommodate unmoveable things like business trips or helping my kid move across the state). After a few weeks, getting on the trainer every 2-3 days felt normal and natural.

Of course, about 14 weeks later I took a weekend off to spend time with one of my kids for an activity-free weekend. Getting on the trainer the first day after that trip was SO HARD. I wanted to throw everything out the window. It hurt, it was hard, I had zero motivation to be on the trainer, and everything just felt off. But I finished the workout and reminded myself that the mental aspect of just getting through the first set of intervals, even just the first over-under, would pay off when I was out in the middle of nowhere and still need to pedal back to the start.

Plus, I only had 2 more weeks before Midsouth, so I could also remind myself it’s a limited-time inconvenience.

The Results

My target was to be out for 10 hours with about 8 hours of ride time.

nailed it!

While training didn’t make me faster (by race standards; I ended up around where I would normally be in late May), and I didn’t lose any weight despite adding in 3.5 hours of workouts to my life … I met my ride time goal and was only out for 9.5 hours total (including stopping at the aid stations).

relaxed, comfortable, and still tons of energy at mile 88

It actually felt very weird to come back from Oklahoma and NOT get on the trainer a few days per week. I thought about extending the training plan because Fitness Gains but ultimately decided to take a few months off and focus on riding for fun again. I don’t want to lose sight of Riding Bikes Is Fun with a side benefit of Fitness.

I did, however, plan out a 16-week plan to help keep my base fitness up for my 2-week bikepacking trip in late August. I can see how spending a little time on structured workouts will benefit my ability to ride consecutive days while hauling all my camping gear around.

Until June 1, I’m back to riding bikes with friends as I can. I’ve made my peace with not being in Top Shape during this time because my focus is back to fun.

See you out there!

MidSouth Gravel 2023

on the road again …

You guys – definitely travel and ride bikes somewhere you’ve never been before.

The Midsouth Gravel is both a gravel race and an event, but the dedication to authentic inclusion makes this event stand out. The emphasis isn’t on the pointy end of the ride (the racers) but on everyday people who show up in Stillwater, OK for a weekend of bikes and community. The organizers are dedicated to creating space for everyone.


I don’t even know where to begin. After spending 15 weeks following a training plan on Trainer Road, I was ready to throw the indoor trainer out the window. Riding bikes has always been for fun, not fitness, and this was a decision to do prescribed workouts with a specific goal of getting to a baseline that would allow me to complete a very early season 100-mile ride with 91% of the course on dirt roads. But I have to admit …. the work paid off. I achieved all of my goals for MidSouth, most importantly to finish strong.


The Day Before Midsouth

Arriving late in Oklahoma City, we grabbed some food for the hour drive out to Stillwater. Very quickly we felt like we were driving through the middle of nowhere …. which we were. On Friday we hit up the Expo, checking out the vendors and picking up swag before checking in to get the race plate and pick up my bike from the bike shop.

During the rider meeting, Bobby called up all event promoters to the stage and reminded us all that events happen because someone wants to share their roads with others. That was a wildly surreal moment.

Bobby also gave an impassioned speech that we aren’t here to race bikes; we’re here to be in community. A community where everyone is loved, valued, and is deserving of a good ride. That regardless of our challenges, we are in this together. And every single person would get a hug at the finish.

the ride

If I’m being honest, I can’t really tell you about the ride. It was people on bikes on stunning red dirt roads, all moving in the same direction but at different speeds. Some had mechanical issues and sitting beside fences, waiting for the SAG jeep. Some were taking a break to eat or drink. Despite registering solo and knowing exactly one other person who had signed up (among the 2500+ registrants across all categories and events) …. I was never alone.

But I can tell you about the people I met along the way:

  • Andrea, from Pennsylvania, who was racing for Sturdy Girl Cycling. We have a mutual friend.
  • Alex, from Arizona, who also had a Cutthroat in the same colors as mine. We chatted for several miles and ended up running into each other at every aid station.
  • Zoe, a trans femme non-binary person from Alaska who exuded off-the-charts energy with a trans flag emblazoned with BLACK TRANS LIVES MATTER. Their energy was infectious.
  • Andrew, a fellow Pactimo Ambassador, who was riding the 50 miler with his sister. We were wearing the same jerseys and bibshorts, just in different colors.
  • Kenneth, a queer Latine, who chatted with me while we were filling our water bottles. He then came over to take photos with my sister and her family (who had dressed in character onesies so I could find them easier at the mid-point aid station). We caught up again at Mount Butt’r.
  • Rebecca, “how you doin’, sister?” as we barrelled down a rutted-out doubletrack. We caught up at the Chamois Butt’r Mount Butt’r aid station, chatting while relaxing in the Adirondack chairs
  • Yasmin, a stunningly gorgeous and incredibly strong rider (she passed me many times before we caught up at the aid station) AND FELLOW UNTAPPED AMBASSADOR! Thrilled to share my Salted Citrus stash with her.
  • The older woman who was blaring disco tunes from her Bluetooth radio and yelling “I LOVE YOU JUST THE WAY YOU ARE” to everyone she passed
  • Jim, the para-athlete who had run the 50k ultra run the day prior and was crushing the 100 mile route on a bike. He’ll be at Leadville both weekend this year – to run and cycle. Total beast and a really genuinely nice person!

Jim also gave me a compliment I will carry with me forever – as he pulled up beside me, he said “Wow, you’re strong. You look so calm and comfortable right now.”

  • Some guy on an orange bike with a white T shirt that reminded me of my friend Kyle. We yo-yo’d a few times late in the day, exchanging brief acknowledgments whenever we’d pass each other.
  • The woman I passed late in the ride with a “Deaf Cyclist” button, so I gave her visual kudos instead of yelling encouragement.

I can show you a selection of pics I snapped along the ride

PICS BECAUSE IT HAPPENED


Crossing the finish line was exhilerating. When it was my turn for the signature Bobby hug, he embraced me tightly as I thanked him for sharing his roads with me, that it was a true love letter. He effused about how this is what it’s all about and next year will be even sicker.

what went well

Having family meet me at the midpoint and end. Knowing someone was there to greet you, encourage you, and ask you about the ride so far was awesome. Don’t underestimate the psychological edge having a support crew gives you.

Training. Every day that I got on the trainer when I really wanted to just sit on the couch with my dog paid off. I wasn’t really sure someone could do hour-long structured workouts and see improvements but the proof is in the pudding. I finished strong, in under my estimated total time out, and almost exactly the ride time I wanted.

Staying open to whatever the experience would be. Signing up for an event in a location that you’ve never been before can be intimidating. Signing up without knowing anyone else who was signing up doubly so. But that allowed me the freedom to just say hi to people and talk about whatever came up.

Pancake in a cup for breakfast. Legit, always have the pancakes.

Things that could have been better

Sunscreen only works if you use it. The coating of red clay mineral loam covering me, my bike, and my stuff did not protect me from a raging sunburn.

Other thoughts

Oklahoma. I didn’t know how beautiful Oklahoma is. I think many people like me who live in more liberal-leaning areas would dismiss the state as a bunch of backward white farmers who are scared of “progress” and its less than inspiring history of where white people forcibly marched native tribes from around the burgeoning country only to then give that very land away to white settlers through five Land Runs.

While the history is true, I think it’s also important to remember that not everyone in a state or city or block – or even a single household – have the same beliefs and political leanings. When we feel smug about living in major metropolitan cities, we can blind ourselves to the people who are working to build inclusive communities in deeply traditional areas. To boycott or ignore Oklahoma for their exclusionary policies doesn’t help those who are fighting on those front lines. Spend your time supporting those communities in transforming fear into tolerance, acceptance, and eventually love.


After dropping off my bike at the shop to be shipped back to New York, Pete and I set off to explore Oklahoma City. We found a walkable downtown where we sat down for lunch in Bricktown and then wandered north to check out the new permanent installation at Factory Obscura: Mix Tape. We then stopped in to relax and have a few drinks at Skydance Brewery (the Mandarin Fluff hard cider was exceptional) before adjourning to our hotel, getting dinner, and calling it an early night because we had to be up at 4:30am to get our flight home.


You guys – definitely travel and ride bikes somewhere you’ve never been before and be open to the experience that will unfold.

See you on the road!

addendum

Things I forgot to mention:

  • Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” on repeat in my head all day; replace “making music” to “riding gravel”
  • WIND. Wide open skies meant riding West was a strong headwind; north or south was a cooling cross-breeze; and riding East was a fantastic tailwind
  • Starting the day under cloudy skies, mid-50*F temps; brilliant sun coming out around mile 20; Wind; relaxing in the shade in Perry at mile 50 with my sister, her partner, her kids, and my husband; double-track and rustic, rutted-out roads; Clouds returning after mile 68 and powerful wind gusts from the North; turning right onto a 7-mile flat stretch and motoring along as the wind shifted from the West and provided a nice tailwind; another rustic road; riding through Oklahoma State University campus as we rolled back into Stillwater; hammering it the last few miles to the finish
  • CHASE THE CHAISE. Rolling into the Mile 88 rest stop and seeing signs to be alert for furniture quickened my heart. A lifelong dream to Chase the Chaise achieved. Hoping they will send out the photos soon!
  • Bobby’s STOKE. He is the alpha and omega of stoke. For DAYS. How is this man still awake?
  • the DFL Party. The entire weekend was one huge party, which I was a bit too much in my own head to really participate in (plus, not 20 anymore). but what stuck out was the DFL Party. DFL is being the last person to cross the finish line and true to MidSouth ethos, there was a huge party for Marley Blonsky, co-founder of All Bodies on Bikes. 14 hours after the race started, she cross the finish line to receive the DFL prize – a giant longhorn skull. LEGIT – no other race does this and they absolutely should. EVERYONE deserves a great ride, not just those at the pointy end of the event.