It was a day for the "hard men" (and women). I've got two bad shoulders, so carrying wasn't a good idea. The first 3-mile mud patch (pictured in the previous post) was the kind of mud that creates a suction and pulls your shoes off. I didn't lose a shoe, but my toe covers are buried somewhere in that stretch. If you put your bike down, the mud would jam forward progres in the time it took the bottom of your wheel to roll around to your fork. In fact, the mud was so sticky that I glimpsed at my Garmin and saw that I was carrying with my heart rate above anaerobic threshold at one point. Burned most of my matches there, of all places. And one of my favorite encounters of the race was on that stretch when I stepped down off the fence row and almost onto a missasauga (sp?) rattlesnake.

For me, it was (1) my first gravel race, (2) my longest ride or race of any kind, by 55 miles, and (3) ovr double my biggest day of climbing. At the second checkpoint -- 158 miles -- I couldn't feel my hands, they were very weak, my vision was getting blurry, and I wasn't sure I could lift the bike to make it through another mud bog. I was sure there was likely at least one more mud bog. So, DNF.

I have to say, though, that the biggest surprise for me wasn't the gravel or mud -- it was the rocks. Lots of stretches (usually descents or climbs) where you could not avoid dealing with bowling ball- and larger-sized jagged rocks. Between the sticky mud and the big rocks, the course kicked my buttocks.

I will be back.