Somehow I let Marc convince me to register for the Cactus Cup 3-day stage race in Fountain Hills, Arizona. I can’t remember the last time I did a stage race, definitely not a 3-day mountain bike stage. I’ve done plenty of back-to-back road racing days, but this was different.
The Cactus Cup meant driving for 13 hours to get to our destination, racing for three days, then driving 13 hours back. And that’s something I’ve never done. To be honest, I hate leaving my routine.
Thursday road trip, or, hell on wheels
Sleepy-eyed and cream-crackered, the race weekend started well before the race. We left Thursday at around 5:30 AM (I woke up at 3:45 AM). Before the sun came up. Before most people were on the road. Before we were bright-eyed awake.
GPS guides the way
Marc entered “Fountain Hills, Arizona” into the car’s GPS. 12 hours 45 minutes travel time. That wasn’t counting stops. I tried settling in for a long ride. I had my water bottle, comfy clothes, and Dramamine. Let’s fuggin’ go.
I’m not much of a road tripper, so I dreaded the drive. You’d think my body would be fine sitting as someone who’s physically fit, but it’s the opposite. My low back tightens. My knees hurt. It makes my head throb. I can’t stay still long. I walk in place during work, for fuck sake. My body doesn’t do well with idleness.
The drive out to Fountain Hills was uneventful. Marc set the cruise control and we’d listen to whatever his XM radio station played. I downloaded the Jeffrey Dahmer series by The Last Podcast on the Left. It only ate up (pun intended) three hours of the trip.
Snacks
Luckily, we had snacks. Protein bars, popcorn, dried mango, salad, fig bars, candy, Red Bull, green juice, pistachios, and cookies. We didn’t even get through them all because we had so many. We also picked up more at our gas station stops. I remember wanting fruits and vegetables and all I could find were pickled carrots.
Arrival
We finally rolled into Fountain Hills at around 8 PM-ish (lotta pee and gas stops). We dumped our stuff into our rooms (after dickhead Bill, the staff at The Comfort Inn, gave us our room key). Needing to stretch our legs, we walked a mile, weaving in and out of dark streets and parking lots. My father explained to us how much a cactus weighs and the legalities around them.
Friday: Mountain bike time trial, a.k.a premature over-exertion
I’ve never raced a mountain bike time trial before. Was it like a road time trial where we’re sent off in thirty seconds increments? Was it just as demoralizing?
It was.
Not having previewed the course beforehand made me anxious. Like, more anxious than before a normal race where I’ve seen the course. I like knowing the layout, what to watch out for, features to avoid or you know, praying to the bike gods I get through it without a trip to the hospital.
Like I told the guys, “Fail to prepare, prepare to fail.” Not that I thought I’d fail. Actually, yes, I thought I’d fail. My idea of failure is coming in any other place than first. It’s something I started working on with my therapist last season—which I promptly forgot throughout the weekend.
I worried that not having seen any of the trails before the race would affect my performance. Not knowing the trails meant slowing down more than normal. It meant being extra-extra cautious on descents or blind turns. In turn, all that was bound to push my time back.
The Start
They assigned us a start time and we went off every thirty seconds (like road racing). I was the first to go in my category so I had to make sure no one caught me. The course was a little over 5 miles with a drop halfway through. There was an easy option to take which I was going to opt for since I hadn’t had the time to preview and practice the drop. Based on last summer’s fall down a giant boulder, I’m not good with not practicing over and over and over again.
I assumed 5.5 miles would take me about half an hour, not knowing the features or terrain. Of course, the terrain dug at my (many) weakness(es): sand. As the control freak that I am (and being a “roadie” at heart), I very much like feeling connected to the bike (and the ground).
I don’t like sliding around. I’m not Paul Walker in Fast and the Furious. I don’t drift, okay? Yes, it’s something I’m working on.
So, this was a time trial on loose dirt with sandy turns waiting to suck in your front wheel and spit you out sideways. At least, that was my experience—and what I convinced myself of.
As you left the start line, you had a bit of an incline that dropped into single track. You had a few twisty turns until you hit a climb. It’d drop again, you’d turn on loose sand, then climb again. It was ups and downs the whole way.
Mid-race
Halfway through was the rock drop. I chose the other line, the “easy” way, which added a few seconds to my time, but I assumed it was better to add time than eat dirt. Or break something.
We then had a helluva climb up and over a ridge with lots of loose rocks both on the ascent and descent. There were people walking their bikes at this point. Most got out of the way as I climbed by.
I caught up to a couple of 40+ women on the climbs, which was exciting since they started at least one minute ahead of me. I kept looking behind and couldn’t see any of my competitors either.
The ending
The course ended at the pump track. As I sprinted toward the line, there were kids biking on the finish line. They were in the way and put all of us at risk of getting hurt. I slowed down instead of racing across the finish line.
I yelled about the kids on the course as soon as I stopped. And when I say “yelled,” I mean I spoke loudly, like the passive-aggressive Karen that I am. “Why are there children playing at the finish line?!” The mother finally gathered them and took them somewhere else—not after having ruined other racers’ finishing times.
Time to kill
We still had a couple of hours before Marc and Mike started so we drove back to the hotel to shower and eat. I kept looking for the live results and couldn’t figure out where to get them. When we got back to the Expo, I finally got the nerve to ask the announcer guy (who I’ll come to strongly dislike) where I could find results. He was able to pull up my group for me and I saw I came in first. I belted out, “Hell yes!” and gave him a high five.
Awards & dicking around
When we got back to the Expo, we still had some time to kill before awards. The guys wanted to find the rock drop and session it for Saturday’s race so we started heading in that direction. We couldn’t find it. And burned matches in search of it. Jackky and I headed back to the expo so we wouldn’t miss my podium.
We waited a very long time for them to call our category but it was awesome to hear my name for first place. I wondered if I went too hard for the next day’s 42-mile race, but I took the chance to see what I was capable of. And sure, this was a taste-tester for Breck Epic in August.
Recovery
I tried my best to recover as efficiently as I could. I threw my legs up on the wall. I stretched. I massaged my muscles. I drank a ton of water and electrolytes and watched what I ate.
After-course thoughts
What I liked about this course was that I could see around most corners. There weren’t any technical sections outside of the rock drop (that probably wasn’t all that bad but I avoided it because I didn’t want to crash in front of the crowd who gathered around that exact spot).
There were great course markings which helped a ton not ever having been on the course before. The volunteers were great too.
Foods and stuff throughout the day
Breakfast:
Mush & banana & almond butter, 3 eggs, pre-workout energy drink
Race nutrition:
3 scoops of Raspberry Lemon Flow Formulas Endurance Mix
Post-race nutrition:
2 scoops of Vanilla Flow Formulas Recovery Mix
Lunch:
Ate salad in our room before going back for awards.
Dinner:
We went to Sofrita and had chips and guac, and I had a quinoa salad.
Saturday 42-Mile Cross-Country Race, Or How I Forgot To Have Fun
Jackky was the first to go in our group for the cross-country race. I forgot to set the alarm for 6:30 AM, so we had to rush to get out the door.
We met at our pit area where Grant, with The Bikery at the Brewery, set up a tent, chairs, beers, bike rack, tools, even a fuggin’ rug. Even though I’m not on The Bikery team, it was one of my favorite parts of the whole event. I normally ride with these guys, but it was nice to have that kind of team support you’re supposed to have when you’re on a team.
It was nice to use that as headquarters, the meet-up spot, the post-race chill zone. Knowing I had a place with friends helped my anxiety about being and racing somewhere new. It helped not having to pack up my shit and leave after the race alone, which is what normally happens.
I cheered on Jackky, Drew, and Kevin at their start, then I started warming up for my own.
Our call-up was a joke. They called the 40-49 women up first. Then called my name along with Megan and Marion’s for the 30-39 women. Then pushed us into the rest of the groups so we no longer knew who we were actually racing with.
The start was fast and fierce
My tactic is usually to go as hard as I can at the start and hold that for as long as I can. Not much of a tactic but it seems to work.
I got on one woman’s wheel at the start and hung on as we hit single track. There were four of us sprinting away. One lady dropped off. Then another. Then it was just me and the 40-something. Another 40-something caught up to us. I told her to let me know when she wanted to pass. Five minutes later those two took off, leaving me in their dust.
I was riding by myself for a while until I saw Todd, one of my bike friends. I yelled out to him, “Coming up on you, Todd!” Out of context, that sounds weird. It makes sense on the trail.
After that quick pick-me-up, I was back to racing alone for twenty minutes until I caught a group of teens. I asked to pass when it was safe. They started taking turns faster than I could so I backed off. I came around a turn and one of them had washed out. Luckily, I avoided her. I asked if she was okay and she squeaked out, “yeah,” so I kept moving.
Fuck yeah socks
I eventually passed the teens as we started climbing around the side of a mountain. There was a long train of racers behind me. I ended up dropping them all but after cornering one switchback, I saw a woman quickly catching up to me. I hoped she wasn’t in my category. She had “fuck yeah” socks on and it was impressive how quickly she caught up to me. And just as quickly, dropped me. We rode together long enough for me to realize I couldn’t keep her pace. I yelled out, “What category are you in?” I think she said, “40-49. You?” So I said, “30’s.”
I burned too many matches at the start of the race and gapping all the other racers, I couldn’t keep up with her.
I looked down at my Garmin, convinced I was 20 miles in. I was only 13 miles in. 30 miles to go. I had my one Flow bottle with three scoops of endurance mix and one scoop of electrolytes, and a 2-liter CamelBak. 25 minutes before the race, I had one UCAN gel and I had one more for halfway through the race. I figured I’d have enough without having to stop at either aid station.
Closing gaps
I tried focusing on the people ahead of me. As soon as I saw someone ahead I’d laser in and work to catch up to them. After I caught them, I’d look for the next person to catch. And on and on and on. That was the only way I could keep myself going.
The terrain wasn’t gnarly but it wouldn’t let up. Kind of like death by 1,000 paper cuts. It felt like a constant climb. When we got to descend, there were so many loose rocks that my legs never actually got a reprieve. On one of the descents, I burped my tire. It looked and felt squishy. I even asked a couple standing off to the side if it looked like I had a flat tire. They said, “No.” They were wrong.
The miles slowly ticking away
I looked down at my Garmin again and the miles SLOWLY ticked by. I thought I’d gone 15 miles since I last looked and I was only 20 miles in. After passing another rider, I grabbed my only gel. I was about 90 minutes in (I know, right?) and thought I might crack 3:00 hours for the race. But the miles dragged on and so did I.
I caught up to Marc which also boosted my morale. I saw him in the distance on top of a ridge. When I came up to him I yelled out, “Beep beep mother fucker.” He yelled, “Let’s go, bitches.” I told him to jump on my wheel as I rode past. Then I dropped him.
At one point I hit double-track gravel and loved every minute of it. It only lasted five minutes, if that, but it was so nice and gave me an energy boost. Then we took a hard right u-turn and it destroyed my morale. I still had 10 miles to go.
The finish
I caught up to other riders as we were nearing the finish. I could hear the announcer off in the distance. I was getting closer. No one was around me. I turned the corner to pass the pump track. There was a long finish chute. I saw Dawn off the side but as I got closer to the finish, more people blurred around me.
I crossed the line while the announcer said, “We’ve got a racer crossing the finish line right now.” He couldn’t be bothered to figure out my name. I immediately went on to the road to cool down. My crotch was bruised. My low back was on fire. My lungs were pissed.
I finally headed back to the tent where we were trying to figure out our results. Mike showed me mine which showed me as fourth out of eight racers. I looked at places 1-3 but didn’t recognize any names. I immediately began berating myself for my performance. I started questioning my training and strategy. I told the guys I’d be in a sour mood for the rest of the night but I’d get over it.
We left to get food at Señor Tacos. We started talking about the GC and wondered if they’d award the GC people. I knew I’d still be on the podium so we decided last minute to go back to the expo to see if I’d get anything for GC. As we stood there, the announcer was calling all the categories and skipped the women’s 30-39. I noticed it but I wasn’t sure what was going on.
My real race results
I saw Megan across the crowd and we mouthed to each other, “What the fuck?” I went over to talk to her and she also noticed he skipped over our category. Then Megan told me she came in third and I swore I saw her further down the list. Then I doubted my memory of her name, thinking she was Alexis Skarda or something. She said I probably came in first or second because they mixed pros in with us normies. I pulled up the results again and there I was: first place.
A wave of relief and pride (and embarrassment) washed over me as I was very spicy about coming in fourth earlier. I guess I was so bummed that I tried so hard and was in a lot of pain. Only two women passed me who I thought were in their 40’s. It threw me for a loop “coming in 4th.”
Self-worth and race results
And this is the problem with tying your self-worth to results. It’s something I desperately need to change. Too often (okay, every time), when I find myself in anything other than first, I criticize my training, my self-worth, whether I belong in this sport, all of the things. It’s my ego taking over. It’s only focusing on the outcomes and neglecting any lessons learned. It’s cherishing external validation and trashing any internal validation. It’s forgetting to “enjoy the process of training, the adversity, and lacking curiosity about what lessons can be learned from setbacks” (The Brave Athlete: Calm the Fuck Down and Rise to the Occasion).
Whether I came in fourth or first or dead fucking last, I’m still inherently worthy of competing, of enjoying racing bikes, of learning lessons, of lining up the next day and the next.
So I was super stoked we came back and talked to Megan because I would have missed my first-place finish and the opportunity to cheer on Megan and Marion for our podium.
Skipping the women’s podium
Unfortunately, the announcer guy skipped our group entirely. Even after Marc went up to him and told him he skipped us. After the crowd dispersed, we went up to the guy. He had the audacity to argue with us that he called our names. He kept repeating the names from the 40K, which we kept telling him was wrong. Finally, after thanking everyone and telling the crowd to have a good night, he called us up to the podium.
We had one more day left. I was still first in the GC and I was going in blind to my first enduro race.
Nutrition throughout the day
Breakfast:
Mush & banana & almond butter, 3 eggs, pre-workout energy drink
Race nutrition:
3 scoops of Raspberry Lemon Flow Formulas Endurance Mix
Post-race nutrition:
2 scoops of Vanilla Flow Formulas Recovery Mix
Lunch:
Burrito bowl with corn tortillas from Señor Tacos.
Dinner:
We walked to Target and I got a Naked green juice and Greek yogurt (also got candy).
Sunday: Enduro Race—working on my biggest weakness
I woke up feeling like a car ran me over. My low back was still on fire. My crotch felt like it was pounded in all the wrong ways. But I still had a race to do (survive?), so I did what I do best: ignore the pain.
Which, surprisingly, I was able to manage my Migraine headaches pretty well this weekend. Staying on top of my hydration, electrolytes, food, warming up, cooling down, and focused breathing during the race helped prevent my Migraine headaches from getting worse. Sure, I still struggled with daily head pain and dizziness, but it never got as bad as it did a few years ago, which I was super grateful for.
I didn’t know fuck all about enduro so again, I was going into this blind. We hung out at our pit area while Marc got ready to head out to his race. We wished him good luck and then I started preparing to meet Megan to ride up to the first stage together.
I wasn’t sure how much water, hydration, and gels to bring so I opted for two gels and one bottle of three scoops of Flow.
The start of Stage 1 was about six miles away and we had that same distance between the other two stages.
Stage 1–Flowy and pedal-y
We got there ten minutes before our scheduled time and the line was ginormous. It was clear that people didn’t stick to their assigned times and instead, showed up when they wanted. We ended up waiting for about forty minutes. I was completely cooled off by the time I started the segment. I mean, who wouldn’t be?
Stage 1 was considered the easiest stage. Two miles long and “too pedal-y” as described by Grant. It was my favorite. There were sweeping turns, no chunky rocks, and enough climbing that I wouldn’t lose too much time to Megan and Marion. Jackky followed behind as my “buddy,” which is how we were able to get him to ride with us the whole way.
There was a small hill at the end of the segment where I saw Megan and Marion waiting for me. Frankly, it was an awesome surprise to see them waiting. They didn’t have to and it was real cool they did.
We all rode together to the second stage, having no clue where we placed in the first stage.
Stage 2–More rocks, less confidence
Stage 2 was sketchier and again, I had no idea what to expect. Marion pushed the pace between the first and second stage. At first I wondered if she was trying to tire us out but honestly, she’s just a strong rider and found a groove.
We reached the second stage with only five people in front of us. Big difference from the first stage. We told the volunteer Jackky was my “buddy” again and he said they were the chill stage, so it was fine. I told them Stage 1 had to have been pretty chill too since there were way too many people standing around.
This stage started off flat but with a ton of big, loose rocks that knocked my front tire every which way. There was another incline and then a descent down the side of the mountain.
I saw a photographer sitting around as I passed by while trying to stay in control of my bike, but of course, not controlling it too much so I could let the “bike do it’s thing.” Then there was a blind, sharp turn. I came in a little too hot and essentially came to a stop to not fly off the side of the path. I saw Megan and Marion at the bottom of the hillside waiting for me again.
Jackky wasn’t too far behind me too. When he got to our group, we pedaled to the final stage, which wasn’t short on climbing.
Stage 3–maybe a little sense of accomplishment
We actually had to hike-a-bike a section we raced down the day before.
I thought to myself that while I knew I wasn’t going to do great in this race, I actually had a little bit of pride in myself. Proud knowing that I used to be deathly afraid of going downhill when I first started mountain biking.
And here I was doing my first “enduro” event. Sure, it wasn’t pure “enduro,” but I was getting timed by how fast I could race downhill—that wouldn’t have happened a few years ago. Wouldn’t have signed up for it in the first place.
I quickly realized we were going the reverse way we did the day before at the start of the race. That meant having to bike up the rock drop I avoided the first time.
The volunteer warned us about the first turn being loose and sandy, but he should have warned us about the whole segment. It was .6 miles and it was the most technical.
The first section was switchbacks with baby heads. I slowed way down on it and Jackky was right behind me. I tried to ignore my critical ass and focused on the trail ahead.
Then I came up to the rock feature that I was definitely not going to try to ride up, especially when I paused at the sign to make my choice, and lost all momentum.
I turned right instead and ended up having to grind up a sharp incline anyway. Mike J. and Grant were cheering me on while also yelling at me to go faster. I came around the turn and sprinted toward the finish line.
And the enduro was done. The feelings after the enduro were different from the feelings after the cross-country race. I think it’s because I had little expectations of myself in the enduro.
The goal couldn’t be first place because I already knew I sucked going fast downhill. I make up all my time on climbs. The gosh had to be about the process. It had to be for growing and learning from my mistakes. And going into this final race with the only expectation of trying my hardest to get over my crushing fear of falling and breaking my neck was a big enough goal.
I saw Megan and Marion standing at the finish. We talked for a few. I learned they both struggled on the rock feature, but at least they tried. I admitted I took the easier way, that sacristy seemed like it might have been just as hard as the rock.
Women’s 30-39 skipped again for the podium
Somehow, like clockwork, the announcer skipped our group. Yet again, we told him he missed us and yet again he argued he didn’t. What I also realized in this debate was that I actually came in second in the enduro stage which was shocking news to me. I had already accepted that I likely came in last, so I was as surprised as I was the day before for higher placing.
He finally announced us for enduro and I stepped on that second place block like it was my fuggin’ birthday. My saving grace was that Marion and Megan struggled in the last stage, otherwise, they would have blown me away.
I still maintained my first place in the GC, so it was fun to get on the top step again. And of course, be surrounded by two awesome racers who definitely pushed me harder than I would have been capable of on my own.
Breakfast:
Mush & banana & almond butter, 3 eggs, pre-workout energy drink
Race nutrition:
3 scoops of Raspberry Lemon Flow Formulas Endurance Mix and one gel
Post-race nutrition:
2 scoops of Vanilla Flow Formulas Recovery Mix
Lunch/Dinner:
Pizza, salad, and wine. I also had piña colada shaved ice while we waited on the awards.
Thoughts on the race as a whole:
The timing and results
The timing/results were pretty bad. As racers, we care about the results (duh). They need to be correct and they were far from it until days later.
The announcer
The announcer skipped the women’s 30-39 podium announcements two days in a row. When we (the three podium placers [Jessica, Megan, and Marion]) told the announcer he skipped us for the XC 40-mile race, he argued he didn’t.
He did this again on Sunday after the enduro event. He was given the wrong results, only announced the top winner (which was wrong), and argued with us again that he announced our group.
Grouping all women together
Additionally, I know women have lower participation but bunching us all up at the start of the 40-mile XC race made it confusing to know who we were actually racing against. I think they could have given us different plates or marked our calves. And I know a ton of races do this, bunching us all up together like we’re cattle. It’s not just the Cactus Cup.
The different stages
I know I just talked a lot of shit, but I did really enjoy the three stages: time trial, cross-country, and enduro.
Time trial
The time trial was marked well and the course was short enough to not feel like a drag but spicy enough to burn. It had punchy climbs, and fun, flowy descents. I think the thirty-second waves and one-minute break between categories were perfect.
42-mile Cross-country
I wish I could have ridden this before the race. I think not knowing anything about it made it drag on and on. I didn’t know where I could conserve energy and where I needed to push, so I essentially pushed until I couldn’t any longer, which isn’t the best strategy.
I liked that it was a mix of everything but I also hated how it felt like a never-ending climb. I’m also not sure if tight muscles caused the low back pain or if it’s my bike fit.
It was fun to experience a new layout and environment. It was a great season opener to see how my body fares racing back-to-back (I’m signed up for The Breck Epic). The cacti were astonishing. The course was well-marked and the volunteers were super awesome.