I felt so good heading to Moab: bolstered by the confidence of almost 16 months of training and I’d done this race last year so had an idea what to expect. Last year it was my first race experience and I went in blind on the course, on riding in Moab, on racing – it was all brand new to me. Having done two other racers last year, I was starting to acquire some race experience. Baby steps, it’s all baby steps. – the training, the learning, gaining the experience – it all takes time. A lot more time than you think.

The training, the learning, gaining the experience – it all takes time.

Moab was unseasonably cold for late March and they’d had a lot of snow. The top part of the Day 1 course was still covered in snow, so the course was shortened, which I was quite relieved about. After a few days of settling in to Moab and reconnecting with friends from Hawaii, Florida, the UK and even South Africa, it was race time. Racer registration is like a bit of a reunion where you see people you know and meet other racers, so it’s a great social afternoon. There’s some nervous anticipation and I suppose some of the crazy ones are actually excited.

I felt ready to go on race day! The start time had been bumped an hour later to take the edge of the frigid temperatures. On the start line, the race organizers announced that the course was too icy in some sections so the stage would be neutralized. This just meant that you could ride whatever you chose to, or not ride at all. There would be no timing and the race would be reduced to two stages starting the next day. I pedaled up the road about 5km and then decided to turn back. The climb just seemed an unnecessary waste of energy when I could save my legs for Day 2. The anxiousness of the start and then the start not actually counting was a little disorienting. All my nervous excitement had been doused, so I pedaled back to the house taking time to reset and regroup for the next day.

Day 2 was equally cold, and had an earlier start time with a forecast hovering just above freezing all day. Because of trail and road conditions from all the rain they’d had, the Day 2 course had to be altered, with a more technical trail being used after the aid station. The aid stations were also changed and instead of two, one of which you would come through twice, there was now only going to be one aid station on the stage at the 24km mark. All of these things stacked up against me. I am slower than a sleepy snail in molasses so always get dropped within minutes of the start line. Riding out there alone in the cold, on a course that would challenge me even in ideal conditions, was more than I could muster the courage for. After some hesitation I made the call not to start. I was disappointed but knew it was the right call. Riding bikes is supposed to be fun, and nothing here felt like fun. My relief far exceeded my disappointment which was the telling gauge.

The afternoon of Day 2 ended up being really fun. Sandra and I had gone back to the townhouse to drop our bikes off, put on warmer clothes and stopped for coffee and a treat on the way back to the finish. We got to the finish in time to cheer our friends on as they crossed the line and had a grand time visiting with other racers who I’d never see during the race. From all reports as people came across the finish line, not starting was definitely the right choice for me that day.

I did purchase a warmer pair of gloves with the intention of at least doing the third day to salvage one out of the three days of racing. I made a few wardrobe adjustments and courageously braved the elements again on the morning of Day 3. It was a later start again because of the weather. While it was still cold, the sun was putting in a valiant effort. Also, I know who has the task of being the Day 3 sweep, since we hung all day last year on Day 3. Knowing that Houda and my new friend Rob would be sweeping made a huge difference because I knew that I wouldn’t be out on course alone all day. That moral support goes a long way, especially on a technically challenging course.

I felt great on the bike all day and rode well. I was still dead last but had a really fun day on the bike with the added bonus of no mechanicals, no crashes. The road climb was ok, so was the technical climbing. This day has a lot of technical climbing having to bump up these little steppy uppy rocks – that’s the official term for them. Being able to follow someone’s line helped a lot. The descent was hootin’ and hollerin’ good times with unbelievable views. With the race down the tubes, we did take time to drink it all in. A large part of the course is along a canyon rim and even though there’s not really scary exposure, you do need to keep you head up at all times. While I’d managed to stay ahead of the sweeps almost until the first aid station, I was glad Houda and Rob were with me on the technical descent.

There’s a loose sandy bit near the end that is sort of awful, but you also know you’re on the home stretch once you hit that section. Then the big gravel climb back out starts. The climb is pretty cruel because you think you can see the top, but that’s just a bend in the road, and the climb not only continues, but gets way steeper around that corner. By this time the sweeps had traded off to someone else – I was now hanging out with my new friend Rick. The team clearing the course marking had also joined us, so it was a pretty much a party train by this time.

I rolled across the finish line way too late in the day and was so glad to have my friends waiting for me. They were probably glad for the propane fire pits to keep them warm as they waited.

While it had ceased to be a race when I bailed on Day 2, it was still a great day on the bike riding some unbelievable trails in a stunningly beautiful place with some really solid human beings. I am always so grateful for the people that come into my life through bikes.

My goals for this race was to stay ahead of the sweeps – FAIL, to beat my time from last year – FAIL and to have fun – 100%. I rode only one of the two days of racing, FAIL, but the DNS was the right call, so I’m ok with it.

Sometimes things go sideways and it did in Moab. I am so committed to my training, because I don’t want to be dying at a race regretting having blown off a workout. Here I was having put in the work but that’s just one side of it. The weather was one factor – and while you can dress for it, you have no control over the havoc it wrecks on the trails. Mentally I was thrown off kilter by the call to neutralize Day 1, even though I was grateful to the race organizers for making the tough call when the course was deemed unsafe to race. Day 2 was a combination of miserable weather. failed courage and a good dose of common sense.

Were my expectations and goals unreasonable? Maybe. Maybe not. Just because I didn’t meet the goal doesn’t necessarily mean it was too lofty. I continue to learn what a slow process it is for me to see fitness gains. I’ve never trained for anything in a structured way so it’s all new to me. I can throw in the towel and not do another race, but that would mean missing out on the fun parts of racing, and I’m not ready to do that.

Next up is the Belgian Waffle Ride in about five week’s time. The wafer course that I’m doing is 70 miles of gravel with about 5000ft of climbing. I did the 100 mile course at SBT GRVL last year, so this is my second gravel race. Again, I am counting on that little bit of experience to help me through the next race. I’m a little intimidated because it has some technical singletrack on the course which presents some adventure riding on a gravel bike. One of the lessons that came out of Moab was that being stronger on the bike helps with confidence riding technical features, so hoping that can get me through some of those singletrack sections that I’m so intimated by. The learning is ongoing.

Last week the race recap video from the race winner, Cole Paton went live. In it he talks about what a challenging course Moab Rocks is technically, and about managing the unexpected cold. After Day 2 he talks about what a tough day that was, and again, I thought, thank goodness I pulled the plug. Good to recognise when you’re in over your head.

They’re battling for the win, I’m battling to finish, but we all have a place in bike racing.

Watching Cole’s video, two things came to me – confirmation that this is a bloody tough race if even the winner thinks so. The second thing was, how great bike races are where I, a fat, old lady dabbling in racing and just looking for good times on bikes, gets to race with the young superstars like Cole Paton, Sarah Sturm, Kaysee Armstrong, Andrew L’esperance and Evelyn Dong. Ok, wait – to be clear, we’re never actually racing together, but we’re at the same event, on the same course, sharing the experience. They’re battling for the win, I’m battling to finish, but we all have a place in bike racing.

That’s pretty damned special if you ask me.