For the love of the sport.

Sometimes I wonder why I keep showing up to these start lines. As an aging peri-menopausal woman, I often feel invisible. Or too visible. An imposter. Or a “back in my day” curmudgeon. As a lifetime competitive person, letting go of that identity has been very challenging. I’ve found the shift from compete to complete to be a difficult transition.

A race has a start and finish line. A clock. Results. So why race?

To me, racing has become more than the standard descriptors. I race for the gpx track the race promoter designs; a showcase of an area they are passionate about. The unique landscapes and varying definitions of gravel. The food and culture showcased by each community we enter into. The volunteers that enable these events to occur are essential, and amazing. My fellow competitors whooping and hollering as we descend into beauty, or suffer in silence into a headwind. Together. When there’s a start line, it gives more reasons to push towards a finish line.

I feel that push and pull to show up, on start lines with less than 10% women, hoping to inspire more. Or just to adventure more.

Finding the balance of competition and fun. Suffering and enjoyment. For the love of the sport, I keep riding. And yes, racing too. From first to last, everyone deserves a spot on that start line.

The back may be your party pace, but we’re trying too. Don’t let my smile fool you; I’m digging deep.

Another magical week spent adventuring in southern Spain bikepacking to Utopia Gravel. I flew into Granada and after a bit of bike fixing at Sulayr Bike Studio, I headed out along a portion of the Badlands route to the race location in Baza. I had such a fantastic time touring the route last year with the Komoot Women’s Rally, and knew I had to come back. I had heard about Utopia Gravel which is in the Gorafe Desert and Sierra Nevada area of Spain, and devised a plan to bikepack to the start.

It was fun to retrace my tire tracks and think back to the memories from last year, and forge my own this year. I stopped at the high ropes course to buy a Coke for the top of the first major climb. I stopped at the Birch tree of life to fill my bottles. I got to take the gravel roads past La Peza that we missed due to the storm. I stayed in a hotel above the restaurant in Benalua that we got a ride to from the cave owner.

The second day I got to do another missed sector and I had some company! John and Neil from the UK who were on a guided tour came upon me, and we shared 20 miles together. I was thankful for the small talk, their wheels into the wind, and for sharing some beautiful gravel roads together. We went our separate ways into Gorafe as I continued onward towards Baza.

I took care on the single track, not knowing what all the rain had done to the trails. I remembered following Diana’s wheel and cheering on Mia as she crushed this sector, and her fears. I stopped for treats before Freila and dreaded the climb into and out of that town, knowing I’d have to repeat it again on Saturday.

Getting to the Via Verde (old railroad converted into a bike trail) I got to head down to Baza, instead of the grueling uphill slog to Gor. I smiled with glee as I rolled into my accommodations for the next few days.

Two days. 102 miles. 10,900’ elevation gain. One happy rider.

I lucked out in choosing my bnb, as a whole host of Swiss riders were also staying there! New friends! Who had cars and adopted me the entire weekend. I rode with them on Friday for a preride, and we all got checked in and had dinner out in town. Saturday morning rolled around and I was feeling ready enough for the day ahead.

Utopia Gravel is organized by Epicos, who also do the Sahara Gravel Challenge which I absolutely loved. Having been familiar enough with Granada and the northern portion of the Badlands area, I knew this was going to be another must do event. Janosch and his crew really know how to choose fantastic gravel destinations, run a race, and design an amazing course.

This event lived up to my very high expectations and surpassed! Challenging climbs, insanely fun, sweeping descents, varying surfaces, and ever changing landscapes. It was such a fun experience to transport myself to a new jaw dropping “woah” moment seemingly every 10 minutes. A few snips from the race:

I had friends! It was a mass start with both distances which meant more friends. We got to the split point and I was only alone for a tiny bit before linking up with Pedro and Pedro from Portugal. We were ripping the fast gravel descents and working together on the uphill headwind sectors. Hoot and hollering on the pavement down to Freila. The aid station in town was playing some tunes, as we all suffered up the steep switchbacks into and out of town.

I’m a quarter Native American. I belong to a tribe in northern Wisconsin. When my grandfather passed, an eagle showed up in my father’s backyard. Perched high on a dead tree in the middle of the dammed Mississippi River, he stood stoic. Calm waters, reflecting back a life once lived. A life of strength, courage, and spiritual connection. During my brother’s wedding on my parents’ back lawn overlooking the river, I glanced up and saw Grandpa Gordon, flying overhead.

As I descended into Gorafe, from the crust of the desert canyon’s edge, a massive eagle flew above. I immediately said, “Hi Grandpa! Thanks for making the journey over to Spain!” The sweeping pavement unfolded below, like a magic carpet ride. Another eagle joined in on the dance as we all floated downward. A tear fell down my face, and my smile grew. I knew what was coming, but I begged myself to enjoy every second of this gift. Leaning my bike further, relaxing my shoulders and grip, I’ve never felt so light.

The heavy will come. But not quite yet.

I was slightly concerned about making the 5 hour cutoff at the 53 mile mark, before entering the Gorafe Desert loop. That’s right about my average pace for a climby event like this. I worked hard all morning and was thankful to make the steep climb up to the aid station with 26 minutes to spare. I packed a RedBull for this moment. Slammed it, filled the bottles, and set out for my favorite section. All the rain from this winter has really made for some primo (fast) gravel conditions.

More hoots and hollers and then the trudging climb out of the depths of the canyon floor. It’s always a pleasure to see photographer David out in the wild, and today was no exception. Having Adrian there as well made the suffering less so. Two guys just out there for the love of the sport, helping to capture these memories for all of us competitors and their friend, Janosch. “What’s better, this or the Sahara?” Adrian asked.

Both!

I reached the aid station at the “top” and felt myself fatiguing. The efforts of the days prior were catching up to me. As I shoved off and glanced down at the continuous uphill slog to come, my power and heart rate dropped. I was burning matches to just make it up some of these steep canyon ascents. (I kept asking - Where’s the railroad bridge for this one?!) I was passing some of the shorter distance folks, and offering some of my American candy as a mood booster. (Nerds Gummy Clusters of course) The final 2 mile climb appeared on my wahoo, a 6% steady paved climb. I stayed focused and kept the power down. Adrian and David passed on the moto just as I was reaching the top, and the elation shows on my face. A happy racer, getting excited about the gravel descent back to the finish line.

What a perfect day on the bike. Started off chilly, and somehow finished chilly, too. The sun would blaze down, but then another puffy cloud would provide respite. The headwinds on the way out were relentless. The Velocio wind vest was zipped up and down 100x during the day. The heat was never so oppressive, the cloud cover never too thick. This merino jersey did the trick.

98 miles. 9 hours. 9200’ elevation gain. 587 TSS. A proper day out.

Sunday was a relaxed morning, with the usual delicious breakfast at the bnb. Laura and I headed out for the Sunday Hill Climb but skipped the climb and headed straight for the mid-point. A natural hot springs (Los Baños de Zújar). We were the first to arrive and the last to leave. An absolutely perfect post race float, with friends. We enjoyed coffee and snacks provided by some of Laura’s friends from France on the rocky shores of the natural pool.

One last dinner out with the Swiss contingent and another relaxed breakfast on Monday. I gave our hard working host a hug, and he said “This will always be your home, you are welcome anytime.” He was just the cutest, hard working Spanish man. Had to say goodbye to Laura, who gets another couple of days to explore the Badlands, but it was more of a “see you later” moment. We are hoping to meet up this summer in Switzerland. I rode to Baza to catch the bus back to Granada, snag my bike bag from the shop, pack it up and fly home that evening.

Another solo week that was anything but. Thankful for these opportunities, and for the people I meet along the way.