A Little Less Drama Please

Getting ready for the start of the 2013 Drama Queen at Mulberry Gap.

 Time flies when you're having fun.  How can it be that we've just had the 6th annual Drama Queen ride?!  It seems as though it were only a couple of years ago that Mike hosted the first one.  It was so full of drama then that we could have featured our own soap opera.  To read about that first one, click here.

The 2013 Drama Queen began in usual drama fashion.  The day before, well, heck, the months before, we had non stop rain.  In fact, it started raining in March and has not stopped since.  Raja spent every spare moment monitoring the radar and listening to forecasts.  All that does is confuse the issue, because the weathermen have not a clue as to what phenomenon is occurring and their forecasts rarely line up with reality.

Despite the prediction for rain the Friday before, it was merely seriously overcast and Ellijay was spared the anticipated downpours.   Organizers, Mike and Terri Palmeri, were in the awkward position of having to make last minute decisions on route changes based on the off-base forecast.   At the last minute, many riders were scared off thinking it had rained or the course had been changed.

I've long since gotten over fretting the possible threat of rain.  Nine times out of 10, the forecasters get it wrong and time was wasted changing venues and ride plans.   Roger could not decide what to do, and as always the final decision came to Friday night at 9pm.   He didn't know, but I had made up my mind that we were going to Mulberry Gap for the Drama Queen - route change or rain.   I didn't care.  My mind was prepared and pumped up for a long drama filled ride, and darn it, that's what I was going to get!

Ladd approaching the top of Pinhoti 3.

 A few years ago, I began my own new challenges to face in regards to health.   The worse part of it all is that it affected my cycling life majorly.   Now remember, cycling is my life, no, cycling is OUR life.  It's something Raja and I have done together for more than 25 years.  We rode together before we were married.  It defines us.  It's where all our friends are, it's our lifeline!   Having all that change for me was not a pleasant time in my life.

This year has been the first time in a long while that I have been able to even begin to get back on track.  Finally being able to do some hard rides has made me feel alive again.  I live for the weekends and our fun rides, so the thought of not getting to do this was a big let down.  This ride was going to happen even if I had to will it into being.

Team MRI at the top of Pinhoti 3.

 Saturday morning we awoke to overcast skies, but no rain.  It looked like we could escape the rain up north for a good bit of the day.  Bright and early we headed to Mulberry Gap in hopes of talking to Terri about getting to ride the original planned route instead of the alternate gravel road course.

Not many cars were there, and as we figured, the threat of rain had scared off many folks.  Mike and Terri were busy setting things up and I offered to help.  Mike, in his usual kind fashion, wouldn't let me help but simply wanted to visit and catch up on old times.  We go back a ways with Mike.......a long way!

Terri was a busy bee and whipped out a course map for us to discuss the route.  They had not marked the route on Friday as planned because the silly forecast said it would rain.  Terri didn't want riders to get lost and be out there till midnight.  Not many people know their way around the P4, P5 Tatum Lead area, so it was a given that people would miss the turns.  We, along with Larry, Gary and a couple others knew the area well and agreed to look after folks as long as they promised to keep a decent pace.  We didn't want to babysit anybody, but then again, we didn't want to leave anyone for dead.

9 a.m. and all the eager beavers gathered 'round Terri as she explained the options.  In all there were 65 riders that showed, although a number of them were late and missed the riders meeting.  Those are the poor souls that got turned around and ended up climbing to Ft. Mtn.  There was a mega route originally planned that included a loop on the Tatum Lead side and then a Windy Gap/Milma/Tibbs loop.  Once it was all said and done, I think Greg was the only rider that did the entire route!   The rest of us did a "build your own route" ride.   There were groups going every which way.   So much drama.

Terri giving us our marching orders.

We rolled out not much after the 9:15 start time and headed for Pinhoti 3.  A racing mate from my deep dark past, Ellen Carroll, came by us.  I haven't seen her in ages and it was nice to say hello and briefly catch up on our lives.   Mike French, a former teammate, tugged on my jersey beside me.   I never get to ride with Frenchy anymore, but something told me I might see him today.  I was right!   Shane (my fellow Drama King from 2008) and his posse headed past P3 for Bear Creek, but we had a good size group that stuck to the original P3,P4, Tatum, P5, P4, P3 route.   Fortunate for me, these riders were to be my minions at least until we reached P5, because none of them knew how to get there.   If they wanted to get off the trails before dark, they had to stick with us, hahaha!   My plan was working!

Making sure our crew is present before heading off on Hwy 52 towards P4.

 As we started up Pinhoti 3, I felt decent although I did have a good bit of nervous energy that I was not able to channel very well.   I've said it before and it bears repeating, if you want to be a good racer, you have to.....race.   I made a conscious decision to give up racing a long time ago, but I cannot seem to give up the desire to ride with the racers!  That makes for a curious dilemma which often leaves me between a rock and a hard place.   They are all training like mad, while I'm content to do my one little training ride a week.   However, what I lack in fitness I can make up for in skills.  Not that I think I'm some bad ass with mad skills, but you can fudge a lot when you have 25 yrs worth of riding single track.   Today would require a lot of fudge, and drama.

Roger led the train up Pinhoti 3.  The pace was manageable, but I also knew how much we had ahead of us.  I was proud of myself for demonstrating self control.  Thankfully we did not have "number plates" on our bikes so I was not subject to the racing induced stupidity that befalls me when I think I'm in a race.   After about a mile, I pulled over to let some of the riders behind me come around.   I wanted to be in the back of this train so I could dial in my own comfort level of suffering!  

Jenn and Tiffany came rolling by me.  Oh, hi ya'll!  Didn't know they were with us.  I was glad to see we had some female representation just to let the guys know there is Girl Power.   How very different this all was from the first Drama Queen.  Back then I would have been threatened by their presence, but instead this time I found assurance in it.   

Gary started the drama in the group with his "I can't get out of my new pedals" syndrome.  Having just made the switch to Shimano cleats, he was having trouble.  As we rode by them on the side of the trail, Larry asked if I had a shoe strap.  Gary had also broken his shoe strap.  Oh geez, we're going to have to play McGyver and we're barely a half hour into the ride.  I made a mental note to remember to pack a roll of duct tape in my camelbak.   It could solve so many problems!   Since I could offer no assistance, I continued to ride on knowing I'd see them again soon enough.

Roger's pace was about one click faster than I wanted.  No worries though, I kept them all in sight as my carrots and hollered out to Tiffany of upcoming trail features.  This was her first time on P3 and I wanted to warn her of certain switchbacks, etc.  I'm sure this was terribly annoying to her and I don't know why I feel compelled to be a tour guide.   We all have our flaws.

Reaching the top of P3, we all waited for the whole crew to gather before heading off.   Joe had pulled off the pack as I had done because he was having trouble breathing due to asthma.   I was relieved to see him come up the trail.   Soon more of our group popped out of the woods.   I could hear Larry gabbing away as he and Gary came riding up the trail.   Larry talks non stop on a ride regardless of how fast we go, while I do everything I can just to breathe.  How he can carry on a conversation is beyond me.  I think I shall start calling him Jabberwocky.   

 Riding up Hwy 52, it was not far before we took the left hand turn into the woods for the 4th section of the Pinhoti.   I don't know if these are official names, but it's what we all call it - P4.    P4 sees very little traffic and is therefore terribly overgrown.  Years past we used to do this loop more often and it was not as flesh ripping.   A couple wkds ago when we rode it, Roger cleared a really bad over grown section in anticipation of this day.   As we rode through that area, I could not help but have a heart of gratitude for his foresight. 

Gary and Roger were behind me as we made our way up the trail.  Still riding like a drunken sailor, I was slightly frustrated at my inability to channel this nervous energy.    Even though there was nothing to be nervous about, my body has a way of sensing these "big events" and goes into a race anxiety state.   It was maddening during my race days, but it usually went away once I got on the bike.  Not so today.  I tried to get Gary to go around me, but he insisted he was fine with the pace and urged me to carry on.   

We petered out of P4 onto an overgrown doubletrack road that took us to Tatum Lead where we turned left to begin a moderate climb before leveling out.   I made the mistake of waiting at the turn to check for stragglers, which immediately  put me at a disadvantage to the climbing stallions ahead of me. 

That was okay though.  I knew my way and I wasn't racing for a crown today!  I was enjoying my freedom from the clutches of racedom induced stupidity!   The road goes down a ways and it is fun to bomb down with abandon.   Coming up on a split in the road, the group had stopped to regroup and be sure of which direction to go.   I was glad to be reunited again with the crew and was then able to enjoy ripping downhill with them.   I may not be able to climb with the racers, but I can descend with them.

We got to another intersection.  They both went to the same place, and Larry wanted us to take the left.  We knew that was the harder way, but since it was the planned route he wanted to stick to it.  Besides, it did have a better downhill, so that's the obvious choice.

Roger told me he'd hang back and wait for Joe, so the group proceeded on ahead.   The road climbed gradually for a while, but then we came to some more downhill.   In reality this was hardly turning out to be a "drama" queen ride.  Everyone was behaving well and getting along.  There were no complaints, no crashes, and no mechanicals.   I was enjoying the drama-less-ness!

We stopped at another intersection and regrouped since the downhilling had split the group up some.   After a few minutes Larry asked if I wanted to wait for Roger before going on.   "No, he's a big boy, he knows where to go," I said.   Larry knew exactly what I was thinking and said it before I could.   "He'll catch us anyway, won't he?!"    Yup, precisely.   When you ride with someone for 25 years, you know a thing or two about them.   When it comes to Raja, there aren't many folks around that can beat him on a downhill.   That boy can tear up a downhill like nobody's business.   

We started up again, ripping down a fabulous loooooong downhill.    Long, fast downhill.   My brakes started fading on me and I could smell them.  Another guy said he could smell his brakes as well.   We were definitely letting it rip.   A heinous sketchy part found Larry taking the left line (the wrong line), while we all went right and prayed he'd pull it out.   If anybody could pull it off, it's Larry.   With his feet flying out of the pedals I laughed inside.   It's never a dull moment riding with Larry!

The road became a bit tamer and we heard somebody came roaring up behind us.  Sure enough, like a fighter jet coming in for a touch n go, Raja came flying up bringing Joe in his wake.   Those two spell trouble when it comes to a Strava segment!   I never doubted for one second that Roger would pull that off.   After what seemed to be an endless downhill, we regrouped at the RockCreek ORV parking lot with big grins on our faces!   That was fun!

Gary played the part again of our little drama queen and fiddle faddled with his shoe.   Then we had to wait while he went to the little girls room.   Please, Gary, a little less drama;-)   Let's get this show on the road.

Not too much farther and we made the right turn to P5.   This is the turn that all the real drama queens missed.   You miss that turn and you get to take the long nasty climb up to Ft Mtn.   That's the climb that Raja lays title to as being the only one to clean it and thus earned the name, SpiderRaj, but that's another story.

Making our way to the turnoff for Pinhoti 5.

P5 goes down along the valley for a ways.  It's really lovely down there and rarely do we ever see anyone.   Of course, it takes a lot of effort to get there, which is why we never see anyone.   One of the guys got a flat, but no one heard me as I hollered, "flat!"   Again, for some unknown reason I felt compelled to stop and help him.   I belted out commands to him as he started to turn his bike upside down.  "No, none of that.  Just take your wheel off.  Give me your camelbak and let me get your crap out.   Take the tire off.   Hurry."   Had he known I was married to the Master of the Tire Change in Under 3 Minutes, he may have understood my hysteria.   I have little patience for lollygagging when it comes to a tire change, and certainly wanted none of it today.   We had loads of miles to cover and this would cost us precious time. 

If he wanted to hit me, he showed no signs of it.   His friend had also stopped and began to assist.  With little fanfare, he got the new tube in and was loading up a cartridge.  Thank gawd he had one and wasn't going to use a hand pump.  Once he got to that point, I got on my bike to head out.  "I'm climbing slower than you guys, so I'm going to get going."  He thanked me as I pedaled off alone.

I was actually rather relieved to be alone and out of the crowd.   We had a long steep climb ahead and I wasn't looking forward to doing it with all those other riders.  I had cleaned the climb a few weeks ago and really wanted to clean it today.  However, I knew my focus would be different in a group and more than likely would dab.  Not a big deal, but then again, it's simply disappointing personally when you have certain little goals like that.   I wanted to clean the climb today.

I heard a rider behind me.  It was a guy that had ridden with me on the Dirty Thirty at Bull Mtn about a month ago - well, he recognized me and told me that.  We rode along in silence, but when we came to the "marshland" area I told him we'd have to get off and walk around the bog.  "Watch out for snakes.  We saw a big one here just a few weeks ago," I told him.   Secretly I was terrified of coming upon a snake again.  In fact, I had voiced that to Roger earlier, but he assured me it didn't matter because I'd be with the group anyway.   Ha, here I was only with one other person, and I was the one leading.   You can't even see the trail and you just do your best to point the bike in the right direction hoping you don't run over something.

Yes, there is a trail there somewhere. 

Fortunately, I didn't see a snake and it's just a short bit to ride.   We survived.   That really was the least of my worries.  For a while now, I had been feeling the onset of leg cramps.   You know when they are coming and that it is inevitable.   The guy rode off ahead of me, of which I was most grateful.   Honestly at this point I wanted to be alone.   I dismounted the bike and started to stretch my legs thinking I could stay off the cramps.   Bad idea.

At this point the guy with the flat and his buddy came up.   It was as if a cruel joke was being played on me, because right at that moment, my right quad seized up.   I screamed out in pain.  Then my hamstring.  Oh, the drama!   "Are you okay," Eddie asked.   Breathing through a cramp and talking at the same time are a challenge.   I did my best to get the words out, "I'll be fine.  Ya'll go ahead.  It's just a cramp.  I have some salt."   But they stopped and stood there with no intentions of carrying on.   Oh, lawd, please go on and leave me to suffer in silence, I thought.   They didn't show any inkling of moving on and I wasn't sure I could move.   The misery seemed to go on to infinity.   Geez, is this how it was going to end?   Me, in the pit, the bottom of a zillion foot climb, with no way out.   They'd have to medivac me out.  Darn it, I wanted to at least clean this climb, and now I literally could not move my legs.   Please, dear Lord, I prayed, a little less drama! 

Slowly, my muscles let loose.  I gobbled down sea salt and guzzled my water.  Please, Lord, let me get out of this!   Gingerly I started walking.   Okay, let's see if I can get on the bike.  Slow, no sudden movements, just get moving as easily as possible.   I could pedal without too much resistance.  I would just pedal as slow and gently as I could until the climbing started.   I figured I would be forced to get off and walk.   Neither of the two guys had done this climb.   I tried to prepare them and let them know what they'd be up against.  

The pitch started and I could still make the wheels go round.  Well, isn't this special!   I wonder how long this will last?   Pedaling as gingerly as I possibly could, I could feel the determination welling up within me.  The drama queen/racer girl in me was coming out.  I was going to clean this climb today.   Cramps be damned.  This climb is mine!

My only hope was that the guys would stay behind me.  I like to have a clear open path before me and didn't want to have anyone dab suddenly in front of me.   As if knowing my wishes, they stayed right behind me.  I couldn't tell if they were dabbing or not, nor did I care.  I kept my focus straight ahead.  Using every bit of technique and finesse I had, I gained ground foot by foot.   Trying to keep my elation at bay, I stayed calm and on task.   I was tackling this baby.   I didn't care if no one was around to see it.  This was my own personal victory and I was enjoying every second.

Eventually up ahead I could see a figure.   It was Joe.  I slowly made my way by him and encouraged him on.  We were at the top for all practical purposes, and I was inwardly throwing a celebration party for the two of us.   Hooray for small victories!   Why is that I find such joy in these things?  

After all that drama, I knew there was no way that climbing Tibbs would be a possibility for this Drama Queen today.   Tibbs is ten times harder than P5.  Darn.  Slightly disappointed at what I knew was the day's outcome, I set that thought aside and focused on what was ahead.  We still had to get back to P3.

Raja and Gary were waiting for us where P5 joined back in with Tatum Lead.  Our small group started the gentle climb back towards P4.   Actually I felt okay.   My legs were a bit tight, but I could tell they were out of the danger zone -at this point in time.   The rest of the guys were all hemhawing at what to do next.   Should we head over to do P1 and P2?   We decided to get up/down P3 first before making anymore rash decisions.

Joe was having a hard time and I felt bad for him.  I wanted to encourage him, but at the same time be sensitive to his situation.   You never know just how much or how  little to say to a struggling rider.   I wanted him to have his own personal victory, just like I had.   I wanted him to okay with his ride at the end of the day.  That's really what matters.  Not to measure yourself up against everyone else, but simply to find whatever piece of joy and satisfaction you can out of what you did.

Gary was flying down and up P3 and I had not a chance of keeping him in sight.   I was pleased at how I felt and enjoyed the journey.   Not wanting to end the day short with a stupid unplanned dismount, I took the downhills with a bit of caution, but still let it go in the fast open sections.   P3 downhill is a really sweet downhill.

3 hrs later, we're back to where we began on Pinhoti 3.

Regrouping at the bottom of P3 it was unanimous that more riding had to be done, but we all needed more water before that could happen.   That meant only one thing.  We had to go left back to Mulberry Gap to refuel.   Back at the entrance were a good bit of our original crew.   Some were done while some were ready for more.   

Refueling and filling up camelbaks at Mulberry Gap.

Terri Palmeri was there with oranges, bananas, pbj sandwiches, water and gatorade!   What a great hostess!

Everyone chowed down while I filled up my camelbak.   Getting these guys going again was like herding cats.  They were all too interested in eating.

Mmmm, peanut butter sandwich in the middle of a 5 hr hammerfest.

Finally we got some semblance of a group and headed out again for part deux of our Drama Queen ride.  

Larry and Lad head out with the rest of us for more Drama.

We went right out of Mulberry back to Shakerag road to Bear Creek.   The plan was to go up to P1 and back on P2.   Shouldn't take more than 2 hours.  I still felt fine and was beginning to wish we had tried to do the Windy/Milma/Tibbs loop.  

Rolling out Shakerag Rd to Bear Creek.

As we got to the turnoff for Bear Creek, the rain started spitting ever so gently.  Joe jokingly said, "good thing we're back at the cars cause it's starting to rain!"  Ha, ha, yes, this is normally where we park our cars.  This is usually where our rides end on Gates Chapel Road, but not today.  Our cars were no where to be seen.  Blissfully unaware of the impending downpour, we carried on to Bear Creek.

It's sprinkling rain lightly as we take the left turn to Bear Creek.

There wasn't much drama to the ride as we steadily made our way up Bear Creek to Pinhoti 1.  No campers in the middle of the trail on P1, but there was evidence of their campfire.  Larry gabbed away while I just did my best to stay on Dave's wheel in front of me.  I still felt good and wanted to stay in contact to feed off their energy.

Beautiful Bear Creek singletrack will take us to Pinhoti 1.

Roger and Joe led the charge down P1 while the rest of us chased after.  The rain was still a non issue.  We clipped our way up to P2.  The guys seemed to be gaining momentum and I was having a harder time keeping pace.   I felt fine, but simply could not stay on their wheel.  As I watched them pull away, I felt no change in mood, surprisingly enough.   I wasn't mad at myself for falling back.  Could it be that after all these years, I'm finally maturing and coming to grips with who I am as a rider?  Nah, I was probably too tired to care.   I noticed Ladd had dropped off the back of the Larry,Gary, Dave train.   I kept him as my carrot.

By now the rain is more noticeable.  Hmmm, perhaps it's not going to be a gentle mist.   I get to the top of P2 and there are none of my fellow riders.   I know what this means.  We've reached the point of each to his own.   I was fine with that and tried to get Ladd in my sight for the  downhill.  

It's raining.  I don't know why I was surprised that it was raining, but I was.  How dare it rain on my parade. My glasses began to fog and I couldn't see.  Trying to make out the white of Ladd's jersey, I focused ahead to keep speed.   I'm not as fast a descender when I have no one to follow.   With the rain, the trail would become a different beast and I needed someone ahead of me for confidence.   

Now it's a downpour.  I'm riding completely blind.  I might as well close my eyes and point the bike downhill.    I can hear a rider behind me.   I holler out that I can't see a thing.   He tells me I'm doing fine and to keep going, so I do.    Every now and then I catch a glimpse of Ladd.  I start to gain on him, then I start to lose ground.   Trying not to tense up from the terror of riding blind, I say over and over to myself, "relax and just follow Ladd, relax, relax."  Every  now and then the bike would drop from beneath me as I'd go over a dip or root, scaring my senses.  I'd let out a hoot and a holler, thinking that being happy about it would somehow make it easier.  It worked for the most part.   Going mostly by memory, I made my way down that trail in one piece!   

Ladd and I popped out onto Conasauga Road and immediately hung a right towards Mulberry Gap.   We didn't stop to discuss it or wait for anybody.   It was pouring down rain and we were ready to get somewhere dry.   All Ladd could think about was the last climb on the gravel road, while all I could think about was the wicked steep climb up the paved road to my car at Mulberry.  If I could make that without my legs seizing up, I would be one happy camper.

The gravel road climb was mastered in no time and we were ripping down the hill to Mulberry Gap.   The only thing that stood between me and dry ground was that horrible steep wall, which was also wet and slick. Larry and Gary were at the top cheering me on.  You can do it, don't get off!   Gritting my teeth as if I were racing for the world championship, I muscled my way to the car.  Could I be any more dramatic?!   What an appropriate finish for a Drama Queen ride!

Gary, our Drama Queen for the day, is happy to be finished and out of the rain.

I opened the car, grabbed my bag of clothes and a towel and headed for the showers.  Ellen passed by me, all dry and clothed.  She laughed and said, "ha ha I'm dry" and then promptly got wet as she gave me a hug!

Getting in dry clothes never felt so good!   I lugged my dirty muddy clothes back to the car where Roger had appeared.  He changed and we ran to the barn to join the few hold outs lounging around waiting for us stragglers.   Then our Drama King came in for the day.  Here's Joe!  Poor Joe.  Poor Joe got wet.  We shared congratulatory hugs and then gobbled down our food.

Please, Joe, a little less drama!  

I love these kind of adventures.  A little drama, lots of fun, good hard effort, and lots of laughter shared with friends.  Many of these riders we've known for over 20 years and some we've only known a few, but I never really think of it that way.  It's as if we've all been friends forever.  It's a bond we share that brings that connection - our passion for riding and a little drama!   Another Drama Queen in the books.   Here's to many more!

Queen For A Day

A valuable lesson was learned this weekend; Royalty looks better than it feels!

Cartecay Mike and crew had cooked up an epic race that is surely to become the new ride tradition. Dubbed The Drama Queen ride, it would cover the Pinhoti trails, Windy Gap, Milma, Tibbs, Bear Creek, and even some paved road climbing for good measure. I know everyone of these trails by heart, and reading the description made my palms sweat. 53 miles, 7,000' climbing. Yea, whatever. I ain't doing that.

Three guesses as to what Raja declared our ride for the wkd would be, and the first 2 guesses do not count. That's right. He wanted to do the Drama Queen. "Oh, you've got to be kidding!" "They have a 30 mile option," he said. We can do that. Alright. Now you're talking some sense.

For over 10 years, we have been doing a similar ridiculous feat called The Firewater50. When we were in racing shape, this was a challenge, but it did not bring us to the edge of death like it does nowadays. If you read my post from last year's FW50, you will see I clearly stated, "So for the record, "I'm not doing this next year!"

There was not a whole lot of difference between the Drama Queen route and FW50 route. However, with FW, you start the most brutal part of the race straight off; climbing Windy Gap and Tibbs. That's how the Drama would come into play with the DQ race. You do not hit Windy & Tibbs until almost mile 30. If you have had any encounter at all with these climbs, then you know how wrong and twisted that is. I was going to have nothing to do with it. We could do the 30 and let the wackos play all drama-like.

My week had not been a good one in regards to riding. Every ride I started was cut short because my legs felt like cement bags. Sweetwater joined me for a ride at Blankets on Friday, and I tried hard to hide my pain.

With only 4 1/2 hrs of riding for 6 days, I had to do something on Saturday. Raja wanted to join the atlbike.org gang for 40 miles early Saturday morning. When the 6am wakeup nudge came, I defiantly said, "I'm not going, I'm sleeping in." phooey. I could already tell I was going to feel like crap, and I'm sick and tired of getting up at 0:darkhundred. He left me to my drama and I slept in another hour. whoopee.

My plan was to spin around for a couple hours from the house. My 2 hour ride was quickly reduced to one hour. This is ridiculous. Drastic action was needed if I was going to do 30 miles tomorrow. This calls for an ice bath. The drama was in full swing, and the Drama Queen ride was still a day away!

Sunday morning we rolled up to 90B behind Terry, Kevin, and Mary. In full dramatic fashion, we were the first of the contenders to arrive. Then I saw it. The crown.
Dramatic thoughts rushed through my brain. OOooooo, that crown is so purdy. So pink and majestic. I would definitely feel like a queen if I could wear that on my head. "Raja, I want that crown."
Mary manned the registration table that was lined with shiny medals, crowns, and a big official looking time clock. "Are ya'll doing the 30 or the 55?" she asked.
"We're doing the 55," I stated. How else would I get my hands on that crown? Raja muttered something about signing up for the 55, but we would decide when we got to the sag stop. I had already decided. That crown had my name on it.

The final call of this dramatic play was made when the race numbers came out. Not just any ole numbers, but official Number Plates.

I had officially retired my racing number years ago at the Carters Lake race in March of 2000. Bam-bam suckered me into racing in the GA Singlespeed Championships in March of 2007. I came out of retirement. It was very dramatic. Put the dang race number away, please!

Something happens when you put a Race Number on my bike. I become a moron. Normal brain functions disappear. A vicious mean devious creature in me emerges, and I have no control over myself. My evil twin takes over. I could feel it begin to happen even as I held the #1 Number Plate in my hand. Once I put it on my bike, I knew it would all be over. The metamorphosis would take place and there would be no turning back.

The masses were arriving and the drama was rising. Shredders like Shane, Scott, Flatfender, and Duckman showed up to register. This was going to be a showdown. Kit was ready for us. Her task as the sag-troller would not be an easy one with this overly dramatic crowd. Yea, arm yourself, Kit. Hmmmm, maybe I could use that gun myself. I thought of a way to wrestle it away from her.
Tension rose, tempers flared, tantrums were pitched. The theatrical contestants tried to calm the dramatic madonnas.With the crowd getting antsy, and the clock ticking close to 10:30, I hollered for Mike. "Hey, let's roll!" I was ready for business.
So, at 10:30, we were off with a bang. Like race horses out of the gate, we sped down the gravel 90B road skidding all over the place like on an ice rink. Shane quickly laid down the gauntlet and no one was afraid to take chase. We had not even reached FSR90 and I was fighting for position. Oh dear, this is going to be a long drama filled day.
For a brief moment, my competition had been forgotten in my mind. All I could focus on was my spiking heart rate and the pack pulling away from me. When it comes to racing, the only way you can do it well is to....well.....race. Duh. So why am I surprised that I'm having a hard time keeping their pace when they're all racers and I am not? Because I used to be a racer, dang it. Doesn't that count for something? Can I not withdraw from my old race account? "Yes, I'd like to withdraw 5 hours of anaerobic threshold effort please, and could you give me that in large numbers?" "But mam, your account has been frozen due to inactivity."

I told that stupid teller to buzz off. In my anger, I sprinted for the imaginary preem on Gates Chapel Road before they left me in their dust going up Bear Creek Camp Road. Watch your back, boys. I'm going to hunt you all down! Yea, right.

Instead, every few seconds a rider would slip by me as we climbed up to Bear Creek. I made a quick check to make sure they were at least guys. If a girl passes me, then somethin' has to give. Two guys were just ahead of me as we popped into the singletrack and headed to Pinhoti 1. I was quite disgusted with my lack of strength and speed. I should be able to take these guys, but could only watch as they pulled away on the climb of P1.

Not far into the climb, I sensed a rider back. Going around a switchback, I made a quick check down the trail below me. Shoot fire, it's Mary. Sweet, lovable, my dearest friend, Mary. The evil twin in me wanted to annihilate her. I breathed a deep sigh. Realizing this was not going to be an easy fight, I tried to gather my wits and formulate a plan.

Mary is a strong climber. In fact, the last time I rode with her, she pretty much annihilated me on the climb up Springer Mountain. Maybe she was suffering from the flu today. Though, she looked awful chipper at registration. I'm going to have to pull some tricks out my camelbak in order to stay her off. Maybe on the downhill. That was my only hope.

We got to the first downhill pitch of P1 and I kicked it in high gear. In a parsec, I was on the tail of the guy in front of me. Hello, evil twin here. You're going to have to get out of my way. Without wasting time, I made sure he knew of my presence ON his back wheel. Fortunately, he didn't suffer from much racing-induced drama, and asked if I wanted to pass. Uh, yea.

Zoom! I zipped by him like a roach darts cross the kitchen floor. Flying as fast as I could, I reached the next climb. Mr. Drama Free racer was quickly closing in as we climbed, but I was not about to let him pass me. Not wanting to dig into my redline, I watched my heartrate climb to 150. "Gotta get to the top of the rise before Mary comes into view. Must start the descent ASAP."

Again, I flew down P1 with wild abandon. Right at the bottom I could see a rider in front of me. Hmmm, he must not be a good descender for me to come on him this fast. I do NOT want to be behind him for the P2 descent. Strategize.

He solved that problem for me as he quickly pulled away from me as we climbed out of P2. I could see Larry ahead on the climb. Surely I will gain on Larry, and we can work together. Wrong. They both pulled away. This was making me angrier by the second. Why am I so lame? No time to pitch a fit. I had to keep ahead of Mary.

P1 was over, and the gravel road climb up to P2 began. Any minute now, Mary would be on my heels. What am I going to do with that girl? Staying on task, I tried to keep my heartrate in check while giving it my best effort. She was back there, but how fast was she closing in on me? I could not tell and did not want to waste time looking.

Another rider came into view ahead of me on the climb. That's always good to have a carrot ahead. It gave me something on which to focus and I put it in a higher gear. Maybe I could crack Mary a little bit. As I topped out at the top of P2, I think I had managed to keep some distance. Now for the afterburners. There better not be any guys in my way.

Namrita was just ahead, but had the sense to move over before I even got near. "Hey, Namrita!" She knows the evil twin syndrome all too well. Two guys were ahead, but they sensed my circle of drama and stood to the side. Continuing to fly with thoughts of "forward, fast, calm, forward" I was closing in on the rider I had seen at the bottom of P1. Yea, this is the one I do not want to be behind. There would be no time wasted being polite. I stated the facts, "Hey, can I come by?" He complied. Ah, this was working out well. Bodies littering the trail between me and Mary. Hahahaha, that'll slow her down.

At the bottom of P2, a handful of riders were gathered. EddieO and friends were hanging out. I thought to tell them to block the trail when Mary came by, but did not want to waste time stopping to blurt it out. A left turn would take me to a paved road on to Hwy 52 for a road climb. I assumed the narrow aerodynamic position and made like a shaver. Time to time trial.

As I turned right onto Hwy 52, multiple glances over my shoulder were made to check for an orange jersey. No Mary to be seen. Good. Now, get far enough up this climb to get out of view. Out of sight, out of mind.

How do you lock out this 140mm Talas fork? Raja had given me instructions, but obviously I paid no attention in class. Is it this lever? No, it's still moving. Forget it, I'll climb squishy and all. Now I feel very blonde and very slow. I should have been picking off some riders at this point, but instead I am lightyears behind the pack. Grrrrrrrrr.

The climb was not bad to me. A middle ring ascent, but it went on for at least 3 miles. Deciding to give another security check, I looked over my shoulder. Bleepity bleep. There's that bloody Mary. I waved my arm at her in a cheery manner, but inside I loathed her presence. Then I decided, "Fine, if you're going to take my rightful crown, then I'm going to make you work hard for it." I was not going down without a fight.

A figure loomed ahead. The jersey colors looked familiar. Could it be a ray of sunshine in my otherwise dreary day? It was! RaceyTracey was climbing ahead of me. She and Tweety had started the 30 miler from Gates Chapel. When I caught up to her, I gave her strict instructions. "When Mary comes by, knock her over or do whatever you need to do, okay?!"

With no time to be all chatty cathy, I proceeded on up the road. EddieO came bolting past me as if I were standing still. Now, why can't I climb like that? "Cause you're too lazy to train for it." Again, I told my evil twin to shut up.

Finally, the sign for P3 could be seen ahead. Two riders were standing there, one fiddling with his bike. It was Raja and Tweety. So insanely driven at this point, I could not muster up anything to say other than, "When Mary comes by, do something to her." Then I sped by them to bomb the downhill.

Full speed ahead, I was locked in on the goal. Gain some time on the downhill. As I continued down the trail, the voices of 2 riders could be heard. They were chatting away as if at a tea party. Who are these jokers? Oh, it's Carebear and PBC. I yelled out to them to announce my soon arrival, "Uh guys, this isn't social hour, it's a race. Stop the chatter."

"Mama, is that you?" Carebear asks. "Yea, it's me, and I'm racing." I can hear PBC saying something and I know it ain't what I want to hear. He's a trickster like me, and he wanted to play a game. Mama don't play games, remember?!

I was on their wheel and no move was being made to let me pass. "No really guys, I'm serious. Let me by." PBC is still kidding around. He should know, you never kid a kidder. Carebear was an innocent bystander in this showdown. I gently nudged him and said, "I'm coming by, Carebear." As I slithered past him on the way-too-narrow-to-pass trail, his front wheel caught the downslope and he began to slide down the trail. "Oh! I'm sorry, Carebear," I said over my shoulder as I continued on, "Are you okay?" I really did not mean harm to him and felt badly.

Now as for PBC. He realized this was a game he would not win, and let me pass. "Thank you, Matt! I gotta keep making time on Mary!"

In the meantime, Raja had taken chase and was closing in on us. Carebear got back on track and jumped on my wheel as we climbed the mid section of P3. We were taking on the dreaded switchbacks and I encouraged Carebear on as we gritted our teeth to make it up the steep pitch. I could tell he had made the turn. "Good job!" I hollered out. "Thanks, that was just what I needed to help me make it," he said. "Well, it's the least I could do after running you off the trail!" Apparently he held no grudge and let my evil twin off the hook.

Knowing Raja was right behind us, I did my best to downhill as fast as I could without crashing. Then I decided to let him in front in hopes that it would push me even faster. We made it to the bottom with no crashes and coolers of extra water and food waiting. "We have to make this quick, Mary is right behind me."

Duckman was at the sag stop looking rather calm in contrast to my hysteria. "What are ya'll doing, the 30 or 55?" he asked. Still caught in the stronghold of my race number's power, I let Raja know we were doing the 55. He appeared disappointed at my decision and not overly thrilled with this prospect. Duckman was not suffering from racing-induced stupidity and was doing the 30. Carebear was happy just to be along for the ride and wanted to tag along with us. We refueled quickly, said good-bye to Duckman, and carried on down the gravel road towards Windy Gap.

By now, only 2 1/2 hrs had passed. Other than having pathetic weak legs, my body did not feel too bad. I was hoping that would last me a while because the worst had yet to come.

As we pedaled away, I could hear voices of riders coming down the last switchback of P3. One of them was a female's voice. Was it Tracey or was it Mary? My evil twin said it was Mary, so get a move on!

The gravel road to Windy Gap is a good bit downhill, but some climbs and flats are there as well. Raja and Carebear pulled away on the climbs. I needed these 2 at this point. They would be the motivation necessary to keep me consistent and pushing ahead.

Carebear's water bottle dropped out, but I stopped to retrieve it. Wow, my evil twin must be losing its power. I handed it off to him without stopping. Let's get to the paved road.
My heroes pacelined it the few miles to the Windy Gap turnoff. Seeing them with those silly crowns on made me giggle. I am riding like a crazed women with a paper plate on my bike and a gold crown on my helmet. This is too funny. I AM the Drama Queen.

In the meantime, I had to get my drama queen arse up 4 miles of Windy Gap. The first 2 are not so bad and were made in the middle ring. It's the last half that is so dreadful. This is where FW50 usually begins, with fresh legs. I've got 28 miles and 3 hrs in my legs this time. This is so gonna hurt.

I have never climbed so slowly in my life. Inch by inch, I turned over the pedals, climbing the trail lying below 10" of loose dust and dirt. My only consolation was to clean this climb. Convinced Mary was going to be on me at any moment, I had to do something dramatic that no one else would do. The last pitch is wicked steep, and I do not know how I did it. But I cleaned it and felt very much the Queen for my accomplishment.

Carebear and I waited at the turnoff of the Milma Trail for Raja. I lubed my butt up with some awesome cream I've discovered. This stuff is the bomb. Better than anything else I've tried, and I've tried alot. Sorry for the frankness, but if you're a cyclist, there's not much that you don't discuss no matter how personal!

I needed some calming cream for my mind at this juncture. Milma is a mind numbing 4 1/2 mile grind on undulating doubletrack. It gives you alot of time to mull over your impending doom awaiting you at Tibbs.

Carebear and Raja stopped before taking the left up Tibbs. Not me. I had to keep this train moving lest I decide to disembark. I took the hard left and climbed up the rocky wall while picking the worst line possible. Just waiting for my bike to come out from beneath me, I was shocked as it continued on up the trail over boulders. Wow! This MotoLite always amazes me at its climbing prowess. I realized that this was my first attempt at Tibbs on the new steed, and I was encouraged that maybe its supernatural powers would help me make it to the top ahead of Mary.

The climb went ever so slow. Slower than the climb up Windy Gap. Normally, if you climb at 2.5 mph in such loose dirt and rocks, the bike will not follow through. But the MotoLite was a dream, and I was able to literally plod along at a snail's pace. Sometimes my speed would not even register. Having climbed Tibbs a zillion times, I know my usual pace. It's 3-4 mph in the steep stuff and 5 mph in the tamer sections. Today was a new record. Slow record.

I told myself it was okay, because for every pedal stroke I was moving forward. Carebear eventually came by and picked his way through the rocks at the pace I longed to be going. Watching him pull away, I was too delirious to be mad. I was happy for him. All his training was paying off. Perhaps I should take a cue from him and get more serious about my training. After a second I said, Nah.

Sometimes on these long rides, I will take pictures to amuse myself. There was nothing amusing about today, and every time I tried to get to my camera I would risk falling down the side of the trail to my doom. This must have been the one tame "smooth" section of trail. It just doesn't look as bad as it feels.I was really hoping that Mary felt worse than I did. I could hear voices, or could I? Glances down the trail revealed nothing but more rocks and dirt. Keep moving, stay ahead, every second counts. At this rate, there would be nothing for me to do to fend Mary off. I had some pepper spray in my camelbak. No, let's not get irrational.

Finally the top! I could see sweet wonderful Kit, and she didn't have her gun pointed at me!

There was Carebear, Larry, and Travis. Larry and Travis took off before I could get off my bike. Trying to choke down some food, I instantly gagged. Trays of M&Ms and other delights were before me, and I was unable to partake. Kit was busy lubing my drivetrain, and I decided to forget refueling. Thanking her profusely, I hopped on my bike in hopes of catching up to Larry.

Now I had a long 7 mile grind on a gravel road to Potato Patch. There were 2 climbs on this road, I knew it well. I thought I would be elated at having conquered Tibbs, but instead tried to mentally prepare myself for these stupid climbs. With Larry as my carrot, I put my head down in an attempt to close the gap.

For 7 miles, Larry dangled ahead of me, taunting me. Bumfuzzeled that I could not catch him, I was very impressed with his riding. Surely I will get him on the downhill. If I can just get to the dang downhill. Maybe if I smile on the outside, I won't feel so miserable on the inside.

I looked at my time. 4 1/2 hrs had passed. If I had known that Shane was crossing the finish line, I probably would have killed myself. Thankfully I did not know that. Where was Mary? That's what I wanted to know. I could not let my defenses down. It ain't over till it's over, and she can catch me at any moment. I stayed focus. Slow, but focused.

"Whoohoo", I hollered to no one in particular as I approached the turn at Potato Patch. Being so utterly fatigued, I could barely hold onto the bike as it hopped over millions of braker bumps. My teeth began to shake loose, and my hands were throbbing in pain. This downhill was not being savored.

Okay, Bear Creek is next. "There are a few little grunts, but you can do this," I told myself. This is the homestretch, hold on to it."

Larry was long gone and I could not accept the fact that he had escaped my grasp. Little did I know Carebear was trying in the same manner to close in on me. I was too worried about Mary. My hands were killing me. Trying not to focus on the pain, I tried to channel my energy. How do you channel bad energy?

Passing hikers on Bear Creek, I was painfully aware of my ridiculous outfit. I grinned sheepishly and zoomed on by them. The Bear Creek Camp gravel road and 90B gravel road were the only things standing between me and my Treasured Crown! I must behave as royalty and finish this with dignity.

Praying that there would not be a sprint finish with Mary coming from behind, I approached FSR90 from Gates Chapel. With number plate and crown intact, I was crash free and cramp free and closing in on 6 hours.I really wanted to break 6 hours. How could I climb 90 and 90B in 10 minutes? Finding some extra strength just from the thought of being so close to the finish, I made my way up the gravel road. Thinking it was going to be torture, it really was not so bad. But would anybody be there to see my Big Royalness come in for victory? Surely they've all given up and gone home by now to feed the cat and walk the dogs.

Some cars were still in sight as I crested the last climb to the parking area. I heard some faint hootin' and hollers! Yea! My friends were still waiting for me and gave me the royal welcome I had fought for the past 6 hours. But wait a dogone minute!!! What the &$!, there's Mary standing there fresh as a rose. You mean.....I've been running from a ghost this whole time!!!!!!!!

Come to find out, Mary had taken a wrong turn after the P3 sag stop and followed the FW50 course. By the time she figured it out, she decided to cut it short and go back to base camp. I think I knew deep in my heart that something had gone amiss. There's no way I could have cracked her. A little deflated at my false victory, I took satisfaction in knowing I did the whole stinkin' thing anyway! I felt more like the Queen Mother than the Drama Queen. At least I was royalty in some form!

I had to find Larry to congratulate him on his incredible race! With a time of 6:01, he beat my 6:04 fair and square. There is no where during the day that I could have come up with 3 minutes. Awesome, Larry!!!
I was also beholden to Kit for all her incredible support! She did a fantastic job! Things like this cannot happen without good spirited folks like Kit. Thank you:-)

Carebear came in shortly behind me. Having just done the Fools Gold 50 last wkd, I was so impressed with the ride he pulled out today. I could not have done it without his encouragement and company as well! Well done, Carebear!As I regained consciousness, they told me about Shane and all the other hammerheads times. Shane did 53 miles and 7,000' of climbing in 4 1/2 hrs. What a Freakenstein! Super nice guy, but what a freak! I was so honored to reign along side him as King!!!

Raja rolled in with a sad look on his face. The Fisher HiFi had not passed the stringent BDD test on today's epic. Back to the drawing board.

Where was Ony? Surely he was doing the 30? Well, he's not back yet, so that must mean he decided to do the 53. Oh no!!! Only riding for 11 months, Ony had no idea what Windy Gap and Tibbs could dish out. We had done our best to dissuade him without being condescending. It was not that we didn't think he could do it, we just weren't sure it was the right thing to do at this point in time. So far he had been encouraged in his riding progress and we wanted to keep it that way.

As we fretted and wondered (and ate and laughed), another hour and a half passed. Just when we gave up hope, upon the horizon 2 riders emerged.Here came Ony and Mike grinning from ear to ear. Mike had taken Ony under his wing and seen him through the most incredible ride of his life! What Mike did for Ony was simply awesome. That's what I love about mountain bikers. The camaraderie and encouragement.

We were giddy for Ony! As if he had just taken his first steps, we all fussed over him like the firstborn.
I apologized to Ony for doubting his ability and determination, but he said there was no need to apologize as he trusts our advice.
"Many times I heard Roger's words "If you feel any little bit tired, you don't want to go that way...". Many times I told myself "They told me so!", but I thought that you guys would be very disappointed if I went for the whole thing AND did not finish, so I had to finish."

I no longer felt bad when he wrote, "Seriously, this was the hardest physical thing I've done in my life. I do feel a huge sense of accomplishment for doing it. I could not hide how proud I felt of riding all the way back to the parking lot." He even won an honorary mention medal for completing the ride!

So, if I don't race anymore, why do I do such demanding "races"? I guess it's for a new challenge, to see what lies underneath all the fluff and appearance. I like the way Ony put it, "This was a true test and I passed. I think I only passed because I'm too hardheaded to convince myself that I'm done and should quit, but at the same time, deciding to quit wasn't going to make a difference in the middle of Tibbs, so, as with everything else in life, you just keep going."

I like to hang out with folks that will keep on going! Cyclists that are green behind the ears to seasoned expert racers. It brings out the best in you and others.

Well done to all the Drama Queens and Kings!

So for the rest of 2008, I will reign as The Drama Queen. Having decided that the life of royalty is not as easy as it looks, I will gladly crown a new Queen in 2009. I may have raced to be Queen, but I sure felt like the Court Jester whilst doing it!



To see the pictures from my web album, click here.

Even though I am now royalty, I still like to draw my own bath. After Sunday's drama filled day, my legs were again in dire need of an ice bath. But not before taking a warm bubble bath with another new found favorite product. This drama girl is no longer tired and cranky. I'm a happy camper now, cause I was Queen For A Day!