I’m new to stage racing. La Ruta de Los Conquistadores, a 3-day race across Costa Rica from the Pacific to the Atlantic coast, was my first and certainly will not be my last! It’s often challenging for me to write a race report because there’s so much that goes into a race, physically, mentally and even emotionally. Now I’m challenged with a 3-day race report that also involved an overabundance of prep and logistics to even get to the start. So, for those of you who want the short version, I summed it up in the next paragraph as best I could. If you want the more detailed version keep reading. I will do a separate report with more details regarding race prep, travel and packing logistics, and post-race mayhem!
Quick Summary
Stage racing, especially internationally, is so much more than training, arriving at the start line, crossing the finish line and toasting your day with friends. There’s logistics in travel planning and packing strategically, including bike parts, tools, gear, nutrition and the exact method of packing. Day 1, up at 3:00am for a 5:00am start. Starting on the Pacific we traveled 52 miles (10,636 feet elevation gain) through the jungle and up and over the mountains to finish in the Central Valley. What may sound short was far from it when filled with an insane heat and humidity, a thick red clay mud you could use as molding clay, and topped with inclines reaching 26%, for those that were measured. It’s not all measured out in the jungle. Day 1 I finished in 7:54. Day 2, up at 2:30 am for a 5:00am start. I was excited for cooler temps climbing Irazu and Turrialba Volcanos. The challenge today was rain, more mud, volcanic ash instead of ground, wind, a constant climb followed by a constant long and high speed descent. 54 miles (10,341 feet elevation) completed in 6:04. Day 3 up at 4:00am for breakfast and departure to whitewater raft Rio Pacuare (class 2-4 rapids, 5th ranked river in the world). Much needed adrenaline was used to hang on for dear life before flipping the raft and going for a swim. The final stage started at 1:00pm. The challenge here was figuring out how to get the legs to fire for the hammerfest of a 24 mile sprint through a headwind on the flats before the Caribbean, mud, cobblestone and baby boulder heads. I finished in 1:23. I managed to snag a first in my 30-39 age group and was 4th female and 91st overall out of about 430 who started and I believe 320 who finished.
Pre-rides upon Arrival in Costa Rica.
There’s so much more to elaborate on this portion, but it’s one part I’ll keep short and sweet. The sweet part, I stayed with the most amazing family I met 7 years prior when living in Costa Rica. They provided healthy food, good pura vida vibes, and awesome company to keep me sane! My first ride in Costa Rica was the first approximately 5-10 miles of the race course. It resulted in a lot of tears, a lot of time off the bike pushing, tires so caked in mud they couldn’t spin through the seat stays, sitting on the side of the road scraping mud off my tires with rocks, an immediate stop at the local bike shop, a new rear tire going from a 2.3 to a 2.0, multiple panic attacks, and hours spent staring at the ceiling trying to process it all. It also included a very long conversation with my Mom. One that started with outrage, “how could any father let his daughter do this, what is wrong with him, why would he have let me sign up for this?” Mom was the best one for me because she saw my Dad after the exact same ride before the race in 2017. She already knew the look on my face after that first ride, even before she answered the phone. Thanks Mom, you got me through a really hard time and it’s definitely not the first time you got me through a time of a serious struggle call from Costa Rica. You’re a PRO!
Packet Pick-up and Arriving at the Race Hotel
On Wednesday before the race started, I arrived at the race hotel, Crocs, in Jaco around 2:30pm. I checked in and went directly to my room. As I walked in the room I noticed someone’s stuff was on the bed so I quickly returned to the desk to inform them someone was in my room. They informed me we were both registered guests in that room. I reported to the race packet pick-up area and asked. They informed me I had a roommate and her name was Marcela, from Colombia. I then vaguely remembered the cheaper price I chose to pay for the race, which indicated I may have a roommate. I went back to the room excited to meet her but admittedly nervous about sharing a room with an unknown person when I’d be in an extremely exhausted state. Since she wasn’t in the room when I got back I proceeded to packet pick-up, bike cleaning and prep, and bag organizing. I had to organize my bag into the race bag they provided to be transported each day. All of my other stuff, including bike box, would go to a storage to be picked up after day 3. Fortunately, I had traveled with just the bike box and one carry on back-pack with everything already arranged and separated in big zip lock bags for each day, so transferring the gear was easy and required no thought.
I decided to have dinner in the hotel for ease. I was in line to be seated with a guy who had the Upper Peninsula on his shirt, so I quickly made friends with Chris, originally from Eagle Harbor, Michigan on the Keweenaw Peninsula and currently residing in Kenosha, Wisconsin. It was great to have somebody to share dinner conversation with to ease the nerves. Dinner was a buffet, but due to my garlic allergies the chef offered to make me whatever I wanted. I enjoyed a delectable, melt in your mouth, salmon and vegetables.
I finally got to meet Marcela! She was quite pleased I speak Spanish, as she speaks no English. Marcela is 42 and from Pasco, Nariño, a high-altitude coffee region in Southwest Colombia. She’s married and has a 9-year-old son but came alone to the race. We instantly hit it off! I hit the roommate jackpot! We decided to set our alarms for 3:00am. I talked to my Dad, Jeff Doerr, again to mentally prepare for the race and ensure I had everything in order. He gave me plenty of words to instill confidence in me, but I still felt far from confident. A quick conversation with Bill, my partner, and then to bed I went, surprisingly falling asleep quite fast.
Day 1 - 7:54, 54 miles, 10,636 feet of elevation gain
Day 1 is known as the hardest of all days and as you read you will see this is by far the day, I describe with the most detail. It is a day that is burned in my memory forever. A day I feared more than anything. I knew the most important trick to completing La Ruta was to survive safely, in good health and with a working bike.
The alarm went off at 3:00am on Halloween, October 31, 2019! I hopped out of bed. We went down for breakfast and I forced my eyes to be bigger than my appetite. My typical pre-race breakfast is oatmeal, which was not available. It was hard to get any food down, but I managed to eat a small pancake and forced myself to take a few bites of eggs knowing I had a long day ahead of me. I thought I’d eat fruit, but I just couldn’t get it down. The Costa Rican coffee went down smooth! Back to the room and we were ready to check in our bags. Another quick conversation with my Dad and a few texts sent. It seemed we had too much time, so we sat in the restaurant longer and I got to see Tinker and get a quick pic with him. That left me with a smile to the start line. As I went to get my bike, I lost Marcela.
We lined up on the beach in front of the hotel. I was in the last 1/8th of about 430 people. I didn’t feel too good about this but there wasn’t much I could do. I knew the start was about 3 miles of flat before a major approximately 6-mile climb reaching at least 26% incline, and that’s just what was a marked segment. I rode super chill to the highway where they stopped us to do another start...odd, maybe for safety, still don’t know. I continued super slow and chill talking to people around me. I saw the mechanic from Leadville Cycles for Life who fixed my bike before LT100. It’s great to recognize faces even if you don’t really know them. As we started to climb more, I just kept spinning trying to keep my heart rate under control. Since I pre-rode this climb and was off my bike 6 times, I knew I needed to take it easy and keep my body and mind in check. Dad assured me I could ride the whole thing, but I wasn’t too confident. I kept spinning and noticed I kept passing people moving my way up. My legs didn’t feel great, but I gradually started to gain confidence as I spun up sections I had pushed my bike up on the pre-ride. Then I came upon Marcela and was so excited! At that moment I knew for sure that having traveled alone to the race was made significantly less lonely by having a roommate. We were one another’s support out there! I kept pedaling and came upon the mud section that destroyed me and my bike, causing me to change tires after my pre-ride. It was in much better condition as it had clearly been packed down by cars who came prior to us. I started pedaling with more of a smile having surpassed that section.
Next thing I know I’M AT THE TOP, NO WALKING, I MADE IT, just like Dad said I would. I had the biggest smile. I looked up at the sky beyond happy; then out to the Pacific Ocean view saying THANK YOU AND GOOD BYE! One obstacle down, focus on the little wins today while continuing to move forward. A spectator cheered me on and informed me I was the 5th female. At that moment I wished I didn’t understand Spanish because I didn’t want to know, I told myself I didn’t care because ultimately it didn’t matter, and I just wanted to safely finish day 1. I had no goals other than to get to the finish line safely. But it’s hard for me to ignore competition. I would’ve had to focus on not thinking about place, but he then informed me I was the hottest female so I shouldn’t worry. Then lots of comments about my butt. Clearly that was the most important thing to me so all my goals had been obtained and I could stop and fly home (insert sarcasm)…men… WOW!
As we entered Carara National Park (JUNGLE), I didn’t know it was Carara but soon figured it out. The mud, ohhhh the mud, thick red clay mud. I was amazed when I got slightly annoyed by a guy descending crazy slow in front of me. I’m not known for descending, unless it’s being known for plenty of screams, braking and a terrified look on my face. In this slow descending situation, I had to get off my bike, which I would not have normally. As I continued, I slid down mud and more mud and smiled and laughed. Climbed mud and more mud and did not smile or laugh. Then I took a bad line and there was a huge rut and hole, so I had to get off and climb over it. As I stepped on what I thought was earth, I sunk deep into a hole with liquid mud up to my knees. I immediately tried to step out and heard and felt the suction and my shoe pulling off. I stopped and had to slowly and cautiously get out so I didn’t lose my shoes.
As I continued forward, I found a rad Leadville dude, Gavin, to descend behind, he knew how. One of the first larger river crossings I descended into not braking and carrying speed into the river. I saw the huge climb out on the other side, so I wanted that speed going into the climb. As my bike disappeared beneath me and I toppled into the water I remembered my Dad telling me not to hit the river crossings at full speed. I’m definitely the kid that feels the need to learn my own lessons – DOH! I started to enter the river crossings more cautiously. The process was, mud skate down a hill, hit a river, stop, and then go straight up. Sometimes I’d manage to get back on the bike to climb up, and other’s I simply had to push up until it was a bit less steep allowing me to get on and pedal. I started to feel like I was overheating so I would lay down in rivers just to cool down, it felt so heavenly. Then I’d stand up, pedal a few strokes, and sure enough it would be an inferno once again. I looked down at my drivetrain at one point and quickly made the decision never to do that again. I could barely see my chainring due to all the clay that could clearly be used as molding clay. I figured it was just going to sounds like crap and be a bit clunky, so I better just start ignoring it and keep pedaling forward. I started cleaning my bike in river crossings just like Dad told me I would need to, and just like Ticos around me were doing. Learn from the locals is the first and most necessary tip when traveling for races.
I remember hearing a spectator cheer in Spanish (hearing cheers in Spanish was probably one of my favorite parts at this point) and he informed us we had just left Carara. I have never been happier. I yelled, I smiled, I felt accomplished! I pedaled forward and it did not get easier as I thought it might. More river crossings, deep and shallow, more hills that were far from hills but more like walls. More humidity and heat as the sun climbed higher into the sky causing less ability to find shade. As I crossed rivers I started searching and scanning for snakes, my absolute biggest fear. My mind was starting to escape my control as I became more exhausted. I then came into a fairly narrow river crossing that required us to walk into the river and downriver carrying the bike over boulders and stepping into whirlpools on the other side. I stepped carefully ensuring my feet were planted so I would not be caught unstable by the water rushing harder as it dropped down into the pools over the boulders. Upon arriving at the exit I looked up to see the trail which was more like a path water would likely rush down and into the river during heavy rains. It was deep and dug out with sections that stepped up as high as my chest. There was a Tico spectator sitting high on the ledge alongside the trail (locals are called Ticos). He climbed down and took the guys bike in front of me and carried it up for him, as he more easily scurried using his feet and hands. I muttered under my breath while struggling. I then snapped out of it and told myself I wanted to do this alone, this was my goal, and that’s exactly what I was going to do! After struggling up the various ledges I was out of this section and onto what appeared like gravel cement mixed road. This should be a bit easier I thought.
WRONG! La Pita hasn’t been in the race since the early 2000s ITS BAAAACK and oh so hard. I was out in the hot sun pedaling slow and swerving to find shade. But there was little shade on this mountainside. My stomach started to turn and I felt chills. I looked at my arms and saw goosebumps. I knew this was not good. Then I puked. I knew this was really bad and if I didn’t get it under control my day would be over. I leaned over my bike seat in a spot of shade and sipped water slowly. As I stressed about my current situation, I could tell I was making myself feel worse. I had to remain positive, I had to believe I could pull out of this. I knew the steps to get myself rehydrated, I had to use my brain, but my brain was fried under exhaustion. I just didn’t understand how I was getting dehydrated; I was definitely taking in enough fluids, I had a plan and I was following it perfectly. All the things rushing around in my mind were getting out of control. Then a Tico racer was my savior, Alejandro. He asked if I was ok, as he obviously saw I was not. He called to me to go with him. He got ahead of me and looked back as I didn’t reply. He switched to English when I struggled to reply. I wanted so badly to keep speaking in Spanish whenever I had the chance, but I could barely formulate words in English. It was fortunate he spoke great English. He grabbed other locals and got me cold Coca Cola in a baggy. I bit that baggy corner and sucked down that cold coke. It saved my stomach. Alejandro cheered me on, and we played some back and forth that day, then again day 2 he was there as well! By the grace of new friends, I managed to keep moving. At the next aid station, they repeatedly asked me if I was ok and I kept telling them yes. But they were obviously well trained and more cautious with foreigners who get hit hard by unique conditions of the Costa Rican jungle. They made me let go of my bike and walk the length of the aid station unassisted. I started to realize this was a test to see if I was ok to continue safely. I knew in my head I had to pull it together for this moment, or once again, it could be the end of my day. I worked hard to walk straight and steadily and speak in complete sentences. I don’t recall what I said but I do recall speaking to them first in Spanish and then repeating it in English to prove I was capable. After lubing my bike chain, watching me drink water and eat some watermelon, they sent me on my way.
As the race continued, I rode with JP from Curacao. At one-point JP says “my gosh Megan you descend like Batwoman!” It’s a rare occasion when someone compliments me on my descending skills. That gave me a boost of confidence. Then again, he is from a super flat island, but whatever, I’ll take the boost! The singletrack heading to finish was rad. It was along a jungle-like cliff, so fortunately the dense vegetation helped me feel a bit protected from a tumble down the cliff. I had so much fun in this section, riding it better than most around me. I felt pretty proud and excited throughout this section. The excitement increased when I passed a girl standing on the side as I exited the singletrack. Sweet, I picked one off! I knew I was nearing the end of stage one so maybe I’d start racing because by this point, I was confident I’d be able to finish. Then she flew by me on a descent and I was shocked. I tucked more and tried to gain speed, I caught her again! Then she grabbed my wheel and I instantly decided it was time to race like I don’t typically do; I played roadie and let up and she passed me, so I grabbed her wheel, hehehe I’ve never done that! I sized up her climbing skills and was sure I could match or maybe surpass them. I used this knowledge and decided once we were within 3 miles of the finish, I’d make my move. I switched my computer from the map to mileage for the first time, I also clicked to see the elevation profile for the remainder of the race. I was using my computer for what it’s made for, not sure I’ve ever used it that much. At 3 miles to go, on a hill, I made my move on her and could tell she didn’t get my wheel, YES! Then I got stuck behind a car on the climb around a corner. Crap, she might be able to get me again I thought. I was very antsy and the crowd was yelling at the vehicle to move, and the driver was yelling at them, it was chaos on the roads. A few in the crowd cheered and waved me around the left of the car. I made a quick move around the care and narrowly squeezed between him and another car coming at me. WHOA that was way too close for my liking, but the adrenaline was rushing. I knew I took a huge risk and was darn lucky I made it safely. Then a car traffic jam; with the rushing adrenaline I just did what I had to in order to not let up on the pedals. I was weaving in and out of cars terrified knowing how motorcycles do it in Costa Rica and using that to my advantage, but also not wanting to be road kill. I was waved left turning to the finish… a V cement culvert appeared, and they were waiving caution to slow down and be careful. I had a thought to jump it not wanting the woman to catch me, but the rim hanging in our basement from Dad taco-ing it on a similar V culvert back in the 90s popped into my head. I unclipped and tried to go over it one legged without getting off the bike. BAM – CALF CRAMP. I tried to keep going with the cramp. The finish was farther than I thought, maybe another 600 meters on soggy muddy wet grass with dips and a slight incline. I never thought 600 meters could be so far. Finally, the FINISH! Complete disbelief, I did it, I just finished La Ruta Day 1. I looked around for cheers, familiar faces and a hug, but there was nobody there. Oh well, I smiled and celebrated to myself as I waited for the woman behind me to finish and congratulate her. She wasn’t too happy to speak with me, so I smiled and walked away still beaming and in shock of what I had just done. Then I realized, crap…I still have 2 more days to go.
It took quite awhile at the finish with meals and so many more people coming into the finish for hours more. Finally Marcela and I were able to get a bus to the hotel just as it started raining. There was some traffic so it was dark by the time we got to the hotel. We dealt with our nasty clothing, by dealt I mean, I put them in a ziplock bag because there was nothing more we could do. We got some room service and discussed our day. The highlight of the discussion was Marcela’s complete disbelief for the 16 salt tabs I took and my complete disbelief she only took 2. I definitely could’ve used more salt tabs.
Day 2 – 6:03, 48 miles, 10,341 feet of elevation gain
2:30am alarm clock. Marcela and I were up and went directly to breakfast. It was complete morning chaos. It was so hard to eat at 3:00am. I tried to eat some eggs, fruit and pancakes, but I’m not sure I got much of anything down. Then back to the room to change. I gave Dad a quick call and informed him I was dripping in sweat just standing there. He asked if I was outside and I said, no, I’m still in the hotel room. He knew the hotel from when he raced, so he couldn’t understand. I informed him our air conditioner did not work all night, so I never stopped sweating. That’s some typical Megan luck right there! Oh well, that’s life and maybe we got a more traditional experience without air conditioning, but it would’ve been really nice to stop sweating. I got off the phone and took some salt tabs right away. Then off to the bus. On the bus I remembered a stuck a pancake in my shorts top band because I had no hands to carry anything else. I pulled it out and very excitedly said, “Shorts Pancake!” That got my fellow bus-mates laughing and talking! I knew I needed to eat more and at that point the pancake tasted good.
We entered the Terra-Mall parking garage and dropped off our bags and stood in line to get our bikes. While waiting in line I started talking to Shannon. I remembered her beautiful Vanderkitten kit from the day before. As we made conversation it came up that my Dad had raced years ago and her husband Paul asked his name. I responded, Jeff Doerr from Michigan. I was in shock as he said “no way” and started going on about how Dad had fancy late 90’s rims that he tacoed. Sure enough, he definitely knew my Dad. I informed him that rim was hanging as a momento in our basement. Shannon and Paul were early in the La Ruta scene and their home phone was the US based number for people to get La Ruta information, so they knew all the early years racers and stories. This was so exciting! Then Shannon says, “wait, Megan from Michigan, you know Sarah from Vanderkitten.” Is this seriously possible, yes, I know Sarah Williams from Vanderkitten and Grand Rapids. This world is way too small and I LOVE IT! This morning couldn’t have been any more perfect! After the race I talked to my Dad and informed him about Shannon and Paul. He immediately remembered them and informed me Shannon was a force on the bike. He remembered she’d won before and sure enough she confirmed it. A good human, fun, strong female, and helluva cyclist!
It was dark at the start and I was so nervous. I was standing there sweating with most of the people around me wearing long sleeves and some long tights. Me, nope, short sleeves and shorts, still sweating. At the start the pack rolled slowly together through the city, with plenty of crowd up early to cheer us on! I was nervous about pavement potholes and open man-holes so I kept a good gap between me and the people in front of me. Then I saw Marcela, yay! But then Marcela promptly stopped, oh no, I yelled to see if she needed help and she said she was fine. I later learned she had a bent chainring tooth and was lucky it happened there so the aid vehicle could straighten it out for her to finish. The climbs got steep real quick at the start, I was like ohhhh shit. I had not expected steep climbs, or climbs at all, so early in the day. My legs definitely did not feel great, they were burning and it was only a few miles into a long day. I focused on having fun and enjoying the ride. It then started to rain and it felt sooooo good, but I remembered what that could mean for the day at elevation on the volcano. I reminded myself to be in the moment and soak in this exciting opportunity. Then we had a nice descen!. I passed two Ticos and then the corner was so sharp I almost pulled a Jeff Doerr taco-ing that rim on Day 2 just like he did decades ago. I managed to save it and get back on road. I hadn’t calculated the speed and steepness of the descent, the sharpness of the corner, or the wetness of my brakes. As we started to climb again, I looked around and noticed everybody putting on jackets over long sleeves. I was still quite pleased in my short sleeves and shorts, heck, I was still sweating.
There was a lot of climbing all day, it basically started right away and didn’t stop until close to the end. Soon enough we hit some singletrack and I could tell the guy behind me wanted around me, but I knew I was riding strong. After we entered the singletrack he complimented me for my ST skills. I really appreciated that and I guess he was now ok riding behind me! As we started to climb on super muddy singletrack it got too rutted and slick to stay on the bike. While pushing my bike the gap with the person in front of me was growing. I kept stepping forward and slipping back. It was so steep and slippery I just couldn’t get grip to move forward. Sure enough my Day 1 friend, Mr. Leadville, Gavin, was just behind me and spoke up giving me a tip I’d never heard before; grab the brakes and use it to pull myself up, then let go and push and repeat. Great new tip! Later we hit a fairly common section that was literally two cement tracks up a super steep hill. The tracks had to be cement because it was so steep a vehicle wouldn’t make it on dirt. The cement was slick and mossy from the rain. I pedaled and slipped causing me to have to push. My legs buuuurned. I remember parts where I was pushing and my hip would lock up and force my left foot to turn outward, so I’d have to get on the bike and pedal because I physically couldn’t push anymore. Then as I was pedaling it would get too steep to pedal so I’d have to get off and push. It was truly a viscous cycle. All I had to do was keep moving forward.
As I was riding up a hill, in what appeared to be a field that just kept going on and up for miles, I couldn’t figure out why it was soooo slow and soft. It was torturous, no matter how hard I worked I just couldn’t move at a descent pace. I finally looked at a spectator along the path and asked “porque el suelo esta tan suave…why is the ground so soft?” He replied in Spanish, it’s not earth ground, it’s volcanic ash. OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS, I thought to myself as my head dropped through the suffering. Ok, that makes sense I continued to think, I’m climbing not one, but two volcanos today. I wanted nothing more than to conquer this volcano and make it out of this section on my bike the entire way. I was determined to make it. The crowd started to increase as it got steeper. The crowd was amazing cheering me on, calling me campeona! I felt like I was in the Tour de France. They yelled “agua dulce” so I grabbed and threw the cup into my mouth, little did I know it was hot, that burnt my face. Then I got a real nice push from one of the spectators, I couldn’t believe how long he ran pushing me. I felt guilty, but omg he pushed me to my goal of making it out of the volcanic ash on my bike!
I was now on the road climbing with another Leadville guy who was asking me where the climb ends. When I said I think 3k, he took off! The descent was insane! This portion of the descent was a long road and soooo fast. The tight corners and oncoming traffic made it a bit chaotic. My friend Alejandro from day 1 came again and told me to follow him. I tried, then I realized I was going too fast for me to feel safe, so I backed off a hair. I’d relax and let ‘er rip at points, and then realize I needed to be a bit more controlled or I’d be bug splatter on a car hood. I felt so proud of my descending. It switched from pavement to really rough gravel and I passed a large group who were walking, I think there were two women in that group too! Dang that felt so good, I just kept hauling down that volcano! I tried to use my brakes as little as possible because I could tell they were getting pretty weak. Then we popped out into the town and there was traffic which made me nervous, but the police and volunteers did a great job of directing us and traffic. As I rolled into the CATIA University grounds I was ready to be done, but there were still a few kilometers of flat to hammer. It was a riot, I smiled and grimaced the whole way! Day 2 – I DID IT!
I went to turn in my bike and as I handed it over they looked at my “Smile like Jack” sticker. Two people touched it and looked at me with a questioning face. I told them with a big smile, “that’s my best friend, he’s here with me, well my Dad’s best friend who passed away in June, but he came to Costa Rica with me!” They smiled and gave me a fist bump. What shocked me was, I never shed a tear in that moment and that felt damn good, I knew Jack was having a helluva time touring Costa Rica with me and I should be all SMILES!
Then I asked if they could change the chainring from a 30T to a 32 T because I knew day 3 was flat. YIPPEE the mechanic said yes! I left to shower, with fire ants biting my feet in a super cool outdoor shower made of palm leaves. I return and handed the mechanic equivalent to $20, worth it and he deserved it, they work hard!
The afternoon after finishing was quite long, but it gave me time to try to clean some of my insanely muddy clothes. I rinsed them, but they never dried. I also got to eat my favorite Caribbean dish, Rice and Beans, trust me, it’s so much more than you’re imagining and it’s GOOD! That night the hotel had live music, not what I was looking for, so I was thankful for my ear buds and relaxation app with ocean waves. Oh, and once again, no air conditioning. How many hours can one sweat non-stop before there is no more sweat?!
Day 3 – 1:23, 23 miles of flat fast goodness
The alarm was set for 4:30 so we could be up, packed, eat breakfast and ready for the 5:20am bus to rafting. However, Marcela and I both awoke at 4am. I was so tight I spent a little time with my feet up on the wall draining some lactic acid. We enjoyed a traditional Gallo Pinto and egg breakfast and I took a banana to go. Fortunately, I also brought some Infinit Mud and a shaker bottle, so I had one after the two-hour drive to the rafting site on the Pacurare River (class II, III, IV rapids) and gave one to another guy who got up a bit too late to get breakfast. I was placed in a raft with Marcela, Tiburon from Mexico and Rafa from Spain, both of whom were working in some capacity with the race. We had a great crew and an even better guide. The only female guide, Nela, who competes for the Costa Rica National whitewater rafting team! Between me, Marcela, and her, we enjoyed lots of great conversation about how awesome and fun female athletes are; female athletes have a true bond! We ended up getting stuck against a rock wall with the water pushing us harder and harder as it slowly sucked the raft under and we climbed up the side, one by one getting tossed out. This all happened very fast yet seemed oddly slow and detailed to me. I was the last one left with Nela and my arm was stuck under raft rope. I had to toss my paddle to pull my arm out before bailing off the raft. We all quickly got picked up by other rafts. After we made it through the series of rapids we rejoined our raft with our hearts pounding and tons of excitement to share our versions of the chaos! My synopsis, that was some much-needed race adrenaline I used up, but WHAT A STORY!!!!
After rafting I tried to eat and hydrate with the fruit and water that was provided and some random snacks I had in my bag. I was informed I was first in my class. I also managed to get reception and call my family back home in Traverse City, Michigan competing in the Iceman Cometh, one of the biggest mtb races in the US. I found out my Dad and best buddy Allen WON their class! I was amped with that news and a combo of stoked and scared with my first in class news. We then took the bus to the start line and waited at the soccer field for about 1.5 hours for the race start. I only had watermelon and some coconut water. I definitely did not plan my food intake appropriately. I went to get my bike and they stopped me and surprised me with a leader jersey! I didn’t want to take it at first because I’m hyper sensitive to pressure and wearing such a jersey felt like a lot of pressure. But it was exciting, and I’ve never had one before, so I handed over my team Mclain jersey and put on that yellow and black beautiful Land Rover leader jersey! I have no idea what happened to my jersey, but the switch was well worth it!
As I lined up, I was pretty far back, and somebody called to the volunteers and pointed out my leader jersey, so they moved me to the front. I mean the actual front YIKES, pressure is on. I was standing near Tinker, Betalu, Milagro Mena, all the greats! I was soooo nervous. It started to rain so I ditched my glasses in my pocket. I had my dark lenses in because just before that it was bright and sunny.
When the gun went off, we started to move slowly through the city. Being in the front was a benefit because it wasn’t as crazy with rapid slowdowns, but dang could you hear the brakes squealing with the rain and the crowds weaving around cars, potholes and city corners. As we left the city…. BAM FAST AS HELL!!! It felt like Iceman. I’m not a great starter to begin with but with two days in my legs and no speed training, I just couldn’t hang. The only thing that gave me a remote shot was the fact I had my chainring switched to the 32T, thank goodness. But still, I just couldn’t hang. Then a Tico came to help and pulled me for a bit. I stepped up to take my pull as we both tried to close the gap. As he switched back to the lead I just couldn’t hang anymore, and I lost him. I looked back and I was totally alone with a pack far behind me in the distance. I knew this was not a good place to be, but it was one I have become accustomed to with my poor starting skills. I kept pushing and reminding myself I could do this, slow starts, never giving up, and managing to work my way up is how I’m know. But dangit, I didn’t want to be known for that, I just want to be able to hang at the start. My mind was going nuts long enough for me to get gobbled up by the pack behind me. Luckily, I managed to hold onto this group. We hit some singletrack, clearly fresh cut singletrack through a banana plantation, then a sugar cane plantation. It was like walls of banana trees with barely any sky peeking through the leaves up above. I was following a nice lady who wasn’t as fast as me in singletrack. She would stop pedaling around corners. I tried to calmly provide instruction to keep pedaling so we could all work our way through the singletrack and not lose too much ground. It was such a unique singletrack experience, especially when popping out and seeing a Sloth hanging on a barbwire fence…OMG OSO PERESOS, I yelled!
On the road I managed to power myself up to the group that was gapping the lady in the singletrack. Then we hit a crazy two track filled with baby boulder heads. It was like cobbles on crack. I was trying to work with a group but was getting rattled to death and eventually I got so fatigued I just couldn’t hold the group any longer. Finally, we hit some gravel road and we re-grouped. I was trying to get the group to work together, but it just wasn’t happening. Two guys in front of me quietly said to each other in Spanish, the ladies’ race is close, hold up. I knew exactly what that meant, and I really didn’t want to play games, I just wanted to leave it all out there. I waited a bit, so they didn’t realize I had heard and understood them, as I’m sure they didn’t think I spoke Spanish. I made a move and a few people behind me followed. We managed to get a group to start to work together a little, but it was mostly me and two other guys doing the pulling. Our group grew as we ate up another group, but still, mostly me and two other guys pulling and it wasn’t even a proper line, it was chaos all over the road. Eventually one of the guys who gave me a cheer earlier came up behind me and called me to go with him. I’m grateful for his help and positivity because it seemed to turn into a battle of more than cyclists out there, in a way I prefer not to write on a public blog but am happy to share the story with those who ask me.
I started watching the computer for kilometers to finish. It was a very windy flat course and the wind was getting stronger, I suspect as we got closer to the coast. I had contemplated trying to make a break at 5k but decided I didn’t have enough to hold that to the finish. I finally broke at 1.5k to go. Two guys followed me. They beat me to the line but as I rolled in just behind them and the rest of the group behind me there were so many high fives, fist bumps, hugs and cheers, it made it all worth it! Then the tears started to roll, just like they are now as I’m typing this.
I did it, I finished La Ruta de los Conquistadores! I stood there, covered in mud, barely able to see with so much mud in my eyes; next to my bike, Big Pimpin; alone in Costa Rica, but far from alone. I stood there with a new family, a family of people from 20 different countries who just endured a tremendous amount of pain, exhaustion, competition, smiles and cheers together. I stood there with nobody close to me to share the news with, yet fulfilled and confident I accomplished this on my own, yet with so many new friends. The excitement of the moment I could share my finish with my Dad, Mom, brother and all my friends who were celebrating the end of the season in the cold at Iceman. It was, and still is, a uniquely strange, yet fulfilling feeling that I will hold close to my heart for the rest of my life. It was a feeling that reminded me what we as humans are capable of, which is so much more than we even know. If my thoughts seem somewhat incoherent, it’s because there are so many thoughts and so many feelings it seems virtually impossible to ever explain. This also happens to be why this race report has taken me so long; because no matter what I write it could never do this experience the justice it deserves. The experience of a lifetime!
Note: more to come in the next weeks regarding the WHY La Ruta, how I packed and managed logistics and the results of my bike post-race, which is STILL being assessed for the incredibly large amounts of damage that beautiful Costa Rican mud did….WORTH IT ALL TOTALLY WORTH IT!
