Photo credit: Alex Roszko
UnTapped athlete Emily Newsom digs deep (in the mud) and powers to a 4th place finish at Gravel Worlds.
The month leading into the “Corn Cup”, namely Core4 and Gravel Worlds so appropriately dubbed by The Holy Spirit of Gravel, I pushed deep into my physical capabilities, challenging myself ruthlessly beyond what I’d ever previously done. Everyday I was intensely focused on the training, whether it was another hard workout, or a day to recover, the latter of which I would make best friends with my pillow, though I will admit, life tends to get pushy in this particular love triangle. I worked with a nutritionist, something I had always wanted to do, but had never quite committed to. I was interested to see that I was bang on when it came to most of my eating habits, but a few tweaks and additions helped me greatly in being able to recover a little quicker, and better prepare for races. All in all, the lead up went as well as it could have and I realize now after 7 years chasing this crazy gig to embrace wholeheartedly these times when everything goes to plan, for we never know what stick may soon get thrown in our spokes. Needless to say, I was filled with determination for these upcoming races in which I would fight for the win with everything I had, and this time I knew I had a lot.
Core4
Core4 was the first of the two races and while I will focus on the second, Gravel Worlds, the former does deserve a paragraph as it was not only a beautiful race in an idyllic setting, but it gave me the confidence I needed for Gravel Worlds. We left the Core4 expo, set in a cider house amongst the lush green fields surrounding Iowa City, the live music fading in the background, and headed back to the Airbnb to finish up any last minute race preparations and get a good night’s sleep. As we drove, the sky darkened in the background, and soon we were enveloped in a proper MidWest storm. Diving into the house amidst torrential rain, some of us rapidly changed to narrower tires, having read somewhere about “peanut butter mud”. We were greeted in the morning with the announcement that the course had been changed, and the 15 km of single track was now out (THANK GOD), but the minimum maintenance roads were still in and could be potentially muddy. What a treat we were in for. No less than seven mmr’s greeted us during the 95 miles, and the rising heat gracefully turned the sloppy ground into the stickiest, thickest mud I’ve ever attempted to ride. It glommed onto every part of my bike possible, cramming its way between chain stay and chain ring, wedging itself above the tires, and steadfastly sticking to my hands as I scraped it off. It was a feat to simply make my bike mobile again. In the end, for I must yet speak of Gravel Worlds, I resolutely slogged through mud pit after mud pit, enduring blistering heat and suffocating humidity (truly it felt difficult to breathe!) until I rolled across the finish line in third place. While the field was not as deep as Gravel Worlds, or some past races, the riders there were riders of strong caliber and I was deeply satisfied to have ridden well. I felt confident as we traveled on to Nebraska where 150 miles of rolling gravel seas were waiting.
Having spent nearly twenty years in Texas, which, while not the Mid West, has similar weather tendencies, I have grown accustomed to the sudden and sometimes fierce storms that can arise at the drop of a hat. However, even I was thunderstruck when lo and behold, Friday evening the night before Gravel Worlds, dark clouds rolled in and casually dumped a few inches of water. It felt a little like someone was pranking us, predicting nothing but blue skies and sunshine, then laughing maniacally as they pulled the sheet out from under us. As I went to bed that night, I was torn between sleep and changing tires to something narrower. Finally I decided I would roll with what I had and let the day work itself out. I’ve never been good at giving up sleep.
photo credit: Clare Paniccia
Gravel Worlds
4am came quickly and after stuffing my face with bread, yogurt, cinnamon toast crunch, frosted flakes and maple syrup, we loaded up the cars and drove to the start. I had my pockets filled with a variety of UnTapped gels, my bottles were full of Grape Mapleaid, high in sodium which I knew I would need despite the slightly cooler than anticipated temperatures, and I felt calm and ready other than somehow misplacing my head lamp. We began in the dark, preceded by a few race motos, and almost immediately hit gravel while tires began spinning up rocks, dust quickly accumulated, and visibility lessened with every pedal stroke. The pace was high from the start, and while I stayed amongst the top 15 or so wheels, I felt a little nervous as I found it very difficult to see. We all had tail lights and while I understand the safety side of this, it made it more difficult to see with the red lights illuminating the dust, but very little else. I wiggled my fingers, a trick I’ve learned from my sports psych, and let my body relax while staying attentive. Mile fourteen marked the first mmr road and I was not sure what to expect. I stayed a little back and after a split opened up that didn’t seem to close, powered my way across to the wheel of my strong teammate Morgan. In the next instant, the fast moving line of cyclists became a jumble of splayed legs and riderless bikes. Helpless to stop, I catapulted straight into it, somersaulting somewhat on top and somewhat in the mud. I sat up, completely amazed that I was unhurt, picked up my bike which was also somehow in one piece, shoved a bottle back into its cage and ran to the grass where I began wiping mud from my wheels. Soon I was able to ride, and I swiftly moved along the side, passing numerous riders still pulling mud out from every nook and cranny, and emerging onto a gravel road was able to catch onto the wheel of my friend Lauren Stephens. I was delighted to be with her, knowing her as a smart, savvy and strong rider, and we worked well together picking up a few riders along the way. There was a lead group of seven that had escaped the chaos unscathed, and we were chasing, now a few minutes behind.
Soon we turned into the second mmr road and I am still kicking myself for my silly move of riding straight into the mud. I knew better! But yet, I defaulted to habit, and within seconds was obliged to stop, ran again to the grassy side, and this time spent a bit more time flinging the sticky mud off my bike. It felt like ages, but eventually my wheels would turn again, and my trusty steed went once more into the breech. The slippery grass was the place to be and I navigated along the side quite well, only dismounting once to run across the road to better grass (there’s a joke in there somewhere). My chain slipped off, and as I stooped down to get it back on track, was absolutely amazed at what I saw. My freshly waxed chain was fully coated in mud, and I was attempting to re attach it to a chain ring that was almost unrecognizable. The irony of it hit me and I laughed out loud. That we do this! We train, we painstakingly prepare every detail, we sweat blood and tears, pushing our bodies beyond what is healthy, striving to achieve that blissful euphoria of knowing you left it all out there; and here I was with my muddy fingers, forcing my equipment to function in nonfunctional circumstances, wondering why my head felt so heavy (mud), and briefly hoping I wouldn’t come down with some weird stomach bug after drinking from my dirt encrusted bottles. But of course we continue, there is no thought of quitting. And to be honest, I rather love these adverse conditions and find myself calmer in these situations than if a race goes on without any sort of outside hardship.
Fueled by Maple
After this second mmr, the race quieted down and a solid group of riders formed. We worked well together for the most part, and gradually picked up a few more riders dropped from the initial front group. Although the heat was not anything near what I had been training in, I knew enough of its effect to keep on top of my sodium intake. I took two Grape Mapleaids at a time, which gave me 40 grams of carbs and 600 grams of sodium. I did this once an hour along with taking in the other UnTapped gels, focusing on my favorite late race flavor, Mint. A side note here, I never expected to like Mint UnTapped. It just didn’t seem to jive and I couldn’t fathom it tasting good. Wow, was I proved wrong. After one taste, I was sold and it is now my go to late race gel as it goes down extremely smoothly, and also provides a refreshing contrast in taste. I paired that with Maple UnTapped, and had preceded it with the Salted Raspberry and Salted Cocoa varieties that I prefer for earlier in the race. In all 8 hours of racing I never experienced a single stomach issue or any cramps.
Photo credit: Alex Roszko
The Finish: Feeling like a Champion
With twenty five miles to go, our group, having lost a few and gained a few, began to lose its cohesion. Those of us who were still feeling pretty strong did not want it to come down to a sprint, and those who weren’t feeling good were simply hanging on, sometimes pulling, sometimes not. Attacks began to go, counters followed, and finally, Karolina put out a well timed effort and dropped the lot of us. Following the various moves had taken its toll and my legs promptly turned to jelly as I attempted to stick to the wheels of those who had it in their legs to respond to her attack. No one though could quite get her wheel, and we splintered into seven riders all separated by 10-45 seconds, each hanging their head and digging with anything they had left to get to the elusive wheel seemingly seconds ahead of them. While Karo was steadily creating a gap that would not be closable, I was able to reel in two riders, drop them, and finally catch Danni who at this point was sitting in fourth place on the road. I tried to drop her believing I was stronger at the moment, but she was able to get on my wheel. I resorted to working with her, but being very careful to pull much less than I was able to, wanting to make a move when the terrain shifted upwards. Finally I was able to drop her on one of the final rollers. Even though I wasn’t coming in for the win, those last few miles felt like a win, so delighted was I in how I felt and rode. I’ve questioned my place in this sport more times than I can remember, cried many nights, wondering how in the world I managed to find a job that took so much work, with what seemed to be so little reward. I’ve let my stress affect my family, becoming exceedingly grumpy, short tempered and unpredictably emotional. My knees and elbows are a puzzle of scar tissue, some of which have been reopened a multitude of times, and sometimes I get scared of the consequences of another potential knock to the head. But days like this, fourth place made me feel like a champion and I was gonna soak in that feeling for all its worth. It’s a crazy ride this wild wild west of cycling, but I do adore it and am grateful for my place in it. Until next time you beautiful “Corn Cup.”