The Day I Accidentally WON A Bike Race

Well, that was a fun weekend. I accidentally won the Okanagan Graveller 60km ‘Stone’ race: first woman overall, and I missed winning the entire event by five hundredths of a second. I am mainly writing this to recount of the day for me, but if it inspired you to do something crazy then enjoy!

When my friend Ann asked me to do a gravel race in the Okanagan this summer I just laughed and said “okayyy…” rather reluctantly. I’m definitely a roadie at heart and I haven’t got a lot of experience riding trails. Don’t get me wrong I love trails, but I prefer to run them instead (it’s a risk-reward thing). However, I do LOVE camping and road tripping and riding my bike (especially with friends) so it seemed it could be fun and something a little different. Also the 60km ‘Stone’ course was sold as ‘intro gravel friendly’ so I figured it couldn’t be THAT hard could it? It wasn't until I started zooming in on the course profile after registering that I realized what I'd actually signed up for. Eight kilometres of neutral rollout along wood lake on a nice gravel trail...great. A few kilometres to settle in...also great. Then I kept scrolling. Omg, then a PUNISHING 13km HC climb up a forest service road (aka NOT smooth pavement) with an almost 900m elevation gain!! Now in cycling, HC stands for Hors Catégorie, literally “beyond category”… a climb so severe it exceeds the standard Category 1-4 ratings. What the actual F*** Ann? Following that would be some rougher gravel/sandy/potholey/muddy/rocky access roads/trail (the kind you choose your vehicle wisely)… and then a very steep descent back to Oyama down ANOTHER forest service road… complete with cattle guards, washboards, sharp switchbacks, and lots of loose gravel. Needless to say, this sure didn’t sound beginner to me! I tried not to think of it and just psyched myself up for the sheer challenge of it all. After all, anything is doable… it just gets harder when you want to go fast. I can climb, that I know so maybe my strategy was to just put my head down and do what I do best. That just may buy me some time for the other half since technical gravel is not my strength, and although I love fast downhills on the road, I’m an absolute chicken descending gravel… especially with all the included ‘goodies’ listed above.

A few days before the race I got my bike all tiddly-boo. New sealant in the tires, cables, adjusted my shifting, deep cleaned, lubed the chain. I sure didn’t want a flat or a mechanical to shut me down… that would be a silly error on my part that I could have ‘mostly’ mitigated as much as one can mitigate those things. We packed up all our stuff in the van, including all the nutrition we would need for what I assumed would be a challenging 4+ hours of riding time and headed out to the Okanagan with a night camping at Nicola Lake on the way to break up the drive. I was feeling a little nervous for sure, but I reminded myself that (while it used to be) 60km isn’t a ‘long’ ride for me. MY thoughts just kept going with HOW I would tackle this. I have NEVER done a gravel race before so I genuinely didn’t know what to expect. I just knew I love riding my bike and exploring new places, so everything else would just have to be what it’ll be.

We got to the Okanagan Graveller base camp in Oyama the night before the race, picked up our race packages with a lot of great swag (thank you OK Graveller for all that… very nice), set up camp in the parking lot with a bunch of other racers, met some friends for dinner at a local pizzeria and got a pretty early night. You’d think that a parking lot full of camping gravel racers would be noisy but nope… early nights for all.

The Okanagan Graveller had 3 race distances all departing at the same time… the 60km ‘Stone’, the 90km ‘Rock’, and the 120km ‘Boulder’. I was doing the Stone along with Ann and some friends, and my partner Kevin and Garth were doing the 90. We got to the start corral quite late and ended up quite far back. I grabbed a spot wherever I could fit and Kevin (after a last minute swim) joined me in the line up.

The ‘gun’ went off and 400+ riders funnelled onto the narrow lake side trail to what was meant to be a ‘neutralized’ roll out for about 8kms. Made sense as it was an open trail so there would likely be folks walking dogs etc. We were cruising along and of course the pace started to increase (as it does as soon as timing chips are put on riders). We looked up ahead and saw there was a gap forming. Kevin, again in true Kevin style said… “Oh no, we can’t have a gap!” so he started weaving his way through the line and I followed closely behind wherever there was an opening. If I had known (or even thought of) the fact that would be such a wide variety of riders participating for their own goals and reasons (some to race and some just for fun), we would have arrived earlier to get a better spot further up BUT hindsight is always 20/20. First lesson learned.

The ‘neutral’ pace definitely kept increasing and so I kept up and tried not to burn myself out too early as I knew there was a long climb coming, but it was a bit unavoidable as the trail was just too narrow to slow it down. I just had to go with the flow and cross that bridge when and if it comes. As we took a left onto Beaver Lake road, neutral was over (or was there even a neutral at all?). There were a few blocks where we could see the climb starting and the lead group was WAAAAY far out of sight. I caught up with Kev who was in the front of the group we were in. We had a few chats as the grade percentage increased. I remember looking at my power meter and thinking “uh oh” then saying to Kev this is going to be harrrrrd! I wished him good luck as he slowly peeled away up the road to chase the faster riders down. That was the last I’d see him until the finish.

I love climbing. I think part of the reason is (and I am about to get SUPER bike nerdy here) is I am small and light. Being small has a lot of disadvantages on a bike. I don’t have a ton of pure power when it comes to speed on the flats, and a don’t have a ton of weight (or sheer guts) to help go fast on the downhills, but the playing field actually gets a little more ‘level’ when the road tilts up. Gravity can work with me if the climb is long enough (and not toooo steep). We don’t have big climbs like this around Victoria, so for me it’s a novelty. Don’t get me wrong, it’s super hard still, but I find it far less stressful as I don’t have to think of group dynamics and climbs put everyone in the same boat. We are all suffering. It’s about finding your own rhythm and just getting to the top.

As all the distances were in this climb together, I had no idea where I was relative to anyone else doing the 60… nor did I really care. My goal was to pedal… round and round until I got to the top. Keep my cadence consistent, my power manageable, my heart rate in check. Fuel, water, pedal… repeat. Pick riders ahead of me off one at a time if I could but ultimately just keep moving forward. I caught myself chanting “Be Relentless…” which is what my Zwift Synergy team leader/DS Ryan often says in our ear during races. If I COULD get myself far enough ahead that the rest of the race wouldn’t matter as much. That was my strategy… or what I figured may help me do my best race… and not get shelled once the climb ended and the technical stuff hit.

At the top of the climb there was an aid station with an assortment of goodies, water and electrolyte drinks. I was doing pretty good. I got through one bottle of tailwind so I just topped it off with plain water, scoffed half a banana (never can I say no to a banana) and turned left onto the 60km route… the 90 and 120 kept going straight on that road.

Now it got quiet.

The gravel road narrowed to more of a 4x4 jeep route and no one who ended up at the aid station turned left too. I was alone on this unknown (to me) road in the forest, on my gravel bike. It started feeling a little strange to be honest. I didn’t have anyone to chase, or pace with, or run away from so it was just me and my thoughts. Was I supposed to turn left? Yes. Where is everyone? I guess further ahead and further behind. Just keep pedalling. Wait… where are the bike tire tracks? Nothing. Just keep pedalling. Was the sign to turn wrong? No. A constant stream of rabbits, and squirrels, and small little four legged beasties ran across the trail. What about a bear? What if I see a bear? A cougar? Don’t think about that. Safety in numbers, but one is a lonely number when you are up in the bush. I kept pedalling and navigating pot holes, bigger rocks, mud patches, sandy gravel, little rolling up and downs… at a “careful” pace. I didn’t want to crash alone out here… or get a flat or mechanical. I kept looking back but couldn’t see anyone. Then I had a thought… what if I was the first one?? No way. That’s a silly thought. I don’t gravel ride, this is my first race… and I am over 50, for fuck’s sake. No way I am first. All the thoughts running in my head were actually spoken out loud (yes, I must have sounded like a crazy person) as I wanted to let any four legged, large toothed creatures that I was in their neighbourhood. That would be a sad end to my first race.

Some more time passed. Still no one. Now I was starting to wonder if I was lost (even though there wasn’t anywhere to turn) as my Garmin was showing signs of being off course. I decided I needed to double check so I STOPPED… got out my phone, loaded Strava routes with slow reception and checked. Yup… still on course. Weird. Okay I guess I will just keep going.  I came around a corner and a big deer was standing in the middle of the trail with 2 fawns on either side. I let out a loud whistle and watched them scatter off… they aren’t like deer in Oak Bay who just stand their ground thank god. Thank god it wasn’t a bear. Finally I saw a truck parked ahead… a guy was hanging out the window cheering and yelled “YEAHHHH YOU’RE CRUSHING IT!!!!” I smiled and waved thanks. “YOU’RE FIRST!!!!!” Wtf? I yelled “Seriously?????” Thankfully now, I knew I was on course again, and now I knew (or had some sense of confirmation) that I was in the lead… and that put a spring in my step again.

Okay wait a second. I was first? How the heck? Then I thought about that gal Rachel Entrekin who just killed it in Cocodona 250 as the first ever woman to cross the line overall. Yeah I knowwww it was a bigger event and she was an ass kicker (and much younger) BUT what she said in her interview resonated… “Why NOT me?” Maybe my little strategy worked? I looked at my Garmin and it was 42km in. I was thinking of how I would tell Kev that I was in the lead until 43km when I got passed by a bunch of people. I was sure that would happen any time now but feeling proud of the fact I got as far as I did.

I came to the second checkpoint, which was also the spot that the other distances merged back to the route (although they still had a ways to go so there was no riders yet). I came down the hill to the sound of horns and bells and cheering “The first riderrrrr!!!!” I asked which way and they pointed to the left. They offered snacks, but I was actually a-okay as I knew I was going mostly down. As I picked up my pace again I hear “And it’s a WOMANNNNNNN!!!!!” I smiled. Not gonna lie… that felt AMAZING!!! I was still in shock at the prospect of being the first rider. I know I am a strong cyclist relatively speaking, but this was a whole other level that I was NOT expecting in a million years. I also felt a little conflicted as I didn’t get that “fun” of racing others or chasing or pushing myself that I would get if there were competitors in my sights. I was on a solo bike ride.

The descent was arguably harder than the climb. The grades were steep and the gravel was sketchy and loose at times. The washboard made it so hard on your hands and body. If you rode over it with any speed, it just shook you so hard you could hardly see. The cattle guards made my heart jump because hitting them wrong would surely mean a quick faceplant. The corners were tight so I was constantly on the brakes. I am sure Kevin loved that part. As for me, I was convinced I would get caught by all the riders who were MUCH more confident on this kind of road! By now my back was on fire, and my hands and wrists were killing me from gripping the brakes. I kept telling myself (yes still out loud) slow and steady… no crashing now… thank you Balloo (my loyal Liv Devote Advanced gravel bike) for taking care of me so far, thank you 45mm tires, stay calm, stay upright… we’re almost there.

As the gravel turned to road I was back in my happy place. Descending on road is much more comfortable for me so I just picked up the pace. Still no one.

The finish timer was on the next road, but because it was still quite a steep and fast approach to the finish line itself the organizers neutralized the final 2km. The timing chip WAS the official finish. The finish line was just for photos, fans and family to cheer on the racers at the end.

As I turned onto the final road that contained the finish timer I saw a shadow in my peripheral coming behind me. Omg. Someone was finally coming. Of all the places to get caught… I put my head down and pedalled a little harder. No one was allowed to pass after the timing chip line so I was safe. I crossed the line first. Phew. Me. Hilarious… but again… why NOT me? I must have got a heck of a lead on the climb. I probably could have been a little more showy across the finish line for the photos, but I was still a little stunned to be honest. Lesson number 2… Own it at the finish. You earned it.

After crossing the line, I received my participation medal, chatted with a couple of people and went to put my bike away. I grabbed a quick snack and returned to watch Kevin and my friends finish their races. I caught wind that the results were up so I had a peek. Yup 1st woman overall! Felt pretty proud of myself. The funnier part was that with the timing chip I had missed 1st OVERALL (women AND men) by .05 seconds!!! If I didn’t stop to check if I was lost, or slow down for the deer, I would have won the whole freaking thing!!!!! Lesson three… every second (or in this case .05 of a second) counts.

I watched all my friends cross the line and heard all the stories of all their races. Sounds like everyone had a really nice time on the course which was great. We all regrouped, washed the bikes and toasted our efforts at the beer garden waiting for the podium presentations. Garth came third in his age group in the 90km and Kevin came 4th. I didn’t even think of the presentation until Ann said she saw the trophies and then I realized I was actually getting one!!! I’d never been on a bike race podium… how exciting!!! We showed up at 2 for the presentation and someone told us it would be more like 2:30 as they weren’t ready. We went back to the van to take a load off for a little while longer so not to clog up the area.

We got back to the hall and saw they were MID WAY through! I MISSED my podium presentation. Fuck. That sucked. Ah well… I went up and sheepishly said I missed it. They gave me my adorable little Stone trophy while I hopped up on the podium feeling a little disheveled for a quick photo. I didn’t even get to do my age group win on the podium either. Bah. Lesson number four learned. Don’t leave the site even though someone says they aren’t ready. If it’s important to you, wait there for it. Cool thing is I also got the QOM (Queen of the Mountain) in my age group for the Strava climb segment! Fun!

So now for a race I was hesitant to do, It turned out to be an unforgettable day. I came in with full-on imposter syndrome, and I definitely didn’t really believe in myself. I thought the potential for top 3 or 4 in my age group was reasonable as I have proven that trail running, but never did I think 1st overall women (especially at my age), or second OVERALL, or QOM for that matter. But I showed up, used my strengths, made a plan, executed better than I thought I would. Lesson number five… believe it’s possible. It is.

“Why NOT me?”