I had an itch to do one more gravel race this season. Then the Uncle John’s Gravel Race in St John’s, Michigan, kept coming up in my Facebook feed. It must have been the gravel god’s way of saying, “Sheri, this is the race you need to ride.” The date of the race coincided with our plans in nearby Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was destiny nudging me to sign up.
The race director, Dan Frazier, runs other gravel races in the area, including Melting Man and Dirty Donut. I raced Dirty Donut in 2023 and 2024, but had to skip this year because it was right after Unbound Gravel. Dan always puts on a well-organized, challenging, safe, family-friendly, and fun event. Can’t ask for a better combination.
Pre-Race Prep (or Lack Thereof)
I didn’t do any special preparations for this race, just long rides on my gravel bike to simulate the 57-mile distance. I planned to race alone and not stay in a pack to draft. Part of me wanted to see what I was capable of doing on my own, and another part wasn’t interested in drafting on gravel mixed in with a group of riders I didn’t know.
The Morning of Truth
The morning of the race was brisk, 43 degrees F, full sunshine, and breezy. The forecast called for the winds to be less than the previous two days, which were 20-30 mph and higher gusts. I kept second-guessing my kit choice, not wanting to freeze the first hour or two until the temperatures went above 55 degrees. But I knew I’d be working hard on my Salsa Cutthroat with 45 knobby tires (same as I used on Unbound), not the lightest racing bike, but reliable and soooo comfortable to ride.
Since it was my first time riding the course, I lined up in the start chute at the back of the 17-18 mph group. With 800 people signed up for the race, including two shorter courses – 16 and 28 miles. I thought to myself, this start line is a piece of cake after dealing with 1700 aggressive racers at Unbound Gravel.
After the national anthem, Dan hopped on his jeep and led the swarm of riders on a neutral start out on a serpentine downhill at 18 mph. Everyone behaved with no close calls. Relying on perceived exertion (PE), I left the Garmin Edge on the course screen, and I quickly settled into a pace I could hold for 57 miles.
Finding My Pack
About eight miles in, I started to hear some chatter and coasting behind me. It was the first time I realized I was pulling a group of riders. It was then that I decided to see if it were a pack I’d be comfortable riding with for a while. I signaled that I was pulling off, and three riders, two men and a woman, moved up. I settled in on the back and evaluated their riding skills before drafting. They all seemed like good, predictable riders, so I grabbed a wheel. The pace quickened, and we quickly caught a woman who had passed me earlier. As we went by, she jumped on and joined the group.
As the original members started rotating off the front, I just hung out in the back, not wanting to jump in and assert myself. I then found out that no one knew each other, and we had all initially been riding solo.
We shared pulls, but everyone was pulling at different speeds. Sometimes my heart was pounding out of my chest, and at other times I could sit up and coast. However, I knew staying with the group was my best plan for battling the winds, which were increasing in intensity. I was also hoping for a possible podium in my age group.
At around mile 15, one of the women finished a pull, was about to drift to the back, but went around a corner too fast. She went sliding across the road right in front of me, but I was able to avoid hitting her. The group slowed down enough to make sure she was ok before continuing. I had to shake off seeing someone crash, but I did take the corners more cautiously.
The pace stayed high, and the crosswinds were picking up. I was able to stay on top of my nutrition with a USWE hydration pack loaded with Tailwind High Carb Mix and figs in my feedbag. Unfortunately, the SaltStick FastChews were not accessible, which was poor planning on my part.
I’m not sure which mile marker two women caught up to the group. They said they were chasing my taillight for a couple of miles. They sat at the back catching their breath before one of them joined in the rotation while the other just sat in the draft.
The Winds of Change
Around mile 40, the winds continued to build, but we were still averaging over 17 mph. I took a long pull into the wind, and then we hit a hill. It was just steep enough to shatter our tired band of riders, with three getting spit off the back. Yours truly was one of them. I was spent from pulling and tried hard to catch the three riders, but they were just out of reach. There I was, alone, battling Gale, who was working overtime with her evil sister Windy.
Determined to finish strong, I dug deep and just pedaled as hard as I could, passing folks who looked battered from the wind. As I’m pedaling along, an ambulance passes me on its way to scoop up a rider who went down hard. I found out later when I passed some of his buddies that they were in a huge pack and someone hit mud, went down hard, taking half the group down with him. Their buddy suffered a dislocated shoulder and/or broken collarbone.
After passing the crash site, I saw Melanie in the distance, one of the women from our group. She got dropped and was driving the struggle bus. I thought to myself, I could pass her and finish the race by myself, or ask her if she wanted to work together and share pulls. I didn’t have to ask her twice. She jumped on my wheel and took respite from the wind, just enough to regain her strength. We swapped pulls about every half mile until around mile 52, where we hit some hills.
Of course, the evil route creators had to put hills in at the end of the race. Nothing crazy steep or long, but enough to apply some hurt to already fatigued legs. I ended up dropping Melanie on the last hill, and then it was downhill from there to the finish line. That’s when I decided she’d be ok and I took off.
Winding through corn fields and apple orchards for the final leg of the race, and then a straight shot to the finish line. In a surprising twist, Melanie caught up and passed me shortly before the finish line. We grabbed our finisher’s medals and congratulated each other on the race.
After chatting and exchanging contact info for Strava, I asked her age – 42 years old. I laughed and revealed I was 20 years her senior. In fact, I was the oldest woman racing the 57-mile course, and only afterwards did I learn that I had been riding all day with several 40-year-old women.
Melanie said the sweetest thing that truly touched my heart, “I want to be like you when I grow up.” When I took the podium for 1st place AG, the crowd gave me a hearty round of applause. It’s awesome to show the “younger generation” that age is simply a number.
Will I do this race again? It was a resounding yes, the minute I crossed the finish line.
Lessons Learned this Season
This race wrapped up a successful gravel season for me, thanks to the training from Unbound Gravel. I learned to be confident racing alone, improved my nutrition and hydration game, and discovered that age is just a number.
Looking Ahead
At the beginning of the year, I set several goals for myself. Having something to strive for gives me direction, motivation, and a sense of purpose. It’s September, and I’m checking them off one by one. There are times to push your limits physically and mentally. And times to slow down and be in the moment.
I’m looking forward to slowing down on my upcoming KATY Trail bikepacking trip at the beginning of October. Stay tuned for tales from the trail.
Sunflowers and Pedals 