This is a positive story, I promise.

I’ve never been one to shy away from trying new things. Physical, mental, intellectual — very few experiences things fall into my “No” category.* So last summer when a neighbor invited me to sign up for a bike race hosted by her mountain biking group, it didn’t take much to convince me.

Little did I know at the time how much that race would change my life.

I’d ridden my bike since I was a kid, mainly to get from point A to B, and for exercise in my late forties, but I never considered myself a biker. That changed with my first Skirts in the Dirt race. The six-mile course is mostly technical, rooty single-track trails, mixed with flowy fields, and while it was hard, I was immediately obsessed.

I needed more of this adrenaline-fueled chaos, so I followed my neighbor to her group’s weekly all-female ride, and quickly became a jersey-wearing member of the Lakeshore Mountain Biking Sisters. This group of women is encouraging, inspiring, patient, daring, patient and SO welcoming. Riding together evokes the feelings of freedom and endless afternoons that I felt when riding bikes as a kid.

And this group does a lot of races.

Hey, I’m a Mountain Bike Racer

This year I’ve competed in Barry-Roubaix, Skirts in the Dirt, Lord of the Springs, and as of this past Saturday, the Iceman Cometh. (In addition to 2 sprint triathlons and a 5k!) It took convincing to sign up for the 30-ish mile race the second week in November that’s NAMED for bad weather, but after I rode the 45-mile Dragon in one day last spring, my husband and I put ourselves on the Iceman waitlist.

We were over 1000 people deep on the list, but made the cut a month before the race!

(This is a good time to mention that the LMBS ride year-round, which means riding in snow. Quite a few trails only allow fat tire bikes when the trails are groomed and I had some serious FOMO last winter since I only had a regular mountain bike. My goal for the summer was to find a fat bike so I could play in the snow with my friends, and we found a used XS Salsa with 4.8” tires in August!)

Knowing that the Iceman runs snow or shine, I decided to register on my fatty. It’s typically a heavier bike and slower because of the width of the tires, but it handles sand and snow like a dream.

My usual rides vary from 8–12 miles, but the month before the race I bumped them to 15–20 miles several times a week, switching between gravel roads and single-track. A kind soul posted a video of them riding the Iceman course, and watching that eased most of my anxiety. The single-track looked easier than some of the trails we ride on Tuesdays, and 2-track and gravel roads are non-issues for me.

I could do this.

The course ends with a handful of MONSTER hills — I won’t get into how sadistic it is to put those in the last 2 miles of what turned out to be a 32-mile race — but with over 5000 participants, my goal was just to finish. And with only 20 women in the fat bike category, to not be last.

The Iceman Cometh!

The course is point-to-point, which means the course doesn’t loop back to the start. Shuttles carried us in 30-degree weather to the Kalkaska airport, where we tried to stay warm until our wave (36 of 48) took off. The wind whipped across the open fields, but once we got into the trees, I stopped worrying about the weather and focused on passing other riders.

Over the 30-mile course, I conquered miles of single-track, two-track, and a 20-minute “log jam” at the 10-mile mark that brought over 1000 racers to a complete stop — all of which I was prepared for. What I didn’t expect was how many people would be along the course.

Among the most surprising things I saw were a group Jeeps in the middle of the woods honking their horns, women dressed in hot pink and one of them playing a full drum set, an 8-foot-tall inflatable pug high-fiving racers, and lots of “Go fat girl!”

“Fat Girl!”

The first time someone shouted, “Go fat girl!” as I passed, it took me a moment to realize they meant me.

I’ve been in enough races to know that women spectators get excited for women racers, especially if you’re surrounded by men when you pass. In biking, not many people race fat tires, so fatties tend to draw attention as well. Combine those in a 5’1” silver-haired woman and People. Get. Excited.

By the time I reached the chute — the last mile or so of trail flanked by snow fencing and sponsor banners — I’d heard “Fat girl!” more than a dozen times.

As I dug deep to keep pushing pushing pushing up Icebreaker — the first @#$%^ hill in the chute — chants of “Fat girl!” kept me going. I was determined to make it to the top without touching dirt, as they say, and I made it!

The End

This was it. The final stretch.

My legs were jelly, my back thrashed from racing down bumpy trails at 20mph with no shocks, but hearing that crowd gave me a much needed boost.

The next hills were even more difficult, so I ended up walking them, but at that point I didn’t care. I’d made it to the end.

I’ve never experienced anything like the Iceman finish. I heard the crowd before reaching the chute, but seeing them was unreal. Hundreds of people screaming and cheering, handing out beers and shots and dollar bills (my husband even snagged one), some even giving riders a push up the massive hills that mark the end of Iceman.

Someone shouted my name, and as I turned to smile, I veered toward the opposite side and almost rode straight into another group of cheering friends.

(I was very wobbly at this point.)

Seeing their excited faces and hearing them shout my name was the perfect way to finish my 3.5 hour ride!

Race Notes

This was my first race that I planned to fuel (eat) while riding, so I shoveled granola bites and peanut M&Ms into my face when we slowed on single track. What I didn’t anticipate was without shocks, I’d be bouncing A LOT and M&Ms make a lot of noise. They rattled the entire way — people definitely knew I was coming!

I’ve become known among my friends for clipping trees with my handlebars, but only clipped one — plus one guy who got forced into me — but stayed upright.

My only “crash” was at the top of a narrow, steep hill that had been churned up from others falling before me. But instead of falling in the dirt like a normal rider, I tipped over into the snow fence at the top of the hill. I was still on my feet but my bike had me pinned. A course volunteer kindly untangled me and when I got to the bottom of the hill, spotted a photographer. “I hope you got that,” I said, and he nodded with a smile.

(I haven’t found the pic yet.)

Will I Do Iceman Again?

ABSOLUTELY. The mountain biking community is amazing and I’m forever grateful I found them.

*I refuse to go bungee jumping. Skydiving’s also on the list, but I briefly considered it last summer.

Links

Iceman Cometh – iceman.com
Skirts in the Dirt – skirtsinthedirt.com
Lord of the Springs – lordofthesprings.com
Barry Roubaix – barry-roubaix.com
The Dragon Trail – thedragon.us
Lakeshore Mountain Biking Sisters – facebook.com/LMBSWomensMTB