This was my first time racing in Uwharrie National Forest, and wow—what an introduction! The entire week had been brutally cold, and race day was no exception, with temperatures hovering at 30°F. Lined up in a massive 180-rider start, bundled in plenty of layers, I could feel my breath turning to weird stinging coldness as my lungs filled with crisp air.
The race kicked off fast, the leaf covered gravel road immediately sending us scrambling for position. With one female rider ahead of me, I kept pushing, knowing that the real race would begin once we hit the singletrack. Only 1.5 miles of gravel later, just before we dove into the technical Keyauwee Trail, I made my move and surged ahead.
This was the kind of trail I enjoy—bumpy, rocky, and raw, with small rock gardens, slick river crossings, and two massive rock faces covered in moisture and ice. Every line choice mattered. At one point, I glanced back to see that Sarah, who I had passed, had fallen behind—but Annie was right there, just a switchback away. She was charging hard, and before I knew it, she was on my wheel, eager to push the pace even more.
Despite the intensity, we still managed to exchange a few words in between laying down some serious watts! Annie chased me around with this awesome smile on her face! I loved it! When we hit a gravel stretch, she made her move, surging past me into the next trail—Wood Run. This trail was a whole different beast. It started out loose and pebbly, but then transformed into a peanut-buttery, tire-sucking mess. I had ridden it earlier when the ground was frozen, but now? It was a completely different animal, and I had no idea just how much worse it would get on lap two.
Somewhere in the middle of Wood Run, Annie had a bottle cage issue, giving me an opportunity to pass her back. I blasted through the feed zone, pushing into another fast, unfamiliar trail that led me straight into lap two—this time, with far fewer riders around.
With less traffic, I really started to enjoy myself. The river crossings, the rock gardens, the punchy climbs—everything just flowed. I caught myself hooting, and sending “yuppies” into the air, the way I always do when I’m truly in my element. My bike, now thoroughly caked in mud, tore through the slippery terrain, spraying chunks of earth into the air.
But I wasn’t alone. I knew I was being chased, and I still had to hold my lead. When I hit Wood Run again, it had turned into a full-blown mudslide. The switchbacks were insanely slick, and holding a line was nearly impossible. I had a rider right behind me, both of us making all kinds of ridiculous noises as we desperately tried to keep our tires down. It was hilarious and chaotic—the kind of racing that makes you laugh through the suffering.
Somewhere near the top of the climb, I spotted a beautiful plateau covered in blooming daffodils—a brief, surreal moment of peace before plunging back into the slippery madness. My bike was now so coated in mud that chunks were literally flying off into my face. The rider behind me shouted, “You’re a beast!”, and we both cracked up as we fought our way out of the muck.
Still holding a solid lead, I hit the final stretch, pushing hard but also just soaking in the moment—the challenge, the speed, the camaraderie, the absolute joy of racing bikes.
The day had been a battle—not just against my competitors but against the elements, the terrain, and even my own constantly changing body temperature. Frozen at the start, sweating on the climbs, chilled in the shade—I had never raced in so many layers, but for some reason, I just wanted to feel cozy out there. And cozy I was.
In the end, I finished in 2 hours and 33 minutes and took the win! 🎉
Next week, a new challenge awaits. And I can’t wait.
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