Wednesday, July 30, 2025

Heat, Hecklers, and Heart: My ORAMM 2025 Ride

ORAMM 2025 – 66 Miles | 8,900 ft Climbing | 6:47 hrs

2nd Place – Open Women

This year’s ORAMM was a wild one — record singletrack, mid-90s heat, and my third big race in just two weeks. But what a ride! Here’s how the day unfolded:


Start to First Feed

 

We rolled out fast, and I was in the front group of 30–40 riders. I checked my power — it looked good, and I felt strong. The thought crossed my mind: if I bail now, I’ll skip a long day of suffering. But I felt amazing, and my mind flipped — I was all in. All guys plus Madison made up the front group. Nick  joked that the real race starts when we hit the gravel climb. He was right. That's where we began to separate. 

 


Bernard Trail came early. I’d only ridden it once, just after it opened years ago. Back then, it was smoother. Now it had rocky, exposed features but still held some of its original flow. I didn’t know one of the climb lines — Boris and another rider passed me and cheered me on. At the bottom Pax was cheering too. 

The Kitsuma climb was as usual painful and descent dry, dusty, and beat-up — but fun and techy, and I loved sending it.

Camp Grier to Deep Cove

Next, we entered Camp Grier’s new flowy trails — opposite direction from how I’d ridden them before. Somewhere here I had a train of guys sitting on my wheel. I asked, “Anyone want to pass?” and they said, “Nope.” I figured I was doing something right. At the second feed, I grabbed a bottle — and that’s when the first cramps hit. Only 3 hours in, and the heat was climbing fast.

Deep Cove was brutal. It was fun in the opposite direction last time, but today it felt never-ending — all steep, punchy climbs. We were crawling. I missed one climb and a guy nearby said, “Thank goodness — I needed a break!” It was that kind of suffering.


Camp Rock to Star Gap

After a gravel section, we turned into Camp Rock. I thought we’d just head to Star Gap via Jarrett Creek gravel. I asked Boris, “What the heck is this?” and he said, “This is hell.” He wasn’t lying — more climbing. It dragged on and when I finally popped out on gravel, no one from our group was around. I was alone and focused on reaching Star Gap and the next feed.

I started climbing and was okay at first, but then I ran out of water. On one narrow switchback I lost balance and fell back — bike pinned my legs. When I stood, both calves locked up in spasms. I had to wait, then reset my chain, and a rider from our earlier group passed me. But I managed to pass him back quickly. Still, I was overheating and seriously thirsty.







Heckler Section + Creek Redemption

Finally, I reached the top and the descent began. When I hit the Heckler section, I didn’t know the new lines — hadn’t ridden it in two years. I dropped in blind. My line was gone, and I ended up doing what felt like a track stand on the rocks. I dropped an F-bomb, the hecklers laughed, and I somehow managed to recover without crashing. People were cheering — and laughing with me.

Right after the rocky mess, I crossed the creek. I couldn’t resist — I dropped my bike and flopped belly-first into the water like a tadpole. It felt like heaven. Only lasted a few seconds, but it was everything.

Pax handed me cold bottles — plain cold water never tasted so good. I thought I was saved, but then my legs locked up again. Took a minute to get going through the spasms. We were now climbing Mills River Road, repeating Bernard and Kitsuma.


Final Miles

I rode Bernard alone. The paved climb back to Kitsuma was long and lonely. Over 7,000 feet of climbing and six hours in, my mind wanted to be done — a river finish would’ve been great. But instead, I still had to climb Kitsuma.

Even though I was cooked, Kitsuma’s descent still brought fun. I rolled toward the finish on the road, through the Old Fort. It was the longest ORAMM yet — and one of the most brutal.

Crossing the finish, I was so grateful to place 2nd in a super strong Open Women’s field. I knew we all suffered equally, and many friends had dropped out.



But seeing Pax and my friends, eating from @kchn_kitchen, and finally getting that long creek soak — those moments made it all worth it.


Reflections

I passed so many racers on the side: one said, “I’m just tired,” and I thought — me too. Another was cramping — me too. Another said they ran out of water — same. We all suffered. That’s bike racing. Your body screams to stop, but your mind overrides. That’s what I love most about endurance racing — it shows you strength you didn’t know you had. And it changes you in every part of life.










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