OVERLAND: CAROLINE RECAPS BWR
OVERLAND: CAROLINE RECAPS BWR
Words: Caroline Dezendorf | Photos: Nicholas Kupiak
Shock.
That’s the word that comes to mind when I think about Belgian Waffle Ride, San Diego. The event far exceeded my expectations in terms of how challenging (but fun) the course would be and how much of the day felt about survival. Maybe it was the energy of the other competitors or the encouragement of strangers along the way, but it was a race were I truly dug deep and came away in shock of what I was capable of achieving.
On Saturday, I unknowingly crossed the line in 5th place. The announcer said I was unofficially 6th but I was too busy being concerned with getting medical attention for heat stroke than I was with results.
I gave everything I had during that race. I started 15 rows back, way behind the majority of the pro women, but I told myself it didn’t matter as it was going to be a long day in the saddle. I kept my cool and stuck to my plan - stay calm, ride within your strengths, and eat lots of food.
As we crested the first climb, I became nervous. The next sector was a fast and winding road descent - not my strength after being hit by a car last year. But then [Overland teammate] Amity flew around me yelling for me to "GO!" And so I chased. I followed her as best as I could and erased the fear from my mind. We caught a large group and rode together for a while. It was calming to have a friend nearby.
Fast forward a lot of miles and a small mechanical later, and I was headed towards a key sector in the race: a steep, loose, single track climb. My kind of terrain. As I clawed my way up Raptor Ridge, I started passing more women. I took this as a good sign and settled into my groove. I started looking at racers ahead as carrots (maybe more like desperately needed candy) to catch and made a goal for myself of calmly chasing them down.
Eventually, I found a good group to work with as we headed out east. My Cervelo Caledonia with Easton EC90 AX wheels and Schwalbe G One Speeds handled the mixed terrain exceptionally and I was looking forward to the most technical sector on course: Pamo Truck Trail. As I started down the rugged descent, I passed another girl, then another. I started counting. Realizing of all the race favorites, only 3 were ahead of me.
I was in disbelief. Had I really worked my way into top 5? Could I really get on the podium? My new game plan became “stay calm and don’t mess up”. Meanwhile, the temperature on the tarmac was increasing and my body started to implode. Without having a support crew, I relied on neutral bottle feeds, which I so appreciated but also meant I stupidly got behind on electrolytes. At one point, I was so desperate for salt, that I took a packet of LMNT and poured it into my mouth like it was candy. Questionable tactics but it kept me from cramping… at least for the moment.
For the last 50 miles of the race, I was mainly alone. Small groups would form but nothing substantial. I couldn’t let up my pace and kept pushing on. I knew my competition was close behind. And I also knew Tiffany Cromwell was only a minute up the road in 3rd position. I began my pursuit. Slowly but steadily, I started seeing her in the distance. With 20 miles to go, I went all in. I chased, up hill into a headwind. I could see the gap narrowing. With 15 miles to go, I closed the gap and tried to break away.
Over the next dirt climb, Questhaven, I tried to shake her, but I couldn’t do much. We rode together in silence. Both suffering in our own ways. Both hoping the other was suffering more. And as hard as I tried to put down power, my legs were gone. I was in pure fight or flight mode as we worked out way up towards Dubble Peak- only to be caught by Sarah Max. I gave everything I could to stay with them over the top. It just wasn’t enough.
I chased again. Hoping I could make up time on the final dirt descent. But they were gone. When I crossed the finish line, I was destroyed but happy. After 8 hours of racing over 137 miles, I had missed out on 3rd by less than a minute. I was proud of my race.
But why did the announcer say I was unofficially 6th? I think I surprised more than just myself. After a year of no racing in 2020, spending all last summer injured and then healing, I haven't had many (if any) big results in gravel. I was in disbelief that I managed a wide-angle podium at BWR (and Queen of the Sprint winner). Dare I say those following the women’s race were in shock too?
I didn’t have time checks on course, or people out at aid stations supporting me. I didn’t have anyone telling me my position or media covering the race. I went the entire day unnoticed. Maybe that's how managed to achieve more than I thought I was capable of achieving. Not just in my result, but in the confidence I had on course, and the pure enjoyment I had being part of this brutal and beautiful event.
Words: Caroline Dezendorf | Photos: Nicholas Kupiak
Shock.
That’s the word that comes to mind when I think about Belgian Waffle Ride, San Diego. The event far exceeded my expectations in terms of how challenging (but fun) the course would be and how much of the day felt about survival. Maybe it was the energy of the other competitors or the encouragement of strangers along the way, but it was a race were I truly dug deep and came away in shock of what I was capable of achieving.
On Saturday, I unknowingly crossed the line in 5th place. The announcer said I was unofficially 6th but I was too busy being concerned with getting medical attention for heat stroke than I was with results.
I gave everything I had during that race. I started 15 rows back, way behind the majority of the pro women, but I told myself it didn’t matter as it was going to be a long day in the saddle. I kept my cool and stuck to my plan - stay calm, ride within your strengths, and eat lots of food.
As we crested the first climb, I became nervous. The next sector was a fast and winding road descent - not my strength after being hit by a car last year. But then [Overland teammate] Amity flew around me yelling for me to "GO!" And so I chased. I followed her as best as I could and erased the fear from my mind. We caught a large group and rode together for a while. It was calming to have a friend nearby.
Fast forward a lot of miles and a small mechanical later, and I was headed towards a key sector in the race: a steep, loose, single track climb. My kind of terrain. As I clawed my way up Raptor Ridge, I started passing more women. I took this as a good sign and settled into my groove. I started looking at racers ahead as carrots (maybe more like desperately needed candy) to catch and made a goal for myself of calmly chasing them down.
Eventually, I found a good group to work with as we headed out east. My Cervelo Caledonia with Easton EC90 AX wheels and Schwalbe G One Speeds handled the mixed terrain exceptionally and I was looking forward to the most technical sector on course: Pamo Truck Trail. As I started down the rugged descent, I passed another girl, then another. I started counting. Realizing of all the race favorites, only 3 were ahead of me.
I was in disbelief. Had I really worked my way into top 5? Could I really get on the podium? My new game plan became “stay calm and don’t mess up”. Meanwhile, the temperature on the tarmac was increasing and my body started to implode. Without having a support crew, I relied on neutral bottle feeds, which I so appreciated but also meant I stupidly got behind on electrolytes. At one point, I was so desperate for salt, that I took a packet of LMNT and poured it into my mouth like it was candy. Questionable tactics but it kept me from cramping… at least for the moment.
For the last 50 miles of the race, I was mainly alone. Small groups would form but nothing substantial. I couldn’t let up my pace and kept pushing on. I knew my competition was close behind. And I also knew Tiffany Cromwell was only a minute up the road in 3rd position. I began my pursuit. Slowly but steadily, I started seeing her in the distance. With 20 miles to go, I went all in. I chased, up hill into a headwind. I could see the gap narrowing. With 15 miles to go, I closed the gap and tried to break away.
Over the next dirt climb, Questhaven, I tried to shake her, but I couldn’t do much. We rode together in silence. Both suffering in our own ways. Both hoping the other was suffering more. And as hard as I tried to put down power, my legs were gone. I was in pure fight or flight mode as we worked out way up towards Dubble Peak- only to be caught by Sarah Max. I gave everything I could to stay with them over the top. It just wasn’t enough.
I chased again. Hoping I could make up time on the final dirt descent. But they were gone. When I crossed the finish line, I was destroyed but happy. After 8 hours of racing over 137 miles, I had missed out on 3rd by less than a minute. I was proud of my race.
But why did the announcer say I was unofficially 6th? I think I surprised more than just myself. After a year of no racing in 2020, spending all last summer injured and then healing, I haven't had many (if any) big results in gravel. I was in disbelief that I managed a wide-angle podium at BWR (and Queen of the Sprint winner). Dare I say those following the women’s race were in shock too?
I didn’t have time checks on course, or people out at aid stations supporting me. I didn’t have anyone telling me my position or media covering the race. I went the entire day unnoticed. Maybe that's how managed to achieve more than I thought I was capable of achieving. Not just in my result, but in the confidence I had on course, and the pure enjoyment I had being part of this brutal and beautiful event.