Mena gets a Green Dot

Crush or be crushed. The slogan for the race I had insisted on signing up for stood out in bright orange letters on a large banner as my partner Erin and I rolled into Otter Creek Campground, gravel bikes loaded onto the back of our Prius. I had uploaded the 40-mile (although more like 50) GPX file into multiple apps on my phone, as well as the Garmin that a friend graciously let us borrow. Erin insisted that the route was pretty straightforward, but I was skeptical given all of the hype in the 50-page passport about doing your homework and knowing the route by heart. I knew we were supposed to study the route, but I wasn’t sure exactly what that entailed and therefore, I was sure we hadn’t done a thorough enough job.

We checked in at a series of tables near the campground office to receive a timing chip and a waterproof paper with rules and start times, along with a reminder that there would be no rescue crew—just us, our GPS, and fate. In the spirit of the old Mean Girls adage, “if you leave behind one zip tie to save an ounce, you will get lost and you will die.” The campground was already bustling with the sound of gravel and mountain bikes coasting through camp and chatter about race distances, preferred gear, and, “what are you running?”, which I’ve learned means, “what is your tire pressure?”

Everyone retired early, climbing into tents and campers by 10pm to leave a quiet campground in preparation for an early morning. My alarm was set for 6:45am, but I woke at 4:30 as the 175-milers prepped for their start at 5:30. Metal music played at the start tables to mark the occasion for the crushing of comfort zones, and I listened to the rush of bikes pass at 5:30 for the 175+ mile race and 6:30 for the 100+ mile race before climbing out of the tent for the morning. After a breakfast of pre-made soyrizo and egg breakfast burritos and coffee, we suited up into our bibs and jerseys, checked the gear list twice, and rolled on over to the start line at the last minute (as is now my tradition).

To finish The Crusher, riders must hit each of the provided checkpoints, take a selfie to prove that they were there, and ride the entire course. If you do all those things, you earn a green dot next to your name at the start/finish tent. If you bail out or miss a checkpoint, you get a red dot next to your name to indicate that you were #crushed. For the 40-mile course, all of the checkpoints were stacked in the first half of the course. The first checkpoint, a scenic viewpoint at Au Train on the coast of Lake Superior, was preceded by a rocky sandpit to make it extra special. After snapping a selfie and some pics of our bikes, Erin and I continued pedaling to find the second checkpoint. We were already leapfrogging back and forth with some other cyclists because I was having tubeless tire drama™ and we had to stop to fill my tire every 30-ish minutes.

The second checkpoint was a bridge over the Rock River, which was really more of a stream at that point. We stopped for a snack and that precious selfie before taking off to the third checkpoint—a Hiawatha National Forest Kiosk just along the route. At this point, we had hit all the checkpoints, which meant we just had to make it to the finish! I had a feeling that would be easier said than done, however. We were just past the halfway point, and I overheard someone who had completed a practice round of the course declare that we were about to head into “hill hell”. We climbed over some short gravel hills with loose rocks on the other side and continued onto a flat stretch. Just as I tentatively (and regrettably) asked Erin, “do you think those are the hills they were talking about? I didn’t think they were so bad,” we came to a long, intense-looking paved hill. After cranking up it and back onto the gravel road, we encountered a series of sandy, washed out, steep hills. If living in Michigan has improved one of my skills, it is riding through the snow, which comes equally in handy when riding through sand. Erin dubbed me the “sand king”, but I still ended up hiking and pushing my bike up the final steep section of rocks and taking a break to pant at the top. (Shout out to the Wisconsinite who was able to casually smoke a cigarette halfway up, after taking a shot of fireball at the third checkpoint)!

Suddenly, the GPS played a tune, much like the sound you’d hear when you lose a video game. I started to panic—did the GPS die? Would we have to stop and charge? It displayed the message: your virtual partner has finished! Great! We were only two-thirds through the course, and we’d lost to a speedy virtual competitor we didn’t know about! The next segment was a two-track (sort of?) trail through the woods, before we finally made it to the motherland, another segment of smooth gravel. Erin picked up the pace, which meant so did I, and we cruised for the next approximately seven miles, catching back up to some of the people we had previously leap-frogged with. I was watching the Garmin count down as we got closer—ten miles, five miles… until we reached Hovey Lake Road AKA the sand trap AKA “riding through peanut butter” (Erin’s words). I just kept telling myself slow and steady or just keep pedaling, pedaling, pedaling à la Dory from Finding Nemo. It wasn’t a great section for morale, but we made it through without walking and scooted onto the home stretch!

My sense of direction is extremely poor—part of the reason I was nervous at the beginning of a race that didn’t have clear markers—and I started to get anxious that the GPS was wrong (Ha! Like it had taken us over the whole course but would be wrong in the last 200 ft?). “It should be here! The GPS says we are there! But we clearly aren’t!” Luckily, we pushed on just a couple hundred more meters to the entrance to the campground—we had made it! Just before the finish line for the timing chips, I hit the brakes to let Erin catch up, yelling for us to tie like we did at the Dirty 30. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the message and busted past me for the win. I suppose there is a lesson here, something along the lines of “no friends on a powder day”. I found out later that if I had just finished, I would have started as number 45 and finished in 45th place. You can blame Erin for knocking me one spot back! The only downside to riding with a partner!

We got our selfies checked at the finish tent, and I was relieved that I had taken extra pictures of my bike at each checkpoint. I don’t think my selfies would’ve passed the test otherwise! A word to the wise: if you do The Crusher, just make sure to take a bunch of pictures at different angles—even better, make sure you’re in the background of someone else’s selfie. It was so satisfying to watch them stick a green dot next to my name! Proof that I did it! I crushed the crusher! To finish off the experience, they gave us a whiskey shot fittingly named Green Spot. I had no idea how long to expect the course to take us—I had half-joked I expected it to take 10 hours, since the cut-off time was 12 hours. Erin had wanted to finish before the five-hour mark, and we made it across the finish at 4:19. I count it as a big win, although not as big as the youngest woman (or girl) competitor we watched cross the finish at 7 years old!


Given all of the hype and tough-guy attitude around The Crusher series, I’m proud to have finished! I was just hoping to earn my green dot and not die, but I’d say Erin and I really outdid ourselves. We also owe a big shout out to our friends and community, who really stepped up to make this weekend possible! Our roommate took on the task of giving our sick cat his entire pharmacy of meds while we were gone, and a friend cared for the new puppy I absolutely had to bring home the week before the race. We also borrowed the GPS we used, and of course, I wouldn’t have gotten the gear or the chance to do this race without the support of Michigan Gravel Race Series, Matt and Jenny, and all of my amazing sponsors! Not to mention everyone who has followed along, sent encouraging messages, and said “hi” at the event.

One of the best parts about being the gravel scholar has been seeing my improvement over the season. When I started this endeavor, riding 20 miles of flat gravel felt like a big challenge. Now, we can go out for a casual 30- or 40-mile ride after work, ride 50 miles of sand and rocks on race morning, or complete a gravel hills workout with the local cycling club (although my heart rate would prefer not to). Having completed The Crusher, my intimidation factor around the sport has really gone down. I’m definitely not up to taking on the 100- or 175-mile Crusher anytime soon, but I’ve signed up for The Watermoo on August 13th—a 111-miler in Dexter, close to home for those of us who live in Ann Arbor. I’ll also be at The Divide on July 31, as my last short course race for my scholarship season! Cross your fingers for my continued training (and a successful resolution of my tubeless tire drama), and I hope to see you out there!

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