Every spring, I put The Appalachian Journey on my calendar as the lone gravel event of the year. Put on by some dear friends, it is a celebration of community, togetherness, and Floyd County gravel. Somewhat uniquely, it is also a partner event.

In the past, I’ve always ridden The Appalachian Journey as a fun meander through gorgeous Appalachian gravel roads with friends, complete with long stops at the aid stations and plenty of time for conversation. This year, however, my partner and I were well-matched both in terms of speed and strength, but also in competitiveness, so when he asked if I thought we had a shot at the podium, I knew it was time to flip the script.

I’ve done plenty of races, but this was my first time racing a pairs event, and it was SO. MUCH. FUN. I could see how it could also be incredibly frustrating, but I felt like Ethan and I were able to communicate well, draw on each other’s strengths (mostly his, as I just hung on all day), and have fun with it. Having never ridden gravel bikes together, the first few miles were an experiment in finding pace (and realizing that Ethan was most definitely the stronger rider), but after settling in, we found a rhythm where I led up each climb (so as not to get dropped), then let Ethan lead on the descents, before slingshotting me into the next climb. I felt confident following his lines on every descent, having mountain biked together enough to know his handling skills far exceed mine, and that he would pick good lines.

Strategically, we pushed it hard the first 10 miles or so, establishing our position near the front, then settled into a steady pace. Because I was racing Pisgah Stage Race the very next week, I was a little concerned about going too hard, so did keep one eye on my heart rate for the majority of the day in order to somewhat meter my effort. At various points, I had to ask Ethan to back it off “ten watts” in order to be able to hold his wheel, but the confidence in being able to ask that, knowing he wouldn’t be frustrated or upset because I was “slow,” I think is part of what made racing as a team such a cool experience. Throughout the day, we traded places back and forth with another co-ed duo team, often passing them on descents, only to slide back again on the next climb.

With about 15 miles to go, we rolled through the final aid station after confirming we both had enough water left to get us to the finish. As we did so, we realized that the team we had been yo-yo-ing with all day were stopped at the aid station filling bottles. One glance at each other was enough: the race was on. I slipped in behind Ethan, taking advantage of his strength to pull us towards the finish. When the other team eventually caught us, we let them pick the pace, all while looking at the elevation profile of the remaining miles to to plan our final attack. In the end, we chose to attack on the second to last descent, hoping I could maintain enough momentum up the final two climbs to hold the other team off.

We finished in second place co-ed duo, which also meant we were fourth place overall for the Grand Journey (70 mile) distance.

Something about crossing the finish line side-by-side with a partner that you’ve successfully raced with is just cool. I’ll still say I’m not a gravel racer, but I just might line up to race The Appalachian Journey again if I can find a partner willing to laugh, joke, and pull me for 70 miles!