Three weeks before the start of Trans New England, all of my best laid plans blew up. The UCI changed the date of the XCM World Championship from the previously published Saturday, September 21st to Sunday, September 22nd–a minor change, unless, of course, you were planning to drive from West Virginia to New Hampshire for the start of a five-day enduro stage race from September 23-27. In my mind, not going to Trans New England was never an option: I immediately launched into strategy mode. How far was the drive? How many hours did I have between my projected finish time and the start time? Did I have any friends who might be interested in spending a week in Vermont? In the end, it was an 11.5 hour drive and I expected to have approximately 13 hours between finishing the race at Snowshoe and the start of the race in New Hampshire (with a built-in buffer to be able to shower and grab food)–and no one could manage to get off work to split the drive. In the end, due to my shoulder also blowing up (in at least as epic proportions as my plans), it was probably for the best. Going into the race at Snowshoe, I resolved that I would need to take it one day (and one stage) at a time. First, the shoulder needed to get through Snowshoe. Then I could worry about Trans New England. But I prepared as if I would be going to New England…and go, I did.

Surprisingly, the shoulder held up through the XCM World Championship race, which I also ended up finishing earlier than expected (due to a newly-implemented time cutoff; see my Worlds Race Recap for more on that), so I took a quick shower, grabbed my pre-made rice bowl, hopped in the car, and started driving. The drive went better than expected, with the challenge of eating post-race, and the caffeine high of my race fuel, plus some intriguing audio books keeping me awake until I rolled into Arrowhead Recreation Center in New Hampshire at around 3 a.m. I crawled in the back of my car, set my alarm for just before breakfast, and fell asleep.

Day 1: Arrowhead Recreation Center, Claremont, NH

8 stages
12.4 mi
3727 ft
2nd place

When we got to the top of stage one, the sleep deprivation reared its head in the form of nearly crippling anxiety about my ability to ride these stages. It probably didn’t help that I was on a bike I’d never ridden before, that my shoulder was already sore and tired from the day before, and that, other than racing at Snowshoe, I hadn’t been on a mountain bike in over a week. And it was a blind enduro race, meaning I had no concept of the technicality of the trails I was about to race.

I came into the week knowing (and repeating out loud to myself frequently as a reminder) that I could not really race the week; my goal was just to ride each stage as smoothly as possible and see if there was any possibility my shoulder would survive the week. Still, its hard to turn off that competitive drive that is so ingrained in me.

Stage 1 got in my head a bit, with two or three steep rock rolls and chutes that I came up on, was startled by, and chose to walk. But each time, I recognized that “I probably could have ridden that,” and my confidence grew. By the afternoon, I was riding much more confidently, and though I still opted for B-lines rather than sending it off of drops or jumps due to the potential consequences of dislocating my shoulder mid-air, I was feeling good. And then it was time for the final stage of the day: the start of the stage was an intimidating roll-in, that, though frightened, I managed to ride–but then quickly rolled up to what appeared to be a steep wall, or maybe several large drops. It was blind enough that it was impossible to tell from the top if I’d be able to roll the entire thing, and instinct told me to grab my brakes. No one ever said instincts would save you. In fact, in this case, they were my undoing. Now stopped at the top of this steep slab/roll/wall, I didn’t have much option except to try walking, which proved to be more sketchy than riding. I slipped, my bike came crashing down on my bad shoulder, and yet, despite being completely terrified, I managed to walk away unscathed–and with the knowledge that I should have just ridden it.

We finished up the day, and despite being pretty shaken from my fall, I was stoked that my shoulder had survived the day. I was, however, absolutely exhausted, and so chose to leave a bit early for our next destination in hopes of taking a short nap before dinner.

Day 2: Woodstock, VT

6 stages
24.2 mi
3,802 ft
2nd Place

The day started off with a roll through the idyllic scenes of Woodstock, VT, complete with the requisite covered bridge. From there, we climbed up into the Mt. Peg trails, where we raced 4 stages. It was dusty, loose, and oh, so good! Despite my legs feeling more fatigue than the previous day, my handling skills and confidence were much higher, and I really enjoyed each of the stages before lunch.

In the afternoon, we rolled back to Saskedena Six, where we knocked out another two stages. Fast and dry, the day ended on a high note as all of the ladies racing entered stage 6 in a “lady train” and ripped down the mountain in close succession. Too, I was feeling a bit more human by the end of the second day, and started to get to know my fellow racers a bit more: riders from all over New England, Tennessee, Washington State, Quebec, West Virginia, California, and more.

Day 3: Richmond & Bolton, VT

5 stages
16.1 mi
3,600 ft
2nd Place

On Day 3, we woke to a slow drizzle and the prospect of wet trails. For about a year now, I’ve had a sort of mantra when it comes to racing in the wet: “If I can race Snowshoe (or, for that matter, Windrock) in the wet, I can ride anywhere.” Whether its true or not is still TBD (there are lots of places left to ride), but it does give me a bit of a mood boost at the start of a wet day of racing. Today’s racing was split into two segments, the first at Chamberlain Hill in Richmond, VT. These stages felt a lot like Pisgah Forest area riding to me, and my confidence showed: I nabbed my first stage win thanks to being so comfortable with wet roots and bench cut trails.

The second half of Day 3 was at Bolton Resort, and those trails were much chunkier–causing me to revert back to walking sections of each stage. After my experience at the Snowshoe enduro, I knew that getting bounced around on wet, chunky rocks was a sure way to shorten the lifespan of my shoulder–so I hopped off and ran on the chunkiest bits, then hopped back on and rode (carefully) down the remainder of each stage. It wasn’t fast, but it worked–three days into Trans New England (and four days of racing in a row), and my shoulder was still hanging in there (literally)!

At Bolton, we were also treated to access to a hot tub and sauna, which was perfect for warming back up after a wet day of riding!

Day 4: Stowe, VT

4 stages
7.3 mi.
2,500 ft.
3rd place

The drizzle of the previous day had turned into a proper downpour, which caused the original plans for Day 4 to be shortened to just four stages. But that was enough to be entirely soaked–and cold enough to be grateful the day was over. Despite the rain, the trails we rode were absolutely incredible. Wet roots, some mud, and epic rock formations defined the day–and it was epic fun. When we got back to the cars, there were burritos waiting for us, and we were off to Maine for the last day–but not without a maple creamy stop on the way!

Day 5: Mt. Abrams, ME

4 stages (plus a party lap!)
10.5 mi
2,400 ft.
4th place

We awoke to sunshine and the prospect of a bluebird day on the mountain! As I was ready-ing my bike for the day, I realized that the enduro bike I had been riding all week no longer had any front brake pads–and that the spare brake pads I had with me would not fit. I tried cramming one of the fresh pairs of pads in there, but my best efforts couldn’t “cram it in the cram-hole” well enough to allow the wheel to spin, so I pivoted. My Rocky Mountain Element (my xc bike) was still on the car from racing in West Virginia: all it took was some fresh AXS batteries, some much-needed chain lube from being in the rain all week, and a bit of air in the tires and she was ready to rip. Never mind the fact that a Maxxis Rekon Race is not one’s typical choice for an enduro tire…she’d send.

And send we did. The first stage and consequent party lap was on a blue flow trail, which provided plenty of opportunities for whipping through berms and sending small tabletops. Then we headed to the top of the mountain for some more chunky trails–each of which was incredibly fun. There were a few moments where I hesitated, not sure my XC tires would provide the traction (or braking traction) that I needed, but for the most part, I just sent it–and had a great time!

The week finished up with a bonfire, podiums (I ended up 2nd place female for the week!), and lots of relishing the new friendships that we had made throughout the week of racing. In the end, I didn’t regret not being able to really “race”–I had too much fun doing “party laps” all week with new friends! Trans New England was a great introduction to blind enduro racing, an incredible celebration of east coast riding, and definitely got me excited to do more of this style of racing and riding (whether that means more enduro stage races, or just more time riding up in New England…or both!).

Put it on your calendar for next year, friends!