Red Granite Grinder 85-mile Race Report - Grinding Through A Fall Hallmark Movie Set
WAUSAU - About six months ago, I bought a mountain bike to get into expedition-length adventure racing. Before this purchase, I had biked occasionally but only on roads and bike paths with a commuter-type bike. I needed a way to improve bike endurance without the technicality of mountain biking interfering, which is how I found the IRONBULL Red Granite Grinder. Knowing I needed to be faster to complete 144 miles in 12 hours, I signed up for the 85 mile race as my introduction to gravel racing. The furthest I had traveled on my bike in one go was about 35 miles; what's another 50?
Atop Rib Mountain, the fog preserved the previous night’s snow on the autumn leaves, creating a magical scene. Photo credit: Mark Holbrook
On Thursday night, in a small town in Washington, I learned that bike races start long before the gun goes off. Hours before my flight to Wausau, I began to completely disassemble my bike to fit it into a box for the airplane. But, of course, I had neither the knowledge nor the correct tools. This led to last-minute hardware store trips and panic packing down to the minute before leaving for the airport. Luckily everything arrived safely, and the lovely folks at Rib Mountain Cycles helped to put Humpty Dumpty back together again in time for the race.
Shades of yellows, reds and whites painted a picturesque backdrop .Photo credit: Coates Photography
The race began with a mass start before sunrise on the 400 Block in downtown Wausau. As this was my second ride with clips, I went to the back of the line to avoid embarrassment if I had trouble clipping in. Once we got rolling, the energy turned electric. The crowd cheered us along under the flashing lights of the police escort while we worked our way toward the big climb up Rib Mountain. Fog encapsulated the mountain, preserving the previous night's snow on the fall leaves. As I was alone for most of the climb, all was quiet, with only the sound of my breathing and tires to break the silence. My trance was broken at the peak by the voice of a friendly volunteer directing me to the "hike-a-bike" section. Walking a mountain bike down a slick rocky path is no small feat. My bike shoes did little to grip the ground as I picked my way down toward the quarry. Once I reached the gravel trail and could clip in and ride, I picked up significant speed. This was one of the few places where it paid to have a mountain bike. I was able to fly down, colors brightening as I emerged below the fog, bunny hopping over railroad ties.
Riding down memory lane at Wausau School Forest. Photo credit: Mark Holbrook
Shortly after my joy ride, I was on muddy trails behind State Park Speedway. Two downed trees forced a cyclo-cross feeling to the race. I gained a lot of ground on the gravel bikes during this section but lost all that sweet time trying to pick the mud out of my clips after I jumped the two trees. The race shifted in favor of the gravel bikes again as I made my way to Nine Mile County Forest on a mix of pavement and smooth gravel. Riding along the trails in the Wausau School Forest brought back childhood memories of cross-country skiing, tobogganing, and playing on the obstacle course. Memory lane ended as I entered areas of Marathon County I had never explored. Miles of red granite paved the way through rolling hills decorated with greens, reds, yellows, and orange hues. Cows and farms intermixed with forests filled with maple syrup tap lines. The scenery was plucked straight out of a hallmark fall classic, except I was riding sweaty and mud covered through it.
Around mile 20, I met a lovely volunteer sweeping the course. When he found out I had just reached the mark where every mile was one mile further than I had ever ridden before, he stayed with me to the next aid station. As we made our way through Edgar, there was a brief moment where the mountain bike was King once again. We traversed rooted mountain bike trails covered in leaves and slick bridges that my tired legs were unsure about. Unfortunately, I forgot my feet were attached to my bike, and I had my first zero-mile-per-hour fall trying to stop before a steep decline to a slick bridge. Luckily the leaves padded the fall, and the cold had numbed my body hours prior. Shortly after exiting Scotch Creek Woodland Preserve, I hit the second aid station. After a quick refuel, I was alone with only my thoughts and smooth red gravel to keep me company.
Squeezing in a photo with my mom while refueling at the Red Granite Bar aid station.
The course stayed on country gravel roads, taunting me by heading east, towards the finish line, only to head north and away from it again. This pattern repeated itself until I hit the third and final aid station at the Red Granite Bar. I swelled with gratitude when I saw my parents, cameras at the ready, cheering me into the home stretch. I rented a tracker so they could watch my progress and meet me on the course if they wanted to. I always love hearing my mom recount the events of the race from her time glued to her phone dot watching. After a quick photo with my parents, I was off again to finish my longest race to date. Unfortunately, the race's beginning and end are the two most aggressive parts.
Proudly standing at the finish line after 85 miles!
Shortly after leaving the final aid station and thinking the race was almost over, Billy Goat Hills slowed me to a snail's pace. It was all fun and games, zooming down the first hill at 30 miles an hour until a turkey flew directly in front of me. Luckily our paths did not collide, and he laughed at me as I ground up that last hill, giving me a full appreciation for the term "gravel grinder." After managing my way to the top, I had one final climb up and out of Brokaw. Snow started to fall again, replacing joy with cold during the long downhill back toward Wausau. I wish I could say the last few miles into the finish were easy and smooth, but my butt had enough of the saddle, and the cold was entering my bones. I struggled my way to the finish line, where I was met with cheering, free beer, and a delicious dinner. Once I was out of the saddle, cold and discomfort were replaced with pride and a sense of accomplishment. I now know I can handle 85 miles of rolling, relentless hills on my mountain bike, up next, 100 miles.
Now that my butt has recovered from 10.5 hours in the saddle, I would love to do this event again next year. The race was well organized, from registration to crossing the finish line. For my first-ever bike event, I felt well enough prepared to tackle 50 more miles than I ever had. The course was well marked at any tricky intersection or trail areas and easy to follow even without a bike computer, the volunteers were friendly, and the snacks were tasty. I loved the post-race setup on the 400 Block with music, vendors, and even a free chain cleaning. The IRONBULL Red Granite Grinder is the perfect race for someone who wants some extra adventure, a beautiful fall landscape, and a good cause behind their ride.
Banner photo: Descending comfortably on my mountain bike at Rib Mountain State Park..
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