Hoodoo 500 Race Report 2024

In the months leading up to Hoodoo, I had read nearly everything I could find online and on Strava about others' experiences when riding the Hoodoo 500. This was my first ultra race, and I wanted to know as much as possible and prepare the best I could. But ultimately, there was one thing I could not prepare for, as I will discuss soon. I found myself really enjoying the writings and interviews of Kym Louie, Keven Bilbee, and David Haase, just to name a few. Thus, it was very exciting to meet, converse, and ride alongside some of them for the initial 6 miles or so before everyone split up as they settled into their own rhythm before Hurricane. You can also imagine my excitement when I saw Leah Goldstein. She is a huge inspiration and literally the initial motivation for why I was even signed up for a RAAM Qualifier. But that is a story for another day.

From St. George to Hurricane felt like business as usual. Back home as a bike commuter, I prefer the shouldered highways with cars and trucks flying by. However, that changed only a couple of hours into the race. While riding on Hwy 59, I started to feel some kind of way. I was not familiar with this feeling. My heart rate felt fast, my breathing was not smooth, there was an underlying feeling of wanting to vomit, and my arms felt like they were struggling to hold my upper body up. I thought to myself, it must be this stretch. The stretch on Hwy 59 had no shoulder, there was a headwind, and many large recreational vehicles were always passing. I thought it might be the cognitive overload and overstimulation contributing to how I felt. Then, by mile 57, I knew something was not right. I stopped at the Border Store/Sinclair Gas station to grab some of my favorite drinks and take a moment. My visit to the Border Store may have been one of the most embarrassing. I hopped off my bike, and I could not even think straight. After grabbing my goodies from the cooler, I went to the back of the counter instead of the front. The workers looked at me like I was crazy. I promptly apologized and went to the front of the counter to pay for my items. Then, when topping off my bottles, I had a "derp derp" moment. My brain told my hands to pour the liquids into my bottles, but instead, I put them up to my face to take a swig and completely missed my mouth! One worker from the Border Store looked at me in total confusion and disgust as I was down in a squat struggling to function normally. My brain and limbs were not cooperating with each other! I could not figure out what was wrong with me. I hopped back on my bike and continued. As I continued into the Pink Sand Dunes, I was feeling so nauseous. The only feeling I had was wanting to vomit. I tried to eat my food that I had in my top tube bag, and I could not even stand to chew it. Everything was so repulsive— all my normal nutrition and snacks, my body did not want any of it. This feeling never went away. Though I never threw up, it was the constant feeling that I was going to. Also, apparently, I lost one of my bottles somewhere before the Pink Sand Dunes!

Arriving at the first time station in Mt. Carmel Junction, I stopped at the Chevron again to get my favorite drinks and some fresh fruit snacks. I was able to consume all of them, but it was work. Imagine making a child eat broccoli when they absolutely hate it. I continued towards Bryce Canyon, still feeling extremely nauseous, weak, shaky, and just out of sorts. I ended up seeing a rider on my way to time station two; they were doing the 300 unsupported. It was so great to have a small greeting in passing. That little interaction was enough to take my mind off how I felt, even if for a moment. Continuing on Hwy 89 towards Hwy 12 was fun and fast. There was a bit of a tailwind and undulating terrain! But that joy ended abruptly when turning into the wind on Hwy 12 and getting on the bike path. Recently, I participated in the Seattle International Randonneur’s Brevet Week in Central Washington. That week exposed me to the gnarliest headwinds that would last for hundreds of miles. Thus, I was well prepared for this stretch of fighting the wind, but I was not prepared for the feeling I was having since ascending to 5,000+ feet. At this point, I had been riding at an altitude of 7,000+ feet. I stopped multiple times on that bike path to gather myself. I kept thinking I was going to throw up, and now, I thought I was going to have a GI incident. My arms and legs felt so heavy and non-cooperative. Finally, getting to the second time station (another Chevron), I was so happy to take a moment to attempt to eat some more food and drink. I was unable to eat solid food; the feeling was overwhelmingly repulsive. I was going to have to drink everything. I did purchase a few solid food items and threw them in my musette in case I would magically feel better at some point. Now I had to use the facilities before I ended up having an accident, and a very messy and unpleasant one! This Chevron appeared to be the main stop for tourists near Bryce Canyon, and it was packed! The line for the women's facility was long. I waited and watched as each woman would pass along the bathroom key to the next when exiting the facility. Finally, it was my turn. Lord, no words. I would end up stopping at another random gas station shortly after to visit their facility.

Back in the saddle, continuing on Hwy 12 feeling just as stellar as I had been, but now I had the chills! I stopped just at the end of the bike path to put my windbreaker on before descending. Heading towards Escalante, I was stopped at what might have been construction zones, and the road had been reduced to one lane with a light. I was stopped two separate times with other vehicles at these lights. They felt like they lasted forever as we watched motorcycles come through before turning green. I could only imagine how it felt for drivers when they saw a bicycle rider come through. Arriving at the manned time station in Escalante, I met Jon Shellenbarger. I explained to him that I thought I might be experiencing altitude sickness, that I had been unable to eat much, and that I was going to take my time, try to eat, and refresh. I am not sure how long I was at that time station; I was not concerned at that moment with time management as I felt like death and knew the altitude was only going to get higher. I was also kindly reminded by Jon that I had some serious altitude ahead and even more after Panguitch.

I have only ever known sea level. I am a Seattle native and never had the means to travel. The biggest rides I had done previously (event type) were RSVP after I applied for a scholarship from the local bicycle club to ride the event or a random kind gesture from the Seattle International Randonneurs to allow me to participate in a long brevet (Craters 1200). Even the Hoodoo 500 was only possible because of the e-racing team called Crushpod. Crushpod is a women's-only team with seriously the most amazing ladies. They came together to raise the funds for me to race Hoodoo; I could not let them down. No matter how I felt, like many women, I was going to put on a smile and keep an outwardly positive attitude. I would not allow others to know how I really felt; they had their own race, and I only wanted to show support in passing. But secretly, I wanted to DNF.

Heading out to time station 4 in Bicknell, there would be a lot of climbing. I would end up with two flats nearing 9,000+ feet in pitch black. At this point, my cognitive abilities were so compromised that even the simplest of tasks, like changing a flat tire, became a very difficult task that would take nearly 40 minutes each. As supported riders and teams passed, they would shout encouraging words and even stop to say hello. It brought me joy to chat with them and yell back, “GO, GO, GO, YOU'RE DOING GREAT!” After finally fixing my second flat, I felt rain, wind, and a big chill. I sat there in the street, shaking from being so cold. I grabbed my knee warmers, gloves, windbreaker, rain jacket, and thermal jacket. Ah, that was nice and warm. As I started my descent from 9,600 feet, it started pouring! Serious thunder, lightning, rain, and wind. I was soaked! That thunderstorm would follow me into the night, to time station 4, and well into the wee hours of the morning heading towards time station 5. 

Leaving time station 4 sometime around 1 am, I would stop outside a car repair shop and hit up their soda machine. I just wanted to sit down and drink a couple of fizzy drinks and see all my missed texts and comms. I texted my mom and sister that I had two flats, altitude sickness, and was caught out in a thunderstorm. They would send so many comforting words and encouragement. I told them I wanted to DNF, that this was only going to get worse as there was way more time in altitude to come. My sister was so amazing. She said, “Forget about what anyone else is doing, don't focus on your previous goal, now just slow down and stay steady as you have plenty of time to finish under 48 hours.” She was right! I finished my last soda and continued. Though still with the overwhelming feeling of wanting to vomit, all pressure was off and really, I was just riding my bike. I have been in some awful situations, and this would be okay. Periodically, I would stop, just at random times. I would look up at the partially cloudy sky and try to shove some food in my face. We do not get real thunderstorms in Seattle, thus, even though big rain and wind would sweep through, it was so amazing to see the lightning and hear the thunder!

Finally, around 9 am, I got to Panguitch! I had stopped at the local corner store to grab two cups of noodles, but I would only be able to eat one. At time station five, in Panguitch, I had a drop bag. It was filled with my favorite Filipino bakery snacks, new socks, liquids, and nutrition, and I thought I had packed chamois cream (WARNING: TMI STORY APPROACHING). Sadly, I could not even look at the snacks and nutrition. As had been the case since mile 57, everything was repulsive, and I could not even fathom putting any of it in my mouth. Before getting ready to leave the time station, I went looking for the small travel container of Barrier Balm I got as a free sample from Squirt during check-in (that stuff is great!). OH NO, I forgot to throw it in my drop bag. By now, I was dehydrated and malnourished due to altitude sickness. This created a cascading effect, including that of salt and skin dryness. My bottom could not go another mile without something to lessen the friction. Then, I knew what I had to do. I went into the bathroom, closed and locked the door, then began the most desperate of dumpster dives into the small bathroom garbage, looking for any leftovers in previous riders’ single-use chamois creams. SCORE! I found two. One was nearly full. I squeezed those little purple and yellow packages to nonexistence and smothered them all over my chamois and skin! Well, back on the road!

Next stop, time station 6, but first I would need to reach an altitude of over 10,000 feet. From Panguitch, I would start to feel other signs of altitude sickness. I started to have trouble breathing. Now hanging out at altitudes consistently of 7,000-9,000 feet up to 10,500 feet, I was unable to breathe smoothly, and my heart rate was insane! I walked 95% of all the climbs from Panguitch to Cedar Breaks. This was 2 miles per hour. I was content and knew this was all I could do. Drivers would stop and ask if I was okay. I would explain to them that I am an out-of-place Seattle native who has never been above 4,000 feet and just needed to catch my breath. I was passed by the conjoined voyagers. They were amazing, and to see them brought me yet again a moment of joy. Watching them float up those climbs was awe-inspiring. I was also greeted by the crew for solo-supported rider Nancy Herms. What an amazing and supportive crew! Absolutely loved it. It took nearly 6 hours to walk/ride up to an altitude of 10,500 feet. Now, I can slow down my breathing and heart rate and enjoy the descent from Cedar Breaks. I am not one who enjoys descending, and this one was fun but scary AF! I managed to really do a number on my brake rotors. They would be very loud for the remainder of the ride and went from a shiny silver to a matted black!

The ride out to time station 6 and many miles past would be uneventful. They were slow, with a mighty headwind, and another highway without a shoulder meant more focus on keeping my line. Also, Hwy 56 had so much glass; I constantly had the fear of more flats. As the sun set on the second night, I was getting very excited knowing I was close. Though it was still hours away, I felt like I could reach out and touch it! Little did I know what was in store as darkness approached.

At mile four hundred sixty-something, I was in a bit of a daze, just pedaling away, watching the miles tick down on my Garmin. The sun was setting, and the local neighborhood was nice. However, I turned left on Main St. and heard a dog barking. Then, I could hear the bark get closer. Then closer. Then I saw it! This big-ass dog was chasing me down. It was awful looking, barking, showing its teeth, and running very fast! I went into Zwift mode, lol. My saddest attempt at a sprint. But, it worked, the dog backed off. Now full of adrenaline, I wanted to get out of the neighborhood fast! As it got dark, my body began its next strange stage, sleep deprivation. This ride had been a ride of new experiences with altitude sickness being the worst of them, and now it was time to buckle up and enjoy the ride— next stop, hallucination and microsleep!

Shit all started when turning on UT Hwy 18. Something like 28 miles left until Snow Canyon. I swear the standing street reflectors were dancing behind one another; it was straight out of Alice in Wonderland! I am pretty sure I saw that big-ass sasquatch from Harry and the Hendersons standing in the middle of the road drinking a cup of coffee, no joke. I could hear voices, music, and I was having conversations with people that were not even there! The second-to-last climb on my Garmin showed up—just over 700 feet and several miles. I switched into the easiest gear and kept a steady pace. I was wide awake, my eyes open, I was looking at the fog line, I could see bucks as my lights glanced by, cars passing and approaching, but I was also having a discussion with the women on Crushpod. We were discussing the climb and random things. But I wasn’t on the phone, and they were not there. I was experiencing microsleep! My brain was literally going into sleep mode for a couple of seconds at a time while I was seemingly wide awake! WTF, right!? This happened many more times; each time I would end up so confused. I knew I really needed to focus and keep my mind right the best I could; it was 11 pm and dark, and I had no idea where I was or what my surroundings were.

I got to the top of the little climb on Hwy 18 and saw a sign: Summit 6,100 feet. At that moment, my right headlight went out. I thought to myself, oh, I better turn up the left one. When I attempted to turn up the left one, it also went out. I could not believe what was happening. Only 21 miles left until Snow Canyon, and I have no lights. I quickly turned on my phone flashlight and all my extra taillights to light up what I could while I stood there to assess the situation—a situation that took a very long time. I remembered I had my battery pack and all my USB cords. However, I realized very quickly that I packed the wrong length USB for my headlight. It would not reach the light while mounted (but before leaving WA, I practiced this. I just grabbed the wrong cord!). I put one headlight in my hand and held it against the bike while proceeding. Now I was descending, cheehoo! Every muscle in my body was activated and tense. I would hit very cold pockets of air and was only in my windbreaker after dropping off all my warm gear at Panguitch. After about an hour, the light 

had enough charge so I could put it back in its mount and continue to Snow Canyon more comfortably. Finally, I made it to Snow Canyon around midnight thirty. I did not call Deborah (the race organizer) right away. I needed a moment to gather myself. After hallucinations, microsleep, cold, the lights, and the sheer magnitude of the whole situation, I called Deborah and apologized for being so late, that I had run into some crazy situations, including my lights failing 21 miles ago at the top of a summit. She said something like, “You are badass and amazing, we will see you in St. George!” I started my descent. With a few miles to the finish, I would hear another rider behind me. It was Nancy! OMG, Nancy is freaking amazing, and her crew and family are out of this world awesome! Nancy and I talked so much story heading back into St. George; however, she obviously had way more energy. It would be a short story that would start but never finish unless I happened to catch up while she was stopped at a red light. We both got stopped at the last light before taking a left on Bluff to the hotel. I said to Nancy, “I’ll hit the button to cross.” But then as I went to hit the button, the light turned green, and I looked up, and Nancy said, “It is green, let's go!” I missed it, it was too fast, and I had put my foot down. I waited until it turned green again.

Since Nancy finished before me, I got the surprise of her friends and family at the finish too! I saw them and my sister, and I was overwhelmed with emotion. I was not sure what to do or say. I just knew I wanted to apologize to Deborah before she hugged me because, lord, I did not smell great. My sister, oh my goodness, what would I do without my sister? She is the only reason I kept pedaling. She was there for me at the start, during tough moments via texts, and at the finish. She watched me train for months in the middle of the night so I could still have time to work and help my family during the day. She watched as my work life became the most stressful of my life the two to three weeks leading up to Hoodoo. She has watched all this time and has never judged me. She is always there for me; she is only supportive.

Back in the hotel, I peeled off my gear and attempted to shower. My sister and I discussed the altitude, and she remembered I had ridden the Craters 1200 with SIR. She knew that summit was up there. She asked if I felt sick then. I told her, thinking back, I did; however, I just thought it was from a yogurt I ate at the last checkpoint! Lol, turns out I had altitude sickness before! As the morning rolled on, I kept hearing music and crowds talking. I curled up in the hotel bed across from my sister's bed, looked at her, and asked, “Do you hear that music or those people?” She looked at me and said, “NO!” Well, I guess I better sleep; it's almost been 48 hours!