A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to help lead out the Calhoun County Girls on the Run 5K. Three of us from Super Duper Cycling volunteered to ride our bikes at the front of the runners, helping guide the course and cheer on the participants. This was my third year helping with the event, and every year I leave feeling inspired.
If you are not familiar with Girls on the Run, it’s a program that helps young girls build confidence, resilience, and self-belief through running and physical activity. As I watched hundreds of girls make their way toward the finish line, I couldn’t help but notice the pride on their faces. Some crossed the line smiling from ear to ear. Others looked exhausted but determined. Many were doing something they weren’t sure they could do just a few weeks earlier.
It reminded me of something I have learned through cycling and endurance racing: confidence doesn’t come before the challenge; it comes because of the challenge.
As adults, we sometimes forget that. We wait until we feel ready before we sign up for the race, join the group ride, or pursue a big goal. But confidence is built in the process of doing hard things. Those young girls were proving that lesson one finish line at a time.
With the Lumberjack 100 just around the corner, I have been thinking a lot about that idea. There are several women from our cycling community who are preparing to tackle this demanding mountain bike race. One hundred miles of singletrack isn’t something you accidentally complete. It requires months of preparation, countless training rides, problem-solving, and a willingness to be uncomfortable for a very long time.
Lately my focus has been on nutrition. Training is important, but so is fueling the work. Endurance events have a way of exposing weaknesses, and nutrition is often one of the biggest pieces of the puzzle. Learning what works, what doesn’t, and how to stay fueled over hours of effort can make the difference between surviving a race and performing your best.
That is one reason events like Lumberjack are such valuable steppingstones toward Iceman. They help us dial in the details, nutrition, pacing, equipment, and mental toughness. They teach us how to respond when things don’t go according to plan. Most importantly, they remind us that we are capable of more than we think.
As I watched those girls cross the finish line a few weeks ago, I realized they are learning the same lessons many of us are still learning as adults. Growth happens when we challenge ourselves. Confidence comes from keeping promises to ourselves. And sometimes the best way to find out what you’re capable of is simply to show up and try.
Whether you are running your first 5K, lining up for Lumberjack 100, or preparing for Iceman this November, remember that every finish line starts with the decision to take on something that feels a little intimidating.
What is one hard thing you are doing to challenge yourself this summer?
Thank you to Heather Newman @goodtimesally_mtb for being our 2026 Iceman Cometh Challenge Trailblazer!
Rocky Balboa. The Karate Kid. Kevin Bacon in Footloose.
“Push it to the Limit” fades in as the sweat drips.
Training is very serious business.
C’mon…that’s movie stuff! Fun movie stuff, sure; but let’s call it what it is in real life: PRACTICE. Race car drivers. Musicians. The bad boy of professional bowling Pete Weber. Do you think they’ve always been that good? No way.
There you go. Hop to it! I hope you’ve enjoyed this week’s blog post. PrAcTiCe, PrAcTiCe, PrAcTiCe.
…
I guess I haven’t really said anything so far that isn’t a little obvious to most of us, so how about this if you want to get a little more specific in your trai…I mean if you want a few things to practice:
Technical Skills
Riding off road more often will definitely improve your confidence, but I would also recommend riding new trails. Expose yourself to a variety of trail conditions (loose soil, hardpacked dirt and clay, sand, rocks, roots, etc) and pay attention to how they affect your momentum, handling, and braking. Maybe hit tricky sections a few times.
Trust your tires! Modern rubber compounds, tubeless setups, and low tire pressures mean there is often more grip available to us. On a familiar trail or section of trail, try braking just a little bit less than usual, and leaning the bike over just a little bit more to increase cornering speeds. Keep in mind that any braking inputs must be replaced with energy from your legs to get back up to speed.
Is there a stubborn rock or root that keeps tripping you up? Practice unweighting the front wheel as you approach it, either by shifting your weight back, briefly pulling up on the bars, or a combination of both. Anything you can do to try and maintain that momentum!
*Fast riders: all this stuff applies to you too. We can all benefit from mastering the basics.
Hydration and Nutrition
Hydration is pretty straight forward: a good rule of thumb for longer rides is one bottle of water (20-25oz) per hour but you may want to bump that up a bit if it’s hot. For technical trails you may opt for a hydration pack to avoid reaching down and grabbing a bottle.
Nutrition comes into play on rides over an hour or two. Most sports nutrition options will be either drink mixes, gels/chews, or real food (bars, baked goods, etc). Sensitive stomachs may be best served by real food that you know will settle well, but gels and drink mixes (particularly those with a lot of carbohydrates) do offer a convenience factor. Nutrition requirements vary a lot from person to person, so you’ll just have to…practice!
Clothing Choice
This is a good one to take notes on. For an individual ride, make note of the temperature, what you wore, and if you were hot, cold, or just nailed it. Eventually you’ll build up a map/list/spreadsheet of what works well for a given temperature range. Longer rides, especially those starting early in the morning, may require layers to transition from one temperature zone into another. This is pretty straight forward in the summer, but can be really challenging to get right in early November…
Now for the fun part! Blog post over. No amount of YouTube videos, equipment upgrades, or 80’s movies montages will actually make you a better rider without a little practice. So make some room in your schedule, hit the trail, and push it to the limiiiiiit…
Thank you to Aaron Schutter @aaron_two_tired for being our 2026 Iceman Cometh Challenge Trailblazer
I have not been able to make as many women’s group rides as I wanted to this past year. Life, classes, work, it all stacks up. I caught a couple last season and made it to one so far this year, but not nearly as many as I had hoped.
But here’s the thing…even without being at every ride, I’m still feeling it.
Something is changing out there.
Now that classes are wrapped up for the summer, I am all in. Because the energy I have been seeing, at the trailhead, at the start lines, out on the course, it is something I do not want to miss.
It starts before the race even begins.
Standing at the line, you start talking. Where are you from? What have you been racing? What brought you here? And then you hear it, the why. Everyone has one. Some are chasing goals, some are just getting started, some are out there proving something to themselves.
Those conversations stick with you.
And then the race starts.
What I have been noticing more and more this season, especially at races like Barry Roubaix, Yankee Springs Time Trial, and this past weekend at Mud Sweat and Beers…there are more women showing up.
And not just showing up…racing.
Really racing.
But it does not feel cutthroat. It feels connected.
There is encouragement mid-race. Quick words as you pass. A shared understanding that we are all out here doing something hard.
At Mud Sweat and Beers, there was this one moment I keep going back to.
Three of us women ended up together on the trail. We passed a couple men, picked up the pace, and just…flowed. No words, no hesitation, just that unspoken connection. We were moving fast, hitting lines, riding smooth.
I remember thinking in that moment, this is it.
That feeling when everything clicks on singletrack…when you are not overthinking, you are just riding. And to share that with other women, all of us pushing, all of us in it together…it hit different.
No ego.
No competition in the negative sense.
Just respect, effort, and shared momentum.
And honestly, I do not think that is something you can fake.
It’s something that’s being built, ride by ride, race by race, conversation by conversation.
I’m seeing more women at the line.
I’m hearing more stories.
I’m feeling more connection out on the trail.
And now that I have got the time to fully lean into it this summer, I’m ready to be part of it in a bigger way.
Because something is happening out there.
And if you have felt it, you know exactly what I mean.
Mud, Sweat, and Beers
Lady Parts group ride at Fort Custer (Peep our 2025 Iceman Trailblazer Haleigh Curtis)
Thank you to Heather Newman @goodtimesally_mtblife for being our 2026 Iceman Trailblazer!
Ok, ok; I know a lot of people ride throughout the winter, too. And sure, Zwift is fine and fat bikes are cool, but WOW is it nice to see everybody out and having fun on the trails again. Roadies, Dirtbags, Commuters, Single Speeders, whatever-those-insanely-fast-MiSCA-kids-are, even Gravel Riders; we all have one really big thing in common: we love riding our bikes. Maybe you nerd out on tire pressures or have a notebook of single speed gear ratios. Maybe you stop and take pictures of flowers during your ride. Maybe you just send it. I promise none of these things are all that different. You can’t do this stuff from your couch or on your phone (ok, you can watch tire reviews on YouTube but that does not technically count as cycling).
Oh gosh. Speaking of YouTube. When was the last time someone told you “you’re doing it wrong”? Maybe nobody said it out loud but you felt it anyway.
You’re wearing the wrong clothes.
You’re wearing the wrong shoes.
You’ve got the wrong tires.
You’re riding the wrong bike.
You’re doing the wrong workouts.
Are you having a good time riding your bike?? Then you’ve basically nailed it already. The internet and the bike industry love overthinking bikes. There are also a lot of unspoken rules and riding etiquette from back in the day that could stand to be refreshed or just fade away completely. I’ll drop a couple of my own general pointers below but they’re just like, one guy’s opinion.
Bike: You really can’t do any of this without one.
Fit is important. It’s cool to be comfortable. Don’t give in to pressure from your gravel friends who slam their stems just because they think it’s aero and will make them more attractive to members of the opposite sex. Mechanical condition is also important. Breaking down on the side of the trail is pretty much the opposite of fun. It’s only April now but do you remember mosquitos?? Terrible. The worst, even. As long as your bike is up for the kind of rides you need it for: you’re good. Spending more does not necessarily make it faster (might be fun though).
Helmet: You only get one brain…don’t screw it up.
Ok despite what I just said this one’s actually pretty important and you can get it wrong. Safety is one place where spending more money might be in your best interest. Get one that’s comfortable. One you actually like. Wear it.
Apparel: Being naked in public is frowned upon so you’ll have to pick something.
Yeah, don’t overthink this one either. Stay comfortable. Regular ol’ tee shirts are super sweaty so maybe avoid those but pretty much anything else is fine. Padded bike shorts are not for dorks, seriously. Wear whatever shoes you’re comfortable in. Only clip in if you want to. Aero socks are silly and are for dorks. If you like the grip or protection of gloves, great! If you don’t care about gloves; skip ‘em. Unless it’s cold.
Training: Hey, sometimes it’s fun to go fast, too.
or
Training: Ugh, do we have to? Turns out no, actually, but it may increase your overall capacity for fun.
Very few people are naturally gifted, the rest of us have to work for it. Sorry. But again: don’t feel like you have to spend a bunch of money. Coaches, fitness apps, nutrition plans…most of us don’t need ‘em. Ride more! Sadly there are no secret hacks. Sometimes lifting, high intensity intervals, and even running (gasp) are time well spent.
There’s going to be like a million things that will try and stress you out between now and race day in November; don’t let riding your bike be one of them. Keep it simple and don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We all want to be confident. We all want to get stronger. And from elite athletes to experienced amateurs to raw beginners, we all ultimately hit the trail for precisely the same reason: fun. Don’t ever forget it.
Let’s have a great time, everybody.
Thank you Aaron Schutter @aaron_two_tired on being our 2026 Iceman Cometh Challenge Trailblazer.
Hello, Iceman Riders! It’s early Spring and your motivation to get back on the bike is creeping back up, and somewhere in the back of your mind, Iceman is already living rent-free.
Good. It should be.
Because here’s what I know after years of racing and working with athletes: the riders who show up in Kalkaska in November and have a great day — not just a finished day, but a genuinely strong, well-executed day — didn’t figure out their nutrition in October. They started right now. In April. When the trails are still soft and the idea of racing 30 miles through the Michigan woods in November feels equal parts exciting and insane.
So that’s what this series is. Eleven posts, all the way through race week, covering everything: fueling, hydration, recovery, and specific strategies for women, men, masters athletes, and kids. Because Iceman isn’t just a 30-mile race — it’s a Sno-Cone quarter-mile on a balance bike, it’s a 9-mile Slush Cup, it’s a junior racing the full course, it’s 5,400 people across 77 age divisions all showing up to the same start line in Kalkaska.
There’s a post in this series for every single one of you.
But today? We start here. With the question I get asked every single spring:
“I’ve basically been in hibernation for three months. How do I get my nutrition back on track for riding season?”
What Winter Actually Does to Your Body
Let’s be honest about winter. Unless you’re a skier, a cross-country skier, or someone with serious indoor training discipline, most of us come out of winter having lost some aerobic fitness, carrying a little extra body fat, and eating in a pattern that was built for low-output days — more comfort food, more irregular timing, fewer real training nutrition demands.
That’s not a moral failing. That’s just biology and seasonality. But it does mean your body needs a recalibration period before you can expect it to perform well.
Here’s what specifically changes over a winter training reduction:
Mitochondrial density decreases — your muscles become slightly less efficient at burning fuel, especially fat
Glycogen storage capacity can decrease slightly without regular high-intensity stimulus
Gut tolerance for on-bike nutrition often drops — if you haven’t been taking gels or chews for three months, your GI tract needs to relearn
Plasma volume decreases with reduced aerobic work — this affects how efficiently your blood delivers oxygen and nutrients
Insulin sensitivity can shift depending on activity levels and carbohydrate intake patterns over winter
None of this is catastrophic. All of it is fixable. But it does mean the nutrition approach that will serve you well in April is different from what you’ll be doing in September.
The Early Season Nutrition Mindset Shift
The mistake most athletes make in early spring is one of two things. Either they’re still in winter mode — not fueling their rides adequately because they don’t feel like they’ve “earned it” yet. Or they flip the switch too hard in the other direction and immediately try to train and eat like it’s race season, which is a recipe for fatigue, injury, and burnout by July.
Early season is a bridge. The goal isn’t peak performance. The goal is rebuilding the infrastructure your body needs to perform at peak later.
Think of it like this: November Iceman performance is built on the aerobic base you develop in May and June, which is built on the nutritional foundation you lay right now, in April. You can’t skip the foundation and expect the building to hold.
So what does that mean practically? It means three things:
Fuel your rides adequately — not for performance, but for adaptation
Be patient with your body — it will respond, but it takes four to six weeks of consistent stimulus to see meaningful change
What Early Season Fueling Actually Looks Like
Let me walk you through what I actually focus on in these early weeks. I’ll split this into on-bike and off-bike nutrition, because they’re different conversations.
On the Bike
Early season rides are usually shorter and lower intensity — maybe 60 to 90 minutes, maybe a couple of hours on weekends. Here’s how I approach fueling based on ride duration:
Under 60 minutes at low intensity: water is probably enough. Your liver glycogen can handle this. Don’t force feed.
60–90 minutes: start with a small carbohydrate source — 20 to 30 grams going in, water on board. A banana before you leave the house, a gel at the 45-minute mark if you’re pushing it.
90 minutes to 2 hours: now you’re in fueling territory. 40 to 60 grams of carbohydrate per hour, begin using whatever on-bike nutrition you plan to use at Iceman so you start training your gut now.
Over 2 hours: treat it like a race simulation. 60+ grams of carbs per hour, sodium in your bottle, practice your entire race-day fueling protocol.
Off the Bike
This is where I see the biggest gaps in spring. Riders start riding again but forget to update their eating to match the new demands. A few things I focus on coming out of winter:
Protein at every meal: 1.6 to 2 grams per kilogram of body weight per day. Early season is when you’re rebuilding — muscle protein synthesis matters.
Carbohydrates timed around your rides: eat them before and after training, not just randomly throughout the day. This is carbohydrate periodization in its simplest form.
Don’t fear calories: under-fueling in early season is one of the most common mistakes I see. You’re asking your body to adapt and rebuild. It needs fuel to do that.
Micronutrients: vitamin D is almost universally low after winter in the Northern Hemisphere. Get a blood panel if you haven’t recently. Iron, magnesium, and omega-3s are also on my early-season checklist.
Rebuild your hydration habit: you probably drank less in winter. Start drinking to a target — not just to thirst. Half your body weight in ounces is a reasonable daily baseline.
A Note on Gut Training — Start Now, Thank Yourself in November
I want to spend a minute on something that might be the most underappreciated part of endurance nutrition: your gut is trainable. And if you don’t train it, it will fail you on race day.
When you haven’t been taking in carbohydrates during exercise for months, your gut’s capacity to absorb them decreases. The transporters that move glucose and fructose across your intestinal wall — SGLT1 and GLUT5 — are less numerous and less active when you don’t use them regularly. So when you show up to Iceman having never practiced fueling at race intensity, and you take a gel at mile 10 because you’re bonking, your gut will reject it. It will bloat. It will cramp. And you will have a very long 20 miles left.
The fix is simple but it requires starting early: use your actual race nutrition on your training rides. Whatever you plan to take at Iceman — gels, chews, waffles, real food — practice it now. Introduce it gradually. Work up to the amounts you’ll need during a 2.5 to 4 hour race effort. By October, fueling at full race intensity should feel completely normal to your body.
This is one of the highest-return investments you can make between now and November. Start today.
A Quick Note for Every Type of Iceman Rider
Before I close out I want to say a quick word to the different riders reading this, because this series is for all of you.
If you’re a woman: July’s post is specifically for you — how your hormones affect fueling is one of the most important and most under-discussed topics in endurance nutrition. Don’t skip it.
If you’re a masters athlete: your recovery needs are higher, your protein needs are higher, and your margin for nutritional error is smaller. We cover this in depth for both women and men.
If you’re a pro or Cat 1 racer: I see you. The later posts go into race-day fueling at a level of specificity that matters when the difference between your target time and your actual time is 10 minutes.
If you’re a parent bringing kids to Iceman: September’s post is your bible. Fueling kids for cold-weather racing — from the Sno-Cone quarter-mile to the full Junior race — is its own science and it’s completely covered.
The Bottom Line
Iceman is seven months away. That sounds like a long time until it’s November and you’re trying to figure out carb loading the week of the race.
Do the work now. Lay the foundation now. Show up in Kalkaska in November knowing that your nutrition was dialed in from April, not from a panicked Google search in October.
Next month, we’re going deep on building your nutritional base — carbohydrate periodization, protein targets, and how to train your body to burn fuel efficiently for the long miles ahead.
Follow along, share this with your riding crew, and if you have questions, drop them in the comments. I read all of them.
I’ll see you out there.
Gina Render is a certified Performance Nutrition Coach that works with a variety of athletes and active individuals both locally and remotely to help them meet their goals. As a wife, mom of two teens avid mountain biker, and strength athlete, she understands the demands that come with balancing life and sport. From sport-specific fueling to general nutrition, she’s your partner and advocate to empower you to Adventure More. Contact her at gina@adventure-more.com.
There is something about that first ride back in the woods after a long Michigan winter that just hits different.
The sound of tires on dirt instead of the hum of a trainer. The smell of pine trees and damp leaves instead of a basement. The way the trail forces you to be present instead of staring at a screen counting down intervals.
After months of riding inside, I am reminded of one very important truth: trainers might build fitness, but they do not feed the soul.
The past month and a half has been a mix of being sick off and on and working through a back injury that forced me to slow down more than I wanted to. It is frustrating when your mind is ready to go but your body tells you otherwise. But if cycling has taught me anything, it is that progress is not always linear, and sometimes the strongest thing you can do is just keep showing up when you can.
So, this past week, getting back out on the trails felt less about training and more about coming home.
As we start thinking about race season, it is easy to get caught up in training plans, mileage, goals, and performance metrics. Those things matter. But what matters just as much, maybe more, is remembering why we started riding in the first place.
Not every ride has to be a training ride. Some rides should just be fun rides. The kind where you stop to session a feature. The kind where you wait for each other. The kind where the conversation in the parking lot lasts almost as long as the ride. The kind where someone says, “I did not think I could do that,” and everyone celebrates like they just won a race.
Some of the most important miles you will ride this year will not show up on your training plan. They will be the miles where you build confidence, friendships, and belief in yourself.
That is especially true when women ride together.
There is something powerful about women showing up for each other on the trail. Encouraging each other to try the line. Reminding each other that strong does not have to look a certain way. Proving that you belong out there whether you are fast, new, nervous, competitive, of just curious.
We need more of that. More women inviting other women. More “ride with us.” More “you can do this.” More “I will try it if you try it.”
If you are thinking about a particular race this year but you are scared…good. That probably means it is worth doing.
Do the thing that makes you nervous. Sign up for the race you are not sure you are ready for. Show up to the group ride where you do not know anyone yet. Try the feature you have been riding around. Be the beginner again.
Growth lives just outside your comfort zone.
You do not have to be the strongest rider. You do not have to be the fastest. You just have to be willing to try.
This season, I hope more women say yes to something that scares them a little. Whether that is their first race, their first technical trail, or simply believing they belong in this sport.
Because you do!
And if this offseason taught me anything, it is this: being strong is not about having a perfect training block. Sometimes it is just about getting back on the bike after setbacks and remembering why you love it.
So here is your reminder as the trails dry out and race season starts to take shape:
Make a plan. Set your goals. Train hard.
But do not forget to ride for joy. Ride with your people. And maybe most importantly…
Bring another woman with you!
Thank you to Heather Newman @goodtimesally_mtblife for being our 2026 Iceman Trailblazer!
This year’s Iceman felt like the first time everything really clicked for me. From the moment I rolled into the start chute, I could tell the training I put in all season with MISCA Devo and my coach, Sara Vano, had paid off. I felt stronger, smoother, and more confident than any Iceman before. MISCA Devo has pushed me in ways I didn’t realize I needed; whether it was dialing in skills, building endurance, or learning how to control my effort in races. Misca Devo has a way of finding that balance between pushing me and helping me stay focused, and I’m incredibly grateful for everything my coach has done to get me here. I also really enjoyed my social rides with Wild Card Cycle Works, so as not to get fed up with my bike.
Right from the start, I noticed a difference in my speed from last year. I was in front of the pack at first, but as we entered the trails, I settled into the second pack. That honestly made the race so much more fun. Riding with a group that’s moving the same pace as you gives you energy you can’t really explain until you’re in it: the drafting, the shared effort, the subtle communication, and that unspoken agreement that we’re all pulling each other forward. It felt like real racing. The community this year felt unmatched; everywhere I looked, someone was cheering, encouraging, or suffering right alongside me. Iceman is always known for its community, but this year felt on a whole different level
But… it wouldn’t be Iceman without some chaos…
Once we caught the last adult wave before Sows Ear, everything backed up fast. The trail went from smooth racing to full-on gridlock. There were sections where the line was completely stopped, and honestly, there were moments where I’m pretty sure I could’ve carried my bike through the woods faster than waiting out some of those jams. It was frustrating because I knew I had the fitness and skills to keep my momentum, but sometimes the only thing you can do is stay patient and work with what the trail gives you. That said, I really hope next year there’s more of a gap between waves or a different way of managing the traffic. The congestion definitely slowed down a lot of riders who were ready to flow.
Even with all the backups, I loved the course this year. The increase in singletrack made everything more exciting, more technical, and more fun. It played to the strengths I’ve been building all season, especially with how much Devo has helped me improve bike handling and efficiency. When I had open trail, I felt fast and controlled, which is a huge confidence boost heading into next season.
Overall, despite the traffic jams and the chaos, this year’s Iceman was one of my favorite races yet. I felt prepared, confident, supported, and genuinely proud of the work I put in. It showed me how far I’ve come and how much more potential I have to grow.
I’m already looking forward to next season, building off this momentum, and seeing what’s next.
Thank you to Kedzie Ruckle for being our 2025 Junior Iceman Trailblazer!
Hello to all my fellow racers. I think I’m finally starting to thaw from race day. First, I want to thank everyone who took the time to read all the Trailblazer posts this year. It was truly an honor to be selected as a Trailblazer, and it kept me engaged all season long. Thank you to Kat, Lindsay, and the entire team at the Cherry Festival Foundation. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
The Obstacle I Didn’t See Coming
This year, Iceman almost didn’t happen to me. Around May, I went in for my annual check-up and was put on a new medication. By July, I had a significant reaction to it and lost over 60 lbs. While losing weight is usually good, I knew something wasn’t right. I worked closely with my doctors at U of M Health, and we had to adjust medications several times.
With that significant weight loss came a notable decline in fitness. A simple Zwift workout took me three days to complete. My FTP dropped from 280 to 215. I couldn’t finish a regular ride without bonking. I raced Uncle John’s Gravel Race, which is flat, and at mile 19 the doubts set in. For the rest of the race, I convinced myself that Iceman wasn’t going to happen. I’d finish my commitment to the blog, but I’d step back from racing.
I spoke with my coach, and we developed a plan. I’d do one more gravel race, the Alpena one, since that’s where my wife grew up—but after that, the gravel bike would be retired for the season. I’d train straight through any remaining events and make Iceman the priority.
After that final gravel race in mid-September, I had about a month and a half to prepare for the biggest race of my year. I went into mild panic mode and started filling old water bottles with drywall plaster to add weight to the bike for climbing strength. Am I nuts? Absolutely. But desperate times call for desperate measures. In my mind, I was doing everything I could.
I kept up with my early-morning trainer rides, and on weekends, it was all about hitting the trails. I rode one of the toughest mountain bike systems in West Michigan, Cannonsburg Ski Area. I participated in TC Trail Fest and felt the effort, but the work on singletrack was rewarding. I didn’t care about timing or results. I focused on comfort in technical sections and rebuilding my strength. It was a positive experience, but I knew I still had a lot of work ahead.
Peak 2 Peak has always been something I look forward to, and my wife loves that weekend at Crystal Mountain, but this year had another curveball.
Our dog, Bow, was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor. Thankfully, it hadn’t spread, and he’s expected to make a full recovery. But with three vet visits, two surgeries, biopsies sent to Michigan State, tumor removal, and roughly $4,000 later, we decided to stay home with him. What we did for Bow, showing up, staying strong, not quitting, is precisely what I wanted to model for myself and for my daughter. When things get rough,
We fight.
With Peak 2 Peak off the table, I rode Cannonsburg nonstop. One thing the Iceman crew does incredibly well is clear the course of leaves. Riding on wet leaves felt like riding on ice some days. But I kept riding, climbing, and getting ready for Iceman week.
Iceman Week: Countdown to the Start Line
I drove up to Traverse City on Tuesday. I made a deal with my wife that I’d bring all our gear and Lucy’s stuff up early, so all she had to do later was show up with the Sugarplum. I wanted to preview all the new sections that were causing quite a stir on Facebook, Sow’s Ear, Gussie, and the new singletrack near the end.
Sow’s Ear wasn’t nearly as bad as the comments made it out to be. It felt like riding moguls, but it was completely rideable, just something to get through. The two-track afterwards helped spread riders out, which was huge.
I rode Slush Cup for a few days. It was a great way to see the finish, practice climbing, and get familiar with where moves would be made. At first, I wasn’t excited about climbing Icebreaker straight into Woodchip, but the new Red Bull corner that sent us back down was actually awesome. What wasn’t great was having zero momentum going into Woodchip. But that was a race-day issue.
The expo is always a highlight, and watching the Bonk Bros do a live podcast was pretty cool. Hearing them talk about the race eased my nerves. Spending time with my wife and kid kept me grounded. The Iceman group text, where everyone was buzzing with last-minute prep, was the final touch of a year-long buildup. The bladder was filled, and the kit was laid out; everything I could control was done.
Only one thing left to do:
Let’s ride.
Race Day: Chasing the Timber Ridge Finish
I boarded the bus from Grand Traverse Resort to the airport. The bus was quite quiet. I had my music playing, and my heart rate was low. Since I was in Wave 22, I had some time to warm up, stay warm, and wish friends in the earlier waves good luck.
I lined up in row 2 and froze in the chute until we began to roll. I had my goals written on painter’s tape:
12.5 mph avg
Dockery by 36:00
Williamsburg by 1:36
If I can stick to that, I’d have a shot at sub-2:30.
When we took off, I sprinted hard to catch up with a group. Facing that headwind, I didn’t care about burning a match or hitting a PR – I needed a draft. I tucked in behind the third wheel and let the group pull me along. I recorded my second-fastest time out of the airport and set a PR on the segment to the first singletrack.
Sow’s Ear was slower than pre-ride (8.5 mph vs. 9.6), but that’s just a part you get through. It doesn’t determine the outcome of a race.
After that, I let it rip.
I reached Dockery just after 37 minutes. I figured I could make up that time if I got some luck, but luck wasn’t on anyone’s side in the later waves.
As we approached the new Gussied Up section, I felt incredible. The best singletrack ride I’ve ever had. Legs felt strong, confidence was high. Then we slowed down… and stopped. No crash, no help needed, just a long bottleneck. Everyone was wondering why we had come to a halt.
Once we saw the hill, people said, “Really? This is what’s holding us up?”
The woman in front of me asked if I could give her some space so she could get over the first crest. She said that if she couldn’t, she’d step aside and walk it. She didn’t need to. She handled it like a boss.
Once I cleared Gussied Up, I knew PR hopes, sub-2:30 hopes, even sub-2:20 hopes were gone. But my race wasn’t.
I hammered. I passed when safe. I PR’d Make It Stick by 10 seconds. From there to Williamsburg, I either PR’d or was within seconds of it.
Williamsburg to the Finish: Let ’Er Rip
Once I crested Williamsburg, something clicked. I felt amazing. No fatigue. No cramps. Not a single sign of exhaustion. even cold. At that moment, I knew all the training had paid off.
This was the part of the course I love, wide open, fast, fun.
Ice Crusher is, in my opinion, the most challenging climb on the course. Long, steep, punishing. I had to hike it the last two years, but not this year. Riding Slush Cup helped—I recognized the entry, paced it right, put my head down, and powered up. I looked up once, and I was already at the top. I took over a minute off my previous best, and the legs still felt great.
The icebreaker and the Red Bull turn was fantastic. The singletrack into Woodchip was tight but ridable. The braking bump was a little wild, but manageable.
Woodchip with zero momentum is cruel and unusual punishment. It was one of my slowest Times, and the moment when my legs first started to feel cooked. But the flyover and pump track helped bring back the fun. No sharp turns before the finish meant you could absolutely let the bike fly.
I crossed the line at 2:42, and honestly, there’s so much to be proud of.
I rode the best I ever have. I passed confidently. According to Pass Data:
Passed: 204 riders
Passed by: 28
Finished: 29th out of 95
11 minutes faster than wave average
Given the circumstances, it was an absolute success.
Takeaways from the Trail
This year brought many challenges and significant growth. I learned that just because you’re down doesn’t mean you’re out. I discovered more about myself as a rider and a person than I have in years.
This was the best bike handling I’ve ever experienced. I trusted the bike. I leaned into corners. I let the tires do their work. I didn’t brake unnecessarily. I learned when to coast and when to pedal through. For the first time, I didn’t brake in the singletrack because of my own mistakes, only because of riders ahead or backups like Gussied Up.
Before the slowdown, I was pacing for low 2:20s. What that time could have been remains a mystery to me. But focusing on mountain biking this fall was one of the best decisions I made. With the Michigan Off-Road Championship adding more races that fit my schedule, 2026 might have more MTB than gravel.
Lessons Learned Off the Bike
Life isn’t something we can fully control. As much as we wish we could, we can’t. I’m so grateful that, despite everything—being first-time parents, my health issues, our pets—Christine and I stayed “on the trail.” We adapt. We support each other. We never waver.
A big thank you to my wife for her patience, growth, and understanding with me and all my hobbies. I couldn’t do any of this without you.
To all my fellow riders, I appreciate you taking the time to read the blog throughout the year. Thanks to the racers who called out “Lucy’s Dad,” “Sleeves,” or said something kind and then passed me on course.
I hope everyone has a safe and healthy holiday season. I wish that your time with loved ones creates memories you’ll treasure forever.
Until then, grab the fat bikes. I’ll see you in the woods.
A HUGE thank you to Chris Mutnansky @the_racing_ref for being our 2025 Iceman Trailblazer!
There’s a lot to unpack from Iceman Cometh 2025, some good, some not-so-good, and all of it worth reflecting on. So, let’s dive in.
First, I want to give a heartfelt thank you to every single person who makes this event happen. I’ve raced and spectated at many events over the past five years, and Iceman remains the most organized, thoughtful, and well-run of them all. It’s incredible to see how the race has evolved over the last decade, with small improvements each year that make a huge difference. It’s truly an event built for both riders and spectators, and it shows.
When I got my wave assignment this year, I wasn’t thrilled, but it did match the tone of my 2025 season: complicated, unpredictable, full of personal highs and lows, and not much in the way of performance. To be honest, this season was HARD. But it taught me a lot about resilience, about how tough people really are, and about how generous and supportive my circle is. I’m grateful for every single person who helped me keep going this year.
We arrived at Timber Ridge on Wednesday, and with the cold weather settling in, we didn’t do as much riding as planned. My husband and I did ride the final four miles, though, because let’s be honest, that’s what everyone wants to know. And I was so impressed. Real, tight, slightly techy singletrack right at the finish? I loved it. It challenged all of us and definitely opened some eyes to things that need to be worked on by a lot of participants I am sure.
Friday night, that familiar pre-race anxiety crept in. The “What if I freeze?” “What if I bonk?” “Did I bring the right clothes?” questions looped endlessly. I know I wasn’t the only one lying there mentally spiraling, please tell me I wasn’t.
Race day began with sending off two of my favorite riders, Kayla and Elliot Mercer, in their first-ever Slush Cup. I was so excited to see them out there. The turnout for the Slush Cup this year was incredible, and if anyone is thinking about dipping their toes into mountain bike racing, it’s such a great place to start. Do it.
The drive to Kalkaska is always quiet for me. This year, though, I felt a sense of calm and confidence. My gear test (a solid 30 minutes standing outside like a very confused snow statue waiting for Slush Cup to start) told me I’d be warm enough, so at least one thing was working in my favor. My husband wore shorts, because he’s psychotic. Our group all started within 30 minutes of each other, and my dad handled drop-off like the pro he is, making sure we were ready, tires pumped, and nerves somewhat contained.
Wave 31 rolled into the chute, nerves and excitement buzzing, and then we were off. Once we hit the singletrack, I felt completely in my element. Sow’s Ear, which I’d heard about for weeks, was a highlight, fun, flowing, and everything I love about riding.
Then came mile 10. The mile 10. The Great Backup of 2025. We were stopped for about 30 minutes, and while I don’t know exactly what caused it, the atmosphere was surprisingly positive. People laughed, talked, made new friends, it was one of those moments that reminds you why the mountain bike community is so special. The only downside was how fast the cold set in. My warm sweat chilled, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the cold for the rest of the race.
The next 20 miles were tough. My seatpost, an upgrade from just days before, kept slowly sinking, leaving me more and more cramped. I fixed it a couple times, but it kept slipping slowly. Just one of those “part of racing” things that you mentally file away for later. I definitely informed my mechanic immediately after the race. Thanks, Velo Van, for not running in the opposite direction when I said, “So, something happened.”
Somewhere in that stretch came Make It Stick. I’d been unable to climb it in 2024, and I decided to give it everything this year. And I made it. That moment alone was worth a lot. The next 450 climbs? Hit or miss. And that’s okay.
The finish was everything I hoped it would be. I’d pre-ridden it, studied the lines, and knew it would be well-worn and challenging by the time I arrived. Ice Breaker was electric, as always, the fans truly carry you up that hill. A tight downhill corner caused trouble for some riders (and produced some incredible photos (thanks Nick Garrison), and Woodchip Hill delivered its usual dose of humbling. I made it halfway before walking, and honestly, no shame in that. Then the pumptrack, such a great addition. Rolling out of it and hearing a group of people chanting my name was one of the best feelings of the entire day. I didn’t need to sprint to the finish, but it felt right in the moment.
I crossed the line and saw my time: 3:51. WHAT. My initial reaction was disappointment. I felt strong, and for a year that had been so difficult, I wanted the result to show the effort. I had signed up for Lady Athena and missed 5th place by just a few seconds, but noticed that my good friend Jamie got her first Iceman podium, and I was so happy for her. I started getting messages later that evening. There had been a timing correction. I actually did get 5th. I podiumed at Iceman. And that moment meant everything.
Overall, this is my favorite race of the year, every year. I look forward to it, think about it constantly, and feel both relieved and excited when it’s over. I’m deeply grateful to the Iceman Trailblazers program for inviting me to be a part of something bigger this year.
If there’s anything I hope people take away from this season and my posts, it’s this: even when things are hard, keep pushing. You are capable of so much more than you think. And yes, your butt belongs on that bike.
If you’re reading this and wondering whether you should sign up for 2026…you absolutely should.
See you out there.
Thank you to Haleigh Curtis @curtis_haleigh_mtb for being our 2025 Iceman Cometh Trailblazer.
Iceman has this way of pulling you in every year with a big warm hug, then knocking you flat and asking why you weren’t ready for it. And still, we line up again and again because there’s nothing in Michigan, maybe nothing anywhere, that feels quite like showing up for this race with your family, your friends, and your bike that’s one mechanical away from emotional terrorism.
The Road to Iceman
This whole year was basically one long lead-up to November. Between RedFox rides, building up my new budget hardtail, long gravel days, mid-week tempo grind sessions, and doing everything I could to get my numbers back into a solid race zone, I felt as ready as I’ve ever been. Even did the race-sim training ride, which reminded me that “race pace” hurts a lot more when you’re not actually racing for anything yet.
Meanwhile, I checked the weather two or three times a day like some sort of meteorology addict trying to decide if I needed to bring the fat bike “just in case we get a full mud man this year.” Spoiler: I left it at home, YOLO.
The kids were hyped, too. Every week it was, “Dad, can we get another ride in before the Sno Cone?” Watching them get ready is honestly better than anything I do on a bike.
The Curse of the Family Vehicles
A week out, my wife’s car died. Not “needs a tune-up” died, more like “Nope, see you after Iceman” died. So we figured out how to cram a family of five into my little truck for a four-day weekend.
Then, four days before the race, my truck shut off while my wife was driving home late at night. I immediately went into full-blown race-logistics-panic mode. Heart rate in Zone 2 without even pedaling.
Turns out… she just ran out of gas. The sending unit was lying about how much fuel was left. Lesson learned: if it reads a quarter tank, it’s already empty. Honestly that should be an Iceman motto.
Exodus to Traverse City
Thursday finally came and we made the move north. Smooth sailing. Spirits rising. Dinner at Don’s Drive-In with the whole family. It was one of those simple meals that hits way harder because you’re already making memories before the race even starts.
Friday: Expo Day
The hotel buzzed before sunrise like everyone had plugged themselves into a giant charger labeled stoke. Standing in line, talking with friends and rivals, watching kids running around wearing jerseys two sizes too big, it’s electric.
My wife beelined straight for the merch booth to snag me a jersey while I grabbed packets. Then came the wandering, the deals, the “hey man good luck tomorrow,” the bling made from old bike parts that my kids absolutely needed, and some new shoes I absolutely convinced myself were a “need.”
Got to chat with Brian Matter about his Bronk Bros podcast and how Drew Dillman might be in for a rude awakening. Swapped a few words with Noah Ramsay about his Zwift Academy journey, his year with Alpecin-Deceuninck, and the absolute comedy of watching Willy sleep on Alexey Vermeulen’s back while the rest of us talk tires and pray for not a mud man.
The expo is chaos. It hits like a tornado, it’s over too fast, and somehow it’s one of the best parts of the entire weekend.
The Final Prep
Dropped the kids’ bikes at the club cabin. Carb-loaded at Cracker Barrel with the RedFox crew. Helped the kids lay out their race gear, then laid out mine. I swear prepping gear is half the sport at this point.
Race Morning
Up at 5 AM, moving around the dark hotel room like a raccoon with a race number. Heated up pancakes in the fitness center. Made coffee with my own machine, pro tip, bring your own if you don’t want sadness in a cup before the biggest race of the year.
By 7 AM I was taping gels to the top tube, filling bottles, loading the hydration pack, sorting powders in Ziplocs that absolutely looked suspicious enough to get me on a watch list. Then my wife dropped me at the start.
Warm-Up and Line-Up
It was 33 degrees, so I rolled around wearing winter gloves with hand warmers stuffed inside like I was trying to smuggle a small heater. Chatting with friends helped settle the nerves. I felt ready. Calm. Focused.
Then the wave started moving up, and somehow I ended up farther back than planned. The buzzer went off and… my legs answered with a firm “No.” It felt like I already had done the race and someone forgot to tell me.
But I settled in, calmed my breathing, and started working my way forward.
Into the singletrack. Slow. Slower than my party-pace pre-ride. Heart rate dropped from the chill. Legs confused. Riders bottlenecked. I stayed patient, pushed when I could, backed off when it was pointless, grabbed wheels when they appeared.
Then the first mechanical.
Then the second.
Then the big one: chain wedged between cassette and spokes. Twisted, bound, locked up tight. A spectator ran in to help and we got it sorted after a few minutes. Whoever you were, you’re the real MVP.
The rest of the race was a mix of grinding, chasing, shaking off frustration, pumping the flow sections, nearly stopping behind someone who didn’t know how to pump the big rollers, then pushing across the line with absolutely nothing left.
My family’s voices were the first thing I heard. Everything else melted away.
Time was ten minutes slower than last year but considering the mess of mechanicals and the new longer course, I walked away… okay with it. Not happy, but grateful. And still standing.
The Sno Cone Race
If Iceman is the main act, Snow Cone is the encore that hits harder than anything else.
Watching my kids line up with pure joy on their faces, no fear, no nerves, just excitement, is unreal. My oldest took 3rd overall and was the first girl across the line. My son finished mid-pack with his signature hands-up move, and my youngest rode in with a smile so big it practically reset my heart rate.
In that moment, I forgot everything about my race. I was just the proudest dad on Earth.
Final Thoughts
Iceman is more than a race. It’s a tradition. A pilgrimage. A yearly checkpoint for thousands of riders who want to feel part of something bigger than themselves.
It gives you memories you didn’t know you needed. It gives your kids core moments they’ll hang onto long after they pretend they’re too cool to be seen with you. It challenges you, humbles you, reminds you that effort matters more than outcome, and brings together people who might not cross paths any other time of year.
To everyone who showed up, who trained, who raced, who finished, congrats. Winning isn’t about crossing the line first. It’s about showing up for something big.
See you next year.
G
Follow me on Strava @ G Dub
Thank you Gerald Gaecke @g_dubs83_ for being our guest blogger. You may recognize Gerald as he is one of our 2024 Iceman Ambassadors (Trailblazer)!
