Caroline Denzendorf sent us a recap of the Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder. For five days she happily suffered through 350 miles in the heart of the Cascade Mountains. What made her feel the #spiritofgravel in one of the nation’s toughest stage races? Read her account below:

Summer Camp. That’s how people describe Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder (OTGG). Hanging out with your friends, swimming in the river, reminiscing about the day on the trail over a catered dinner. On the surface, it all sounds delightful; a relaxing week of riding bikes through Oregon’s high country. But the OTGG was anything but relaxing.
 

Wake up, eat, drink, ride, eat, sleep, repeat. For five days this was life on the Oregon Trail. Two hundred people conquering mountain passes, wagon roads, snow, sand, river crossings, and everything in between. Some survived while others “died of dysentery.” Regardless of the outcome, we were all in it together. At the end of every stage, we shared well-deserved high fives, hugs, tears, and laughs as we traversed Oregon’s ever-changing terrain.
 

As I journeyed through the postcard-worthy mountain peaks and soul-sucking sandy valleys, I went through a flood of emotions throughout the week. There were high points as I chased and sprinted my way to podium spots on Days 1 and 2. There were low points as I fought just to make it to the finish line while feeling like my body was shutting down. As I began to process just what OTGG meant to me, I read this quote by Sally McRae; “The gold in racing is not the result, but who you become regardless of the result.”
 
I was naïve to think that riding my bike for five days and covering over 350 miles with 33,000 ft of climbing would be easy. But that’s life on the Oregon Trail, where the odds of dying of dysentery, breaking a wagon wheel or losing everything while fording a river are extremely high. Growing up in the 90s as a kid playing The Oregon Trail video game, I never actually survived the journey. For the OTGG, I decided to take an “ignorance is bliss” approach to the race. Having never done a stage race or even ridden gravel bikes in Oregon, I had no idea what was in store. I decided that if I didn’t know how hard it was going to be, I could fake my way through it.
 

For the most part, I did a great job of faking it. I rode my own race and stayed consistently in the top five for every stage. I tried not to get caught up chasing other athletes who could outclimb me. I just focused on riding my own pace and most importantly, not blowing up. Gravel racing is unique in that everyone starts together; pros, beginners, masters, men, women, we all race together. It’s a great format that creates an inclusive and inviting community, but it also means that you don’t always know who or where your competition is.
 
But as challenging as life on the Oregon Trail can be, every day I found myself riding with friends and laughing (or even crying) my way through the stages. There were a few days where, somehow, we came together in groups of four or five women and chased down the stage leader to secure a place on the podium. On Stages 1 and 2, I won the group sprints to secure 3rd place finishes. These “lady trains” were the highlight of my week. It’s rare in gravel to have groups of just women riding together and it was both humbling and inspiring to witness these talented athletes pushing their limits on the Oregon Trail.

I learned a lot this week during my first ever stage race. I’m still new to gravel. After being injured for the majority of the 2021 season, this is my first real gravel season. And with every race, I’m realizing my potential. I’m realizing how much I love racing my bike alongside other talented and strong women. I’m realizing how inspired I am by watching other women push their limits and I love being a cheerleader for my competition, regardless of if they beat me or not.

That’s not to say I’m not competitive. I am. I feel the fire inside me and I’m hungry for more. However, I also recognize that being a competitor means being able to admire those around me and learning from those more experienced. This race marks the half-way point of my season. There’s still a lot of racing to come and I’m ready for more.

Thank you to Chad Sperry, Matt Lieto, and the whole Breakaway Promotion team for bringing such a grueling and fun event to gravel. The #spiritofgravel is alive and well on the Oregon Trail.

—Caroline Denzendorf

Caroline Denzendorf sent us a recap of the Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder. For five days she happily suffered through 350 miles in the heart of the Cascade Mountains. What made her feel the #spiritofgravel in one of the nation’s toughest stage races? Read her account below:

Summer Camp. That’s how people describe Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder (OTGG). Hanging out with your friends, swimming in the river, reminiscing about the day on the trail over a catered dinner. On the surface, it all sounds delightful; a relaxing week of riding bikes through Oregon’s high country. But the OTGG was anything but relaxing.
 

Wake up, eat, drink, ride, eat, sleep, repeat. For five days this was life on the Oregon Trail. Two hundred people conquering mountain passes, wagon roads, snow, sand, river crossings, and everything in between. Some survived while others “died of dysentery.” Regardless of the outcome, we were all in it together. At the end of every stage, we shared well-deserved high fives, hugs, tears, and laughs as we traversed Oregon’s ever-changing terrain.
 

As I journeyed through the postcard-worthy mountain peaks and soul-sucking sandy valleys, I went through a flood of emotions throughout the week. There were high points as I chased and sprinted my way to podium spots on Days 1 and 2. There were low points as I fought just to make it to the finish line while feeling like my body was shutting down. As I began to process just what OTGG meant to me, I read this quote by Sally McRae; “The gold in racing is not the result, but who you become regardless of the result.”
 
I was naïve to think that riding my bike for five days and covering over 350 miles with 33,000 ft of climbing would be easy. But that’s life on the Oregon Trail, where the odds of dying of dysentery, breaking a wagon wheel or losing everything while fording a river are extremely high. Growing up in the 90s as a kid playing The Oregon Trail video game, I never actually survived the journey. For the OTGG, I decided to take an “ignorance is bliss” approach to the race. Having never done a stage race or even ridden gravel bikes in Oregon, I had no idea what was in store. I decided that if I didn’t know how hard it was going to be, I could fake my way through it.
 

For the most part, I did a great job of faking it. I rode my own race and stayed consistently in the top five for every stage. I tried not to get caught up chasing other athletes who could outclimb me. I just focused on riding my own pace and most importantly, not blowing up. Gravel racing is unique in that everyone starts together; pros, beginners, masters, men, women, we all race together. It’s a great format that creates an inclusive and inviting community, but it also means that you don’t always know who or where your competition is.
 
But as challenging as life on the Oregon Trail can be, every day I found myself riding with friends and laughing (or even crying) my way through the stages. There were a few days where, somehow, we came together in groups of four or five women and chased down the stage leader to secure a place on the podium. On Stages 1 and 2, I won the group sprints to secure 3rd place finishes. These “lady trains” were the highlight of my week. It’s rare in gravel to have groups of just women riding together and it was both humbling and inspiring to witness these talented athletes pushing their limits on the Oregon Trail.

I learned a lot this week during my first ever stage race. I’m still new to gravel. After being injured for the majority of the 2021 season, this is my first real gravel season. And with every race, I’m realizing my potential. I’m realizing how much I love racing my bike alongside other talented and strong women. I’m realizing how inspired I am by watching other women push their limits and I love being a cheerleader for my competition, regardless of if they beat me or not.

That’s not to say I’m not competitive. I am. I feel the fire inside me and I’m hungry for more. However, I also recognize that being a competitor means being able to admire those around me and learning from those more experienced. This race marks the half-way point of my season. There’s still a lot of racing to come and I’m ready for more.

Thank you to Chad Sperry, Matt Lieto, and the whole Breakaway Promotion team for bringing such a grueling and fun event to gravel. The #spiritofgravel is alive and well on the Oregon Trail.

—Caroline Denzendorf