From Doubt to Dirt: My Grit-Fueled Ride at Belgian Waffle California Del Mar 2025
Share
2025 Belgian Waffle Ride | San Diego
I didn’t expect to be at the start line of the 2025 Belgian Waffle Ride in San Diego. Between a new job, family-wide respiratory illness, and a never-ending sleep deficit, this wasn’t exactly the ideal lead-up to a 100-mile gravel race. But when my friend and monthly ladies ride leader in Kailua, Oahu, Debbie, reminded me during a girls’ ride that we all had a pretty solid base—even without ideal training—I decided to buck up and go for it.
I’m Yun, hailing from Honolulu, Hawaii and we don’t have much gravel to ride but we make due! I started riding bikes a little before COVID and fell in love with dirt and endurance sports! As a mama of three pups and three two legged middle aged kiddos and a full time job, keeping active can be a challenging but everyone’s got their thing and currently its being outside doing #epic$hit for me!
This blog is my honest breakdown of what it’s like to throw yourself into one of the most unpredictable, punishing, and strangely fun gravel events out there. From surprise creek dunkings to switchback-induced meltdowns, this was a day of grit, laughter, and chasing cutoffs. And yes—we made it.
Preparation & Pre-Race Chaos
I’d been considering dropping to the Wafer distance, but after some last-minute encouragement and a successful 90-mile, 9K training ride, I decided to gamble on the full Waffle. I wasn’t fully trained, but I wasn’t under-prepared either—just tired. Deep sleep had been eluding me for weeks, and new environments always keep me up. But once I convinced my MTB-slaying friend Keri to join me on the Waffle, there was no turning back.
Race morning came, and we couldn’t even see the front of the pack where we were supposed to start. With 1,500 riders rolling out together, we got caught behind bottlenecks on early singletrack—losing nearly 45 minutes before the race even really began.
My lovely Colorado friends! Unfortunately I didn’t make it in this official BWR photo.
11 miles in and the hit the first bottleneck
Release the Krakin!! That's below us once we dropped down a bit and got stuck again
The Course: Bottlenecks, Boulders, and Brutal Climbs
After skipping the first aid station, we found ourselves sprinting between cutoffs. At the second station, Keri took off, determined to beat the 11:30 a.m. deadline. I chased her through endless steep hills, my legs protesting every 15–17% gradient with increasing rage. “At least the weather’s cool,” I kept telling myself. “Maybe it’ll get easier.” Oh Highland Valley, I will never forget you!!!
It did get easier—sort of—thanks to drafting behind Keri and the occasional road chatter. But the course wasn’t exactly scenic enough to distract from the pain. Watching the pros zoom past us on the other side gave us a false sense of hope that the turnaround was near. It wasn’t.
At Station 3, around mile 60, volunteers told us future aid stops might not be manned. We stuffed our pockets with bars, gels, and Coke and committed to the final push—ready or not.
Moments of Doubt and Redemption
This was when things got real. My power was fading, and I struggled to keep up. A high-speed descent brought a jolt of joy—until we realized that incredible drop meant a brutal climb back up. Cue existential dread. Somewhere in the chaos, I dropped my chain, lost Keri, missed a trail, and somehow ended up ahead of her. Once we reunited, we began the soul-crushing climb through what I now call Death Valley—aka Pamo Valley.
A fierce headwind met us on the return. But we matched its force with our will. I even managed to pull for a few seconds to give Keri a break (a miracle by that point). A brief trail section lifted our spirits, as did Keri’s expertise in picking the best MTB lines. My back, hands, and saddle were all begging for mercy.
The Final Push: Waterlogged & Worn Out
Just when we thought we were done, the course served us one last cruel combo: a dam, a lake, an eternal set of switchbacks, and the choice between a hike-a-bike or a creek crossing. We chose the creek—and slammed our bikes into hidden boulders. I went full submersion. Honestly, it felt amazing on my burning feet.
The final three gravel hills were so steep that I had to push my bike. Keri? She fishtailed up them like a legend. I caught her again after a couple wrong turns, and we finished the race together—beating the 10-hour cutoff by the skin of our teeth.
Reflections: Lessons from the Gravel
We were two of just 21 women to finish the Waffle that day. Only about two-thirds of the 300 men finished. This wasn’t just a test of endurance—it was a masterclass in grit, adaptation, and mindset. If we hadn’t gotten stuck early on, understood the course layout better, and been more rested, we know we could’ve shaved off a chunk of time.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. We dug deep. We finished. And we laughed through the suffering. Gravel isn’t just harder than road—it’s way more dynamic, and honestly, a lot more fun.
Conclusion: Why I’ll Be Back
Belgian Waffle Ride California Del Mar 2025 was equal parts chaos and catharsis. From chasing cutoffs and creek crashes to unexpected trail magic and camaraderie, it was a ride I’ll never forget. Sleep-deprived, saddle-sore, and smiling at the end—that’s gravel for you.
If you’re thinking of signing up: do it. Be prepared, line up early, train smart—but know that no matter how it goes, you’ll come out stronger. Keri’s already asking about our next gravel race, and honestly… I might just sign up too.
It was brutal. It was suffering. And somehow, it was fun.
In case you wanted to know what I ate here’s a snack I munched on - Dates rolled in granola and peanut butter and salt along with the tens of Stryker Gels, NeverSecond drink mix, and my LMNT salts and some gummies along the way!
11 miles in and the hit the first bottleneck
