Flow Chasers: December 2013

Things I learned from my first endurance Race

1. Dress in layers.

2. Drafting works, but makes people uncomfortable.

3. Tech sections that are fun on the first lap are misery on the last.

4. The Bee Gees is the best music to have in your playlist.

5. A 50-mile ride does not prepare you for a 100-mile ride.

I can’t really tell you why I signed up for the Dawn to Dusk race. I don’t even remember where I heard about it. For some reason I thought riding my bike for 9 hours would be a worthwhile experience. This kind of thinking has gotten me in trouble before. I once thought that in order to kayak class V+ rivers, I just had to attempt a class V+ river. That mistake almost killed me. It seems some lessons are not easily learned.

I really have no business racing. I’m overweight, under skilled, and have much more important things to do (like study for the bar exam or play with my kids). However, I am prone to restlessness and need a good challenge to keep me inspired. Maybe that is why I signed up for the race. Maybe it was the challenge to see if I could do something I shouldn’t be doing. Either way, with a $100 PayPal charge and a few clicks of the mouse I was committed.

To prepare for the race, I decided to ride my bike as much as possible during the day and research endurance racing on the web at night. Slowly I started logging more miles on Strava. I did a 24, 30, and 50-mile ride. I also purchased a spin bike and began following the Sufferfest videos provided by Strava to premium members. The Sufferfest videos are actually a fun way to sweat through a spin session. They are mostly high intensity interval training (HIIT), and get you sweating in a hurry.

A couple pictures from my training rides

During my training, I suffered two injuries. One was a bruised or cracked rib. I never had it x-rayed so I don’t know which it was. The second was a laceration on my left elbow that required 4 stitches. In the end, these were minor setbacks that had little affect on my race day performance. I’ve participated in a number of dangerous sports, but mountain biking has provided me the most injuries to date. I guess you have to pay to play.

Moments before the stitches came out

At night I poured over websites like MTBR, Pink bike, Playing With Gravity, and Pfun with Pflug to find inspiration and advice. Later, I read a ton of articles by Joe Friel, one of the race industries leading authorities on training. Finally, I purchased the book The TimeCrunched Cyclist by Chris Carmichael. These resources gave me the intellectual foundation I needed to survive a long race. A week before the race I watched a YouTube video of Rebecca Rusch. Her tips on race day nutrition were a lifesaver and ultimately led to me completing my race without one muscle cramp. I did suffer some menstrual cramps, but that was more a result of my genetic disposition.

The day before the race was its own mini marathon. I dropped Max off at school in the morning. Then, I picked up my bike from Mick Wolf and Certified Bicycle Repair, who did a masterful job tuning it up for the race. Next, I loaded up my gear and drove to Fountain Hills (2 hours) to drop it off at the race site. I set up my EZUP tent and organized my 10 x 10 space. Then, I changed into my MTB costume and rode a practice lap on the course. I wanted to make sure that they race organizers had not re-routed anything. Luckily the course was as I remembered and all was well in the world. After my pre-ride, I registered for the race. After waiting in line for 30 minutes, I was issued my race number and given my swag bag. At Dawn to Dusk each participator gets their name silk screened onto the race shirt. It’s a small touch, but a nice one. After registering, I drove back up to Payson to attend my church’s Christmas Party. The little kids put on a nativity program and Max played one of the farm animals. He was super cute and made a mighty fine cow. After the party was over, I got the kids to bed, kissed my wife goodnight, and drove back down to Fountain Hills. Sleep came quickly, as I snuggled into my little Xbox for the night.

Dusk to Dawn Registration

The Xbox booth

My accommodations for the night

Mr. Max dressed as a cow.

The morning of the race I woke up at 5 AM and hit the snooze button on my iPad every 10 minutes until 5:30 AM. Once I found the courage to leave my sleeping bag, I began making preparations for the race. I split my 12 water bottles into two groups. Group A got distilled water; Group B got water with GU electrolytes. On the table I laid out my box of GU gels, 5 Hour Energy drinks and Honey Stinger proteinbars. For breakfast I forced myself to eat two cold pancakes my wife had prepared the day before and a banana. Additionally, I drank a liter or water and ingested the day’s first GU gel.

As the sun started to come up, I switched into my bib and jersey. It was then that I realized I was under dressed. This mistake would haunt me throughout the race. I figured that once I started pedaling I would warm up, however I was dead wrong.

Once at the starting line, I chatted with a 60 yr. old man who was competing in the race for the 4^th time. He gave me some sound advice and wished me luck. Once the horn rang out, I began the 2-mile road ride back to the staging area. It was exciting to see the different types of riders take off from the starting line. The solo riders tended to hang back a bit while the team riders sprinted out in front. Determined not to let the excitement get the better of me, I settled into my normal pace and found myself in the middle of the pack.

The first lap was interesting to say the least. Riders were excited and many were really gunning to maintain a fast pace. Everyone was respectful and in my 9+ hours of racing I didn’t witness one rude exchange. It was during my first lap that I encountered a phenomenon that I had never experienced before . . . drafting. Riding in a pack, I my front wheel was just inches from the rider in front of me. It wasn’t that I was purposely trying to take advantage of the other riders; rather we were just riding in a tight group. By the time I reached the end of the 1^st lap, I felt fresh and curious. I looked down at my iPhone and saw that I had beaten my best time on the Pemberton loop. Interesting.

Lap two went just as well as the first loop. My legs felt strong and I was able to maintain a strong pace. After lap 2, I stopped at the staging area and exchanged by water bottles and restocked my GU gels. Lap 3 came and went without issue, and then it happened. As I began the climb of lap four, I felt like the air had been let out of my rear tire. I even stopped to check the pressure to make sure my tubeless wheels were doing their job. Everything checked out and the tires were fine. That meant my legs were getting tired. Bummer.

I read on the web somewhere that you don’t want your longest ride to come during a race. The reason being is it messes with you physiologically. Sure enough, it was happening. The first three laps had gone great, but I had completed three laps during my training rides. It wasn’t until I crossed over into the unknown did everything feel harder. I managed to complete the 4^th lap and as I pulled into the staging area, I decided to take a significant break.

Back at my tent, I ate a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich. I threw on my heavy Patagonia jacket and Zion Cycles beanie and settled into my camp chair. Sitting there my body wanted to take a nap but my mind kept telling me to keep going. The older gentleman at the start of the race had warned me to not stop riding. He said, “The longer you are off your bike, the harder it is to get back on.” True to form, the longer I sat in my camp chair, the less enthusiastic I was to get back on my bike. After 15 minutes, I forced myself up and resumed the busy work or changing out water bottles and GU packets. I said goodbye to my comfortable chair and said hello to my rock hard Cannondale saddle.

Lap 5 went well. I was tired, but moving at a steady pace. The short rest had reinvigorated me (to a degree) and I was feeling better then the 4^th lap. One thing I noticed was that the tech sections that I looked forward to on the first few laps were getting harder and harder to ride. Due to fatigue in my arms and legs, I really had to concentrate to find a smooth line. As I saw several other riders lose concentration and crash, I was terrified the same outcome would befall me. As fatigue set in, I once again made it through the downhill section and back into the staging area.

As I rounded the chicane, I decided not to stop at my tent. I knew if I stopped my race would be over. Instead I continued back into the desert for what would be my last lap. By now 8 hours of racing with nothing more then a jersey on had wreaked havoc on my respiratory system. My breathing was heavy and I was coughing constantly. Even though I was pedaling hard, I was cold. The sweat of the afternoon had wet my jersey and as the sun went down, I felt my temperature drop further and further.

The hardest part of the last lap was dealing with the race teams. While the solo riders fought to maintain a decent pace, those racing in 4 man teams were fresh and powerful. By now I was riding rather slow and it was tough to constantly pull to the side as riders who had just had 3 hours off, blew by. It was at the top of the last lap that I saw the most heinous crash I have ever witnessed. While attempting to stay on my bike for the last downhill section, a team rider flashed by me. By now I was used to such pass and didn’t give it much thought. However, as I rounded a corner, I noticed cholla cactus scattered along the trail. “That’s weird,” I thought. Then I saw him, the same rider that had passed me moments earlier was literally covered from head to two in the eel like arms of a cholla cactus. He looked dazed and bewildered. I wanted badly to stop, but reasoned, A) There was nothing I could do to help him. B) The sun was going down and the race crew would be doing a sweep of the course in less than an hour. Feeling like a real dick, I continued by and didn’t even stop. Sitting here now, I still feel bad about it.

Imagine being covered in these babies. Not cool.

After leaving the fallen warrior I continued down the trail and back into the staging area. Crossing the finish line for the 6^th time, I looked down at my iPhone and a feeling of dread set in. The odometer on Strava read 94 miles. In order to reach my goal of 100 miles I would have to ride 6 more miles. Uggggggg. At that moment I did what any reasonable person would do. I opened up iTunes and started playing my BeeGees playlist. I grew up on the Bee Gees and to this day, their music always lifts my spirits. Pedaling along the last few miles, the sounds of “Tragedy," “If I Can’t Have You" and “Jive Talkin” lifted my spirits. At one point I felt very emotional and thought I was going to cry. I was just a mile or two from reaching the goals I had set for myself months ago. Once I reached the 3-mile mark, I turned around and headed back to the staging area. I crossed the finish line again only this time I was going the wrong way. The spectators standing nearby gave me curious looks, but I didn’t care. I had reached my goal and pedaled over 100 miles.

A screen shot from my iPhone

I returned to my car and decided it was best to stay on my feet. I quickly changed out of my riding costume and into some warm jeans and a fleece jacket. I managed to fit all of my gear back into my Xbox. Just before leaving, I stopped by the Chipotle stand. Chipotle had sponsored the event and as a result had decided to give all the participants free tacos. After 9 hours of GU gels, those were by far the best tacos I have ever eaten. Thoroughly exhausted, I drove back up to Payson, took a long hot shower, and passed out minutes later.