|   24Hour Racing SOLO | moneyshot
Sep 6, 2002 2:46 PM | | Im kinda unclear on how this works. I know with a 4-5 man team, they take turns doing "laps" and rest in between their turns etc etc etc.
if you are riding it solo, and you get tired....do you just rest for a while? take a nap? whats the strategy?
its all totally new to me, so id be interested in hearing your responses |
| re: 24Hour Racing SOLO | Yeti_Rider
Sep 6, 2002 3:47 PM | | It's pretty much whatever you want to do. If you want to rest you rest. If you don't, you don't. The top contenders never stop for more than a few minutes at a time but other people who are just out for hte challenge will stop for rest and sleep whenever they feel they need.
Michael |
| re: 24Hour Racing SOLO | jpozz
Sep 7, 2002 12:30 PM | | The really good guys pace themselves so they can just keep going, no breaks. I was at the world champ. race last weekend and in the elite race, pretty much nobody took more then a 20 minute break. Chris Eatough, the winner, spent an average of 1 minute in the pits each stop - over the whole race! (Except for the hour everyone stopped due to weather-see 24hrsofadrenalin.com for details)
I have learned that there is also not much specific training you can do just for these types of races. The longest rides I hear of people doing are 7 or 8 hours, and only riding that once in a while. The key is just superb fitness and an iron will. All three of the top mens and two of the top womens finishers at the worlds were norba pros, they are just great XC riders that can stay in that suffer zone a long time.
Best of luck, I think you will like every person you meet in 24 hour solo racing, a great group of people.
jon posner |
| My 24hr solo experience [long] | OldSchool
Sep 7, 2002 3:53 PM | | I attempted a 24hr race this summer but DNFed. I posted this story a couple weeks back on the "General Discussion" board (I'm only a "Passion" lurker, as well as THE cabin boy [grin][hint]).
However, the medical "situation" that struck me down is rare, but could be devastating. Many have encouraged me to spread this story around to get the word out (some in the medical profession are even pursuing this case for their research). So, here it goes.....
CIRCLING THE DRAIN
By Timothy D , August 15, 2002
This year I signed up for the Gorge Games 24 hour mountain bike race. I was originally planning to participate on a team relay, but the team disintegrated. So, I decided to enter as a solo contestant and changed my training approach from focusing on being fast for an hour at a time to being a mule (steady and continuous). Now I'm not fast compared to those who race their bike regularly, but I have done a couple of marathons. I prefer endurance/long haul type events anyway. So what the heck.
Training went well, and I was happy with my progress. I continued to feel strong as the distances stretched longer and longer (Thanks to my family for giving me the time to do this). My race goal was to merely finish 8 to 10 laps as a self-supported solo (No pit crew or cook). Each lap is about 10 miles. So, this should be an attainable goal - and no worries if I don't make it. The only training glitch is that work pulled me to Texas that last couple weeks before the race. That was ok. It was time to taper anyway. Right? Also, I came down with a mild stomach flu and was hoping to be over it before the race.
Race day came. I had spent the previous night at a friend's in Hood River and felt well rested. I had also setup camp the day before. So, there was nothing to do but wait for the noon start. It was fun to meet my camp neighbors who were awesome and very supportive. I also chatted with many after the pre-race meeting -- including Tinker and his Mom (Hey, I'm a fan!). With temperatures predicted to be in the mid-90's, I drank a lot of water and Gatorade that morning.
The gun went off. I jogged the start and I took it easy after I got on the bike. No need to go out too fast (a common marathon mistake). I know this course very well. With about 90% single-track, it is really fun -- very twisty though. In that there are not many straight-aways, it is not a fast course. An average lap speed over 10mph is hauling (for me). Any faster, and I would be reckless. This course is so fun that I was happy to do this loop over, and over, and over, and...
Unfortunately, trouble started on the first lap. I was hit with stomach cramps before I was halfway around, and I wasn't even close to pushing hard. I attributed my morning queasiness to nervous energy, but maybe I wasn't yet over that stomach thing. The loop ends with a climb that is, I don't know, two or three miles. And I can do this climb in the middle ring, but I dropped to the granny and spun up it. I stopped at the timing tent to refill my camelback, drink some Gatorade, and eat some fruit, and I was off again.
The second lap started off much better in that the stomach seemed to have settled down. The first half of the trail is full of steep downs and ups. There are three big ravines that give this trail its name, "WhoopDiDo". These crossings are especially fun (and challenging) with a roller-coaster like weightlessness feeling as one drops 60 or so feet into the gulch, maxed g-outs in the trough, and then rocketing up and out on the other side. If you brake too much in the drop, don't pick a good line, and/or miss-time the pedal up, you will have to scramble out on foot. But I have these suckers wired, and the cheers of encouragement from the folks along the rim were also just great (thanks all!).
I was riding strong and had settled into a grove... that is until I was half way up the final climb. This time I was nailed with hamstring cramps that just buckled me -- both legs! I have never, ever had hamstring cramps biking. Calf cramps, rarely, at the end of some long rides when I've run low on water. But never anything like this. I rested, stretched, pushed, and pedaled my way up the hill and into the timing tent. I then went over to the massage tent.
A chiropractor checked my alignment and jerked some things around. Everything looked good to him. He did comment that it seemed as if I wasn't keeping up on my minerals. It was the massage therapist, however, that was a tremendous help. She really worked on loosening things up. When she was done, I decided to take a good break, do some yoga, and eat before the next lap.
I took it easy on the next loop. I smoothly spun those quick ups that I would normally hammer (It was hard not to go for it.). But I could tell that those cramps were just waiting to jump me again. It was an uneventful slow lap. I decided it was time for dinner after passing through the timing tent.
So, I went over to my camp; stoked up the stove, and heated up a pre-cooked teriyaki chicken rice stew. This was freeze-dried backpacking food -- good and salty. I had another good stretch; put the lights on the bike, and headed out for another lap. It was just after sunset, and there was a glorious after-glow. I crested the ridge after the first climb, and what an awesome view! I was tempted to stop and take it all in for a while -- but the race must go on. So, on I went. I flamed on the lights when I entered the woods (night riding is such a hoot!). I was feeling good and started to push it. I was cleaning all the tougher sections. Right on! I finished the lap feeling jazzed up. It was good to feel back on my game.
It was great to see some friends waiting for me in the timing tent. They noted that I had perspired quite a bit. And I did feel overheated even though the evening was cool. I decided not to push it further and called it a night. I cooled down, drank, ate, stretched, and climbed into the sleeping bag to recoup with a good nap before continuing my ride early the next morning.
I started feeling queasy while trying to fall asleep. I then felt very sick -- barely making it into the woods (away from camp) to chuck my diner and then some. Yuk. When it finally felt safe to do so, I headed back into the tent. I didn't try drinking anything, as it would just come back up. I climbed back into my bag hoping for that sweet surrender of sleep.
But then I started to sweat profusely. I'm soaked. Next, I am shivering uncontrollably. Back to the sweats. Then the shakes. Back and forth again and again. This settles down. Ah, sleep is coming. Next, I notice that my left hand is tingling. The tingle goes up my arm. It starts to feel numb. And it spreads to my chest. And then my face. I now realize that something is very wrong! I sit up to call for help. But my lips are numb. They don't work. I sound like an imbecile because I can't enunciate. I've started to lose my vision. But I continue to call. My neighbors (bless them) come to my aid. They get the medics. I vaguely remember a ride on an ATV before I pass out.
The medics rouse me. I am in the first-aid tent. I can feel a needle poke. I pass out again. I'm roused again. A very grim face is looking down at me. She asks me how I feel. "Foggy" I reply. I go through some more repetitions of the shakes and sweats before I pass out again.
I do not remember the ambulance ride down to Hood River. I do not remember the emergency room. I do not remember being admitted to the hospital.
It is now around 10am Sunday. I'm being roused. My wife and kids are with me in the hospital room. They have been there for a while. I do not know where I am. I do not know why I'm there. I do not know what day it is. I am totally clueless.
I am being roused. Again, my family is there. It is now 7pm Sunday night. It turns out that they have been rousing me every hour or so. This time I'm more coherent, and people are happy that I am starting to remember and recall things. The doctor explains what happened. They decide that I should spend another night in the hospital so that they can continue to monitor my vitals and sample my blood.
I sleep like the inventor of sleep and wake up the next morning. I have now slept for over 30 hours! I don't think I've done that since I was prenatal. I'm still foggy though, and I have tunnel vision. Simple tasks such as navigating a path to the bathroom with an IV pole are difficult. But I'm good enough to go. So, we check out and head home. It took a couple of weeks before my short-term memory, appetite, and other body cycles got back to normal.
So here is what happened... I was hyponatremic (low blood Sodium). There is a rare condition that, when out of kilter as a result of extended physical activity, one's body may emit a hormone that is a diuretic that causes a drop in blood Sodium. This imbalance causes swelling of internal tissues -- including one's brain. The result is cerebral edema, and this is not a good thing. The progression is typically unconsciousness, convulsions, coma, and then death. When I was admitted to the hospital, my Sodium was down to 117. Normal levels are around 135.
I was circling the drain.
A runner died this year in the Boston Marathon from this condition (I have attached a Boston Globe article at the bottom of this essay.). I've also heard of another marathoner who went hyponatremic, and he continues to have seizures as a result.
It is now a month later. Today, I will go on my first long ride since the race. The whole thing is still quite sobering . and enigmatic. I was more worried about head-butting a tree than bonking like this. Did I over-exert myself? I don't think so. I had just started to exceed my training distances during the race, and I've covered similar distances in 1/2 the time. I was taking it easy because I had potentially 24 hours of riding to do.
Did my slight stomach flu help bring this on? I've trained hard before when not feeling 100%. I just worked through it in the past.
Did the high temperatures contribute? Probably. A number of Gorge Games racers needed IV hydration that day. But I have done a lot of hot day training, and the heat normally doesn't bother me.
Did I drink too much? After reading the article below, I think that this was my critical flaw. I was stuffing myself with water and Gatorade. Drink, drink, and drink. That is the common advise heard for these types of events.
Whatever the cause, I am very grateful. Thanks go out to my race-camp neighbors, to the medical staff in the first-aid tent, to the hospital staff, and to my family. The lessons I draw from this experience are:
1. Do not change your regimen on race-day. Eat AND drink as you normally do.
2. Listen to your body when it's trying to tell you something. Usually it warns about an impending soft-tissue, stress related injury. I will now listen for those things more subtle.
3. Enjoy life.
Writing this has been therapeutic. Thanks for letting me share,
Tim
p.s. There are two pieces appended to this essay. The first is an article from the Boston Globe about the Marathon fatality. The second is a reply from one of the EMTs that treated me in the first-aid tent.
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***From the Boston Globe***
MARATHON RUNNER'S DEATH LINKED TO EXCESSIVE FLUID INTAKE
By Stephen Smith, Globe Staff, 8/13/2002
The 28-year-old runner who collapsed and died in this year's Boston Marathon was felled by a precipitous cascade of medical events brought on in part by drinking too much fluid, the state medical examiner's office concluded yesterday.
Cynthia Lucero, who in the week before the April marathon completed her doctoral dissertation on how marathons help runners grieve, died from a condition known as hyponatremic encephalopathy, which happens when the brain becomes swollen because of a critical imbalance of sodium. She was only the second runner to die in the 106-year history of the race.
''This is a relatively rare catastrophic complication,'' said Dr. Ronenn Roubenoff, associate professor of medicine and nutrition and director of human studies at the Jean Mayer USDA Human Nutrition Research Center at Tufts University. ''It really is a tragedy because it's such a preventable thing.''
For the neighborhood jogger taking to the baking pavement in the August heat, the death of Lucero provides a graphic illustration of the dangers of drinking too much water or even sports drinks. Runners have long known the importance of replenishing fluids, but they may not know that it is also vital to maintain a balance in sodium levels to keep cells healthy. If runners drink too much fluid, they can dangerously dilute their blood sodium levels.
That condition is called hyponatremia. Although people seldom die from hyponatremic encephalopathy, health-threatening sodium deficiencies are more common among athletes than doctors once believed. Roubenoff cites one study, for example, that tracked 18,000 marathoners and found that among those seeking medical care after the race, 9 percent suffered from the condition. Deaths are sufficiently rare that specialists can recount them individually.
Until recently, hyponatremia was a little-known, even less-understood medical condition. But researchers, including Dr. Arthur J. Siegel of McLean Hospital, are learning more about hyponatremia, known more commonly as water intoxication.
Siegel is deeply familiar with Lucero's case, having obtained with her parents' permission a blood sample drawn at Brigham and Women's Hospital, where the runner was taken after she collapsed. He and other scientists are hopeful that, in death, Lucero will yield medical evidence that can prevent other runners from the fate that befell her.
''We want as Cynthia's legacy a better understanding of this problem so that we can work out strategies to make it less likely that these cases will happen in the future,'' said Siegel, director of internal medicine at McLean.
The 2002 Boston race was Lucero's second marathon. The previous one was two years earlier in San Diego, a race she completed in about 41/2 hours. She was running the Boston Marathon to raise money for the Massachusetts chapter of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
On that April Monday, friends tracked her progress. They said that Lucero, wearing bib number 15,611, drank large amounts of Gatorade and looked well as she loped through the bottom of Heartbreak Hill in Newton, about six miles from the finish.
But with Cleveland Circle in sight, Lucero began to falter, those friends recalled. One of them hopped into the race next to her and Lucero told the friend that she felt dehydrated and rubber-legged. Lucero tumbled to the pavement. When she reached Brigham and Women's, she was comatose.
Lucero's parents, who'd traveled from Ecuador to mark the completion of her dissertation, had been waiting at the finish line.
The precise causes of the syndrome that killed Lucero remain somewhat mysterious, and dispute persists among researchers over whether the predominant triggering mechanism is related to too much fluid or extreme dehydration. Increasingly, though, scientists believe that the problem transcends a simple equation of too much or too little water.
They believe it's vastly more complex. Siegel and other researchers theorize that marathoners, triathletes, and other athletes who engage in extreme sporting competition often deplete the fuel that powers the body's cells. When this happens, a hormone called arginine vasopressin gets released. Part of its function is to tell the kidneys to hold on to fluids.
That, in turn, precipitates an imbalance in sodium levels in the blood. But as salt drops in the blood, it does not do so in cells. The body, in its constant pursuit of equilibrium, attempts to force salt out of cells by flooding them. That causes swelling. Muscles can endure such swelling because they can bulge outward. The brain, though, cannot.
''The brain lives in a box - the skull - and it doesn't have anywhere to go when this swelling starts,'' Roubenoff said.
Lucero's death showed that even runners who drink sodium-laden sports drinks remain at risk of the condition, which Siegel cites as evidence that the syndrome is more complicated than simply taking in too much fluid. That is why he and people who organize races are working on ways to improve measures of runners' health, including weighing them before and after races to make sure they haven't lost too much fluid or, conversely, consumed too much.
''We are moving toward understanding this problem,'' Siegel said, ''and if we can make some headway, maybe we can prevent more losses like Cynthia's.''
Stephen Smith can be reached at stsmith@globe.com.
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-----Original Message-----
From: Susan M
Sent: Thursday, August 22, 2002 6:22 PM
To:
Subject: Glad we were able to put the proverbial plug in the
proverbialdrain!
Hi Tim,
I'm glad that I remembered your name from the gorge games. I
think that since I was the only female in the tent that night,
I guess that I was the "very grim face".And those who know
me well know that a grim face means trouble. Mine usually
has a smile that can't be wiped off.
I'm pleased that you remembered the first-aid tent at all. We
got very little information from the transporters when you
arrived on the ATV. Had I known the full history as you have
recorded it, I may have gotten you out of the tent a few
minutes faster. All we knew was that you had a history of
flu-like symptoms and you hadn't hit your head.
A little tidbit about those of us who sit up all night in the
first-aid tent. We are the kings and queens of questions.
Tell me about what's happening with you tonight? How long
have you felt this way? What's your dog's name? etc, etc.
etc. So you can imagine how I felt when I asked you a
question and you didn't answer for 5 seconds or so. Or how
worried I got when after the 4th or 5th question, I realized
that it was taking you at least 5 seconds to respond to every
question I was asking. For instance, I asked what your
wife's name was and you could answer after about 5 seconds.
However, when I asked what your phone number was, it took much
longer for you to process a response, and you had to repeat it
twice for me to get the entire 10 digit number. But I wasn't
about to risk not finding out while you were still able to
answer questions. I knew right away that you weren't the run
of the mill "dehydration" that we were expecting. I also knew
right away that you weren't going to spend any significant
time in our tent and that you needed care that we weren't able
to provide.
You state in your diary that you had trouble forming the
words. From my end, I couldn't tell if you had trouble
processing the thought or finding the words that went with the
thought. It really didn't matter anyway. The care is the
same -- to the hospital. By that time I was thinking maybe
encephalitis - I guess not too far off!
I would have worried if you remembered an ambulance ride. You
were actually transported with medical equipment and EMTs in
the back of a Suburban (Montana Cadillac) to expedite your transport.
It isn't very often that one volunteers for this kind of event
and actually finds out what happened to those you cared for. I
thought about you a time or two - actually was quite relieved
when the EMTs called a report soon after they arrived at the
hospital. Thanks for your update. I'm glad that we were
there to help, but even more so that your outcome was good.
Thanks, too for the extra information that you attached to your story.
On a different note -- could I have permission to prepare your
case for a case presentation for EMTs and Paramedics in
Oregon. With the extra information you have provided, this is
a very worthwhile case presentation. We have a program that
provides training to EMTs and Paramedics through the EMS and
Trauma Systems Section of the Department of Human Services.
Your name would not be used, and information would not be
identifiable. However, while I was caring for you, you
mentioned that your wife was a physician, and as such, she may
have opportunity to participate in a conference where the case
material could be presented. So, please let me know if I
could use this very interesting case in the future.
ps. I like # 3 the best -- enjoy life -- and would add "after
all, it's not a dress rehearsal"!
Susan |
| Hey Cabin Boy..... | Battman42
Sep 7, 2002 6:53 PM | | You might tell the Gatorade junkies in the other post about this too.
When will you be back at the Cabin... I may ask Pete if I can borrow his velcro Mittens...
Tim |
| The moral to the story ... at least from what I've learned | OldSchool
Sep 7, 2002 7:01 PM | | is that electrolytes ARE important. But too much electrolytes can be devastating... as well as too much water.
Need to keep the balance....
Tim |
| As my grandfather always said..... | Battman42
Sep 7, 2002 7:05 PM | | Moderation in all things....
His two shots of whiskey got him thru 88 years.
Tim |
| |
