|
MountainBikeReview.com's Forum Archives - 24 Hours of Adrenalin Photo Essay Contest
|
|
Of scars, birthdays, and spirits in the night. (11 posts)
|  Of scars, birthdays, and spirits in the night. | RandyP
Oct 16, 2003 7:33 PM | | "Scars are tattoos with better stories"
-Toyota Tacoma Truck ad.
It's 3 AM and I'm following the rider up front too close on the course's first technical downhill just past Checkpoint #2. When I'm blinded by his dust cloud, my front tire washes out in the soft sandy soil and I go down. Not hard, but fast, and hard enough to get the adrenaline flowing so that I'm not even thinking about what I'm doing riding a mountain bike on this trail in the middle of the night. I'm covered in dust, my legs are covered in a slurry of mud formed by combining equal amounts of trail dust, sweat and blood. I take inventory. Other than the scrapes, I'm OK. My headlight mount has snapped and I launched my computer. Fortunately the helmet-mount HID is still working fine. I gather up my stuff while three riders pass, each calling out to me "Hey buddy, everything OK?". Mountain bikers are great people, well, most of them. I clip in and push off, figuring I lost maybe a minute while I unplugged what was left of my bar-mounted HID and stuffed it in my jersey pocket. Mental note: either get out ahead or lag behind other riders when hitting the downhill stretches. Don't ride in a dust cloud.
For the rest of the lap, I'm totally focused on the course and the task at hand. I'll have plenty of time to contemplate my get-off as well as the circumstances that led to my recent addiction to 24-hour mountain bike racing when I'm back at camp. I zigzag down the rest of downhill #1, sliding and drifting so much that I feel more like I'm snowboarding than biking. I pass two riders on the short uphill stretch and then I bomb down the fire road and then lean the bike into the tight left-hander which descends into Hurkey Creek. I'm jamming gears and making sure I'm in my middle ring/granny gear combo, ready for the climb out of the dry creek bed and up the second long climb of the course. I pass Wendy Skean, female solo rider who's 59 years young. She's suffering up the hill with the rest of us. Wendy is my hero.
Wendy puts things in perspective for me. I turned 49 this year on race day, feeling a little older and wondering how long I could keep on racing. Then I see Wendy out on the course, obviously tired, but not letting on or giving in. She always has time to acknowledge other racers. I hope that I am racing in another ten years, let alone racing solo. Way to go, Wendy! You are my hero.
I climb the rock pile where the hike-a-bike used to be, noticing that it's becoming a bit chopped up. Clearing the rocks and cresting the peak, I ride the second downhill a bit more tentatively than I did on my first two laps, the get-off still too fresh in my mind.
Funny, the things that pop into your head when you are reaching the point where exhaustion and fatigue are converging. As I ride the lower section of the second downhill while riding over and around boulder-size rocks, I think about what Jeff Hoffman, one of my son Doug's friends and a great rider, told me the first time I rode a technical downhill with him. Jeff was fond of saying that "the ride gets smoother the faster you go. Just let it flow." Jeff could rail down the most gnarly chutes at twice the speed of some of the best riders I know. He was one of the best technical riders I knew. We rode the trails with Jeff whenever our schedules would permit. In retrospect, it was not nearly enough time for either of us since Jeff passed away this summer. We all miss him. I'm sure he was with me that night, guiding me through the tricky sections of the course.
The rest of the lap goes by in a blur. Race out to the pavement, down the dirt road to the campsite and grind up the last short, steep climb of the course. Past the cheerleaders. Cheerleaders? At 3 AM? Am I losing it? Down across Hurkey Creek which resembles a beach now more than it does a creek bed and then into the transition area.
My youngest son, Dan, is ready and anxiously waiting for me in the transition area. I call out my number to the timers and sprint for Dan. Even at 4 AM, Dan is fresh. My wife Mary Ann is there with Jeanny, son Greg's fiancé. They take my bike from me and tell me I had a 1:03 lap time. We are in fifth through the night. Dan is well off on his lap. My wife sees the dust and the blood and is nonplussed. I guess she's seen worse during the time I've been mountain biking.
Back at camp, Mary Ann and Jeanny keep us well fed with PBJ sandwiches, bean soup and bagels and bring me up to date on what's happening. We are averaging just over one hour per lap and we're way ahead of our times from last year. Oldest son, Doug is up and getting his bike ready for his third lap. Greg, his younger brother and number two in the family lineup, is getting some well-deserved rest after turning two great night laps. Brent, the fifth member of the team and the only non-family member, is in his tent trying to sleep, unsuccessfully. All around us are the sounds of generators, racers riding by on their way out of camp, and Happy Gilmore and Chubbs.
As I sat by the fire, I began to recall how I started riding with my three sons simply as a way to spend more time with my boys, and hopefully, get me back into shape. What I did not know at that time was how our cycling would evolve into a new lifestyle for me an the family. When I first started riding, my boys would kick my butt. Now, after dropping 60 pounds and a training routine that has me putting in over 15 hours a week on a bike, I can now get up the climbs faster than any of them although they still whip me in the downhill stretches.
"Happy birthday, dad"
Jeanny asked me if I saw the birthday sign she had strung up opposite Checkpoint #2. I had to admit that while I had now passed it three times, I had not yet seen it. Jeanny and Doug's fiancé, Anel, were our volunteers. They spent their shift handing up Gatorade and Clif Shots to riders at Checkpoint #2, located just after the climb out of Johnson Meadow. Every time I had passed that checkpoint, I was so focused on riding hard or recovering that I had missed her birthday greeting. Finally, on my last lap at 12 noon Sunday, I saw the sign that apparently every other rider on the course had seen but me. When I rode by it, I told the crew working the checkpoint that the sign was intended for me. They all wished me luck and cheered me on. Thanks, volunteers, for all you do!
We all go through our rotation without complaint and every time one of us goes out, the others cheer them on. At 5AM I finally catch about an hour of sleep which is an hour longer than our last three 24-hour races. I'm back up at 6:30 preparing for lap 4.
During the twilight hours, we have moved from fifth to fourth but we're still 40 minutes behind the third place team. We need to make sure we don't have any mechanicals or get-offs. We need to ride flawlessly.
After 18 hours, the course is littered with tubes. With the amount of flats we are seeing on each lap, I'm really glad we converted to Stan's No-tubes. As I'm getting my bike ready for my morning ride, I notice four goats-head thorns in my front tire and three in the rear. I pull them out, spin the tire, and, miraculously, all the punctures seal up. I don't think I even lost one pound of air pressure.
"God hates cowards"
-Hank Peters (my old boss and good friend).
Conditions for my fourth lap at 6:30 AM are perfect. Cool enough to need arm warmers and with enough daylight that bike lights are not necessary. While waiting my turn in the transition area, I run into "Jimmy Mac" Mcilvain, one of the editors of Mountain Bike Action magazine. Our teams must be pretty evenly matched since Jimmy Mac and I have chatted on several of our previous laps as well. Jimmy Mac leaves before I do and I don't see him for the rest of the lap.
I hammer out of the transition area and ride the first part of the course smoothly, concentrating on spinning and technique. When I reach the downhill stretch where I crashed the night before, I am a bit tentative, but decide to go all-out. I stay loose and focused. The bike is set up great and I'm really hooked up. I need a good time and I just roll and slide through the course's downhills. Everything is going great. I will eventually turn in a 59 minute effort and ride the entire course.
On my return, I find out that Doug is suffering from leg cramps and fears that he won't turn in a good lap time. So he suggests that we skip over his turn and start another rotation. If all goes as planned, that means I am going to be our last rider out. If everyone does well, they will give me at least an hour to complete a final lap.
"Nice save!"
-Jimmy Mac
It's 11:45 and I'm back in the transition area waiting for Greg to finish his fifth lap. Brent has done five laps, Dan has four in the books, Doug has three. I have done four and am waiting to see how much time Greg will give me to ride my fifth. All I need is an hour, at least that's what I keep telling myself. I run into Jimmy Mac again and we engage in some more small talk. Jimmy's teammate comes in, they exchange the baton, and he's off. About a minute later at 11:50, Greg comes in and we make a smooth exchange. I have an hour and ten minutes to finish my lap. No problem, I think. Just ride smoothly.
On the climb to Kean Camp Summit, I pass about 4 riders. Although I'm trying to pace myself, I feel am hammering harder than I should be, but I can't stop. Just before the top, I see another rider. "Jimmy Mac, is that you?" I call out. Jimmy acknowledges and I latch onto his rear wheel. As we grind up the last 100 steep yards, Jimmy tells me he's going to blow and signals me to come by. I acknowledge and pass on his right. I'm trying to be as smooth as possible but fatigue and the midday heat are starting to take their toll. I stay in control, but just barely. I pass and gap a few more riders in the meadow and pass two more on the steep climb to the fire road.
When I'm on the downhill, I'm still hammering. I can hear the faint clatter of a derailleur against a chain stay behind me. When I ask the unseen rider if they want to get by, I find out it's Jimmy Mac again. He's recovered and on my tail. He says that I'm riding a good pace and he doesn't need to pass.
Having a rider behind you plays with your head so I pick up the pace a bit. I'm now sliding through the turns and over the ruts. When we reach a series of quick right-left-right turns leading up to a section with a stick-up in mid-trail, I find I'm coming in way too hot. The only way to avoid a crash is to "back it in". I get on the rear brake and drift the rear sideways until I'm pointing away from the stump. At that instant, I release the brake and roll out cleanly. Jimmy Mac who is now right behind me witnessing the entire thing, calls out "Nice save!" Thanks Jimmy. Little did he know that the move was purely my survival instinct kicking in.
Jimmy and I roll through the rest of the section and I gap him on the next climb but he reels me in on the flats running along the ridge tops. At the rock pile, I shift poorly and my chain overshoots the large rear cog and ends up in my spokes. While I dismount and clear the chain, Jimmy passes me. He does the right thing and checks to see if I have everything I need. I tell him I'm OK and we race on. I don't doubt for a minute that if I needed help that he would have stopped.
Now I'm following him down the trail. Jimmy finished before me and although I try to look him up, I don't get a chance to say "thanks". Whether he knew it or not, he helped me get through that last lap. And I hope I was able to provide him with some entertainment as I slid down the trail that morning. Even though we shared the trail for a brief hour, Jimmy is the kind of guy that would fit right into our riding group. Jimmy, if you ever need riding companions, look us up.
Back out on the pavement, I upshift and push the big gears. I am on a pace to turn in a sub-hour lap. That's when I start to cramp up. Bad. I have to back off.
"If you think you can, or think you cannot, you're right"
-Henry Ford, and my dad
To help stave off the cramps, I down what's left of the Cytomax in my water bottle and chug some water from my Platypus but I know I'm going to suffer in the next ten minutes. I hear my dad telling me "if you think you can or you think you cannot, you're right." I wonder what he would think of his son if he knew what I was up to? I push on.
I hurt badly enough that I have to dismount half way up the course's last sandy climb. Even though I'm off the bike, I still have enough adrenaline pumping to help me pass two riders on the hill on foot with me. I'm on the verge of complete lock-up but push through it. I see the finish line and go into my 100 yard sprint. When I pass the line, I'm on autopilot. Out of habit, I race frantically on foot to the timing tent. It's only then that it dawns on me that there is no one there to pass the baton and no need to have run the last 100 yards. I turn in a one hour lap. We have completed our 22nd lap.
"What's next?"
Team Black and Blue places fourth. We did three more laps this year than we did last September. Doug, Greg and I all set personal records. This is the first race at Idyllwild for Brent and Dan and they did great.
As we recall the events of the past two days, we already begin planning next year's races. Laguna Seca, Castaic, Big Bear, Idyllwild. I tell the team that next year when I turn 50 I won't be riding with them here at Idyllwild. They are stunned. Am I retiring? Hardly. Next year, to celebrate my birthday which again falls on race weekend, my goal is to ride Idyllwild solo. They think I've lost it.
It's been said that every cyclist needs a goal, something to train for. I'm not exactly sure how you train for a 24 hour solo race, but I'm up for the challenge. One heck of a goal. Wendy, let me know if you have any pointers.
Next year, just remember to say "hi" when you pass me.
"Do or do not, there is no try."
-Yoda
Thanks Doug, Greg, Dan, Brent, the members of Team Black and Blue Racing. Thanks to my wife Mary Ann for putting up with my waking her up every morning at 4 AM before my training rides and letting me indulge in the sport. Thanks Jeanny and Anel for lettiing my boys come out and play with me. |
| re: Of scars, birthdays, and spirits in the night. | Andrew Markham
Oct 16, 2003 11:16 PM | | Great story. Funny how other people's experiences bring back my own. The race was a blast and a bunch of good people.
I may see you in the solo catagory next year...I've always wanted to do a solo.
Andrew
Team Ride It Out |
| Thanks, I really enjoyed that... | Carter Taylor
Oct 17, 2003 2:21 PM | | good job, I'll see you up there next time. |
| What class were you guys in? | NiteRider
Oct 23, 2003 11:24 AM | | Nice story and way to go on the fourth place finish. We had a good race but we did flat out a lot so maybe the tubeless deal is the way to go. |
| 100-149 open | RandyP
Oct 23, 2003 7:20 PM | | We were in the 100-149 Open class. Four young guys and one old guy (me). My three sons are all under 25 and our fifth was 31. What I give up in youth, I make up in experience. Yeah, right! |
| re: What B-Day Sign? | Todd Carpenter
Oct 24, 2003 8:49 AM | | Don't feel bad, I must have ridden past the sign several times and never saw it. Great story, it's neat to hear you and your family enjoy the sport together. I'm a solo and my wife is my crew chief, I couldn't do it without her and I hope some day if we have kids they might enjoy these fun weekends as much as we do. |
| re: What B-Day Sign? | RandyP
Oct 24, 2003 6:00 PM | | Yeah, the sign was opposite the checkpoint so I was always looking the other way.
Riding with my boys is really great. I'm glad I have the opportunity to do so and I'm glad that't mind hanging out with me. Maybe they just need someone to wrench for them.
Anyway, it's great spending as much time as we do together. My wife and the boys' girlfriends/fiancees also get out with us to the races. |
| re: What B-Day Sign? | gregP
Oct 24, 2003 7:05 PM | | hey dad, nice story. actually it wasn't that good, not enough about me. just kidding. NEXT YEAR WE PODIUM. |
| Next year we podium! | RandyP
Oct 28, 2003 11:53 AM | | greg:
You got that right! Just get the Fat Kid in Training to start training a little earlier than the week before the race! |
| re: Of scars, birthdays, and spirits in the night. | Valerie
Oct 28, 2003 7:05 PM | | Wow! Great story Randy, and all the Profeta's, and the girls. What endurance you have shown since starting this entire cycling program. And what a great way to connect with your boys. I admire you. Also, I know your Dad is smiling down at you:-)
Val |
| Thanks, Val... | RandyP
Oct 28, 2003 8:04 PM | | The last few years have been a lot of fun and a lot of work. It's really great to have the opportunity to do something like this with the boys. Not many fathers get the chance to race with their sons...and whip their butts.
Thanks for your comments. If he knew what we were up to, my father would probably think I'm nuts but, hey, I usually did the opposite of everything he recommended anyway.
R |
| |
|
|
