Alright, I'm going to try to start blogging again. It's certainly been a busy few weeks, but an incredible one at that.
Most of it, as I have said before, have been training for and/or thinking about the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. My first solo 24 hour race. Although Jack tried to help me in saying that, "it's just another bike ride," it was my first >10 hour bike ride, and I had paid for this bike ride, so I wanted to do well.
I had ridden some great training rides with Jack, Hannah, Angel, and Zumbala over the last few weeks, and on every one of them, I tried to keep my pace/heart rate at what I wanted for HOP, and kept my mind trained on what I had to do to keep going. That said, I never did a 24 hour training ride, and I really had no idea what to expect.
So, when Jack and I rode down to the course on Friday night, I was definitely nervous. We met up with the team, who had set up an amazing camp full of space heaters and lots of food, and then hauled the bikes out of the back of the camper and set up our own little world in 24 Hour Town. The camper is absolutely perfect and we enjoyed a great, candlelit meal of pasta and spiced cider sitting in the warmth of the camper while the temperatures dipped below freezing. When we finally went to bed, my mind was torn between enjoying the last bit of respite and worrying about how I was going to fare the next day. The sleep monster finally took over and I slept soundly until the sun came up the next morning.
We awoke to a crystal clear, albeit cold, day and began it by eating everything we could get our hands on in anticipation of the long ride ahead. The morning was spent making last minute adjustments to the bikes, signing in, attending the preride meeting, and some more preride fueling. Before I knew it, the clock had rolled around to 11:30, and it was time to head down to the start.
Even though I knew I had 24 hours to race, my adrenaline was still pumping at the start. The atmosphere of over 600 riders and teams is infectious. I lined up about midpack for the LeMans start, chatting with friends and teammates in the final seconds. When the gun went off, I jogged with the pack for the 1/2 mile to our bikes and then fell into the swarm of riders on the pipeline road. My adrednaline was pumping like crazy, and despite my efforts to keep my heartrate down, I tackled the seven hills affectionately known as "The Bitches" with gusto. By the end of the hills, I was solidly in the middle of the pack and coasted along with the group to the beginning of the singletrack. Even though we were lined up like a giant snake, I was much further ahead in the line than I was last year, and we kept a pretty good pace through the first stretch of singletrack. The weather could not have been more perfect, and the riders around me basked in it while we shared in the great community of endurance mountain bikers. We talked about our previous races and what we thought of the 24 HOP, and how nice it was compared to last year, until at last we came out to the end of the Rattlesnake Trail, wished each other luck, and proceeded at our own paces along the jeep road. We spread out fairly well before we came to the His/Her Trail, but I was still on top of the world and feeling great. I fairly flew through to the Junebug Trail singletrack, and was happy to find that the spots where I had trouble last year didn't even register this year. Before I knew it, I was steadily booking it up the Highline Trail. Again, the hills that had so haunted me last year didn't faze me, and I reached the top in top form before flying down the last section back into camp. After going through the exchange tent for the first time in my solo 24 career, I stopped to suck down a Hammer Gel and got back in the saddle for a second lap.
The field was completely spread out by this time, and I rode the singletrack (first lap skips this part) to the bitches mostly on my own. I got passed a few times and passed a few other riders on the hills, but made it to the end of the first section still feeling great. I had the Corral Trail all to myself, and the combination of the beautiful surroundings including the snow covered mountains to the south, the sunny weather, and the speed with which I was flying, I was really on top of the world. The rest of the lap was spent in the same manner, and I was still overwhelmed with how good I felt even on the last climb. After my second trip through the exchange tent, I sucked down some more Hammer gel and some trail mix before clipping back in and heading out for another.
By the time I reached the bitches for the 3rd time, I was beginning to feel the effects of the previous 35 miles, but I still mashed up them with as much effort as I could. By the time I got to the His/Her Trail, I was visibly tired. My feet were cramping in my shoes and my rear end was starting to complain. I took a short break from the saddle by walking up the hill just before the start of that singletrack, felt better, and pressed on. The Highline Trail was much harder than it had been the first two times, but it felt very good to cruise back down into camp.
After my 3rd lap, I headed back to camp for some awesome pasta compliments of our team, Zumbala, rested a bit, and tried to get in our camper that Hannah had accidently locked shut. About 20 minutes later, Jack returned and broke into the camper via the emergency exit so I could gulp down some hot cider, grab a long sleeve shirt, put my lights on my bike, rest a little bit, and then get back on the trail. The sunset was gorgeous, but the absense of the sun made it cold, and I was definitely not very fresh. I walked several of the bitches to try to stretch out my muscles, and began to push myself mentally. By the time I reached the halfway point of the lap, I was bonking. I started wobbling on my bike on the flat sections, and dropped my gearing down to just stay moving forward. Riders were passing me left and right, and I wasn't even sure I was going to make it. Try as my mind would, it could hardly keep focused on the trail ahead, much less push my body to its best. I was contemplating how far I could make it when a light behind me failed to pass. I yelled back to the rider that they could pass, but the response was,"It's ok, I'll just stay here and stare at your a**." I was so out of it that it took me a few seconds to match the voice as Jack's, but in the instant that I recognized it, my world changed. I had been so focused on my own goal of finishing the lap, that I had forgotten about the rest of the world. We rode together for most of the rest of the lap, talking the whole way, and having my training buddy there really lifted my spirits and allowed me to push a little harder. We went back to camp together where I ate and drank everything I could get my hands on, and took a little nap in the camper. My little nap lasted a bit longer than I would have liked, and Jack went out for his next lap before I got up, but I woke around 1 a.m. feeling much, much better and ready to tackle the world. I hopped back on my bike for Lap #5 with a renewed sense of energy. That's not to say that the lap was easy: I still finished it much slower than my day laps, and by the end of it, I was exhausted again, but I got through it without falling off my bike. I came back to camp for some greatly appreciated hot soup (thanks again Zumbala!), talked to my teammates for a bit, and crawled into my sleeping bag without even talking off my stinky outer layers. Two more hours of sleep later, my stomach was not agreeing with the 24 Hour race format, and I woke up more due to necessity than desire. Since the port-o-johns were down at the lap start, I figured I might as well go back out again after I used them, so as the sun was just beginning to light up the race course, I headed out for #6. By this time, my muscles were shot, but my head was clear with the rising sun. In my rush to get out of the camper before I increased the padding in my biking shorts, I had forgotten my gloves, so my hands froze to my grips while I bombed down the bitches, but I knew that the sun would soon warm them up. I walked up the majority of the bitches, getting words of encouragement from the other tired riders that passed me. Once I finished with the hills, I looked around at my incredible surroundings with the sun reflecting off of the nearby peaks and I smiled in my exhaustion. At that moment, I felt so inspired and so lucky to just be alive in this beautiful day. I fairly flew down the singletrack of the Corral Trail, just basking in the morning. Once the inclines started again, my pace slowed down to what my tired legs could handle, but nothing could touch my mental state. Even when I got to the Highline Trail, I kept my mind focused on the next section of hill, and I was almost surprised to find myself at the top when I arrived. I got checked off for 6 laps at 9 a.m., which left me 3 hours to knock off at least one more lap, so I headed back to camp for an absolutely amazing breakfast of potatoes and eggs. It felt so good to see everyone in the daylight again, and knowing I only had one more lap had me in the clouds. I hung out in camp until about 9:45, giving me 1:15 to complete my last lap in order to come in after the 12 noon finish time. With the warmth of the morning and the excitement of my last lap, I jammed my legs into the pedals to get over the bitches and said happily said goodbye to them for another year. I spent the rest of the lap on an adrenaline high, so very happy to be completing my first solo 24 hour race. With reserves of energy that I didn't even know I had, I bombed up the last hills, bunny-hopped over the rocky section at the top of the hill, and cruised into camp as fast as I had during the first lap. I made it back to the end of the lap in 2:05, 10 minutes faster than I had anticipated, so I pulled off the trail with some other riders and waited for the clock to roll over to noon (if you come in before 12, you have to do another lap or be counted as DNF). Hannah came in about 5 minutes into my wait, so we made our way to the exchange tent and crossed at 12:03 p.m. 24 hours and 3 minutes after I started.
I had completed my first 24 Hour Solo mountain bike race. 7 laps, and 119 miles. Success!
We headed back to camp for a celebratory chocolate milk for me and Coke for Hannah, and Jack rolled in shortly after for his post-race beer. We all ended up doing very well. Hannah's 4-woman Zumbala team took 7th of 15, Jack and B.J. took 23rd of about 60, and I took 10th of 20. Overall, I was stoked to have just finished, and now that I know what to expect, I can't wait to improve. Keep posted for the next one!
"During my off-shift between 4 and 6, I had nothing to do but relax. I had made lunch and called Bill on my previous off-shift, and having nothing else pressing on my agenda, I crawled into the cabin and curled up on my side down the centerline of the boat, making sure not to disrupt Kohl’s strokes by offsetting the boat. All I could do was smile. Never in my life had I felt this comfort before. Everything in my life was perfect at that moment. Every detail filled me with happiness - the padded blue walls and two inch inflated sleeping mats cradling me in the tapered stern, the color of the sunlight streaming in through the rear hatch, the creak of the rudder, the rhythm of Kohl sliding down the salt-encrusted tracks, the rush of the puddles whooshing past the hull. The waves rocked the boat into a familiar swaying lullaby and I felt safe and contented, knowing that we were living our dreams. We were headed towards Antigua and making history, basking in the freedom that was ours for the taking. In the entire vast blue expanse of ocean, the cabin was cool and dry, and it felt like home."