Last weekend I did this race. It was a very fun, very chill, small-scale event in Pioneer Park in Ptown. Beckie was headed to Nashville that weekend with the girls, and before her plane ticket’s confirmation arrived via email I registered for Solo, in more ways than one.
The race ran from 8pm to 8am, and riding for 9 hrs through the night til daybreak at 5 was weird and wild, but not trippy like some long night rides can get. Intent on performing, and with little stimuli but the track right under me and my execution on it, i dialed in tight to my game plan, and was amazed at how well I did. No beer, no music, 13 laps, 106 miles, 11,500 vf, 10.5 hrs spin time. I went hard bell-to-bell, every moment not on the course was spent on my gear, my lights, filling my water bottles, scratching Kila, and stuffing my pie-hole. I was extremely tired and fatigued by the end, but not blown up like at the Crazy88 last August. It felt really good to have such a solid ride. Yeah me!!!
Kila and I rolled into Prescott about 5pm and set up just a few yards from the finishing chute, which let me get dog-kisses between every lap. A few times i grabbed overcooked leftover hotdogs off the grill next to the timing station and carried them in my jersey for a lap before rewarding Kila at the end. We were next to friends Walt and Deanna, and hung with many other friends – Nardo, Ry-Daddy, Young Dave, MyBikesBroken, BrianC, Jayem, Enel, Fixedgeardan and the Geoman (who I recommend wholeheartedly if you are looking for a set of MagicShine lights). Good vibes and kindness were in the air at this low-key race. The only bummer all night was Maadjurguer had to bail at the last minute due to a personal conflict. wah. Was thinking of you bro (thinking of not letting you kick my ass, were you in attendance) when i pushed out on laps 12 and 13!
my pit crew
I strapped a pump to my downtube, a tube to my seatpost, and carried everything else in my jersey pockets, not too worried about disaster on the 8 mile, mostly cactus-and-rock-free course. I looked downright goofy holding my hands to my back so nothing would bounce out running the 1/4 mile Le Mans start, but setup worked great and kept me as light and fast as possible. I even skipped the baggies. The only downside of being so aerated was I got major nipple rash in the chill mountain air, and after lap 2 has to shmear some butt-cream on my teats. No one likes Bloody-Nipple Man.
end of the race, the photo doesn’t properly capture the layer of dirt and stank all over me
The course was not hard, but with 900 vf every 8 miles including a couple short steeps, it took its toll. I’ve never done a race like this, mile after mile of going in circles. I had a goal of 10 laps or die trying, 12 if things were going well, and 13 just to break 100 miles and get myself a dirty century. But thinking and doing are entirely different things when units are marked off in 1 hour intervals of sweat and weariness. “Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.” I think Nike paid Lance Armstrong to say that; when my body hurts bad my mental fortitude follows it right into the shitter.
I knocked out the first lap in about 40 min, the next few almost as fast. Then I settled in to 50 minute turns for the rest of the night. My fast start had me completing 5 laps in the first 4 hours, but I was frenetic, uneven, fighting the course and my gear and my nutrition routine. I had no real endurance rhythm, fought off a bonk during lap 5 , and struggled to believe i could climb the course’s 4 hills 8 more times each. 1/3 through the race and i thought i might be bottoming out. I took 15 minutes off after #5 to inhale as much pasta, scrambled eggs and water as i could, and soberly faced the clock as i pushed out at 12:20am. I needed to make up 20 minutes to be on schedule for 8 laps in the next 8 hours. Closing that gap was the first big test of the rest of the night, along with finding a zone that would carry me for 8 more hours. The challenge was as much mental as physical, cause I knew I wasn’t going to cut that time on the course, nor was i going to lose much time. Most of the time I was losing was in between laps – once you get off the bike, minutes slip away quickly. Each lap required some planning and smooth execution of the logistics of riding at night for 100 miles – water bottles, food, batteries, bike – and lap 5 became the resupply & mindset lap.
The next 8 hrs broke down into 8 little races of surprisingly not-monotonous milestones; too much focus on splits and pace and efficient to-do lists kept them from being dull. 6 & 7 were the quick-stop laps – hug the dog, swap bottles, go! Starting #8 at 2:05am was the 1-past-1-past-halfway lap where I would take stock and decide if I really had 6 more in me. The problem with such decisions is you are never sure if you actually can reach your goal, but you damn well know if you don’t keep going then you surely won’t make it. The only choice is to keep going and hope you don’t come up short. Being a winner in sports is about the courage to expose yourself to failure. It really doesn’t matter what level you are at, just that you are taking a chance on going beyond your comfort zone.
Lap 8 was on pace, but my hips and calves were starting to spasm, and my drivetrain was cacophonous. While i applied fresh chainlube, Deanna hooked me up with 800mg of ibu that muzzled the pain, and #9 became the invigoration lap. 10 was the 1 before sunrise where i started to feel the end, and knew I could make it if i could just hang on. After the 2nd climb called The Grind, I started counting down the climbs for the rest of the night: 14, 12,10… Lap 11 at 5am was the dawn, where i shed half of my lights, finally saw the course as more than a line in the dirt in the dark, got nice views of the rolling hills backed up against The Dells, and rejoiced in the fields of white, purple and pink flowers that stood in sharp contrast to the months of brown down in Phoenix. #12 came and went in a blur of numbness and willpower – I was feeling superstitious of disaster and reflection.
I paused briefly before #13 to get one last review of my body and gear, just in case an unforeseen disaster might ruin my night. I felt very very tired on each of the final climbs, but by now the necessary gears and cautions for each part of the course were rote. 1 mile from the end I got passed by friend and single-speed winner Fixedgeardan and had a few good words with him. I hadn’t really talked to anyone much all night on the course, and hardly any conversation even with my friends during the breaks. It was nothing special, but for some reason having a little camaraderie with another rider pushing himself just as hard to end the race helped me celebrate the finish. That and winning a giant tub of HEED during the post-race raffle were my only exaltations. The rest was solitary and nocturnal, a personal challenge against my own expectations. I passed.