Bad Idea Racing

I was recently asked about defining moments in my life. This weekend ranks up there for sure. I had at least two sleepless nights leading up to this race, but I slept well in the back of my dirty little box the night before the start. I was so prepared for my self-supported mission Saturday morning that I had a lot of time to kill, so I helped pack schwag bags at the registration tent to kill time. By the time the start rolled around I was relaxed and confident.

I had visions of finishing 200 miles, and it just seemed like it was a matter of fact that it would happen. I lined up next to Mark Hendershot, and we ran the silly long LeMans to the bikes. I had Mark in site for awhile, but he skillfully picked his way past the other riders on the narrow course. By the time I got to my second lap I started in with the dark thought.

"What am I doing here?"
"Why do I enter these things?"
"What am I trying to prove?"

These are not necessarily the thoughts you need to be having one hour into a 24 hour race, but I got past them pretty quick. It seemed like it started getting dark, and I had lost track of time. I asked if it was getting close to the time for lights, but it was only 5:00pm. I failed to look up and see that clouds had rolled in causing it to look like dusk. I felt like I had already done 300 laps, and it was only five o'clock.

Somebody must not have gotten the memo about not telling me what lap I'm on or how I'm doing. As a team rider passed by he said "Great job, you're in second place." Shit. That turned my racer brain on. I started thinking about Mark, who was behind me (edit:I mean the guy behind me, not Mark was working on getting a lap up on me), and all kinds of things I never wanted in my head. I kept riding. I decided I wasn't drinking/peeing enough so I popped my top off and rode in just my bibs to try to cool off and sweat less.

As we finally made it to the dark hours I managed to squeeze one more lap in with my "Oh shit" commuter light. When it was really going to get dark I made a chamois swap and strap on my lights. I headed out into the darkness and left my light off. I rode the first half of the lap by memory. I had now done at least 50-60 laps around this course in the last three years, and knew every nook and cranny. That's when it hit me. What the hell was I doing this for? I've had a good run at the 24 hour thing, but I couldn't think of anything I would gain by forging on for another 109 miles. I was way ahead of schedule for 200, but I didn't really care. I hadn't gotten off to push once, and I was feeling better than I have ever felt in a 24 hour race nine hours in. I pulled into the finish, debated the merits of circles over squares, and grabbed a beer. I dropped out.

The glamorous world of self supported racing.

I've had better results than I would have ever dared to dream of in the past seven years. 12/24 hour racing is just a word problem followed by execution. X number of calories from A, B, C food sources, plus X number of hours, divided by batteries, blah, blah, blah.... I've already figured it out so the excitement of the unknown isn't there anymore. The biggest hurdle is just going out and doing it, and being able to have a reason to continue.

Warwick said this to me the other day:
"A true pro does something even when they are not in the mood to do it."

I'm not a pro. I'm just a guy trying to do something new and exciting from time to time to make life feel less ordinary. I'm done doing lap races. I know I've said I'm going to retire after every 12/24 hour race I do, but I feel like that chapter in my life is done.

I love adventure. I want to be lost in the woods looking for arrows and ribbons and what not. I want to leave the car, and not see it again for at least nine hours. I definitely have no regrets on this one. This experience made me realize that I can walk away from the lap/time format and not look back. Just because I can do something well doesn't mean I have to keep doing it. I'd still be a male stripper if that were the case.

See you at the next ribbon/arrow hunt.

Thanks to Brent for the sweet Twin Six jerseys I barely got to wear. I assure you they'll see duty at the BC Bike race while I'm looking for course markings in the British Columbia woods.

BTW: The Boy completed his goal. Eight laps for 52 miles UNSUPPORTED. Nobody helped him in his efforts, and I can't say enough how proud I am as a father.