Bad Idea Racing

For those of you just concerned with how I did at the Lumberjack 100, I did not finish. Read on for the poopy details.

On Thursday The Boy, Pie, and I drove up to Ohio to stay at my parents' place. We were on the road for nine hours and we stayed up later that night than I planned on to celebrate my birthday with family. On Friday I headed to Euclid, Ohio to pick up my old friend Scott and together we headed up to Michigan. After seven more hours in the Dirty Little Box I got to the race venue. It was a hot and sandy field that was home to more varieties of insects than the Amazon. I went out and did the short eight mile inner loop to try out my new gear (36X16) and the skinny-ass Kenda UST tires I picked up last week. The gear was too big, but the tires were perfect. I knew I was in for trouble though as the course was suited to a powerful rider. No long climbs where a little shit like me can get away, and no technical descending where a fearless moron (me again)can excel. To win here a rider would have to stay on the pedals for @ eight hours without any chance for recovery. I geared down to 34X16 and cooked up some Ramens for dinner around 5:00pm.

Without anything else to do Scott and I broke into the emergency PBR stash. He had been at it for awhile, and since it was (almost) my birthday I joined him. We put back a few till it got dark, and then things went to the bad. Even though Scott told me he snores at night I insisted we just sleep in the back of the Element together. I didn't want to bother bringing a tent since I was short on space in the Element (The Boy insisted on bringing his rubber raft). We had to sleep with the windows shut because of all the mosquitos that were out looking for a meal. I can't remember how the night unfolded exactly, but at one point I woke up bathed in sweat, and popped the window open letting in tons of parasitic creatures. Scott snored through the night making noises I didn't know a human could create. I kicked him countless times trying to get him to stop, but the PBR devil had a tight grasp on his soul. He snored so loud that Trish Stevenson (who was in a tent twenty yards from us) could hear him. When my alarm went off at 5:00am I felt as if I had been hit by a truck. I am not sure how much I slept, but it wasn't much.

I ate a couple Balance bars and drank some terrible coffee before the start. They made us start the race down the road from the parking lot, and they called the series leaders to the line for the "neutral" start. The start was as "neutral" as Japan in World War 2, and the race started as soon as our wheels were turning. The race pace was no doubt being affected by the prescence of 24 hour World Champ Chris Eatough. We went into the woods hot and heavy and soon we were a train of about twenty riders. How do I know we were a train? I was the caboose, and I only hung on for about eight miles. I found myself pretty isolated after about an hour of riding, and as I was flying through the woods trying to maintain the impossible pace being set ahead of me. Somewhere around the mile seventeen (I'm guessing) I found myself ass over tea kettle in the leaves. I didn't know exactly what had happened, but I tore my right grip, and there were plenty of trees around to blaim. I continued on and finished my first lap in under two hours.

When I went out for my second lap I noticed I was feeling a little weak. I didn't exactly have much zip left on the climbs, and my mind was wandering. I noticed my eyelids getting heavy, and the next thing I knew I went down again. This time I figured it out what was happening. I was falling asleep at the wheel. I know the feeling because it has happened to me at a few 24 hour races in the past. I started shouting at myself to stay awake, but it wasn't much help. I started to wonder about what I should do. Go back to the car and take a 15 minute nap? No can do, Scott took my car to the casino. Lay down in the woods? I would be a tick covered corpse in minutes. Quit and save myself from flying into a tree at 15MPH? Sounds good (not really, but I didn't like the other options either).

When I quit I found myself in good company. Plenty of others had quit after the first lap. Plenty more would quit before the race was over. Rumor was at the post-race party 75-100 of the 170 riders who started dropped out for one reason or another. Holy crap! I noticed a lot of really fit people were in line with me at the post-race meal before the top ten had even crossed the line. I might have quit the race after fifty miles, but I was in good company. Kudos and what-not to the hardy few who crossed the finish line on Saturday. Who would have thought that so many people would quit a 100 mile race with only 8,000 feet of climbing and aid available every twelve miles??? Easy schmeasy.

Over the next two days I dozed off countless times on couches, in cars, and in the middle of conversations. I woke up covered in drool or cotton mouthed with my yap hanging open. I really underestimated my needs for sleep and I paid the price. Dealing with the mental aspects of quitting has been the hardest part of this. I put over two thousand miles of travel and a few hundred dollars into this race and I walked away tired and disappointed. I did have a pretty good time hanging out with some good folks, and it wasn't the worst birthday I have ever had so maybe I should count my blessings.

Two down, three hundies to go.

Here I am chilling with Alex Dolpp. He had to drop out with stomach problems after the first lap. He was running in front of me when he bailed out. I was seriously amazed to see the caliber of riders that were taken out by this race. I wondered if it had been a one lap hundie (where the cars are REALLY far away) if so many of us would have quit so easily.

Coulda, shoulda, woulda.

Photo stolen from Alex's blog.