My goal at Sebring was to become the first person 55 or older to complete 400 miles in the 24 hour non-drafting race. By comparison with other age groups, the previous records for ages 55 to 59 were relatively modest: 250 miles for a recumbent and 307 for a traditional bike. But I was determined to ride the 400 miles needed to quality for RAAM. Given the fact that this would be my first attempt to ride more than a double century (I had ridden 200 miles only twice before and then not in a race) and the fact that I spent a large portion of last year off the bike with a nearly severed ankle tendon (which I suffered on one of those two previous double centuries), this goal could easily be seen as at least naïve if not downright laughable. I mostly kept it to myself. But it is a distinction I now share with two other of this year’s traditional riders. And it’s all because of Jim Kern’s magical fleece jacket.
If I was going to have a chance to reach my goal, I would have to ride a tortoise strategy. I would need to maximize my time on the bike and keep my average speed within a fairly narrow window. If my average speed for the first 12 hours was above 18.5 mph, I would burnout. If it fell much below 18, I wouldn’t be able to make-up for what would no doubt be slower nighttime speeds. I made up two pacing charts for the race. The first “planned pacing” chart assumed an average 18 mph daytime speed, 17 mph at night, and a total of 38 minutes of stopped time, resulting in 408 miles for the race. The second “minimum pacing” chart assumed an average speed of 18 mph for the morning long loop, 17.5 mph for the afternoon short loops, 16.8 mph for the nighttime hours, and total stopped time of 45 minutes. This would result in 400.7 miles. There was no third chart. There was no fallback goal.
Since it was so important to keep my stopped time to a minimum, I needed a first-class crew. My wife, Laurie, has had experience crewing for such great riders as John Schlitter, Jim Kern, and Sara Kay Carrell. She “volunteered.” We wrote out detailed step by step requirements for each stop and did hands-on rehearsals for the more complicated ones, the most involved being the nighttime transition. We labeled and organized every item and storage container so that there would never be a delay finding anything. We drove the course so that neither of us would get lost. We set up a hands-free blue tooth communications system so I could call her cell at any time. Everything was ready. The only thing that remained to do was to spend the evening before the race renewing friendships and making new acquaintances among members of the Bacchetta family and the larger ultra community. I went by to register for the race and after asking my name, the lady at the table looked at me and exclaimed, “So you’re the one!” I thought, “The one what?” My confusion cleared up as she handed me my race number, the number “1”. She said it was just the luck of the draw, but I wasn’t sure if it was lucky or a bad omen. There was no doubt that either way I would be conspicuous.
The first three laps on the Sebring race track were fast! As the lead Bacchetta paceline quickly disappeared ahead, I just tried to stay out of trouble. Blasting around the track in the pre-dawn mist was an amazing experience. On the second lap Doyce Johnson came alongside and introduced himself. Since the non-drafting rule doesn’t apply during those first few miles, we chatted for several minutes as if this were just another social ride. It steadied my nerves. The fast pace continued on the way up to Frostproof. David Bradley passed me as we turned onto Arbuckle Road and slowly pulled away. Sometime later I went by him as he stopped for a nature break. I had taken Larry Graham’s suggestion and made other arrangements to meet this need. The effectiveness of this strategy became apparent as it took David at least another hour and a half to catch me again. I was making my way around Reedy Lake several miles from the turnaround when suddenly coming around a curve toward me was the leading Bacchetta double paceline. Man, what an incredible sight! Shortly after the turnaround I met Laurie and we did a minute and a half stop. I had averaged 19.4 mph for the first 50 miles. There were some significant headwinds on the return leg, but I made it back to Sebring with an average speed for the first 101 miles of 19.2 mph. It was my fastest century ever.
My quads and knees were already sore so I got off the bike to stretch my legs for a couple of minutes. After that, we settled into the afternoon routine. It was during these 13-mile loops that our planning and communications really proved their worth. With the exception of two brief stops which totaled slightly more than a minute, the support was in the form of bottle hand-offs as I rode by. I would call Laurie three minutes before I arrived at the pits to alert her that I was coming and tell her any changes to what I needed. When we had time for only one more loop, we again took Larry Graham’s advice and outfitted me and the bike for night riding. When I returned from the eighth and final day loop, Laurie had packed up the car and was driving over the bridge and into the paddock area of the racetrack. I rode past her, onto the track and began turning laps. As the first 12 hours came to an end, I had ridden 218 miles with an on-the-bike average speed of 18.6 mph, 8 miles ahead of planned pace.
During the late afternoon I had begun to look forward to moving onto the race track. It was flat, fast, and I would be able to listen to tunes on my ipod. However, the wind was stronger than I thought. The headwind was particularly bad just after the hairpin turn by the hotel and required a significantly higher power output to maintain my average lap speeds. Even more worrisome, as it got dark and the evening wore on, the wind didn’t seem to be dying down. The first three hours of this went well enough. My average lap speeds were in the high 17’s and low 18’s. But turning those 3.7 mile laps in the dark, I was slowly starting to wear down. I did my best to forget about the fact that I was only a little past half way in the race and focus on one lap at a time. I kept hearing SK’s voice telling me over and over that the race is all mental. I was mostly succeeding in fighting through this low spot when my stomach shut down. I had been fueling almost entirely with a mixture of Hammer Heed and Sustained Energy. I quickly felt bloated, so much so that I was having trouble breathing. I pulled over thinking I was going to throw up. When I didn’t, I tried to make myself but was unsuccessful, never having been very good at that sort of thing. I knew I couldn’t keep going like this so I stopped and discussed the situation with Laurie, Alex Miller, and Jim Kern. Over the next couple of hours I made several all too lengthy stops to eat small bites of a ham sandwich, a few sips of chicken broth, a cookie or two. At Jim’s suggestion, I took frequent but very small sips of water as I rode. My lap speeds dropped off and became erratic, with quite a few as slow as the mid 16’s. I also started to have some problems staying awake. It was strange. I never felt sleepy, but I became aware that I was taking micro-naps while riding. Some No-doze solved this problem. Slowly I began to feel stronger, my lap speeds improved, and my appetite returned. But I had spent a lot more time stopped than I had planned. I was deeply discouraged. My goal of 400 miles seemed completely out of reach. As I rode I tried to come up with a fall-back goal, but nothing less seemed at all motivating. So far, not having a secondary goal had been driving me on, but now that my goal was out of reach, I just felt lost.
I still had one big problem to face. I was slowly becoming colder and colder. I started adding layers of clothing when I stopped, but it just kept getting worse. The weather wasn’t that cold. I don’t think the temperature at the time was much below 60. Other riders weren’t wearing more than a jersey and arm warmers (and some didn’t even have on arm warmers). At about 1 am I came in for a feed stop. It was much too long and I was a bit out of it. I didn’t even react when a rider standing a few feet away fainted and everyone around me rushed to his aid. On the very next lap I had to once again call Laurie. I was shaking and my teeth were chattering. Due to dehydration, sunburn, and just plain exhaustion, my core temperature was falling and I was becoming hypothermic. I stopped. Jim Kern had been there all night patiently coaching me through my stomach problems. Anyone who knows Jim knows that he is the kind of guy that would give you the shirt off his back. And so he did. As I stood by the pit wall, shaking, Jim took off his fleece jacket and said, “Here, wear this.” I dismissively thought, “Great, another layer, just what I need. I already feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy.” But I dutifully put if on, got on the bike, and rode back out on the track.
On the next lap I not only felt warm, I was feeling stronger than I had all night. The lap after that I averaged 18.2 mph, the one after that, 18.9. The two after that were both over 19. I was starting to think that Jim’s jacket was doing more than just keeping me warm. Could it contain just a bit of the legendary Jim Kern power and endurance? I was turning the fastest laps of the night and I was feeling great. But could I keep it up? Was 400 miles still possible? I started feverishly figuring. It would be close, but there was still an outside chance. Driven by the motivation of a goal that was still achievable and perhaps with a bit of help from Jim’s magical fleece jacket, the last five hours of the race my lap averages were between 18.5 and 19.4 mph. During those five hours I made only one stop for less than 2 minutes to fix a small mechanical problem. When the race was done, the total was 413.5 miles in 23 hours, 53 minutes. My overall on-the-bike average speed was 18.2 mph. My total stopped time was 1 hour and 12 minutes, 6 minutes of that in the first 11 hours, 2 minutes in the last 5.
Do I really think the jacket was magic? Well … probably not, not the jacket anyway. But no one who has taken part in an ultra event and experienced the long hours of selfless crew support, the genuine encouragement of fellow competitors, or the coaching generously provided by those more experienced, can doubt that the magic is real.
On the other hand, if Jim is willing to sell that jacket, I’m buying!
