What a great weekend of racing! There were a total of 160 racers from 25 states as well as Denmark and Austria, 21 of which were competing in the 24-hour solo race. The facilities were excellent and the race organizers and over 100 volunteers did an amazing job. On Saturday, it was pretty cool to come blasting down the hill toward the four-way stop in the town square. As we approached, a sheriff was waiting to move traffic out of the way so we could blow through while slowing just enough to make the turn.
The 26.5 mile course was very tough. Before the race I had said that I didn’t think the hills were quite as steep as some had said. That was based upon riding a couple of test laps. I now stand humbled and corrected. By the end of the race I was desperately counting down how many more times I would have to crawl up the three toughest ones!
The best part was seeing so many of the recumbent family. Unfortunately there never seems to be enough time to socialize. Before the race I was preoccupied trying to get my “stuff” together and afterwards I was so worn out I was only half aware of what was going on. A special thanks to Ray Torrey and everyone else for staking out and holding such a great pit location for us and for all their help during the race.
Not having the speed of the big dogs, as usual my strategy was to stay on the bike, minimize stopping, and ride a steady pace, what JS calls “turtle racing”. My goal was to keep my total stopped time to about 15 minutes, and if I kept to my planned average time per lap and not have any flats or other problems, I could ride 390 miles in 24 hours. Of course that’s a lot of “ifs”.
In my few previous races I had only competed with myself and my own distance or time goals, not being competitive with faster fellow racers. However, in this race, if I managed to come close to my distance goal, I thought I might be fairly competitive overall. So for the first time I would be trying to keep track of where I was in relation to the other riders. As we lined up for the 6 pm start I somehow accidentally ended up in the first row. Steve Petty was the only rider next to me and as the seconds counted down to the start, as if reading my mind, he said “what am I doing up here?” But sometimes things just work out that way, and the race started as it finished, with two recumbents out in front.
During the neutral start I quickly found myself dropping back from a very fast Steve who was with several DF’s. Torn between expending enough energy to catch them and trying to avoid going out too fast, I managed to just hang on and keep them in view until I caught up later in the lap. Steve and at least one other unknown upright rider (“Mr. DF”) blew through the pits without missing a beat. Since we needed to hand-off two bottles and my wife Laurie was my only crew person, I had to do a slow rolling hand-off and once again found myself trying to reel Steve and Mr. DF back in. I caught them a few miles later and we spent the rest of lap two passing and being passed by one another.
At the beginning of lap three it was my turn to get through the pits faster than Steve or Mr. DF, and while I didn’t know for sure whether or not there were any other riders still ahead of me, I thought that I might just be in the overall lead. That was confirmed about halfway through the lap when I passed Bryan McKenney (who was racing near the front of the 500 mile race) who volunteered that no other 24-hour racers had passed him. He also suggested I dial it back a little and not burn myself out. Thinking that was sage advice, I did so only to be caught by Steve and Mr. DF and we finished the lap together.
Once again I got through the pits quicker than Steve or Mr. DF. This time I was determined not to be caught. I later found out that Steve flatted sometime during, I think, the fourth lap, and that would help me to pull away from him. There was no information on where the other racers were (lap results beyond lap 3 were not posted until after the race), so I spent the rest of the night watching my mirror for approaching lights, paranoid that at any minute the lights from Steve, Mr. DF, or some other racer would suddenly appear.
It was several hours later, as I was counting down the laps until dawn, that I passed a familiar looking upright rider. Suddenly I realized that it was Mr. DF and I had just put him a lap down. Now the question was, “where the hell was Steve?” I continued to watch my mirror. Finally, near about noon, after my insistent questioning about how far away was Steve, Laurie said “about 5 minutes.” Damn! Well, it had been fun being in the lead, but that was it. Steve was too strong and it wouldn’t be long until he caught me. I no doubt looked crestfallen when I said, “he’s only 5 minutes behind?” Laurie said, “no, he’s only 5 minutes ahead.” And then it hit me. Unless there was someone else out there than I didn’t know about, if I could just hang on for a few more hours, I was going to win this race. But again, that turned out to be a pretty big “if.”
I took off trying to catch up to Steve. I had no interest in trying to lap him even if I could catch him. But I thought if I could just get him within sight, it would take the pressure off and I could relax a little. The problem was I was fading fast, not taking in nearly enough calories. A mix of Hammer Heed and Sustained Energy has usually worked for me and I had planned to use it for the first 12 hours. But after 6, I felt really bloated and tried to switch to Boost and solid foods. But my stomach didn’t handle it well and by mid-morning I was really having trouble. As it turned out, I’m lucky I finished at all. After the race Laurie and I compared notes and discovered I took in only about 1,000 calories over the last 7 hours of riding (and since I threw up 30 minutes after I finished, I had digested even less). Averaging less than 140 calories an hour for the last 7 hours of a 24 hour race is not a recipe for success! Additionally, as the temps rose into the mid 90’s I missed getting an extra bottle of water before lap 12 and got seriously overheated. I had to take nearly 9 minutes off the bike re-hydrating and having Laurie pour ice water over me before I continued. To use another JS term, I went into “survival mode” for the last two laps. I managed to catch Steve near the end of lap 13 and was able to pass him only because he let me. After the 14th lap I still had an hour left, but I was out of gas and my distance goal was out of reach, so I called it a race. The final official total was 371 miles in 23:01 including a total of 23 minutes of stopped time.
The recumbent family made a great showing throughout the various races. Steve Petty rode an incredible race and it was great having him as friendly competition. Perhaps the most impressive ride was that of Peggy Petty who finished third among all 24 hour riders. As usual, there is much I can learn from this race, most importantly that it is back to the drawing board on fueling strategies. But what was really great for me was that I finally got to have a small taste of real head-to-head racing, the kind that we read about in the race reports of the big dogs. There is nothing else quite like it. I can’t wait to try it again.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sebring 2008: Jim Kern's Magical Fleece Jacket
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)