"You want to multiply."
"Are you gonna do it?"
Like an aging boxer craves the experience of 15 rounds of fighting just one more time, even thought he knows that it might turn out badly, I came out of National 24-Hour Challenge retirement last month. The last three races had not been kind to me and I thought that I had finally kicked the N24HC habit. But I had relapsed, and found myself back in Middleville, Michigan four years after my last N24HC, looking for another 300 mile hit. I wanted to multiply my number of 300 mile N24HC rides by two.
A combination of pride and memory drove me back up the U.S. 131 highway. If we view our lives in 20 year increments, I had just begun my bell lap and it was time to start my finishing kick, to be followed by a victory lap. It was also the case that the disappointment of my last three races had faded and I thought that it was time to acquire some new and better memories or, at the very least, not open up some fresh wounds. But it was also the case that the temperature was expected to break 90 degrees, once again.
If there is one thing that prior National 24-Hour Challenges have taught me is that I am not a good hot weather rider. The temperature during the 2006 race reached 94 degrees and the highest temperature was only a couple degrees cooler in 2007. In 2008, the temperature peaked in the low 80s, but it was still sneaky hot. As a result, my cumulative number of miles over the last 3 years was less than 550. But, although I was prepared for the worst, I thought that this year might be different. Optimism, when mixed with a dash of self-delusion, can be seductive.
The goal was, as always, 300 miles. To reach this goal, I planned to ride the big 121.6 mile loop and two of the 23.7 intermediate mile loops in 12 hours. If I could then ride 18 of the 7.5 mile night loops in the next 12 hours, I’d have my 300 miles. In order to do this, I had four riding strategies which were to ride my own ride, always coast downhill, never go into oxygen debt, and keep drinking and eating.
The race started at 8:00 A.M. By 11:00 A.M., the temperature on my cyclometer reached 95 degrees. This would fluctuate between 95 and 100 degrees for the next several hours during which the official temperature reached 93 degrees. Even so, I was still able to follow my riding strategy reasonably well. There were a series of small risers just before 50 miles that did have me breathing rather heavily, but that was the only time I actually got into oxygen debt; a debt that I was able to repay rather quickly. I was also drinking and eating frequently, and I was coasting, always coasting, whenever possible. As we headed north from Delton after 96 miles and into a tailwind, I still felt about as good as could be expected, considering the circumstances.
"Feel the heat."
"Burning you up."
"Ready or not."
Every now and then, I’ll pour myself a glass of milk, only to discover that it is starting to spoil. It doesn’t necessarily taste all that bad, but I know that it doesn’t taste quite right, and I also know that it is going to get worse. I’ve learned that I get that same sort of spoiled milk feeling whenever the heat begins to affect me. I don’t necessarily feel bad, but I also know that something isn’t quite right and it’s going to get worse. So, when I began to feel like spoiled milk about 8 miles from the finish of the big loop, I began to worry.
I took a 30 minute break after finishing the big loop. I alternated drinking water and Gatorade with an occasional sip of Hammer Nutrition Perpetuem, and I still had somewhat of an appetite, although the turkey sub that I had been looking forward to eating wasn’t as tasty as I had hoped. I started the intermediate loop very cautiously, riding about 14 mph, but I also had to start facing the truth that I wasn’t capable of riding much faster.
"Some like it hot and some sweat when the heat is on."
"Some feel the heat and decide that they can’t go on."
The first intermediate loop wasn’t that bad, I was just riding it slowly, but I also knew that I was also feeling worse. After a brief break, I started the second intermediate loop. It was on that loop when I fell apart. I had completely lost my appetite and I couldn’t hold down any liquid, either. The temperature had dropped into the upper 70s, but it was too late. The heat had broken, but so had I. My affirmation had become "I hate this &%!!@#! race," which wasn’t exactly providing the sort of positive transformation that I was looking for. After 160 miles, I felt a severe cramp in my stomach and managed to get off my bike just in time to start dry heaving.
Call me culturally illiterate, but I don’t believe I’ve ever read a poem about the dry heaves. And so, without further ado, here is my contribution to Great Literature, in haiku form. Please, hold your applause until I’m finished.
Stomach inside out.
Ahgrlhh, ahgrlhh, ahgrlhh, ahgrlhh, ahgrlhh, ahgrlhh, ahgrlhh.
Time to stop riding.
And so it was. In my younger days, which include ages up to 56, I might have continued riding during the night, albeit, after several lengthy breaks, and eventually finished with somewhere between 200 and 250 miles. But, I just didn’t see the point. I knew that it would take me at least several hours to recover and it was 300 miles or nothing, where nothing was defined as 169 miles. I chose nothing. So, in an act of either high minded principle or childish stubbornness, I finished the loop at 8:30 P.M., packed up my car, and drove home. I like to think that my act was driven by the former emotion, but I have to owe up to a bit of the latter, as well.
"Some like it hot,"
"But you can’t tell how hot ‘til you try."
"Some like it hot,"
"So let’s turn up the heat ‘til we fry."
So, now what should I do? Once again, I attempted to ride the National 24-Hour Challenge in 90 plus degree weather and, once again, I was TKO’ed. W.C. Fields once said, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it." I’m beginning to think that he might have a point. So, as I see it, I have two (or actually one and a half) options, and they are as follows.
1A) Retire from the National 24-Hours Challenge and, this time, mean it. Keep all N24HC entry forms away from me and limit my access to sharp writing objects, such as pens and pencils. Block the N24HC website on my computer. Place me under house arrest during Father’s Day weekend, if necessary.
1B) Register for the ride early. Don’t show up for the ride and forfeit the entry fee, if the weather looks like it’s going to be hot. Place me under house arrest during Father’s Day weekend, if necessary.
I ought to choose Option 1A, but I have to admit that I would still like to do one more 300 plus mile ride at the National 24-Hour Challenge. Maybe then, I can finally retire from N24HC competition a high note, just as I should have retired after my first and only 300 mile plus ride in 2005. While I’m at it, I’d also like to be appointed U.S. Poet Laureate. And at this point, I don’t know which one is more likely.
Rick Whaley, KBC Newsletter Editor
