What Was I Thinking!

Mental Conditioning

2010-01-11T07:41:00.001-06:00

So coach gave me some written homework this week.

What!! Written homework?

I thought I was supposed to be out on the bike or in the gym – now I have to sit down and “think about an endurance racing topic that’s important to me”. What kind of training is this? Could it be some devious mental conditioning he’s sneaking into my day off?

Absolutely! And that’s exactly the point…

When I started training about 10 months ago, I was targeting my first 24 Hour Solo event. My primary objective was training on the bike, thinking that I needed a major dose of physical conditioning to be successful. I sensed that mental conditioning was part of the equation, but I had no idea how important it would become. After three 24 hour solo races and over 100 hours of racing under my chamois, I realize now that I’ve barely scratched the surface. The longer or harder the event, the more I learned about myself at a very deep level.

Of course, every event brings a better understanding of the tactics necessary to maximize physical conditioning. When to ride and when to walk. Maintaining momentum to minimize energy output. Monitoring power output to minimize the likelihood of “blowing up” after 18 hours on the bike. Nutritional intake. Pit stop strategies. Written race strategy. And the list goes on. All important tactics that will make a difference in race performance. That noted, in every major event my performance was ultimately constrained by mental outlook and not physical conditioning. As I continue to train my body, I have to toughen my mind even more. I feel I have so much more to learn about myself mentally than physically. We are all capable of far more than most of us can ever imagine, we just don’t believe it….

Now I have to continue getting mentally prepared for my next race, 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo. Bring it on!

24 Hours of Rocky Hill

2009-11-06T22:35:00.001-06:00

This post is waaay overdue. The race was forever ago now and I’ve just been procrastinating big time. I usually give myself some time to reflect on a big race, but this was getting out of hand. So let’s see if I can remember how this went. Get on the bike, ride around in circles for a day and you’re done right? Ahh, if only it was that easy…

The two weeks prior to the race had been pretty miserable as far as the weather goes. I’m sure if I was one of the countless Austinites that were praying for rain, it would have been just peachy. But as a mountain biker, it sucked. Luckily I’d been out to Rocky Hill a few times to practice ride the course already, so knew what to expect. The days leading up to the race were fine, and I was hopeful that the course had dried up. That wasn’t to be the case, but it could have been a lot worse.

I did have a loose game plan for the race, which in hindsight could have been buttoned down more than it was. My first two 24 hour races were approached more defensively, with tactical goals like minimizing the amount of rest in transition, not sitting down or pacing to ride the whole race. I went into this race with the intention of making the podium. I knew I had an excellent chance of meeting that goal, with the obvious wildcard of not knowing who I’d toe the line with until race day. I also had a goal to go out hard and push the pace to see how I would respond, my rationale being that I could always back down on the pace later in the race. During the race briefing, I leafed through the list of racers in the Expert Solo category. I recognized at least three really strong riders, so I knew I’d have my work cut out for me and had to go out strong if I was to podium.

I had arrived around 9:30am and stood in line to register. It was a record turnout, and there was a nice buzz going already. A couple of good riding buddies had gotten there the night before and snagged a primo site right at the entrance to the transition area. I just needed to wander in and make myself at home. Thanks guys! Even better, their significant others were going to be there for the duration as “pit bosses” :)

I felt pretty relaxed, and took my time getting setup. This mainly consistent of filling 26 bottles with custom Infinit liquid endurance blends, the details of which are super secret (but posted on Coach’s blog…). Infinit is the only nutrition I take now, whether I’m training or racing. I know how my body responds and I can go for 24 hours liquid only with no issues. And it’s so much easier to deal with. Just ride in, grab a replacement bottle and ride out.

iPods are allowed for the solo racers (as long as you use just a single ear bud). My plan was not to listen to any tunes until the night hours. I wanted to be on my game and focused out of the gate, and have the option of listening at night to keep me distracted from the inevitable fatigue. I did crank up U2’s Streets have No Name immediately prior to the start to get me fired up. It reminded me of standing together with Coach at the start of the World Championships and was a great way to get set mentally.

Like World’s, the start was Le Mans style. I’m not much of a runner, so this type of start is not my strong point. I was also pretty leery of twisting an ankle as my shoes are super stiff and not really designed to be clomping along over lose gravel. Ironically, I was within 15 feet of the bike when I did feel my left ankle give way. I was just waiting for the pain, but luckily dodged that bullet. I grimaced an inner sigh of relief, jumped on the bike and pulled away.

Check out this video that captures the Le Mans start, together with footage from the rest of the race

In keeping with my plan to go out hard, I stepped on the gas and started to pull by the racers that had left me in the Le Mans dust. I knew I was pushing the pace pretty hard as I could see how high my average power was over the first few laps, and it was a lot higher than in the prior races. In the back of my head, there was the rational voice saying “slow down you’re pushing too hard”. Unfortunately, the emotional side of me was enjoying the feeling of riding fast and kept thinking about how I had told myself (and others) that I was going to podium. Compounding that was an assumption that the other strong racers would be pushing equally hard with a similar pace. So I had a constant tension between backing off a little and riding my race, or keeping on the gas and riding what I thought was their race.

Sidenote: Looking back over my ride data, I found that I’d broken my personal best CP60, CP120 & CP 180s. Sweet, except that you don’t do that at the start of a 24 hour race!!

In addition to my PowerTap readings telling me I was pushing it, my lower back was also making itself known by jabbing me with a hot poker at regular intervals. I’ve had this before at the beginning of races, and it’s always gone away within a couple of hours. Unfortunately, this was not going to be the case.

Other than the intermittent hot poker in the back, I was actually having a blast on the course. The trail conditions were great, I was feeling strong and passing riders on a regular basis. Somewhere on lap three, I passed one of the solo riders I thought was going to give me trouble, which gave me another boost of confidence. My lap times were shorter than I had originally planned, but I was feeling strong. If only that darn lower back pain would go away. No worries, it always does…

For some reason, I remember lap six as being a particularly fun. I was nicely warmed up, feeling strong and just flying. At one part of the course, I actually yelled out loud I was having so much fun. Yeehaw!!

Just like at World’s, my pit stops were barely stops at all. I’d scream up, skid to a halt, yell out my time and indicate whether I needed bottle of Infinit with or without caffeine. Once the bottles were swapped out, I’d be right on my way. The only time I stopped for any appreciable time was to put on my lights and then again to replace the batteries after another 5 hours during the night. My goal was to minimize time in the pit, for obvious reasons, but also to maintain “mental momentum” and stay in a racing mindset.

I continued to knock out laps at a healthy clip, dropping the pace a little as the laps passed by but not significantly until lap 11 when my back really started to hurt. The intermittent poker had turned into a steady blowtorch which didn’t feel like it’d go away any time soon. Coming into the transition after lap 11, I really wanted to take a longer rest but that wasn’t part of the game plan. I took my usual minimalist stop and headed straight back out again. Maybe I should have had a more flexible game plan and given myself permission to rest? I’ll never know, but lap 12 is when I started to come unglued and spent an inordinate amount of time standing up out of the saddle trying to stretch my back and turn down the blowtorch. A few times I actually stopped entirely and stood over the bike to alleviate the pain. I’d never felt back pain like this before and I just wasn’t sure how to handle it. The physical pain was only part of it, as I started to think about the implications of toughing it out. Do I stick with my mantra (Keep Pushing, Stay Tough) and just push through the pain? Maybe. But could I have caused some more serious damage to my back if I did? Never having been faced with this before, I just didn’t know. So after an inordinately long lap 12, I rolled into the transition and sat down for the first time in the race. And could barely stand up again… Hmm, this doesn’t feel good. I eventually pulled myself up out of the chair and proceeded to hobble around like an old man. Definitely not good. At this point, I knew I wasn't going to jump back on the bike anytime soon, so assumed I had “failed” to meet my podium race objective. Still in pain, I hobbled slowly to the car, reclined the front seat and attempted to stretch out and get a little rest.

By this time, I’d decided that I wasn’t going to go back out again. Could I have taken a couple of hours rest and gotten back on the bike? Most likely. With 8 hours left of the race, I could probably have pushed out 3 more laps and taken 3rd place (although I didn’t know that at the time). But that wasn’t the game plan. If I had done that, would I still have back pains now? Probably not, but I do know one of the solo racers who gutted it out with knee pains and put in a superlative performance. He knew the score, elected to go for it and his results reflect it. Unfortunately, he’s still off the bike and now faced with knee surgery. That’s tough, and I feel for the guy. I was back on the bike after a few days, competed nicely in a local endurance race a couple of weeks later and have decided to got for it big time at a 48 hour solo in a couple of weeks (stay tuned for reports).

So after about 16 hours of solid racing, and a couple hours of sulking, I packed up my kit and headed out to find something to eat and get some rest. Another 24 for the books.

I’ve had lots of folks ask me about the race, and my response now is that I’m happy with the way it went. I’m not satisfied with where I ended in the standings of course, but I am satisfied with what I learned. A few things in particular I took away from the experience.

Don’t go out too fast
Well duh…
Have a written game plan.
I thought I had a good idea of what my strategy was, but I think it would have been better internalized if I’d written it out.
Be flexible.
There’s a lot of stuff that can happen in a 24. I needed to be more flexible and taken an occasional “mental moment” to step back, reassess and maybe adjust my game plan real-time.
Give myself permission to rest.
In a similar vein to being flexible, taking some time to rest could have helped. Not so long as to cool down & get out of race mode, but long enough to get a mental & physical break.
Ride my race and not ride what I think the other guy’s race looks like.
Nuff said.

And for those of you that are into stats & charts:

12 laps
121 miles
14,258ft elevation gain
1st hour – 82% FTP
1st 3 hours – 72% FTP

The ever popular heart rate chart. My back wasn’t the only thing getting worn out. My heart was getting pretty tired too :)

Not much of an elevation change at Rocky Hill, but the elevation gain over 120 miles was still north of 14,000 ft. Almost half way up Mount Everest…

Now I need to get my butt in gear and do a write-up of last weekend’s local endurance race – The Enchilada Buffet

Double Boundary Trail race

2009-09-27T19:47:00.001-05:00

68.5 miles, 11,500ft of climbing at elevations of up to 11,00oft, the Double Boundary Trail race was going to be physically very demanding. It also proved to be even more demanding mentally…

Like all endurance events, physical conditioning is just one side of the equation. Mental conditioning is also super important; the longer and harder the event, the higher the likelihood that this will become the limiting factor. This was one of those events, although that turned out to be a very good thing.

The prior two night’s camping had been decidedly chilly, so I wasn’t looking forwards to the 5am alarm. As luck would have it, the temp was around 10 degrees warmer than the day before, approaching 50 degrees. Perfect!

I rolled into the parking lot of The Bean coffee house and joined the small group of riders gearing up for our little sojourn in the mountains. After my obligatory 2nd cup of coffee (and prolific application of Assos), I was ready to go. We lined up for the photo while Lenny pulled out the the camera. The group was pretty relaxed and they all seemed to know each other well. As the sole Texan, I felt decidedly out of place, although I was made to feel welcome by the friendly crowd.

We rolled out of the lot and headed up the road towards the trail, following side roads for the first couple of miles before hitting the trailhead. I was still feeling the elevation, even on on the flats, so took it easy while I warmed up. I didn’t want to get drawn in by a brisk early pace by the “locals”. It wasn’t long before I was left behind and began the long ride alone.

The first part of the event consisted of a number of individual trails hung together to form what was referred to as the North Boundary Trail (which doesn’t exist as a trail per se). As I pretty soon realized, the trails were cut with hikers in mind and many sections were unrideable. I’d been warned about the hike-a-bike nature of the trail by a fellow MoJo – and now I really understood why. It was starting to feel like a hike, with the occasional stretch of biking thrown in to remind me why I was there :-)

Having a decent GPS was critical for this event and my trusty Garmin 705 was loaded up with the course track. I lost count of the times I found myself off course and had to backtrack, or realized I was actually on course, but the GPS track was off by 50 ft. One section in particular was a long series of downed trees that I had to climb over with no trail in sight. The trail had been flagged in these sections with the occasional small pieces of orange tape, a welcome sight just when I was thinking “there’s no way the trail could be going through this mess!”

The initial rocky ascents/hikes gave way to beautiful vistas once I reached the tree line. I didn’t take much time to get some good shots (despite explicitly being told “take lots of pictures of the race”). Hopefully you'll get the idea from this one…

Having spent the prior days at a similar base elevation in Durango, I was hoping to feel better adjusted, but that just wasn’t to be. Maybe I’d ridden a little too hard in Durango, but ascending even relatively mild inclines seemed unusually difficult. By this time, most of the race was between 9,000 - 10,000ft elevation and it was draining me. At least the weather was still nice, so I toiled up the ascents and had fun blasting down the fire roads that joined a large section of trails.

Somewhere around 5 hours into the event, the mental side of the equation started to tip the balance. Coming in to the event, I hadn’t given much thought to not finishing – it just wasn’t part of the equation. Now it was right on the table in front of me and I struggled to come to terms with it. The few endurance events I’ve competed in have typically used the Solo term to identify the athletes who are competing without teammates. A quick online search gives this definition from the Collins English Dictionary:

“Solo: To undertake a venture alone”

24 hour solo races are decidedly not “alone”. There are certainly times when you are riding alone, but you are never very far from other riders and there’s usually a host of people in the transition area (pits) on each lap. This event was most definitely solo, and was an experience I wasn't mentally conditioned for. Physically I was fatigued and suffering from the elevation, but I’ve been tired and worn out before and was equipped to deal with that. This was different.

On a side note, there were quite a few “gates” across the trails that consisted of barbed wire tensioned with a big stick that you had to leverage into place by brute force. I wasn't feeling like much of a brute at this point, more like a wimp as really struggled with a couple of them!

The event was designed with a single “cache” area where a truck was loaded up with each rider’s extra water, nutrition and any extra clothing they might need. The truck was parked in a lot around the midway point and was ostensibly the last bailout point before heading back into the mountains for the southern part of the event. I’d been warned about the temptation to bail at this point, and had laughed it off back in Austin. Now I wasn’t laughing.

As luck would have it, a charity road ride was taking place the same day, and the parking lot was full of roadies and support staff. I’m sure a few of them wondered where the heck I’d just rode in from! With all the other folks milling around, it felt a little like the transition area in a 24 hour race. And, not surprisingly, I got a little mental recharge from the energy of the folks around me. Feeling much better, I quickly refueled and headed on up the trail.

By this time, another factor outside of my control was quite literally moving in. The weather. At this elevation in the mountains, changeable weather goes with the territory, and the forecast had been 50% chance of thunderstorms in Taos. The temperature had dropped and ominous black clouds were starting to roll in. It was looking like I’d be on the wrong side of the 50% pretty soon. Crap!

The mental recharge I’d received at the cache area only went so far. I was getting colder and the clouds were getting blacker. They weren’t overhead, but with hours of unknown trails ahead of me the little mental bailout demon was beckoning again. I was moving away from the only bailout point I knew, so had to make the go/no go call that I hadn’t given any thought to prior to the race. No go. Feeling disconsolate, I turned around and backtracked up the trail and out to the road.

Highway 64 descended directly into Taos, and was downhill all the way. At this speed, I outran the black clouds and the temperature increased Now I was feeling really bad about bailing. Despite the fast downhill, the ride into Taos still took over an hour, and the weather was nice the entire time. Back on the trail, it was a very different scenario.

I rolled back to the car, changed into my ever-so-practical Sport Kilt. Cameron’s my clan, and yes, I wear it like a true Scot ;-) Suitably attired, I drove over to Eske’s Bewpub, the official finish line. Start with coffee, end with beer! I was the first to roll in, so I ordered a big burrito, chowed down and waited for the others to finish. The “locals” started to come in a few hours later bantering about the their exploits on the trails.

As we sit around chatting, it becomes clear that the storm has picked up over the mountain, and there’s universal agreement on “damn, I’m glad I’m not up there”. If I hadn’t bailed when I did, that would have been me getting pounded. I’m emotionally really bummed, but intellectually damn glad I’d bailed. The storm eventually rolled over the pub and we were treated to a nice downpour with the beer.

I found out the next day that the temperature had dropped to the point where snow had fallen for about an hour on the pass. I had extra clothing with me, but I certainly wasn't prepared for snow. Dang!

My first true solo endurance event ended with a DNF, bummed me out big time for a few days, but proved to be a tremendous education.

Here’s the race profile. The trail ends about two thirds of the way in, then it’s downhill on Highway 64 into Taos.

So now I’ve had time to recover and reflect, the event has taken on a very different perspective. You learn more from losing than winning, and I learned a lot from this event. The biggest realization was the mental conditioning it takes to compete truly alone and the accompanying mindset that’s required. As with any conditioning, depth comes from experience and I’ve barely scratched the surface. I have a very different perspective, and whole different kind of respect for the the folks that compete in the truly epic endurance events like the Tour Divide and Colorado Trail races. I know that future events I’ll enter with a very different mindset.

Being ill-prepared mentally for this race also served to emphasize to me how well prepared I was for the Solo 24 Hours World Championships. Coach worked my ass off physically, but also “trained” me mentally on how to approach the event. I was super-focused and entered the event with no doubts in my mind. Physically and mentally it all came together and I blew away my expectations. The course was an incredibly tough one and my results could have been very different if I had entered with less mental conditioning and focus.

We are all capable of far more physically than most of us can ever imagine, we just don’t believe it…

Durango day 3 – Andrews Lake

2009-09-10T10:56:00.001-05:00

After the last two days of fun, I decided that it was time for a recovery ride. I took the opportunity to get some easy elevation work in by driving up a mountain rather than riding. A buddy in town recommended that I head up to Andrews Lake and take an easy noodle around up there. At approx 10,800ft , it was a similar elevation to the highest point in the upcoming Double Boundary race.

Andrews Lake is a picturesque spot, popular for fly fishing, & turned out to be the perfect place for an easy ride. Essentially flat, with a short looping trail around the lot, it was just what the doctor ordered (Coach in this instance).

Not one to break a trend, I had to do some parking lot work again. As far as parking lots go, this was by far the most scenic one I’ve ridden around :-)

I’m sure the folks up at the lake were wandering what the heck a mountain biker was doing riding around the parking lot at the top of a mountain - in the rain. That’s right, beautiful sunny weather on the drive to the lake. As soon as I’m geared up, in rolls a friendly little black cloud & down comes the rain. Sigh. The Saturday forecast for Taos shows a good chance of rain, so I’m expecting to get wet at some point in the race. This was just another opportunity to simulate race conditions (at least the elevation & precipitation – certainly not the trail conditions, unless there’s a parking lot up there ;)

As soon as I started, I could tell my legs were feeling a little flat. Hopefully I didn’t overdo it the prior two days and they’ll feel fresh after a couple of days rest. After an hour of spinning & keeping the power output low, I rolled back to the car, loaded up the bike & headed down the mountain. At least the rain had stopped by this time.

So no major riding today, but I was out on the bike in a beautiful spot. Ain’t life grand!

Durango day 3- Horse Gulch

2009-09-09T11:34:00.001-05:00

After yesterday’s little sojourn on the Colorado Trail I was thinking of doing more of the same, with even more climbing. Maybe if I was here for pure fun that’d be OK, but I needed to be reminded that I had a race coming up. My instructions from Coach were “something a little more flowy and fun today with not quite as much climbing … let your body recover and also adapt at a cellular level”.

Hmm, what to do. Telegraph Hill had been recommended by a few folks, and it seemed to fit the “not much climbing / flowy trail” profile, so off I went to the Horse Gulch trail system.

I still wanted a reasonable time in the saddle so had enough liquid for up to 5 hours. I met a couple of locals close to the trailhead and they recommended heading up Telegraph Hill then hitting the trails on the far side, before coming back & doing the rest of the system.

Telegraph Hill is a nice easy climb, nothing technical, which fit the bill perfectly. Once at the top, I stopped for a brief photo stop.

Hmm, I wonder why they call it Telegraph Hill?

Now it’s time to explore the “far-side” trails. From Telegraph I headed down Sidewinder to Cowboy. Damn, that’s some fast flowy trail. Way too much fun (not). Out of the saddle, stupidly fast, throwing the bike around the smooth trails. On the flat sections I gunned it in the big-ring to maintain momentum. At this speed, maintaining focus is critical, so I put on my best serious-scowl-of-concentration face. Inwardly I had a shit-grin though :)

The trails are really well marked with little white placards at major intersections. I had to laugh at one point, as a little uphill on Cowboy was marked as “rugged climb”. It was smooth as a baby’s and reminded me of the smooth steepish ascent on Rudy’s trail in Austin. Rugged is all relative. HaHa.

After so much downhill fun, I was expecting more climbing to get back than it actually felt. South Rim->Carbon Junction->Crites Connect was a pleasant climb with plenty of switchbacks and some smooth, short, flowy downhill sections. Now I was back to the top of Telegraph Hill and headed down to the “near-side” trails.

Despite the name, Anasazi Descent isn’t nearly as fun a downhill as Sidewinder /Cowboy. I was on the brakes most of the time, to the extent that I noticed some fade towards the base. At this point, my legs were feeling nicely “warmed-up” and I remembered Coach’s “not quite as much climbing” instructions. I didn’t want to head out just yet, so made my way towards Cuchillo thinking that it looked like a relatively flat trail. Nope. More climbing. Nothing major, but by this time I was definitely feeling it in my legs. No big deal for a regular ride, but I did have a bunch of real climbing to do on Saturday. The good news was that this climbing led to another “serious-scowl-of-concentration / inwardly shit-grin” flowy downhill back to the Meadow Loop. Yee-frickin-haw!

All good things must come to an end & I finally headed back to the trailhead. I spun around on the road for a little while before calling it a day. The actual ride time was only about 3 hours, and I ended up with 24 miles and about 3,300ft of elevation gain. Fun stuff!

Durango day 2 - Colorado Trail

2009-09-08T10:26:00.001-05:00

What a beautiful day for a ride. I started the day pretty slowly, not having gotten much sleep, and putzed downtown for a while before finally getting to the trail around midday. My plan was spend about 5 hours out on the trail and get a decent amount of climbing in.

The trailhead marked the start (end?) of the Colorado Trail. As soon as I started the ride, my prior post comments about not feeling the elevation came back to haunt me. Now I’m feeling it! The first 10 miles was pretty much all climbing, starting at 7000 ft and ending up at 9600 ft. I typically take a couple of hours to get warmed up, so heading straight up the mountain was a little painful. At least the weather was cool, unlike the 100 degree temps I’d gotten used to in Austin. OK, “getting used to” is a little bit of a stretch, but you get the point. The climbing wasn’t too technical, but it was a little slick from the prior day’s rain. Just a couple of short hike-a-bike sections, so nothing major. I did a fair amount of granny spinning to keep my power output down to conserve energy. Although my perceived exertion was 7-8, my heart-rate was still pretty low for me (140-150) because of the altitude.

I came across a couple at a scenic overlook, and stopped to get a shot. I’m really bad when it comes to taking pictures in general, and I’d been told by a MoJo buddy to “take lots”, so I pulled over and posed. He did ask me to get closer to the edge, but I suffer from mild vertigo, so elected not to do that…

The vertigo got really bad for me at one stage on the ride, with a skinny trail on the edge of a very long drop. I’m puckering up just thinking about it now. I had to really concentrate on the trail and do my best not to look right. Gulp.

About two hours in, the black clouds behind me were looking ominous, and there were a few loud claps of thunder. I layered up, thinking that the weather might turn colder, and was ready to throw on my raingear. Luckily the cloud didn’t catch me and out came the sun. Now I’m starting to overheat. Sigh.

At the peak of the climb, there was a open area with a couple of guys grabbing some food and taking a breather. We started chatting, and one of the two looks at my Hammerhead bike shorts and says “so are you from Austin?”. Turns out he and his buddy drove up from Austin for the weekend, and he knows with some of the same MoJo riders I ride with. Small world! The first riders on the trail I meet and they are from Austin. What are the chances of that happening?

I started back down the other side of the mountain and met a small group of full-faced downhill riders pushing their rigs up. They’d been shuttled up to the top of the next mountain pass, hit a downhill and were now pushing up towards the peak I was coming down from. They informed me that the trail just went down for another 3 miles, then straight up a “wicked climb” that was washed out, muddy and pretty much unrideable. At this time, I was 2.5 hours in, with the potential for the black cloud to come back and catch me again. I had the option of going down another 3 miles, only to turn round and climb straight back up the 4 mile climb.

Hmm, decision point. I started off down the trail again, but was faced with more of the vertigo inducing skinny trail. After another 15 minutes of this, I decided that enough was enough and I should head back up. At least I remembered to take a shot of the turnaround point.

I caught up with the other group at the top of the climb, and we chatted for a little while. They were from Fort Lauderdale, where apparently the hills maxed out at about 50ft. HaHa. They were all equipped with long travel bikes, and were anxious to do the bomb down the mountain I’d climbed from the trailhead.

I started off ahead of them, only to be brought up short by a cow in the trail. Yup, a big assed cow running down the trail ahead of me. Oh, I gotta get a picture of this! By this time, the downhillers had caught up and zipped by. This spooked the cow, who galloped down the trail ahead of the group (do cows gallop?) and eventually veered off . So much for that picture.

I soon caught up with them, and pulled by on a flat section. The lead guy didn't seem too happy about this and yelled that he’d catch me up on the downhill. Hell no! I gunned it and pulled away without too much problem. Man that was a fun downhill. My front brake started to fade after a while, which was interesting to say the least.

The 10 mile climb took on a whole new complexion going back down. I actually enjoyed having a shorter travel bike as I was forced to take much better lines and employ more body English to throw the bike around to avoid rocks & roots. More rewarding in a strange way.

What took about 2 hours to ascend whipped by in about 30 big-ass-grin minutes. Yeehaw! Now I was getting close to the trailhead, but was only 4 hours into the ride. Time to start exploring some more. I rode for another 30 minutes or so, and finally popped out at the trailhead feeling tired but invigorated.

Now that was a fun day’s ride!

Durango – day 1

2009-09-07T11:23:00.001-05:00

Arrived in Durango mid afternoon & headed straight for a bike shop to get a map & some trail ideas. It had just rained, so the guidance was a small area close to town that typically dried quickly. The map called the area Durango Mountain Park Trail System – it’s just referred to as “Test Track” by the locals. This was perfect, as I wasn't planning on a major ride, just a quick one to get the legs working and start to acclimatize.

Once I found the trail (well hidden in plain view!), I started to get ready. Just then a small black cloud rolled in overhead & raindrops start to fall around me. And not small drops – these were the kind that splash up a small crater in the dirt. Crap! On goes the rain jacket & away we go. Not 5 minutes later and the sun was out again & the rain had stopped. Phew.

I was a little surprised at how the altitude didn’t seem to bother me. Sure, my HR was lower for the same perceived exertion, but I wasn’t gasping like a chain smoker, unlike my first rides in Canmore prior to the World Championships. And Canmore was only at 4600ft, my Garmin had me at just under 7000ft at this point. Hmm, maybe there’s some kind of “altitude memory” that my system developed - something to ask Coach about.

I did a little noodling around to get warmed up and soon found a beautiful view of Durango. I was just 5 minutes ride out of town. Man this place is cool. I ran into a true local on the trail (she was from Durango), who told me she almost never drove her car to get around to all the trails. I realize that’s possible in Austin too, but cruising Hwy 360 is not quite the same as cruising around here…

After a couple of hours, I elected to head back to the car and go find my campground. I could have kept on riding – this being my favorite time of the day – but I though it’d be prudent to get my campsite setup before the sun came down.

You can’t tell from the pikkie, but the campground is in a beautiful spot on the Animas river. Perfect – except for the screaming infant in the adjacent tent. Damn that kid could bawl. I thought I’d get an decent night’s sleep & hit the hay around 10pm. I was still awake at 12:30am. Geez. Ahh, the pleasures of camping…

I used this time to study the map little more closely and elected to start my exploration with segment 28 of the Colorado trail – the beginning of the epic trail that’s on my “bucket list” of rides to hit someday.

I eventually fell asleep thinking of the upcoming days of riding. Yeehaw.

New Mexico Parking Lot Ride

2009-09-05T22:41:00.001-05:00

There’s a disturbing trend starting here. As you may recall from my prior post 11 Miles Around The Parking Lot, I’ve been known to ride around a parking lot to accomplish my training goals in an efficient way. Today was, in a way, no different. Coach had instructed me to get about an hour in the saddle during my day’s driving out of Austin into New Mexico. After over 9 hours behind the wheel, I was only too happy to jump on the bike and open up my legs with a short ride. The challenge was finding a decent spot. I’d considered taking a diversion off the highway, but decided against that so I could get to Durango in as short a time as possible.

When you are driving along a major freeway, there aren’t too many options for a quick ride. Hence the parking lot. I chose to stop at an information center just across the New Mexico border, so it was actually a pretty nice spot.

Unfortunately, it was a very small parking lot, so I was really going around in circles on this one. I did get a few quizzical looks from folks in the info center, and one young couple asked me what the nearby mountain bikes trails were like. HaHa.

It was approaching sunset, my favorite time of the day, so it was actually a reasonably enjoyable ride. I did a few sprints to open the legs up, but could feel the elevation difference, having gotten to 4000ft by that time. A small taster of the riding at elevation to come. My total elevation gain for this ride was a massive 147ft. But it was a tough 147ft (OK, maybe not…)

Total distance covered – 10.3 miles

In a parking lot

Again

What Was I Thinking!

Road Trip

2009-09-05T21:53:00.001-05:00

I’ve been considering the Double Boundary Trail race for a while now. One of the New Mexico Endurance series events, it’s been on my radar as a definite maybe until about two weeks ago when I decided to bite the bullet and go for it. I’ve heard from a couple of MoJo buddies that it’s a tough race. With a planned 68.5 miles & 11.5K of gnarly climbing, it should be “fun”.

The event takes place on Sept 12th, the weekend after Labor Day, so I thought it’d be a good idea to take the whole week to explore and get acclimatized to the altitude beforehand. I’ve never ridden in the area before, so elected to head out to CO first and spend a few days on trails in Durango, then buzz down to Taos for the event.

My plan is to post up each day with ride reports. It remains to be seen how diligent I’ll be…

11 Miles Around The Parking Lot

2009-08-27T20:46:00.001-05:00

Now this ride is almost embarrassing. Coach had me scheduled for a nice intensity workout last week (oxymoron suddenly springs to mind, but I digress). 8x30 second all-out sprints, necessitating a decent amount of uninterrupted, relatively flat runway. I had previously done this type of workout down at the Veloway, but the drive from my new office could be close to an hour during rush hour. Looking for somewhere closer to my new digs, I soon realized that the massive parking lot might just work.

Not the most appealing ride, but way better than driving through rush-hour traffic or sprinting along a major highway next to aforesaid traffic.

So here we have it. My little stretch of sprint runway.

I had to thoroughly warm-up and cool-down, so spent a fair amount of time “exploring” the lot. As you’ll see from the GPS profile, there was a lot of looping around. I started around 5pm on a Friday night, so the parking lot was pretty empty. It was actually kinda fun zipping around, grinning at the bemused expressions on the few folks I saw. I was half expecting security to come out and ask what the heck I was doing, so I had my ID clipped to my jersey. HaHa. What a geek!

Total distance covered – just over 11 miles.

In a parking lot

What Was I Thinking!

Homemade Energy Bars

2009-08-26T19:10:00.001-05:00

My expertise in the kitchen is somewhat limited, to put it mildly. Boiling pasta or firing up the rice cooker is about as close to cooking as I get. When Coach pointed me to this incredibly easy recipe for energy bars, I “ate it up”. It’s a super healthy, easy to prepare snack that I keep on hand for the inevitable munchies.

Take a look at this video & you’ll see how easy it is to prepare.

The original recipe is as follows:
- 3 cups of uncooked Oatmeal (Quaker Oats)
- 1 cup of dried mixed fruit, chocolate chips, fruit bits, or favorite ingredient
- 3/4 cup of brown sugar or molasses
- 1 cup Honey
- 8 ounces of non fat vanilla yogurt
- 1 cup of apple sauce
- 2 egg whites, lightly beaten
- 2 tablespoons of skim milk
- 2 teaspoons of vanilla
- 1 teaspoon of baking soda
- 1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon
Combine the ingredients in a large bowl and mix thoroughly. Spread out in a lightly greased baking pan and bake @ 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 28-30 minutes.

I’ve experimented a few times and made the following changes:
- Exchange the Quaker Oats for an organic multigrain blend of rolled oats. I use a 4 grain mix from Whole Foods
- Add an additional 1 cup total of raw organic pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds & kamut
- Add an additional 1/2 cup of spelt flour
- Omit the brown sugar/molasses – waay too sweet for my taste
- Use Agave Nectar instead of Honey
- Use Belgian yoghurt instead of the regular Vanilla yoghurt – I just love the tart taste
- Double the quantity of apple sauce

I’m making bars just for me, so I’ll use half the quantity of ingredients. It’s sooo easy to prepare and great to have on hand.

Now I’m starting to salivate. Time to go munch on an energy bar.

Enjoy!

Don’t Think, Just Be…

2009-08-17T19:34:00.001-05:00

I’m pretty sure if Bruce Lee had been a mountain biker, he’d have had some philosophical mantra along the lines of “Don’t think about being in the groove, just be in the groove”.

Have you noticed this phenomenon? You’ve been out on the trail for a while, nicely warmed up, hitting all the lines, railing the corners, a grin on your face. You know the feeling.

You’re in the groove!

Your subconscious mind is seemingly connected directly to your body, instinct takes over, tunnel vision sets in, you only hear your breathing, the whirr of your rear hub and the swoosh of the tires as they cut a perfect line around the corners.

Then your conscious mind notices what’s happening. It’s like a spectator thinking “wow, now that dude’s an awesome rider”. Suddenly you are observing yourself in the groove. You really aren’t there any more – if you were, you wouldn’t notice…

That’s usually when stuff figuratively hits the fan and you physically hit the ground. At high speed. Ouch.

Yup, that was my ride on Sunday. Railing a berm I’ve railed numerous times before without thinking about it. And then I went and thought about it. Damn! The resultant shin, knee and quad carnage wasn’t pretty. Luckily today’s my day off so we’ll see how things look for tomorrow’s session.

So if you find yourself observing how well you are riding, rather than just riding well, chances are high that the next thing you’ll be thinking about is picking yourself up off the ground.

And because this is a mountain biking proverb, there has to be a gratuitous picture of my personal carnage. As Coach so succinctly put it

“Nice, that’s gonna leave a mark!”

Solo 24 Hour World Championships

2009-08-16T16:55:00.001-05:00

Wow!

The 24 Solo World Championships - what a hell of an event. I had no idea how big it would be. Thousand of people descended on the Nordic Center in Canmore, home of the 1988 Winter Olympics. It was a superb venue surrounded by beautiful scenery. The team at 24 Hours of Adrenalin did an incredible job!

In addition to the 100+ solo racers, the event included a team relay with approx 1600 competitors. The soloists had a separate, more challenging course, occasionally merging with the team riders for short stretches. The soloists universally agreed it was one of the toughest courses they’d ever ridden. Lucky me! Starting at 4400ft and rising just over 5000 feet, each lap was around 2000 ft of elevation gain over 10 miles. The singletrack was very tight and twisty and covered in roots, so it was pretty hard to get a really good flow going. Climbing up really steep, twisty ascents over roots is a bitch, and the descents were brutal on the upper body. Fun times. NOT.

Fortunately, I was sharing a pit with my new Coach, Shaun. This would be his third World Championship and he was out to win with a vengeance. Man was he keyed up and ready to race. We snagged a really sweet pit location amongst the top seeded pros, and directly opposite the exit from the timing tent. Here’s Shaun’s video of our pit.

The start was Le Man’s style, with the soloists lining up according to seeding and age groups. Surrounded by spectators ringing cow bells and U2’s “The Streets Have No Name” blaring over the PA, the volume was pretty high and just kept getting higher as the countdown got closer to zero. Bang. Off went the gun and we jogged about 1500m around the initial part of the curse and back into the solo pit row. I was pooped just from the run! “I thought this was supposed to be a mountain bike race” I whined to myself.

I think the socks really helped with the run though :-)

We jumped on our bikes, headed out of pit row and the race began in earnest. My strategy was to keep pit stops after each lap to an absolute minimum, which I was able to keep to throughout the race. Most of my stops were between 30 seconds and 4 minutes, with just enough time to swap out bottles. I’m racing with all liquid custom endurance blends from Infinit, so don’t eat anything throughout the race. The longest pit stop was 12 minutes when I swapped out batteries during the night.

Pacing is critical in the first 6 hours or so, as it’s easy to go out too fast and blow up early. I did get carried away on lap four and lit it up with Steve Swenson, the guy I eventually beat out for 4th place. We met at the pre-race meeting, so knew we’d be head-t0-head in the same category. We had a blast racing each other on a twisty downhill, but I regretted it later. You only have so many matches to burn in a race, and it wasn't smart to burn one early “having fun”. Live and learn. I was also climbing pretty much everything, and spinning past folks who elected to walk. In hindsight, this wasn’t the smartest approach, riding up some of the really steep twisty climbs, where pushing would have used a different set of muscles and given my quads a little rest. Ahem.

As you’ll see from my Garmin’s elevation profile, the climbing was pretty intense. It doesn’t show all the laps as the Garmin’s batteries don’t last long enough!

Considering how aggressively I was riding, I was pretty happy I had no crashes throughout the entire race. No major mechanicals either. I suffered a serious chain suck around hour 21 which took about twenty minutes to fix. Trying to pull the chain out of the spokes when you can barely stand up is an exercise in frustration! Oh yeah, my bottle cage snapped off on lap one and I had to cable-tie it to the frame. It actually worked out nicely, as I angled the cage slightly to the right so it was easier to get the bottle in and out.

One aspect of racing alongside the relay riders is that the vast majority would say something along the lines of “nice job solo” when passing. Kinda nice. You’d get the occasional “you guys are nuts” to which I’d agree profusely :-)

The first 20 hours were pretty uneventful and just a matter of turning the pedals, staying focused and not letting the fatigue get to your head. 24’s are so much more of a mental game. Every now and again I’d repeat my mantra, “Keep Pushing, Stay Tough” when it was getting particularly hard. One of the things that kept me going was knowing that I had a bunch of ride buddies “pulling for me” back in Austin. I actually printed out and laminated one of the MoJo posts, and hung it outside the pit for inspiration. It may sound cheesy, but that kind of things really helps.

Coming in to the pit is always gives you a shot of energy and is something I looked forward to more and more as the race progressed. I didn’t have my own pit crew, but was lucky enough to have Shaun’s wife Doreen and her father, George, adopt me. They are old pros in the pit, having done many events for Shaun, and they made my brief stops a real pleasure. George and I would ritually “bump fists” just as I left. I think he really got a kick out of it – I know it made me grin :-)

This particular event didn’t allow iPods, so I was music free which was a mixed blessing. It was easier to stay focused, critical on the gnarly descents, but the fatigue is harder to ignore when there are no musical distractions. I’m so glad U2was playing at the Le Mans start, as I had that song in my head for the entire race. I had a brief patch where “The wheels on the bus go round and round” popped into my mind, but I managed to shake that out. Phew.

One interesting phenomenon I noticed during the race was that my heart rate got gradually lower as the race progressed. I’d be climbing the same gnarly uphill that had my heart rate in the 160s at the start, and later in the race it would be in the 120s. Weird. Here’s the profile from the first17 hours.

After lap 12 I was still feeling OK. I began lap 13 and my fatigue went up precipitously. I’m not sure why exactly, as there are so many factors in play. It’s possible I just ran out of energy reserves. At race pace, I’m only able to ingest around 220 calories an hour before my stomach rebels. When you are burning 600+ calories, there’s an immediate deficit that it’s impossible to catch up on. Bottom line was that lap 13 hit me hard, and I starting pushing the bike up climbs I’d ridden earlier. Maybe if I'd walked them in earlier laps I’d have been OK. Who knows? By the time I started lap 14, I was pretty toasted.

At the end of that lap, I was still in 4th place and had to decide whether to go out again. If I’d gone back out I had plenty of time to put in another lap. My riding on lap 14 had started to become sloppy and I was close to hitting trees on a number of occasions, so I rationalized that it would be prudent to call it a day (night?). I was too far behind the 3rd place racer to catch up, and about 30 minutes ahead of Steve in 4th place, so I elected to sit down and see where the cards fell. He rode in 30 minutes later looking just as toasted, came over to me and said “so are you ready for another lap” (clearly he wasn’t), to which I replied “absolutely, I was just taking a breather”. He grinned, stuck out his hand and we congratulated each other on a great race. Needless to say, he didn’t go out again and I kept 4th position. If he’d gone back out again, would I have jumped back on my bike? Probably. But I’m sure glad I didn’t have to!

It didn’t really hit me that I was done until Shaun came in a short while later. When he sat down next to me, the fatigue really hit and I pretty much collapsed into a chair. Man was that an awesome feeling!! Shaun had a fantastic race and built up a commanding lead over the other racers in his category. He was so far ahead that he took his time in the pits, including one 45 minute stop before Doreen “coaxed” him out– I think it involved some veiled references to being a slacker ;) He trained hard, raced hard and his 1st place winner’s jersey was well deserved. Great job Coach!

We hung around in the pit for a while decompressing and chatting while Doreen prepared yummy banana and peanut butter tortilla wraps. The first “real” food I’d eaten in 24 hours. Following that, I focused on getting as many calories into me as I could stomach to optimize recovery, take a shower, leg massage with The Stick and nap before the awards ceremony that evening.

Here’s a shot of Stuart Dorland, the man behind 24 Hours of Adrenalin, toasting the racers that night.

Cheers to you Stuart – that was an experience I’ll never forget.

When The Student Is Ready…

2009-08-09T20:31:00.001-05:00

As you’ll see from my prior post, I’d gotten it in my head that I should try a 24 Hour Solo mountain bike race. 12 hours seemed OK, what not 24? HaHa. I had no idea what I was doing, (but then that’s never stopped me before) so I signed up for a solo spot in 24 Hours In The Canyon, being held in Palo Duro at the end of May. That gave me a few months to figure things out. In the mean time, I started looking for other endurance races I could compete in before then. I had been told that the Ouachita Challenge was a great endurance race, but registration had already passed & it typically fills up within hours of opening. Luckily, a MoJo buddy couldn’t use his spot, so I was able to transfer in.

It was at the OC that I met Shaun for the first time. You know the Buddhist proverb, “When The Student is ready, The Teacher will appear”. I didn’t know it at the time, but Shaun was The Teacher.

I’d arrived at the race the night before after a 9 hour drive, and was chatting with other bikers outside registration. I overheard a badass looking racer talking about the 24 Hour Solo World Championships. Naturally that piqued my interest, so I introduced myself. Little did I know that he was a serious ultra-endurance racer who’s experience and knowledge of the subject was off the charts. I later found out that he’d taken 2nd place in a 48 Hour Solo Race just a few months prior. That’s right, 48 Hour Solo! Geez.

We chatted for a while & I picked his brain for as much information about 24 solo’s as possible. I saw him again briefly the next day during the race meeting. Needless to say, I didn’t see him thereafter, as he disappeared with the leader pack as soon as the gun went off. My race was pretty uneventful, and I did OK except for losing 30 minutes after two flat tires. Sprinting through rock gardens isn’t the smartest strategy… After the race I headed home and my thoughts quickly moved to planning for my first 24 Hour Solo.

Turns out there aren’t too many good resources available describing how to train for and race a 24 Hour Solo. Oh crap! Now what the heck do I do?

A few weeks pass by and I get an email out of the blue from Shaun. He’d gone to the trouble of tracking me down to see how I was doing. Nice guy! We exchanged a few emails and the subject of the 24 Hour Solo World Championships came up. Turns out that my placing at the Dirty Dozen race had qualified me to apply for a spot in the race. Whoa. Now that’s a bigger step than I’d previously planned on. Shaun was heading to his third World Championships so knew a thing or two about race prep.

That’s when the “offer” came. If I was seriously committed to racing at Worlds, and was prepared to do whatever it took to “make it happen”, then he’d become “The Coach”.

You know the scene from The Matrix when Morpheus offers Nero the Red and Blue pills.

I took the Red pill… What Was I Thinking!

The next few months were, as Coach put it, a Kamikaze dive bomb of ass whipping training 6 days a week, and a fire hose education. After taking the top spot at 24 Hours In The Canyon, and with Coach’s incredible guidance, I found myself on a plane for Canada.

Next stop, the 24 Hour Solo World Championships.

What Was I Thinking!

2009-08-05T20:45:00.001-05:00

I’ve found myself asking that question a lot recently. You see, I’m a Mountain Biker (queue the mean grimacing face). Grrrr. You know the type - baggy shorts, garish jersey, lots of armor, full face helmet, slack head angle. Or I thought I was one. Now I’m not so sure…

So I’d been futzing around on various mountain bikes for years, mostly riding solo, occasionally riding more than once a week (hardcore!), the usual weekend warrior stuff. Then I moved to Austin and things started to slowly change. It started innocuously enough. I’d be riding more often, maybe two or three times a week, still solo as I hadn’t hooked up with other riders. Yet. Then I stumbled onto the the Austin MoJo community and found myself drinking the MoJo Koolaid (the fermented variety) and heading out on group rides to explore the numerous Austin trails that had otherwise been eluding me. I eventually found myself on one of Austin Bike’s famous Sunday BCGB (Barton Creek Greenbelt) tours. Typical tours last 4+ hours and cover 20+ miles trail at a social pace. And the first tour kicked my ass – it was probably twice as long as I’d ever ridden before. Ahh, the good old days when 4 hours was a nice long ride. But I digress.

I think that’s when it all started to go awry. I kept wanting to go faster (understandable) and much longer (questionable). I’d turn up early to get more ride time in, and keep going when the group quit. It wasn’t too long before I’d extend the rides to 6,7 sometimes 10 hours. And I’d effectively be riding solo again. There was a nasty trend here that I just didn't notice…

On a whim, I decided to enter a 40 mile MTB race at Camp Eagle, part of the TMBRA marathon series. I was still wearing the baggies & garish jersey, but decided to drop the armor & full-face helmet just for the race :) I didn’t do particularly well, but came sprinting over the finish line with more energy than the Tasmanian Devil, feeling like I was just getting warmed up. I guess my pacing left a little to be desired!

At this point, I was starting to at least notice the trend, but didn’t realize how insidious it had become. I started to look around for longer races and came across an upcoming 12 Hour race called the Dirty Dozen. A couple of MoJo buddies were racing as a relay team and asked me to join them. Naw. I think I’ll try it solo, says me. You’re nuts, they reply. Yup.

I had no idea about racing a 12 hour event. I turned up with enough Nutri-Grain bars to feed a small relay team, a jar of Peanut Butter and some honey. I’d read somewhere that PB&J sandwiches were good in long races, but I didn’t eat bread so figured I’d just spoon out the PB & squirt the honey directly into my mouth. Hey, it worked.

The race went surprisingly well, and I was getting into a groove after about 8 hours of riding. I didn’t pay much attention to lap times or other riders, just blithely rode around in circles. I didn’t even know how the final laps were handled, so when I found out I could keep riding longer than 12 hours, I though what the heck. Night riding is fun, I’m feeling good, so I’ll just keep on going.

After 12:34 time hours on the clock, I finally came in and called it a day. I still had no idea where I was in the standings, or even how many laps I’d done. I killed some time chatting with one of the photographers (he recognized me as the nutter who always stuck his tongue out when a camera was pointed at him!). Just before the awards were about to start, I decided it was time for a quick bio-break. I was just about to open the Porta Potty door, when I heard my name being announced on the PA. Huh? I sprinted back to the awards area, where I realized that the announcer was holding a plaque out for me. Turns out that I had completed the same number of laps as the 2nd place rider (albeit taking a lot longer to do it!). I wasn’t expecting that.

It was around this point that a little light bulb went off in the old noggin. Hmm, so I just turned up to this 12 hour race knowing virtually nothing about the event, with zero training, and did OK. Huh. Maybe I could do more of these? You know, I’ve heard about these 24 hour races. Maybe I should look into one of those.

What Was I Thinking!

To Be Continued…