24 Hours of Moab and the end of a season
Another 24 hours of Moab race has come and gone. I can’t say I’m very happy with the outcome. With a little hindsight, all evidence points to me as the ultimate cause of the frustration. 2004 was a good race for me here. And it might just remain the last good race for me here as well.
The brief rundown is a great start, followed by an early meltdown, then a long realization of the race being ‘gone’, with some fun riding the next morning.
The long story is a little more complicated. I didn’t really think I was at top form for this event. I wasn’t necessarily worried about that though. I was able to ride some reasonably fast laps of the course in the weeks prior to the race. Experience has shown that a little determination, and a well executed race plan can bring a good finish in a 24hr race.
There were a number of strong riders registered who hadn’t raced in Moab before. I figured that the presence of Chris Eatough would cause the race to go out faster than many could handle. Some of these less experienced 24HOM racers might underestimate how much of a toll this course can take. Especially with the dry conditions we were looking to have. Sounds easy. Let everyone go out hard and fast, and bide my time until later in the race. Not this time. For a number of reasons, that wouldn’t be my strategy. One, I knew that I had some fast laps in me. Two, I felt I could go out fast and still find a steady, sustainable pace. Three, I was confident that I could ride at that steady pace well through the night. I wasn’t 100% confident that it might be a competitive pace, but I wished to be placed a little higher initially and hopefully derive some confidence from those results. A bit of a gamble, but that’s why it’s a race.
Things went well off the start. I can’t keep anywhere near the front of the run in this race. The road leading away from the start is great to make up places though, and I can usually get by a lot of racers here. One racer I was ‘marking’ was Rob Lichtenwalner. Sure enough, he came by on the road, so I tucked in behind for an ‘armchair’ ride back toward the front. Wow, he was aggressive! We passed a huge number of racers. He never stopped yelling out to pass. I just followed and counted my good fortune for the escort. Once we hit the ledgy and sandy sections on the back of the course, I was able to make up even more places. My escort was left behind as I used some unorthodox lines. I came upon another rider I was planning to keep track of near the start/finish. Unfortunately, he was running in a broken chain. A number of us solos finished our first lap right around 1:16. I was placed sixth at this point.
I still felt good on my second lap, but settled down a bit on the passing. So many racers (of different abilities) are bunched up on the first lap, that you might as well make the effort. Now I wanted to keep things a little more ‘controlled’. Dave Harris passed me near the end of this lap. I was not planning to worry about where I was in relation to Dave. I had him pegged for a (the?) high placing, and had only planned to keep track of riders who I felt more competitive with. My plans may have been a bit confident. I felt there were probably three riders present who were a ‘lock’ for the high places if they rode well – I wouldn’t worry about those riders. Maybe four or five more were capable of a high placing if they rode to their ability. Yes, I was counting myself in this group, and was concentrating my strategy on the others I considered at this level. At the start, I believe Dave was the only rider present who had pulled a higher lap total than me in previous editions.
I lost a few placings on the second lap, but was still ahead of my goal pace. I started the third lap confident, and on track. I was switching bikes as planned, and everything was working well. Susan had arrived, and our pit area was organized. I was trying to establish routines for eating, and drinking (I pick stretches of the course suited to these tasks). Unfortunately, things weren’t about to stay so good. I was aware that I was struggling on the first tough climbing sections. It didn’t seem like too much of a problem until a certain rider passed me. I had been easily matching his pace before, but now I could see exactly how much I was slowing. OK, keep moving forward, remember that I’ll be up and down, don’t get discouraged… Mid way through the lap, I had stopped a couple of times to eat and drink, but things were starting to feel worse than just a little bonk. I was feeling dizzy, and had a bad headache. It was hard not to stop, and double over to push back the bad feeling down below. Several riders were asking me if I was all right. I was definitely riding poorly, and don’t think I looked too good. Chris Plesko was even volunteering to relay info to my pit.
I came in from my third lap half an hour behind schedule. Susan was surprised, but did a great job of keeping cool and confident. It’s easy for someone else’s doubt to rub off on the racer in this situation, and she wasn’t going to let that happen. My first words were that I knew our plan was for her to kick me out of camp (no long breaks – 2min or less), but this was different. I sat down, and we went for more serious food. Soup, lots of drink, tofu, pasta. Not too much, but I’ve been able to eat my way out of problems before. Ten to fifteen minutes was the plan. I ended up spending an hour there trying to get something back. I was consciously ruling out a DNF at this point, but I came here intending to do well, and that wasn’t happening. It’s hard to accept ‘plan B’ at that point.
I did get started back into the race again. Now I was just trying to get some laps in and then see where I was later on. Don’t worry about the race, just do my best, and know that regret that would come from not finishing. Unfortunately, things just got harder and harder. There is a difference between adjusting your expectations and competing for a different goal, and just accepting that you’re not racing anymore. After three more laps, I felt as bad as I had before. Sitting in the pit trying to recover, I felt even worse. It seemed pointless now, and I was really disappointed in myself for believing that.
So we went to bed! I set the alarm for 4:00AM with the promise that I’d head out for a lap to see if the sleep helped recovery. That didn’t happen, but I did force myself out again before 7:00AM. I felt horrible, and was considering quitting and cutting the course back to the start if I couldn’t do a lap. Well, I was slow, but was able to ‘leave some of my problems behind’ so to speak. After that I did start to feel better. I headed out for another lap remembering how much I regretted not riding with Marko Ross-Bryant in the morning last year. The solo race had been called, but that shouldn’t have stopped us from enjoying a lap on the course with the other racers. This year, I’d make up for that. Since most of the other racers were feeling full effects of the last day’s effort, I was now one of the faster riders on the course again. It felt great. I was able to ride with some good people, and it really helped my mood.
A couple of weeks later, I can be a little more objective about the experience. Was I really sick? Was stress, or were other outside factors simply more than I could deal with? Mental weakness? It’s hard to say. I definitely felt sick during the event. Hard evidence to back that up too. Still, a lot of things really got the better of me in the week leading up to the race. I was not well prepared logistically, and shouldn’t have counted on things just falling into place. I now realize how much of an issue that was for me.
I think that in the future I won’t be placing much importance on traditional 24hr lap races. The whole support / pit / logistical details are more than I can, or want to deal with. I’m just done with the whole support crew aspect of racing. Personally, I try to avoid having my choices become excuses in races (witness the rider who could have done SO well had they not raced blindfolded on their unicycle!!). The draw for me in these races remains the competition. But I do enjoy keeping things simple and don’t mind accepting the consequences of those simple choices. I don’t think it should be thought of as a disadvantage necessarily. For some, sure, racing unsupported would definitely leave them finishing measurably worse. That’s not going to hold true for everyone though. I feel that the differences between my 24hrs in the Old Pueblo and 24hrs of Moab experiences illustrate it well in my case. I’m rambling a bit here, but it seems like something I need to put out there. Whether it means picking more unsupported events, or just choosing races I can confidently do on my own, I’ll be pursuing things on a much simpler scale in the future.
No more racing until 2008! I’ve already shuttled two of my last three rides. Let the fun begin.
