HOT DIGGITY GIGGITY was it just that… hot! There was a strong wind but unfortunately it only poked through in one or two sections of the trail. Not only hot, but DUSTY. I’m still picking dirt out of my ears.

I went into this race with a mileage goal: 100+. I’d gotten 100 at Lumberjack, and figured I could repeat and then some. Two years ago I did this race as a 4-person relay, which distorted my memory of the trail. The trail was easy that day. Two laps on for 45ish minutes. When you’re doing 2-3 laps on for 10+ hours, it beats you to hell.

As I lined up I scoped the one other dude in my class. After my first lap I mentioned to my teammate, “He looks fast, but who knows, maybe it’s his first endurance race.” As the day went on, this fantasy was stabbed repeatedly until death. By hour 3 he had lapped me once. By hour 5 he had lapped me twice. He would proceed to lap me ELEVEN TIMES (I spelled that out so I could capitalize it) throughout the day.

As I sat down before my last two planned laps, I was informed that the laps were not 5.5 miles each but 4.7 miles each. Some quick cell phone mathery brought me to reality: I only had 81 miles thus far. I would have to do 4 more laps, in the dark, to meet 100 miles let alone 110. I decided 18 laps was good enough and snuggled up to a beer and a hot shower.

I had one major mechanical throughout the day. My rear tubeless tire was leaking, so I put a tube in to last the day. I must have pinched it between the bead and the rim because toward the end of a lap it went BANG. When one flats, one hopes for PHTSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Bangs are no good. Lo and behold, I had blown out the sidewall. My teammate Scott hooked me up big time with his whole rear wheel to finish the day. I owe him!

Throughout the season I’ve been doing a lot of work on my “self”, that is to say a lot of emotional and spiritual growth. Races like these really help solidify the practices I’m trying to perfect. Being able to do lap after lap and concentrate only on that lap, to stay as present and in the moment as possible, is something I haven’t quite mastered but I’m working on it diligently. It has made an immense difference in my spirit and ability to have fun during a race. I don’t need to care about how it will end, that’s not the point for me. Each lap is another XX minutes on the bicycle. That’s all that matters.

Awwwweeeee, spoiler. Gave it away in the title. I know you were on the edge of your seat, and the title’s like some douche in the theater who screams BRUCE WILLIS IS DEAD in the first 5 minutes. What? You’ve never seen Sixth Sense? Please stop reading my blog.

Finishing the race is a great achievement. I’m very happy about that, but there are more important things to address. First, here are the specs: Finished 148th out of roughly 200 in my class in 11:35. I had an uncomfortable run-in with an inflamed urinary tract (gross!) which almost put me out of the race after lap 2. I man*d up, and finished, and I’m damn happy I did. My nutrition plan worked flawlessly, minus a bonk at the very end after giving away my emergency food to a teammate. Lesson learned: keep emergency food until all chances of possible emergency are gone. Derp!

I’m pretty ecstatic that I finished. However, what I learned in the process of training and completing this race are really  more important than the finish. I’ve now been racing for almost 3 years. Not long, but I’ve experienced a wide range of races – from short time trials to a 100 mile ultra-endurance race. What I’ve discovered is that I haven’t always raced just because it’s fun. In hindsight, I started this stuff to try and prove something. If I place a certain way or finish a certain race, it says something about me. It validates some characteristic I want to see in myself. It “proves” that I’m not overweight, that I’m an athlete, that I’m worth something.

During the process of training I went through a very serious but also very cleansing life change:  a divorce. It was very quick and amicable. I could have sunk myself into some facet of my life like training, work, nightlife or some other distraction. Something to mask pain that is inevitable with what most perceive as failure. Instead, I got help immediately in the form of a life coach, and started working on why I felt the way I did and how to deal with it. This helped not only with the divorce, but with every single aspect of my life. I see everything differently, including racing.

I’m happy I finished Lumberjack for many reasons. I wont pretend that part of that happiness isn’t related to how others perceive this feat. That wont change overnight. But what’s really exciting is the experience and the knowledge that I am strong enough to experience it again. Riding my bike all day, literally. Being immersed in exceptional forestry over the span of several hours. Seeing the light change over the course of a day, and seeing how the light changes the mood of the trail. Stopping on my last lap just to look at the pine trees and listen to the wind move through them. Practicing presence, working through hardships and experiencing emotions that range from, “I’m not going to finish, what does that mean,” to, “Holy shit, I’m going to finish! What does that mean?”

I don’t experience these things during a time trial or cross country race where my heart rate is through the roof. What’s the purpose of these races, if not to try and place well? If I place well, what does that mean? Why is that important? Is it important at all? These are the questions I have asked and answered for myself over the course of training for and finishing the Lumberjack 100.

So I’ve rearranged my racing schedule to allow for more 12 hour races, epics and centuries. I have a few small races still on the calendar like the most awesome Tree Farm Relay. Narrowing down what racing means to me and what style of racing remains fun and provides the most joy feels very positive. It’s a small change in a large life experience, but it’s something I love dearly.

The next race on the schedule is the 12 hours of Ithaca. The Jailhouse Trail in Ithaca, MI is a short, fast, fun little loop. I’m hoping to push a little farther than 100 miles during the race. It’ll be my first 12 hour solo attempt with night laps. Night training is fun. :)

Holy crap, Lumberjack is 4 short days away! This will be my second attempt at this popular Michigan ultra-endurance extravaganza. I’m both giddy with anticipation and… well, giddy with anticipation. A) I want the race to be here, and B) I want the race to be over. Two giddies, one race (HUR DUR).

Last year I only completed two of the four laps, which was 50 miles. A lot of things went into that bailout of which I have a much better understanding. Here, let me show them to you:

1. Nutrition – Last year I bonked. Hard. The hardest bonk I’ve ever been bonked with in my short history of bonking. Blood sugar issues run in my family, and while I’ve never been diagnosed with a clear problem, I’ve always struggled with mood and sanity when presented with hunger. Bonking is scary as-is, but bonking for me seems to send me to a very dark, desolate place. Maybe it’s that way for everyone. In hindsight, once I ate a lot of food and drank some beer I could have pulled off a 3rd lap. But again, bonking is scary. So I didn’t do that. This year I focussed heavily on my body and what it needs to survive over 12 hours of riding. Eat, a lot, constantly. Eat every hour no matter what. Drink a bottle an hour, no matter what. Eat more than you think you need. Eat what your body can process. These are my mantras, and goddamnit they’re working.

2. Fitness – I took up a training plan this year. One of my main goals was to finish Lumberjack, which I can safely say 4 days out looks to be quite possible. I’ve often half-believed in jinxing and usually don’t declare victory early. However, I now believe in the power of positive thinking. I will finish.

3. Mental Stamina – It takes some balls to ride a bike around a tough course for 10-12 hours (Guess how long I hope it takes me. Go on, guess!). Ultimately you end up alone for long stretches. Potentially hours at a time. For the second year in a row I hit a wall about two weeks out from the race. This is the time when you’re training for 6-10 hours on the bike every weekend, usually all in one day. It gets lonely and the mind starts coming up with reasons to quit. So, I’ve developed another strategy: stay present. Stay in the moment, one pedal stroke at a time, one mile at a time, one lap at a time. Who gives a shit about the other laps. They haven’t happened yet, so why worry about them. Now is what’s important, and right now I’m having a blast!

So far this year I have logged almost 1,800 miles since January. I have my nutrition plan locked down. I got my mind straight. Boom, hot dog. Lets go racin’.

When on the trainer, don’t put the remote in your jersey pocket with the IR blaster facing up.

This should be self explanatory, but it isn’t, so I’ll elaborate with a little story.

Today I was partaking in my Intensity!™ training ride in the basement. I had the CTS video “Cycling for Power” on. Being that this is my only video, I know it like I know what makes me want to throw up. This would be helpful in my situation, but remember this is Intensity!™, and therefore my brain is deprived of oxygen.

I had completed the power interval ladder and was halfway through the second half, steady-state/power interval… er, intervals. I’m recovering, I’m feeling good about the second interval which consists of a three minute steady state and two minute power interval. To clarify, by “feeling good” I mean “I don’t want to kill myself”. I’m prepping emotionally for the three minute steady state, and so it begins.

Coach Jason is our coach for this hour long hurt fest, and I’ve come to both love and hate Jason. I know exactly what he’s going to say. It’s as if we’re linked like those giant blue bastards in Avatar. Jason says jump, and I weep softly as I do so.

As I’m settling in to the three minute steady-state interval, I hear my beloved Jason say the words “power interval”. I’m all like, “wha?” and look up, to see the words “power interval” and a two minute timer. Again, I’ve done this video more times than I have toes and fingers on which to count. I should know where the hell I am, but obviously I am not clear on what Coach Jason wants of me. So I gear up and do the power interval. This is where shit gets trippy.

My oxygen deprived brain started to attempt to put it all together: “I could have sworn I was on steady-state! Maybe not. Wait… did I black out? Did I black out and miss the steady-state?? How is that possible? How am I still on the bike? Is Coach Jason Jesus? He kinda looks like Jesus. His hair isn’t long enough. He’s counting down. Rapture? No, recovery. Good. ‘Three… two… one…’, recover! Thank the Lord, Coach Jason!”

As I start to recover, and oxygen gets re-introduced into my starving brain, I glance at the clock. Coach Jason has taken me back in time! I know, KNOW, that I was 10 minutes ahead of this. What the hell is he doing? And then it hits me… the remote. I fast forward to where I was previously and finished the video.

I know what you’re thinking, “You’re a dumbass.” This is true, however, my point is still valid. Having the remote in your jersey pocket facing up and likely toward the television as you’re hunched over in power interval hell is dangerous to your sanity.

You can thank me later.

“The lunge is a weight training exercise that is used to strengthen the quadriceps muscles, gluteal muscles and the muscles comprising the “hamstrings“, the semitendinosus, the semimembranosus, and the biceps femoris. A long lunge emphasizes the glutes whereas a short lunge emphasizes the quadriceps.”

(via Wikipedia)

See how I emphasized “gluteal muscles” up there? That’s not just ’cause it means butt (heh), it’s ’cause MY GLUTEAL MUSCLES FEEL LIKE THEY’RE GOING TO FALL OFF. Those other muscles hurt, too. In a good way.

After week 2 of training (week 1 of the hardcore stuff), I am already seeing results. I am slimming down a little bit at a time, however I’m not losing much weight yet. That’s to be expected. I haven’t altered my diet that much.

Trainer time is hard, especially the two hour moderate rides. Staying stationary and riding for that long is a true test of my mental ability to stay stationary and ride for that long. It’s brutal, and the time passes so very slowly after about an hour.

I’m learning a lot about how my body works. Training with a heart rate monitor allows me to see what it means to be warmed up, what happens when I push myself with intervals, and how controlling one’s heart rate is very difficult. I’m learning what I need to do to get my heart rate to where it needs to be, and how hard I have and have not been working in the past.

Winter is almost in full swing. Continuing this routine will be good, and it will be challenging. I look forward to the tears.