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.

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. :)

(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.

While wallowing in my own self pitty, I came to a realization. I’ve been fat for a long time. That may sound harsh, but it’s true. I was fat, obese, and I worked really hard to change that. The realization that hit me is this: I have to learn to be skinny. Losing weight is obviously not perminent. People put weight back on, I’ve done it and I’m doing it again right now. What makes this time different is that I see what’s happening and I know how to stop it.

Being healthy is as much of a mind game as it is a physical one. Fall hit, things got busy and I got lazy. I stopped riding as much and started eating out more. My portions grew and the combined slippage caused 10lbs of weight gained and lots of earned fitness lost. This battle is year-long, 365 days, 24/7. It’s hard goddamn work.

Things are going to change starting right now. My wife and I are getting snowshoes and we’re going to start hiking again. I’m going to get on the trainer at least every other day for an hour, no matter how boring it is. I’m going to start regulating calories and planning meals, making lunches, anything I need to do to change my lifestyle. I refuse to gain the weight back. I refuse to ignore the signs I’ve ignored over and over.

This isn’t a New Year’s resolution, this is a lifetime resolution. I want to be a healthy dad and a healthy senior. Planning one’s health is more important than any planning one can do, more important than finances or college funds or retirement.

I’m learning that being fit takes challenging myself to try new activities and forgive imperfect conditions. I may not be able to afford the right equipment, but if what I have will help me be fit then I need to deal with it. A little pain now is worth it.

So I’ll be back here often to keep notes on my progress. Those of you reading this will have to put up with a lot of bitching about old equipment or things that I find annoying. What’s important is that I keep writing. If I don’t I may just slip back into the blinders that hid my problems for a long, long time. Thanks for listening.