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. :)

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’.

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.

• Self supported tour from my front door to Ipperwash Beach, Ontario. 98 of the hottest miles I’ve ever ridden.
• Tree Farm Relay – Our team took 10th, and I experienced intoxication and hangover in a span of about 6 hours.
• Stony 6 hour endurance race – My boy Brian and I took 2nd. Brian is strong like bull.
• Addison Oaks Chapter Benefit – I crashed. There was blood. Hurty blood.
• Iceman Cometh – placed just out of the top 3rd out of 100 Sport/Expert Clydesdales. This renewed my interest in racing.

Early in the season I burned out. I started training for Lumberjack too late, and after I quit halfway through my drive to compete was drowned out. I continued to ride a lot and accomplish some things that I am very proud of, but I didn’t race much. I just squeeked by with 6 races (I am required to complete 5), and with the handful of organized rides I did on the side I had a decent season.

My drive to compete started to renew itself after the 6 hours of Stony Creek endurance race. I had a blast and remembered what it felt like to do well. After that, I decided to train fairly hard for Iceman. I started going hill repeats and longer rides, and a little bit of core work. I ended up shaving 12 minutes off my previous time and felt great doing so. I finished the race with the feeling that I wanted to race more. There’s only one problem: the season is over.

OK, OK, the season’s not over over. There’s still plenty of riding to be done, and if I really wanted to compete I could race cyclocross. But I don’t want to race cyclocross. So there.

I decided to take two weeks “off” and eat like a total jerk before starting at 12 month training program from my sponsor shop, Cycle to Fitness. I will meet with the shop owner once a month for 12 months, each month taking on a new series of training regimens and goals. I started out by filling in some info on goals I have for the next year, the next 5 years, and in the very long term. Daniel (the shop owner) will use this info to build a program that meets the short- and long-term goals.

I feel I need this type of motivation. He provides me with a schedule that I can manage, and I have no reason to back out. I’ve known for 4 days that I have to ride for 2 hours on the trainer tonight. So if I don’t, I have no excuse. I’ve planned for it, it’s in my mind and in my calendar.

This is what I like about this program and what I’m looking forward to. I love to ride, but sometimes the stress of trying to figure out when to squeeze the rides in gets to me. This program allows me to plan ahead and say, “I need to do this, it’s important.” Not only to myself, but to my (extremely supportive) family.

So, I will document the process here. It will be interesting to look back and see how I felt about it starting out as Daniel continues to smash my will to live.

Rain was in the forecast and when we rolled into Chelsea it was pouring so hard I could barely see the road. We were all giving each other the side-eye, wondering what we were going to do if it kept up. As we pulled into the fairgrounds, the rain started to let up. We registered and ate some donuts.

As we were registering someone came in and exclaimed that the rain was over Lansing now and would clear up in 30 minutes. He was right. We headed out in a tiny drizzle and by the time we made it to the first stoplight it had stopped. The forecast from that point on was saying clear skies, and that’s just what we got.

About 8-10 miles in we hooked up with a group which included a tandem. We hammered in the paceline to the 25 mile mark, each pulling at around 22mph. We all took long turns pulling ‘casue it was the only way to stay dry. The water on the pavement was rooster-tailing off the tire in front of us, spraying our faces with dirty water. It was gross, but still fun to crank out the first quarter.

I dropped off at the first hard climb and met up with the guys soon after. We stopped for a rest, during which the sky really opened up and the sun was shining beautifully. We headed out for the next 25 in high spirits. As the sun got hotter it became harder to keep fluids in my body.

We rolled into the lunch stop feeling pretty good. Half way through, we ate some food and enjoyed the band. Before we headed back out I checked my rear wheel which had a patched tube. It was definitely loosing air, so I expected a flat at some point before the end of the ride. Of course, about 12 miles from the 3rd stop, my tire went flat. I did a quick change just as the SAG vehicle pulled a U-Turn and came by to check on us. The guy was great, checking the pressure and topping it off with a floor pump. We dragged ourselves to the next stop as we started to feel more and more exhausted.

We took our time at the final stop. We had just under 25 miles left and we were feeling it for sure. One we got some fluids and fuel, we headed out for the rest of the ride. The hills got me on this leg. I ended up crawling up and down each hill for the next 20 miles. At mile 93, I was struggling mentally and physically and felt the need to pull over. At that point I decided to get things done ASAP, so I put my head down and hammered out the last 7 miles. I went flying by Tom and Jer, who were well ahead of me. Jer caught up and passed me as Tom made is way up over the last 5 miles. With 1 mile to go, we started goofing off and tried sprinting to the finish.

As we came around one of the final turns Tom hit a patch of sand and went down hard. He tore his jersey and picked up some road rash on his shoulder, leg and hand. He bumped his head on the pavement and put a dent in his helmet. His bike was a bit twisted but nothing cracked or broken. He did end up with a tiny fracture on his wrist and will be wearing a light-weight brace for a couple of weeks. Sorry bro! :(

That was the last ride on the BMC Streetfire SSX that I’ve been riding over the last year. Here’s a pic from a few days after I picked it up:

2007 BMC Streetfire SSX

It’s an AWESOME bike, but not versatile enough. Where I live there are few shoulders and lots of dirt roads, so it was a once in a while bike. I was also commuting on a converted mountain bike, which wasn’t ideal. I decided to sell the mountain bike and part out the BMC to set up this rig:

It is also AWESOME. I was on the fence for a while about selling the BMC, but the more I ride the Surly the less I wonder if I’ll miss the road bike. It rides like a dream. With the big 40c tires it feels more like a 29er than a 700c road bike. It handles the gravel pathways and dirt roads with ease, and rolls quickly over hard pack and pavement. It’s obviously heavier than the BMC by a lot, but I love the versatility and utility of such a bike. So far I’m in love with it.

The new bike has sparked interest in touring and more heavy-duty commuting. Due to this newly found interest, my wife and I will be doing an experiment during the month of August to see if we can make do with one car and our bikes. We will put one car in “storage” and rely on a single car, with the bike making up a lot of the transportation throughout the month.

This probably wouldn’t seem like a great feat to folks used to riding in the city or bike-friendly communities, but we live in Metro Detroit (aka MOTOR CITY). I work 20 miles from where I live, and the roads here are not exactly bike friendly. I’m excited to see how far I can push relying on my bike in this environment. How will my body react? Will I find it too difficult, or will I be inspired to continue it into the early fall months? What will I learn about myself and my community, and my family’s ability to rely on less? I’m excited to find some answers to these questions and will be sharing them here as often as possible.

At some point during my training my wife made a good point with one of her many questions:

Nic: How long is the race going to take?
Me: About 12 hours
Nic: How long have you been on the bike? The longest, I mean?
Me: … uhhhhh… 3 and a half hours…

Once I stopped heaving and wiped the vomit from my mouth, I made a drastic shift in training direction. I now train by time rather than distance. This means that instead of shooting for, say, XX miles, I shoot for X hours on the bike not including breaks.

This is difficult on many levels. First of all, I am used to riding for speed and distance. If I’m training hard, I want to go XX miles as fast as I can. This shift in training is forcing me to watch myself and not push too hard. I don’t need to get from A to B asap, I just need to go go go for the allotted time.

Second, pushing yourself to ride for X hours is tough on its own. So far I’ve completed my 5 hour goal. That day I simply set out early in the morning and rode as much as I could for 5 hours. I explored some new trail and learned a lot about how my body functions under stress.

Tomorrow I will shoot for 6 hours with as much singletrack as I can manage. This has some added difficulty rooted in one simple fact: singletrack is hard. The Lumberjack 100 is 100 miles of singletrack, not fire roads and rail trails. Not only do I have to manage myself for 12 hours, I have to be strong enough to complete the course.

As my mind and body fatigue during these long sessions I have schitzophrenic episodes regarding my participation in this race. One minute I’m wondering what the hell I’m thinking, I should just sell my entry. The next I’m thinking that I hate to quit, and that one lap after giving it all I’ve got is better than nothing.

After much back and forth internally (and very humbling and sweet encouragement from my lovely wife), I’ve decided that I’m going to race regardless of what my mind or body says. Part of my struggle has been holding off on any assumptions or feelings about how I’ll do. I need to be realistic: I may not finish this race, and the odds are against me. However, I also need to be optimistic: maybe, if I train hard enough and learn from my fatigue, I can finish.

Lumberjack has consumed my time on the bike over the last two weeks, and will consume me for the remaining four before the event. One thing I need to force myself to do is to sit up and take in what it is that I’m doing and where it is that I’m riding. I’m enjoying some of the finest wilderness Michigan has to offer, in an area with some of the best trails. Even if I don’t finish this race, I will have beat myself into the best shape I’ve been in years, and I will be further on my way to my fitness goal. That is more important than any race.

OK, that’s a little harsh and I don’t really mean it. I’m really projecting my hatred for climbing onto the trail, which isn’t fair. It’s an amazing trail.

I’m sorry, PLRA. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.

In all seriousness I have nothing negative to say about today’s performance. This was my first race in the sport clydesdale (200lbs or over) class. I placed 7th out of 14, dead center in the middle of the pack. I accomplished my one personal goal of coming in under an hour (56:58). I only had to walk one hill. It was dry (as in no rain from the sky), and while the trail had some sloppy bits it was mostly fast and sunny. All things considered it was a great day to race.

The climbing hit me hard during this race. My back is not strong so climbing has always been an issue for me. My back gets really tired and if I can’t take a break, it doesn’t get better. I found myself trying to push hard with my legs just to have my back respond with a resounding “NOPE”.

I’ve learned a TON from today’s effort:

1. I am ready for sport. Middle of the pack is very much acceptable early on.
2. I need to do hill repeats. Need.
3. Personal, vocal pep-talks work well. It breaks the quiet and wakes me up.
4. I need to eat IMMEDIATELY after a race. Stomach cramps are real, and eating kills them. Kills them dead.
5. When I can barely breath, the possibility of showing some ass crack is not even on the radar. (see thru bibs! :/ )

While the actual ride would bore you to tears, I do have one bit of drama. The final climb is a nasty climb. Steep, long, twisty. My teammate Jeff had already caught and passed me along with two other sport riders. As I trailed them up the hill and started to crest, I heard this awful retching noise. As I came around the last turn before the descent, one of the guys that passed me horked an entire bottle’s worth of HEED (sutble strawberry, from the smell of it). I involuntarily made a cringing face and panted, “on your right…”.

The next organized ride on the schedule is the Metro Grand Spring Tour, the 62 mile flavor. I’m really looking forward to doing my first 62-miler so early in the season. I will be pulling out my grass skirt and doing my weather dance this week for sure!

Update: the perfect picture. I have in my arsenal the following: oreos, drink, shithead pose. (Thanks to CMo via Miami for the pic!)

I wouldn’t say reverse crunches are as difficult as regular crunches, however, I have only been able to do 20 or so at a time until now. When I started ‘em up, I got to 20 and just kept going.

This isn’t the only surprising bit of progress I’ve come across lately. Last week during the weekly Maybury Miles ride from Cycle to Fitness, I was able to keep up with the fast guys both on the way out and on the way back. My mind wants to think they were going easy, but that’s not logical. They never go easy if they can help it. I’m usually in the middle group at my fastest. Naturally this was a huge surprise to both myself and those skinny little quick bastards that usually leave me in their dust. :)

A lot of it has to do with my training for Lumberjack. I don’t have a solid plan yet, I’ve just been putting in miles on the bikes and trying to build a solid base. I feel like I’m getting a good amount of positive payback for putting in the time and effort.

The first race of the season is coming up on April 26th. I want to be ready for that race. It’s my first year racing sport and while I don’t have any delusions about winning, I want to hold my own and be happy with the results.

There are a couple of races and rides between the 26th and Lumberjack on the 19th of June, but for the most part I’m trying to keep a steady progression of trail miles. Assuming I can pull off 20 singletrack miles now, and I want to hit at least 80 miles the week before Lumberjack, I need to up my trail mileage capabilities by 10 miles a week. I’ll be going out to Pontiac Lake, where the first race is held on the 26th, to try and pull of three laps (30 miles) this week.

I’m hoping for another surprise progress report from my body. It wasn’t until mid- to late-season last year that I was able to pull off a triple Pontiac. If I can manage that now during my base phase, I’ll be in excellent shape to move forward with my plans for Lumberjack. If not that’s OK, I’m still going to give it my best.

Since my back injury last year, I have been keeping a close eye on my back (or a few close nerves, rather, since I can’t really SEE my back). The injury was relatively minor but scary and something I don’t want to relive. Last week I did a hard training ride from work and ended up with a very sore lower back a few days later. This kicked my stretching routine into (healthy) overdrive. Since the ride I’ve made sure to stretch after each ride, and every day I’m not riding. So basically… stretch every day. EVERY day. Do not skip it, it is important.

I went back and forth mentally on Friday and almost backed out of the race. I had the email written up to Kevin, the organizer, and was about to send but decided not to at the last minute. I figured it wouldn’t hurt (or would it??) to wait ’til the last minute and then not race if my back shit the bed. No harm, no foul.

The day of the race I felt good. My back was still a little sore, but I figured I could sit back and race easy if I felt I would push it too much. I showed up to the shop early and helped Kevin get the number plates ready, then headed out to Hines to warm up.

Photo by Craig "CMo" Morris

(This photo has solidified the notion that my legs are F***ING MASSIVE. Better with which to chase you down, my dear.)

I warmed up with 3-4 miles of riding and mild hill sprints. My back was doing OK, so I decided to go for it and race all out. I showed up at the line just before my start time and headed out almost immediately. I got in the drops and stayed there as much as I could. I was surprised by how long I was able to hold a tucked position.

The TT rules were a bit unorthodox. If you were passed, you were allowed to draft the passer. You were NOT allowed to draft a person you were passing. I got passed a few times and was able to latch on for a few seconds each time. My favorite was when I was passed by my buddy MIKEWOODS!! (proper spelling). His buddy Chris was passing us on the other side of the road on his way back. He yelled out, “GO, MIKE, YOU’RE WITH THE WIND!” At that time I didn’t know Mike was right behind me. I thought, “why does he think I’m Mike? I don’t look like…” BOOM! Mike goes screaming by at 25mph. I sprinted and caught on, but couldn’t hold on for very long. Mike ended up 4th overall.

I hammered throughout the race, placing mid-pack (tied @ 18th outta 43) with a time of 38:07 over 12.8 miles; an average of 20mph, so far my personal best! I’m proud of my performance, it was a great start to the season. So far my back has not flared up, so hopefully I’m on the right track to a healthy season.

Afterward most of the teammates that raced went to Benny’s Pizza. The food was fantastic, especially the veggie pizzas. We all sat around and chatted about the race and the upcoming season. I really enjoyed meeting some of the new people and getting to know them a bit better. I look forward to racing with them this year.

Sometimes when my schedule is hectic and I have to drive the hour to the shop, a question arises: Would I ever leave this team to race for a shop that was closer to home. The answer is always “No.”

I like Daniel’s shop, but that’s not what makes me want to stay with the Greyhounds. I’m into all of this for the fun of it, not to win races. Don’t get me wrong, I want to win and I want to perform well, for both myself and the team. However, I hear a lot of stories about teams closer to home being very competitive and results-driven. That’s not what the Greyhounds are about. We train hard and perform well, often placing in our respective classes. But more importantly we have a good time together. We support one another and we’re always laughing it up. Right now I can’t imagine showing up to a race and NOT going to the ‘hound tent, NOT racing with such a fun-loving group.

It’s worth the inconvenience to race with these folks.