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. :)

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.

(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.

• 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.

Still confused? Let me put it this way: if Lumberjack is a little person with lustrous hair, a thick moustache and an eyepatch, and I’m a prison inmate, this is the perfect picture of my day at the race:

My prison sentence ended after 50 miles on the tough course. The first lap I felt great. I was riding at a comfortable speed and would meet the cutoff if I kept to my timing plan (which did not provide enough breaks). On the second lap I fell apart.  I learned more that day than during the 3 months training for the race. Here’s the curriculum:

1. Eat more
2. Rest more
3. Ride more singletrack

Number 1: Eat More
I didn’t eat enough, plain and simple. I had a nutrition plan that consisted of 1 gel every 30 minutes and a bottle of Sustained Energy ever lap. I just wasn’t enough. Had I eaten a lot more both between laps and during each lap, I wouldn’t have bonked so badly.

I bonked harder that day than I’ve ever bonked before. I walked a large chunk of the 2nd lap, trudging up the sandy hills feeling horrible and wanting to crawl out of there as quickly as possible. It was a horrible experience.

Number 2: Rest More
As you have seen already in this blog entry, I am not a mathematician. I did the math for how long I would have to rest between laps, and I got that math right! Aha! What I miscalculated so poorly was how long I would NEED to break between laps, not how much time would simply be provided. I came in around 3 hours for lap 1, which left me 20 minutes to rest before lap 2. That was not enough. I left for lap 2 feeling like jello, and it only got worse.

Number 3: Ride More Singletrack
While I pulled of 94 miles two weeks before the race, the ride consisted of a mix of singletrack trails and connectors (roads, bike paths, etc). Those connectors played a huge factor in those 94 miles. I was able to rest and recover on those connectors. When you’re riding nothing but singletrack mile after mile, there is nowhere for your body to recover. It’s constantly adapting to the trail.

This not only fatigues the body, but also the mind. When you sit and recover on a flat piece of doubletrack, you build confidence and your mind can rest. When it’s singletrack for hours/miles, you have to be ON THE BALL. Letting the mind stray can result in a nasty crash.

I walked off the course barely able to think. I was done and I knew it, and it tore me apart. I wanted this race to go so much better, and it didn’t. I dropped off my stuff and went to have a moment in the rest room. I let out months of stress and disappointment.

I returned to the tent, changed, and immediately went up to grab a beer and some food. Twenty minutes later, I was back to my old self. I chatted it up with the other teammates that decided to bail and we all decided it was the right choice. We enjoyed the rest of the day in the sun, drinking beer and cheering on teammates and other racers. It was a blast.

That night we ordered four pizzas and sat around the fire talking shit and deciding whether or not to try again next year. I hesitated then, but I have since decided that I will likely try again a year from now. I want to finish that race, and the only way to know what you’re up against is to try. Finish or not, I tried, and now I know what I need to do.

I decided to take the rest of July and have some fun on the bike. I’ve sold my commuter and ordered a Surly Cross Check frame, which I will build up with components from my road bike. It will be a combo commuter/roadie that I am sure I will enjoy just as much or more than my road bike and commuter combined. July 25 is the treefarm relay, which is always a treat. After that is the Stony Enduranace 6/12 hour race which I plan to hit full force.

It’s nice to have a break from training and still have goals in mind. I’m excited about the new bike and the planned races to come. While my Lumberjack disappointment put a dark cloud on one of the most anticipated races of the year, I enjoyed the trip.

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.