24 Hours of Moab: Lessons in Humility

Have you ever wondered what your special talent is? At the most inauspicious times we seem to come across those that are just more naturally gifted in certain areas than we are. Sometimes I wonder if I have what it would take to be a great cyclist. Of course you never really know until you put in the time and then test yourself.
During the past year my fitness level on the bike has improved to levels I used to dream about. As a team we were able to crush the competition at the 24 HOA in Hurkey Creek, my slowest time around the course was faster than I had ever done it before! Could this be the answer to my lingering question?

This past weekend our team had the opportunity to put our new found skills to the test against some great competition at the 24 Hours of Moab in Moab, UT. I'm always nervous before any sort of race. Some people think nervousness is bad, I believe that a person can effectively channel that energy into the race and outperform their expectations. Without that feeling I'm sure I wouldn't peform the same.

Our preparation for this race wasn't the same as it had been back in April, but we hadn't been slacking off too much either. We left for the race on Thursday, hoping to make it to St. George, UT to stay with my friend Jon and his wife Sara. In standard form we got on the road much later than expected and in turn didn't get to St. George until late that night (or early the next morning, however you want to look at it). The next day we got on the road and headed to Moab. I was eager to get a lap in on the course, but it was nearing sundown by the time we got our registration packets and made it into the camping area. I am not a fan of racing blind, so to speak. I've ridden the Hurkey Creek course so many times that I think I could pick my lines if I were blindfolded! That's good information to have when it's 2am and you're cranknig through a night lap.

We woke up in good fashion Saturday morning. Everyone was able to get a full nights rest, which is essential to making it through the next 24 hours. We normally volunteer Landon to do the first lap of any 24 hour race. It involves a Le Mans start, which involves running an unsaid distance before getting to your bike. It's a great way to spread out the 365 people starting the race. This time I volunteered to run, so Landon could hammer his first lap without wasting energy on foot.

It was nearing the start time. I had about 45 minutes to warm up and get down to the start, where I'd have to run about 250 yards to get onto my bike. Since I wasn't able to pre-ride any of the course beforehand I figured I would warm up on the first section of the course, leaving the camp. As I gingerly worked my way out of camp, I was carefully assessing each line for various sections of the course. As I neared one sand pit, I noticed a rutted line to the right and a smooth line, finishing with a small drop, into the sandpit. I opted for the smooth line and slowed down to check out the small drop (drop is probably an overstatement!). I slowly rolled the front tire off the drop and missed the mat they had spread across the sand pit. My front tire instantly disappeared beneath the sand and I went flying over the handlebars. I hoped that this wouldn't be a forecast of things to come!

I don't remember much as the announcer started counting down. 3... 2... 1... We were off. I had strategically placed myself about 2 deep in an optimal spot on the starting line. I didn't want to be the first one done with the run, but I wanted to make sure that I wasn't stuck behind all the other 364 competitors. After what felt like swimming through a few people I was comfortably near the front, although my legs weren't ready for this level of "comfort." As I rushed to my bike, which Justin was holding for me outside of the staging area, I realized that I had probably run way too hard. After getting to my bike saw that I was second or third coming out of the staging area. I decided it would be a good idea to let my throbbing legs recover slightly as other people poured out behind me. Quickly a pace line formed in front of me, for a moment I thought that I was back out on the road. The pace line swerving, taking up the entire road, high speeds, single file! We were cruising over the hardpack rolling terrain. Slowly people passed me, one after another. Finally I had decided that if I kept pushing to stay with the front pack then I probably wouldn't make it around the course, especially since I hadn't ridden it before. It was at this time I realized that I was not going to be one of the gifted riders over the next 24 hours.

Finally, after what I had thought was hours, I spotted the campground. A few minutes later I was dismounting my bike and passing the baton off to Landon. As he headed out on his first lap around the course I headed back to the campsite in order to brief the guys on anything and everything I could remember. I told them about the terrain, a mix between Whistler and Hulda Crooks. It was a mixture of extreme rock sections and sand, with a bit of hardpack stacked in between. The climbs were technical, always accelerating to get over obstacles, and long. The descents were fast and some were very technical for a race course. In some sections two separate lines were marked off for the course, one line would show XXX Danger, while the other line was relatively unmarked. Normally, the "Danger" lines were slighly shorter, but much more technical. For those of us who had just spent the time in Whistler were right at home in the rocky sections. There were only a few places that required the hike-a-bike method to pass. One was a extremely steep uphill that was completely sandy and another was a series of 2.5 foot drops to a creek bed immediately followed by similar terrain ascending the other side. The most unlikely walking section I came across happened to be at the top of the final climb. As I approached, I saw people walking their bikes across a flat section and thought, "there's no way I'm walking!" Of course my thought process changed when I got to that section and found it to be a deep unrideable sandtrap.

After finishing my first lap, I realized a certain difference in this race versus the Hurkey Creek 24 hour races I'd done in the past. Hurkey Creek is a much shorter course than Moab, 9.25 miles versus 15 miles, respectively. A lap a Hurkey Creek is almost entirely anaerobic, granted you get a few rests on the downhills. With a longer course, such as Moab, you're not physically able to push as hard or else you'll run out of steam and finish poorly. Racing Moab happens at a very high level of your aerobic capacity. So, when you've completed a lap you're slightly more relaxed. This allowed us to sleep easier and eat better, compared to Hurkey Creek, throughout the race.

Finally, the team was moving. We seemed to be running strong, like a well oiled machine. Each of us working to our limit, motivating each other prior to each lap, and congratulating each other after every successful return. Bottom line, we're not always out there for fun, we want to put the pressure on the other teams and prove that we can perform at the highest levels. For us, fun is as a side-effect of pushing your limits while racing your bike around a course for a day straight. Each rider on our team was able to get at least one full lap in during the day, I managed two, which allowed us to have some course knowledge before riding into the dark. Course recollection becomes very important at night, especially when it's a technical course such as Moab.

Our night laps were going flawless. Through the night were were competing at the same level, or above, as many of the top teams. I don't know if the other teams were getting tired or our lack of common sense allowed us to travel almost as fast at night as during the day. In either event, we were making up time and crawling our way towards the top 10 overall. Through the night we managed to develop a 40 minute lead on the next closest team in our category, in the overall standings we had moved up into the top 15!

It was now about 7:00am and Justin just woke me to let me know that Andrew was headed down to start/finish line to start his lap. I was going to do my final lap soon after him. After slowly waking up and poking my head out the tent, I made visual contact with someone wearing our red Possabilities jersey. I immediately noticed that it wasn't I thought it would be. Andrew had come back up to camp to give us some bad news. Other riders reported a guy wearing a Possabilities jersey running his bike about 5 miles out! Come to find out that Ben, shorlty after crashing, had blown his chain midway through his lap. Luckily Ben, as the rest of us, was prepared for minor mechinical issues such as a flat tire or, in this case, broken chain. Ben fixed his chain and continued his lap into the dawn of the final morning. Unfortunately, his toils on the bike weren't over. Ben's rear deraileure broke with about 7-8 miles left. Ben, being the man that he is, didn't give up and instead he started running. Anything that would require pedaling was now done on foot while pushing the bike.

All said and done we had lost just over an hour. The second place team in our category was now almost 30 minutes ahead of us and we had dropped into 20th in the overall standings. If Ben didn't give the effort he did, we would have been lucky to stay in the top 30+ overall. This gave us a new found drive to give it our all for the next few laps before the noon cutoff.

Unfortunately, I think Ben felt the weight of the race on his shoulders following his mechanical issues. Little did he know, we were all amazed that he didn't mentally break and give up while running the final 7-8 miles of the course. Truth be told, you can't attribute a loss to a single event. Over the course of a 24 hour race all teams are susceptible to the time consuming events, from flat tires to mechanical issues. The only preventable time sensitive issue would be oversleeping when you're next to ride. It is very possible that the other team had minor issues that we never knew about. Even though we are racing one team member at a time, we take the course as a team.

At the end of the day, we managed to finish 20th out of 365 teams. After a fierce effort to regain the lead, we were able to pull in the deficit from 30 minutes to about 17 over the final 4 laps.

Once the race had finished and we were back on the road, starting our 10+ hour drive home, we were given time to reflect. I though about my individual shortcomings, I relived the experience of racing a brand new course, I re-road my first lap in my mind over and over again, and I wondered what could I have done (beyond the obvious of training more) to stay with some of the faster guys. I am a firm believer that you never know how far you can go unless you've gone too far. That first lap quickly showed me what too far was and I realized that my level of fitness was nowhere near that of the fastest guys. I absolutely hate being passed and I found out that I was in over my head trying to maintain the pace with those at the front.

It's experiences like these that keep us from climbing too high on our horse. We can't always expect to be the fastest, we can't assume that our past performances are going to give us insight into our future endeavors. Our experience in life and on our bikes is evolving and hopefully progressing. I was able to gain a new perspective after going through the Moab experience. That is: It's important to remember however good we think we are, there's those who will keep us honest and humble.