My first taste of endurance racing was the 2006 Coolest 24 which took place in Cool, California. Right down the road near Auburn is an area where we ride called "The Confluence" where the north and middle forks of the American River meet. Confluence is a fitting word for this event: four regular guys coming together to form a mighty team.
Our team consisted of the brothers Noble (Steve and Doug), Craig Dalton and yours truly. Steve came down from Portland while Craig came in from San Francisco. Doug and I are locals. Craig was the only one with any experience racing in a 24-hour event.
Our first decision was which class to race in. There was some debate as to whether our collective racing experience should put us in the pro/expert class. The counter argument was three of us were newbies to endurance racing and two of us had kids and very little training time. Ultimately we entered the sport/beginner class. Our name, suggested by Craig: Noble Riders.
In the weeks leading up to the race, Craig educated us on how everything would work and the equipment we would need. We slowly checked off these items as race day neared.
Throwing a huge wrench into my own personal plans was the fact that I would have a promotional exam for my employer, the State of California, on the morning of race day. If I passed the Senior Information Systems Analyst exam it would mean a substantial raise at work. As the lead of my technical group, I deserved this raise and the money that came with it.
On the morning of the race I made the 45 minute drive down to Cal Expo, took the exam, and drove back home. I then loaded up the truck and drove 40 minutes to the race site, which was Northside Elementary School in Cool. I somehow arrived at the venue in time and started unloading.
We set up camp on the grass in front of the school. I had been assigned the tent because Jennifer had a large one. It had never been used before, so we really didn't know how large it really was. Doug and I stared at the directions for a moment before we started assembling what seemed like a 1000 piece puzzle.
It was already warming up quickly. By the time we finished setting up camp I was sweating profusely. The tent turned out to be massive, probably 10 feet by 20 feet. It was without a doubt the largest one out there, and we dubbed it "Casa Grande." Later in the race a woman walked by and said, "Your tent is ridiculous. You're taking up the space of ten teams." We laughed at her. Haters gonna hate.
I should mention at this point in time our only goal was to have fun. We had no aspirations of "racing" per se. We brought an ice chest full of beer. Jenn was going to bring sushi for dinner. It was just a camping party with old friends with a little riding thrown in.
Race time rolled around at noon. Craig was going to do the first lap with the Le Mans start. He was ready.
Our "pace car" was an old bike with a small motor. It was cool.
Craig mugging for the camera. There is no grim determination here. Just having fun.
Craig brought it home and Steve (red jersey) took off for his first lap. Steve raced on a single speed and turned some very impressive laps.
I was next. As Steve jogged across the line in the transition area, the switch clicked in my brain. I had never raced for "fun" in my life. I took off and rode hard right from the start. Little did I know everyone else was thinking the same way.
The course was a 10 mile loop consisting of two major climbs. The first one out of Knickerbocker Creek starts out steep with a 20% grade for a tenth of a mile before letting up a little. On normal rides I always climb this one for the challenge of it, but in the race I walked. It's just as fast to walk and it expends far less energy. Almost everyone walked it.
The second climb out of Salt Creek is much longer but at a much more manageable grade. After cresting that one it's a rolling run back down to the start/finish area.
I took off fast and rode well, feeling comfortable and confident. Unfortunately I started cramping about halfway through my lap as I started up Salt Creek. In all the craziness of waking up early, driving all over the place, rushing to the venue and setting up in the sun, I hadn't taken care of myself. I hadn't eaten much nor had I hydrated, and I paid for it.
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Still, I finished my lap and felt good about my effort. Here I am telling Steve (behind the camera) and Craig about my first endurance race experience.
Doug then took his turn. Here he is starting his lap:
Craig waiting for Doug before taking his second lap:
Steve starting his second lap:
On my second lap I felt much better after a little rest and getting some food and water into my system.
After we had all completed two laps, Craig took off for his third lap. Steve and I walked over to the leader board just for grins. We were just out there to have fun, but still, we were curious to see how we were stacking up.
Steve and I both found the four-person team column and naturally started at the bottom. I could see his head in my peripheral vision moving up with mine. As we scanned up we were not seeing our team name. When we reached top the realization hit us simultaneously. We looked at each other with astonishment. We were . . . winning.
Back at camp we told Doug and asked him what he thought. My quiet friend replied, "Might as well win this thing." The three of us were in agreement on that.
Steve took off for his third lap. Here's Craig and Steve making the exchange:
Doug and I told Craig about our situation and he agreed we should try to defend our lead. The beer would stay on ice. Jennifer still brough the sushi plate, and it was the best sushi I ever tasted.
The sun was starting to set on Casa Grande. The future was bright enough that Doug had to wear shades.
As luck would have it, the first night lap would fall on me. Here I am setting up my lights:
My third lap was bad. Not only had I never raced at night, I hadn't even ridden at night with a light. Ever. It was a lot more difficult than I expected. A little prior experience would have helped tremendously. Racing downhill in rocky terrain was tough. Every rock cast a weird shadow making any smaller rocks behind it invisible until the last moment. My lap was a full ten minutes slower than my daylight laps. I felt bad that I was holding the team back.
Doug completed his lap and he was about five minutes slower than his day laps. That made me feel a little better. I would try to make up for it on my next run.
For the night laps we had decided to double up so we could sleep. Here's Craig getting ready for his two-lap run in the luxurious Casa Grande:
While Craig and Steve were out I knew I had roughly four hours to get some sleep. It proved to be impossible for me. While we had decided to get serious, there were still many, many people there who were determined to have some fun. The beer was flowing and the music blaring. Somehow this did not bother any of my teammates who were all able to get some sleep.
During one of Steve's laps he was attacked my Sasquatch.
He managed to escape unscathed.
When my double lap came after Steve, I still wasn't good. I was tired and the darkness was really slowing me down. I sucked at night riding. My second lap was the longest one turned by anyone on our team, and I was bummed out about that.
After my double laps I knew I had four hours to get some sleep, but once again I was unable to. I have always struggled with sleep. Conditions need to be just right, and at a 24-hour race the situation is very, very far from "just right."
Daylight came and there was a spark of energy for all of us. There is something special about the sun coming up after a long night that rejuvenates you.
I took off for my sixth lap and somehow felt really good. I believed that I was flying around the course, but maybe it only felt that way because of how painfully slow I was at night. Towards the end of the lap I was smelling the barn and really pinning it. I came to a creek crossing and entered the turn to the bridge going way too fast.
My tires slid out and down I went, head first.
You can kind of see that my left hip hit the edge of the bridge. It hurt like hell.
Luckily I didn't damage my head or neck, so I was able to quickly come back up for a breath.
It took me a few minutes to get my bearings before I continued on. I plodded through the remainder of the course on one leg. My hip was on fire. I was soaking wet and cold. And I was pissed at myself. Again, I was costing my team time. Fortunately they all understood that I was the only one who had been awake for over 24 hours. That's when the mental mistakes can happen.
Here is Doug wondering where the hell I am:
Literally limping across the line:
Explaining to Steve and Craig what happened with grass and mud in my helmet:
While Doug was out, Craig tried to get a little rest in Casa Grande:
Doug finishing up lap 6:
Craig taking off for lap 7:
Craig bringing it home:
Apparently there was some endurance race tradition that the last lap was ridden in a Hawaiian shirt. I did not get the memo. Steve early in his 7th lap:
Bringing it home.
While Steve was out I tried to loosen up. In the hours since my crash my hip had tightened up significantly. I was in too much pain. It was decided Doug would take my lap on short rest.
We took a look at the leader board and determined if we completed our 27th lap before noon, it was impossible for anyone to catch us.
Steve returned at about 11:05. This would give Doug 55 minutes to complete his lap. Considering I turned a 56 with a crash, we believed we had a shot. Still, this was Doug's 7th lap with less than two hours rest since his last lap.
Doug taking off:
Doug crossing the line with a few minutes to spare:
Mobbed by fans:
Your winners:
We completed 27 laps, more than any other team in the race, including the pro/expert class. Our lap times:
The obvious star of the show was Steve, who was grinding out these unreal laps on a single speed. Most of the teams we were competing with were turning 55-60 minute laps. You can see we didn't have a 60 minute lap until Craig's second night lap. Even my 56 minute crash lap was pretty fast compared to our competition.
At the awards, the promoter, Jim Northey, decided to give us the same amount of prize money as the pros—five crisp $100 bills. Jim handed them to Craig and he immediately gave one back to Jim. It was a cancer charity race after all. We each happily took our C-note for 24 hours of hard work.
It was also cool to see my friend and FTB coworker Roger Lackey win the solo single speed class with an astounding 20 laps. He is an animal.
It was nice to see our names pop up in some of the local web sites in the coming days:
As we were tearing down our camp, we talked about how winning a race comes with certain responsibilities. It was decided right then and there we would return next year to defend our title.
Later.
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