Pacific Northwest ultra cyclists dominated this year’s epic Furnace Creek 508. Bellinghamster Brian Ecker finished 3rd behind Seattleite Chris Ragsdale and Spokane resident Michael Emde.
Here are the gruesome details of Brian’s race, projectile vomiting and all, which you will find to be a compelling description of the fine art of self-induced suffering. His experience certainly extends the parameters of what one might consider to be “fun”:
***** ***** *****
“It makes people crazy. The wind, it makes people crazy.”
–Pat White talking about folks who grow up in Wyoming
For all intents and purposes the AdventureCorps Furnace Creek 508 is the biggest ultra cycling race on the planet with the exception of the multi-day craziness that is called Race Across America (RAAM).The 508 race is actually 509 miles long and has 35,000 feet of climbing. It starts in the city of Santa Clarita which is just north of Los Angeles, CA and takes a route northeast to Death Valley where it then turns southwest to a finish in Twentynine Palms, CA. Race entry is only granted upon approval of an application which includes a detailed race resume of previous results.
Unlike most races, The 508 refers to each of its riders not by rider name or number, but instead by animal totem. I have to admit this initially seemed utterly ridiculous, but after having done the race and experienced having a totem, it is actually pretty darn meaningful. After much searching I chose the totem of an American Kestrel.
Background
For those who train and race a lot a “rest week” can be a dangerous thing. There I was, mid-May, taking a nice rest minding my own business when after a few days I grew antsy and began to brainstorm of all the great things to do this coming summer. Out of this brainstorm hatched the plan to participate in The 508. Of course, a plan like this can’t even get off the ground unless it has a solid support crew. Out went the email request: “I am getting the band back together. Are you in?” I must say I was a little taken aback by the lack of hesitation. Paul Clement, Dave Bishop (Bish), and Jen Hampton all chimed in with a resounding “HECK YA!”
Next step was to apply for race entry which involved the painstaking process of pulling together a lot of race results and trying to find web-based proof that the results were real. Once submitted, I waited a few weeks, and then while racing at Elkhorn the word came in that we had been accepted and were good to go!
Logistics, Planning, and Training
I realized post Race Across Oregon that I needed to simplify my nutrition and equipment. In training prep for the 508 I created a nutrition plan that was realistic and not overly ambitious. Fluids would be kept topped off with Gu2O, Gatorade, and water. Calories would be kept up with a regimen of Ensure, Sustained Energy, and PowerBars. I also paired down my nutrition expectations with a hope of settling into a rate of 350-400 calories per hour.
Crew: Omar
My 508-specific training began in mid-July, approximately one week after returning from a 600 mile family bicycle trip. Pushing a lot of weight during that trip took some time to recover from, and to learn how to pedal circles again. For me, training for an event like this requires some pretty epic rides. This is what I enjoy most: Taxing the body, riding long routes, and incorporating new roads and climbs. It was also about this time that I got a call from my great friend, Omar. He announced to me that he was inviting himself along as part of the crew! I was flattered that he would take the time and energy to commit to helping me through. Omar and I go way back and when he used to live in Bellingham we often did crazy adventures just like this, so I knew he would be a great asset to have along.
Another important piece was to find financial support for the effort: Sponsors. Supporting a rider for an event like this is a really tough sell. The event gets little to no mainstream exposure, there are pretty much zero (0) fans out on the course, and well, truth be told, not that many folks really care as they just think you’re crazy for attempting stuff like this. Luckily, we live in Bellingham where the cycling and endurance athletics community is strong and vibrant. I approached numerous folks, and two businesses really stepped up. Holly and Jim from RunningShoes.com provided some great support (as they always do) and Dr. Steve Noble of Noble Sports Chiropractic really came through with some critical support and consult with nutrition supplements and a variety of treatments to keep me healthy and recovered. I have worked with and been supported by both groups before and so very much appreciate their commitment to me and our community. As I have said before, without the generous support of sponsors most of these kinds of undertakings stay mired in the fantasy stage and never move closer to actually happening.
Crew: Paul
Pre-Race
We were up by 4 am for an early departure out of Bellingham International. We arrived in LA by 9:30 am which allowed very little time to take the rental van up to Santa Clarita and ready it for inspection. Phil Elsasser had driven my car down from Bellingham with all the gear and met us right on time at the hotel. Surprisingly quick work had the car ready for inspection: Set up rear amber flashing lights, affix the signage, final bike tune ups, set up GPS, power inverter, extension cords, mp3 players, etc ., etc. Paul provided professional quality signs and super sporty flashing lights. Paul took the time to build 2 sets of low amperage lights from scratch. We wanted to avoid having to pull any middle of the night Jedi moves as Paul did last year at Race Across Oregon. (~ 2am speeding down a descent and following only inches behind me the car blew a fuse. Without hesitation, while driving, Paul opened the fuse box, pulled out the right fuse and replaced it!)
Race Start
A nice mellow 5 mi neutral start was followed by an abrupt cracking of the whip. The year’s previous protagonists Michael Emde (3-time winner) and Chris Ragsdale leaped ahead quickly. I choose to ride my own race and ease into things a bit. Down a short descent onto San Francisquito Rd and a bit of flat roads before we hit the first climb which was about 15 miles long with 2,500′ of elevation gain. Interestingly, a pack of riders began to form. Knowing that drafting was against the rules AND knowing that a race official, Cindi “Pit Snake” Staiger, had just screamed at us to remain single file I must admit I was a bit confused on what to do. I put in a small surge to distance myself from the group and settled in on The Program. (The Program is my typical endurance race strategy of keeping my effort level at a constant 270-320 watts.) Riders soon joined, and then passed me to only slow down. This would repeat several times over the next 10k or so. Finally a race official called to us to split up within the next ½ mi or risk being assessed a penalty. Enough was enough, I thought. The moment the grade steepened I surged and left folks behind. It was easy to see that most in the group were riding well above their limit and I was thankful the reprimand by the official granted them the permission to back off.
Crew: “Bish”
As I climbed further one rider did stay relatively close while Emde and Ragsdale were far out of sight. At mile 24 we took a hard right turn where the climb finished and the support crews began supporting their riders. Seventy cars were lined up along the shoulder.
Having watched numerous You Tube videos of previous races, our crew knew it would be best to avoid the chaos and park way up the road. I radioed in, “Here I come!” A quick answer: “We are here, up over the top!” All I could think of was “Race ON!” The crew fanned out and I dropped bottles, clothes, and flat repair tools then picked up new bottles. “Race update”, crackled the radio. “Emde and Ragsdale 6 minutes up.” “Wow,” I thought. That was much more than I expected, yet I had little concern as I planned on sticking to The Program and let the race develop as it may. As the route turned away from the initial climb we began to pick up HUGE tailwinds. A quick descent with speeds approaching 60 mph and gusting winds tested the nerves with my front tri-spoke and deep dish rear-wheel catching the gusty winds.
Soon we were onto formal climb number two, Windmills, which as you might guess, is dotted with numerous windmills all turning nicely with the big winds. This climb is 7 miles in length and gains 1,000′.
On the open road.
Over the top, the crew had the TT bike ready but it took a few minutes to swap wheels. I wanted to continue to run my Powertap race wheel and was willing to take the time to swap wheels to achieve that. During the swap, Rock Rabbit, raced past and to my failings I almost took him out as I clipped in and began to roll. The TT bike has a sweet setup with a 54X11 (rear cassette) which, within seconds, I was on top of spinning out like you cannot believe. I overtook Rock Rabbit with little extra effort.
Into California City we rolled, Time Station #1 (mp 84 – avg spd: 21.3 mph). I was now 9 minutes behind. We turned due north onto a major highway and began to battle the fierce crosswinds. At first I was ok with being down in the aero bars, but then I needed to take one arm out then the other. It was a totally flat section that became VERY hard. Unbeknownst to me, maintaining The Program totally detonated Rock Rabbit whom I and crew would never see again. Luckily after several miles we took a welcomed right turn. I took a quick check of my average power and I was right on track with The Program: 105 miles at a 280 watt average.
Crew: Jen
The next 30-40 miles was a mix of rolling hills, increasing temps, and a either raging tailwind or crosswind. Often, I found myself in the 54X11 spinning it out without any real hope of sustaining The Program-dictated level of power. During this stretch the traffic was light and the van followed behind at a distance of ½ mi or so. When traffic approached or a feed was needed they leap-frogged ahead. This strategy raised the ire of the officials and we were unceremoniously halted and interrogated by a race official for not strictly following the leap frog protocol. (No following of any kind is allowed, as the car must travel the speed of traffic.) Cool heads prevail and after 3-5 minutes I was allowed to proceed without further delay. To their credit the crew remained non-confrontational, delegated the conversation management to the crew Chief (Paul), and quickly made the necessary adjustments to come into alignment with expectations.
Soon the crew leapfrogged ahead to gas up at the Magic Burrito stop that is known as Trona Time Station #2 (mp 154 – avg spd for this section: 23.7). As I rolled through, the crew waved me by saying they had already checked me in. Race report put me 15 minutes back of Emde and Ragsdale while Rock Rabbit was no longer considered a factor.
Over the top of Trona Bump and headed down the backside.
Next up was a relatively short climb over Trona Bump (1,000′ climb) and then a sweeping, windy and winding descent to the base of the feared Townes Pass (13mi 3800′).
Gorgeous views abounded. Desolate yes, but the country is full of its own beauty. At the intersection of Furnace Creek Rd we hung a right and began the 1.5 mile approach to Townes.
The Townes climb.
The crosswind was unreal. On this section a course marshal was trying to set up the “Bike Riders” ahead sign. It looked like a futile task as the wind bent the sign over itself.
At the base of the climb I swapped real wheels to put on a cassette with a 27 as I wanted to climb Townes at a moderate pace. Once on the climb the raging crosswinds soon turned into a raging headwind. I was focused. Emde and Ragsdale were quite a ways up the climb. I stayed focused on racing my race which meant climbing this monster at a comfortable pace. Steep grades of 10-15% and the headwind made the going slow. Mentally I was good and I felt patient and that I was staying within myself. Due to the grade and prevailing wind, the climb took well over an hour. Regardless, I felt quietly comfortable and confident.
During the leap frog efforts I rattled off the needs and wants for the stop at the top: Full lights, full change of clothes, TT bike (less aero front wheel due to the wind), coat, etc, etc. To their credit, the crew took it all in and was completely ready at the top. Once I was over the top I expected the temp to drop quickly as the sun was going down. I changed to new dry clothes including gloves and an aero helmet to keep the hands and head warm. Townes tops out at 5,000 ft and the descent is infamous in its length, top speeds, and “dips”. Soon enough I was off on my own (the crew had to pack the van back up) and in the full TT position. Within minutes I was rocketing down the hill at well over 50 mph. Up ahead was the infamous “dip”. At close to 60 mph I realized that if I didn’t correctly time my braking, that I would become airborne upon exiting the “dip”. As I dropped in, it feels analogous to what it must feel like to surf on the North Shore. At the bottom I couldn’t see anything but sky and I was quickly jettisoned over the top. I was unsure as to whether it might have been better to go through this section during darkness! After 210 miles and ~9hrs, my handling skills were suspect. A conservative approach is the way to go.
The descent continued and I continued to rocket (easily) onward. I passed a motor home without effort and soon noticed that the crew was with me. We rolled into Stovepipe Wells about 15 minutes before the 6 pm “night” riding rules went into effect. The crew stopped to gas up and I continued. As we descended down to the valley floor I began to realize a misjudgment that may sound minor but had major impact on my body. My expectations going in were that the temps would drop drastically and that I would be able to ride harder. Cooler temps make it easier for me to stay awake, on-board the required nutrition, and ride hard. As I lost elevation, the temps steadily climbed and soon it was in the mid-80s. As we descended further we passed the Mesquite Flat Dunes and saw an unexpectedly high number of parked cars and people. We saw very few souls since leaving California City, and a small crowd looked like an infestation of sorts. The dunes were beautiful in the fading light: 7 miles of gentle sand and picturesque slopes. It was here when I asked the crew, “where is the wind?” It was warm, it was calm, and we had a beautiful sunset.
Within minutes, literally, the headwind began. My back tightened and putting power into the TT bike made it worse. I radioed that I wanted to swap back to the road bike and the crew got ready. I thankfully delayed the exchange when it became apparent there was more descent to be had and resting (coasting) in the aero bars was pretty easy and efficient. The wind continued to pick up. I swapped bikes when we were approximately 15 miles out from Time Station #3, Furnace Creek. Initially, I was looking forward to this section as I still expected cool dark roads and time to make this a race. The reality of high winds and warm temps changed that expectation. The wind was now quite fierce. Thirty minutes later we were only within 7 miles of the Time Station. The going was incredibly slow. I was in my little chainring, pedaling hard, and going nowhere fast. It was here that a Park Ranger passed us going the other way, flipped a u turn, and fired up his lights. As he pulled the support car over I had to pull over since I was unable to continue without the support vehicle per night riding rules. Cordially, folks discussed the rules and after about 3 minutes agreed to sort it all out at the next time station. I was a little frustrated with the forced stop, but I was not excited to ride hard and go nowhere into the incessant winds. Fatigue was setting in quickly. The difference between my expectations and reality begins to take its toll. I became sleepy, and started the bargaining/negotiating talk: “I am sleepy, my legs are tired and we are just coming up on the half way point. If I am within 30 minutes of the leaders I will continue to race, if not let’s just ride.”
Another thirty minutes and we finally pulled into Furnace Creek Time Station #3 (mp 253 – avg speed for section: 18.8) and find that we were 33 minutes down. I shared with the crew that I felt very sleepy, that I didn’t understand why, and that it was much too early into the evening to feel sleepy. The wind made communication difficult. We had to yell at each other to be heard above the roar. After a bit of delay I was back on the bike and hammering into the headwind which had now escalated to epic proportions. All I could think about was how this had now become really, REALLY dumb. Here I was in the middle of the desert, 250ft below sea level, spent a huge amount of $$ and other people’s time to get to this point which consisted of riding as hard as I could yet unable to break into the double digits for mph on flat roads. The 60-70 mph head wind created a completely ridiculous situation.
The wind was not only fierce it was also gusty. The road wound along the edge of the valley and it was a fight to keep the bike on the road. I feel that when it comes to the wind I am one of the better riders. I enjoy the challenge and tactics it forces upon mass start races. However, this wind reduced me to a novice with a death grip on the bars just to stay on the road. At one point I was blown from the white line, all the way across the road and onto the gravel shoulder on the other side! This was so ridiculous that it made me laugh. At one point I waved the car up (we had stopped using the radios by now because they were useless against the roar of the wind) and asked if they should start including decimal points on the speed limit signs. A bit further down the road I noted the irony of the “Reduce Speed Ahead” sign.
I was unfamiliar with this area so I didn’t know whether this was normal, or whether the wind had pushed all of them up onto the road, but I passed mile after mile of scorpions that seemed to look at me and thrust their tails up as I struggled by. They seemed to be threatening me. They seemed to saying that it will be the end of me if I chose to stop. The wind continued to rage, and by this time the race portion of this event had ended for me. At this point I was just on a ride. The wind had broken my will to race, but I was fully committed to finishing. This torture would continue for a total of almost 7 hours. It was 7 hours of struggling to go 7-8 mph on flat road. It was 7 hrs of complete darkness. It was 7 hours of wind incessantly howling in my ears.
For one long section we saw a car ahead of us, not moving and with its emergency flashers on. Is it Ragsdale or Emde we wondered? In the dark, and on a road that snaked back and forth it was impossible to tell not only how far away the car was but how long it would take us to reach it. At the pace I was moving, something only 5 miles away would take well over 30 minutes to reach. Eventually, I believe, the car turned off its flashers and drove away, however I can’t really say for sure.
At one point we stopped to switch to a less aero wheel hoping that the new wheel will be more stable in the wind. As the crew made the switch I stretched my back and take in a gel. The crew requested me to take a gel every 20 minutes. I grudgingly complied. Back on the bike, the crew pulled up and says it’s time for another gel. I lost my temper, barking back (over the wind) that I just took a f*ing gel 2 minutes ago. To maintain my sanity I need the facts and can’t have folks “tricking” me into things. I was pissed because I “knew” the crew knew this yet they tried anyways. In reality it had been well over 20 minutes since my last gel. Reality changes when you ride hard but go very slow for hours on end.
Finally we approached the end of the valley and I began to realize that even though I “turned it off” on this section, the conditions had taken their toll. My back, forearms, and shoulders felt completely strained. The muscles felt shredded. They ached and a fatigue set into my upper body that only got worse as the ride continued. I also noticed that my throat was sore and my glands and uvula had swelled up to the point that I had trouble breathing. Finally, we made a beautiful left hand turn and began the 5 mile 1,000′ climb up Jubilee Pass. Immediately, out of the wind, I climbed a 5% grade significantly faster than I was riding the flats only moments ago. What a relief to have the legs turning over at a reliable cadence.
I waved the crew up and alerted them about my throat troubles. I told them that it was not a huge deal at that moment, but that I was worried. They acknowledged the issue and said they would fall back and discuss. A few moments later they asked if I would be willing to have Omar put some Novocain jelly in my throat to temper the irritation. I concurred and asked that we wait until the top where I wanted a thick thermal coat for the short but fast descent. Soon we were at the top and I sat on the leeward side of the van a Omar took a finger of jelly and put it on the back of my throat. I gagged instantaneously. Omar wanted to try again, but I wavee him off. 20-30 seconds passed and I waved the crew off and told them to step back. Next, nothing short of the Exorcist, I throw up about 2 liters of liquid, pause, throw up another 2 liters, pause, and throw up yet another 2 liters. Luckily, Omar had given me some antacids earlier on so that the puke was acid-free and didn’t burn my already aching throat. Surprisingly, I felt better, got back on the bike, and bombed the descent.
Next up was the 9.5 mi 2300′ climb up Salisbury Pass. This climb goes well because we were out of the wind. The backside of Salisbury was a quick descent and soon we dropped into Shoshone Time Station #4 (mp 326 – avg speed for the section: 9.5 mph). We took a right and were now back into the headwinds which were not as bad as Death Valley but still significantly fierce. We rolled through Shoshone and I now felt sleepier than ever and my appetite all but disappeared. I asked the crew their opinions about taking a 10-minute break to try and sleep and calm the stomach. I was surprised at how easily they agreed and I got in the van to rest. Bish, to his credit, had to stand outside in the wind, because there was not enough room in the van. 10 minutes later (seemed more like 3) the crew roused me and got me going.
It was now about 4 in the morning. The wind continued, but not as strong. My appetite was still uncooperative, and it was about this time that I began to ignore my crew. They continued to push and I continued to push back. I rode for what seemed like 1.5 hr or so without taking much of any nutrition at all. I knew it was a death sentence, but I was unable to get myself to take anything. Fortunately the stubborn strategy began to work and my appetite improved. I waved the crew up and they gave me a Sustained Energy. I could tell it got their hopes up.
After a short climb, the road into Baker is either flat or downhill. It was nice to be able to roll along and to not have to battle fierce winds. As the sun rose we could see Baker and Time Station #5 off in the distance. All night long the pace felt too slow and the frustrations ran higher than normal. The biggest frustration of all was with my inability to keep “racing.”
At this point my upper body was hunched and twisted.
At 7:16 am (mp 383: 13 mph avg for this section) we rolled into Baker. The crew checked into the time station and gassed up. I stopped to stretch my back and tried to take on some calories. Jen had the brilliant idea of offering me a pb & j sandwich. It took significant time, but I was able to get it down. The crew urged me back onto the road and soon we started up the KelBaker climb of 20mi and 2500′ of gain. Luckily we picked up a small tailwind. Near the top the road turned from chip seal to some medieval concoction that is impossible to describe. About 5K of this and we were over the top and descending the other side. The crappy surface continued. The fatigue of being on the bike and battling the high winds caused my arms to completely fatigue. I had trouble holding myself up. If I took a hand off the bars to take a bottle I was unable to hold myself up. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The completeness of the muscle fatigue was astonishing.
We dropped into Kelso Time Station #6 at 9:48 am (MP 418: 13.8 mph avg for this section). I had now been on the bike for 26hrs and 48 minutes with a total average speed that has been falling ever since Furnace Creek. It was now at 15.6 mph. The next section was quite similar to the previous, with long gradual climb followed by a long descent. I continued to struggle with arm fatigue and an aching back. The crew continued to push for caloric intake. By now very little was palatable. To their credit, the crew decided to try mixing water with gel to thin it out a bit and offered it to me: It was fantastic! The pattern continued: Feed, struggle, stop to stretch. I continued up the 12 mi 2000′ Granite Mountain climb. This was followed by a monstrous descent of 20 miles into the next time station, Almost Amboy Time Station #7 (MP 451: 15.9 mph avg for this section).
We made a right turn and dropped a bit further into Amboy. As we passed the time station the crew checked in and all were relieved to be waved through. (I believe it is here where time penalties are assigned and if you have any you detained for the amount penalized.) We were now traveling on a busy highway and seemed to hit the headwind again. The highway paralleled some train tracks which I noticed I would eventually have to cross. I also noticed that the tracks were quite busy with immensely long freight trains. I tried to pick up the pace hoping to hit the crossing during a clear moment. Not sure whether the effect was the result of upping of the pace or not, but it all worked out as we crossed over the tracks without having to stop. Soon we took a left on Amboy road and picked up some tailwind. It felt good to be on a flat, relatively smooth road and spin the legs out a bit. We passed some weird salt flats where some folks were out playing in the muck. It looked a bit like of a toxic waste dump to me but, to each their own, I guess.
Brian receives a back and leg massage.
In pre-race planning I knew this section would involve a lot of fatigue but the climbs didn’t look overly hard. Now, with arms that didn’t work, a back that was sustaining some serious damage and over 29 hours of riding I found the climbs tougher than expected. To add to the misery, traffic on this road was just atrocious. Vehicles passed us at crazy high rates of speed. Thankfully the crew stayed close behind. Again, we continued the pattern of Gu mixed with water, struggle on, and stop to stretch. I was so fatigued that I had more and more trouble. After each stop to stretch I needed the crew to help get me back onto the bike. With each subsequent stop I needed more help and eventually it took both Paul and Omar to lift me to my feet.
My form on the bike was terrible, and I had a slouched and crooked posture. The crew urged me on and I obliged the best I could. For what it’s worth, I was still in 3rd place and this kept me motivated to ride as hard as I was able. I knew deep inside that because of last year’s Race Across Oregon where I DNF’d at mile 495 of 530 due to very serious medical complications (editor’s note: Brian was in fact hospitalized for pulmonary edema), I was at the point in the ride in which I had to persevere to the finish no matter what. I felt as if I could not let myself or my crew down again when we were so very close to the finish. At that point we were on the Sheep Hole Summit climb which is 10 miles and 1500′ of elevation gain.
The climb is initially gradual but steepens significantly near the top. While I was not going very fast I felt determined and struggled to the summit. I knew that the race was in the bag once I get over this climb. The summit was visible from far away, but unfortunately it was apparent that it got very steep. My arms were unable to lift my body out of the saddle, so I stayed seated and ground up the last 2K. I was surprised by the steepness and my pace slowed. Finally we passed the top and dropped down the other side. My arms deteriorated even further, and just coasting down the descent was quite difficult.
Once at the bottom we continued the long straight road into the finish at Twentynine Palms. I anticipated, even though I am not going very fast, that this section would be over relatively quickly. Unfortunately, this section was a gradual hill–1-2%–and the headwind returned. Frustration once again set in as the combination of fatigue, wind, and misjudgment about the length of this section are just too much (I thought it was 10-12 miles and it was actually over 20 to the finish).
That facial expression says it all…
I committed to myself that I would not stop again until the finish. For the most part, I honored this until my back spasmed to the point where I could no longer turn the pedals. I quickly pulled over; out came the stretching blanket and I laid down for a quick stretch. Omar alerted me that the 4th place rider was only a few minutes back. This triggered an immediate reaction and I was back on pedaling. (I came to find out later that Omar had totally made this up and the crew had no idea where 4th place was, BUT in fact 4th place WAS within 5-7 minutes of us!) I also found out later that the crew had discussed not letting me stop as they were afraid I would not continue. (I believe the direct quote from Jen was “This f’in’ blanket ain’t coming out of the car again!”) The thought of keeping my podium position puts me back into the race mentality and I am now going as hard as I can. I wave the van up, frantic, and ask them “Where in the hell is the turn”. Confusion and uncertainty fill the response. I am frustrated as this slight upgrade and headwind are just too much. I feel that town must be close, the crew gives me a couple of false estimates, but I just can’t see any sign of town. I continue to ride as hard as I can and am committed to not stopping. Town is still not within sight and the frantic struggle continues.
The finish area and an ever-worsening posture.
Finally, the crew alerted me to take the next left and I was overwhelmed with relief. My mind thinks there is less than 1K or so to go. We picked up a slight cross tailwind as we headed towards Twentynine Palms Highway. I scanned the horizon for the “Best Western Hotel” sign which marked the finish. My crew instructed me to take a right on 29 Palms and I ask “Where’s the finish”, they reply “we are close”. 29 Palms Highway is crazy busy and I began to fear that I may take myself out as I was becoming increasingly unstable on the bike. We continued forward and had to stop at a traffic light. Once green, we rolled through the intersection and my quads began to totally seize. I fight through it and frantically scan the store fronts for the Best Western sign, which is nowhere to be seen. I thought it was ridiculous to have to ride all the way through town and on this major highway with tons of high speed traffic. The road continued, up a short roller and my legs seized again. I was unsure I could make it another kilometer. Finally, about ¾ mi up the road I saw the Best Western sign, at the top of a steep 200m roller. I was unsure whether I could make it. The crew instructed me to take the next left which entailed crossing over 4 busy lanes of traffic. I was unsteady and the traffic was moving well above 60mph. Luckily, my mental state became aroused enough to know to not try and make a turn ahead of rapidly approaching car. I paused, my legs locked up completely, and after the car passed I made the left turn and then a quick right into the finishing parking lot. I could barely create enough forward progress to make it up the driveway. I inched forward, slower than walking pace, to cross the line. Luckily my crew anticipated that I was unable to hold myself up, and within seconds after crossing the line I stopped and began to fall over. Someone caught me while I was still clipped into my bike. I was supported 100% by Paul and soon the rest of my crew worked to unclip me. They held me up and helped me walk around the parking lot. I was incoherent and unable to support myself. All I wanted to do was to collapse.
Brian doles out the remaining bits of energy to crack a smile on the podium.
Somehow folks arranged for the use of a hotel room shower. I needed assistance to the room. Once in the shower I began to hurl uncontrollably. I choked on my swollen throat and continued to throw up nasty amounts of liquid. Once out of the shower, I got horizontal on the bed. Before I knew it I was being helped up and over to the sink to start throwing up all over again. After what seemed like only a short amount of time, the race organizers pressed my crew to get me out to the finish for pictures. I was unable to motivate myself off of the bed unless I needed to throw up. Finally, after much pressure, I got dressed and stumbled outside only to sit down on the first step and throw up a bunch more. I was fatigued beyond belief. Again, the race organizers pressured us to come over for pictures. I stumbled over and just stand there aimlessly, unsure of who to talk to or what to do. After a few minutes, I wondered what all the rush was for and just wanted to sit down. Finally the race organizer, Chris Costman and photographer, came over and handed me a finisher’s medal and jersey. Folks took a ton of pictures including pictures of the crew. Then Chris did a live web cam interview asking whether I was surprised at how well I did. I was barely able to muster a response. At the volume of a whisper, I uttered a monosyllable response that I had actually hoped to do better. He asked me what I thought was hard about the race and all I could say was: “The wind.”
