The 12 Hours of Lodi Farm

Three races into the season, things were looking pretty bad. SS @ Camp Hilbert. Two short laps. I was sick and out of shape. I felt horrible, and finished appropriately. SS Enduro @ Poor Farm. Never really felt good after speeding through laps one and two. Cramps, upset stomach. Blah. SS (in Expert) @ O-Hill. Ouch. Bottom of the barrel in expert and feeling pretty weak the entire time.

Status…not good. Wondering why I do this. Maybe I should quit all this racing non-sense. Spend time fishing. Take up rock climbing. Join a softball league. That’s the train of thought while mulling over my packing list for the 12 Hours of Lodi.

My partner from last year decided to go SS Solo. What a loon. So I draft a new partner from my Big Bear squad. After we register, he decides he’d rather hammer out his laps at his own pace in SS Solo. So it is settled. SS Solo for me too. I started looking at last years times, thinking about what a respectable number of laps might be. Thought: Ricky D is an animal. Read his blog from 2006 Lodi. Not thinking I'm that kinda guy, I plan on having full-on meals after every two laps. 8 laps total sounded like a good number to shoot for. I knew I’d be cramping and hating life, but 8 sounded doable.

I packed up the Karate Monkey in 32x18 and the WaltWorks in 32x19. The Walt would be the fall back bike. It had the Titec H’s on it. Between the bars and the easier gear, I figured it might be a life saver. The Monkey would be the balls-out bike. Packed a ton of soup and all manner of evil edible things that I would not ordinarily ingest. I treated myself to a Chipotle burrito and watched Kill Bill V1 and V2 Friday night. Glass of wine and I’m off to sleep.

I left for the venue a hair early, so I stopped and waited in a hellish line for another Chipotle Burrito. Yum. Picked up a propane heater too, remembering how damn cold I was last year between laps (note: tough to find propane heaters in Spring). Arrived around the same time as my buddies and went to work setting up camp. The weatherman turned out to be right on, and the rain settled in and soaked the place. Note: I hate mud. The few calls to my pops to check the forecast were not re-assuring…90% chance of rain. Big wind. 8 laps? The good news is that the rain stopped before midnight, and it didn't return, though all the water falling out of the trees sure sounded like rain. Or hell, maybe it was raining. I dunno. The mud was nasty for a few laps, but it seemed to get better fast. Or maybe it was delirium.

So at midnight we set out. I tried my best to take is easy. The parade lap vice the lemans start was nice and easy and kept everyone from killing themselves running on the muddy course. My plan to stop after two laps went by the wayside. I felt good. So I sucked down a packet of gel and rolled on. The laps felt like they were going by pretty fast. I stopped after 3 laps for a refill. I don't recall what I ate, but it was probably a banana, some endurolytes, some maybe some cheese nips. It was 3:07AM. I was averaging 1 hour laps and I felt strong. No sign of a cramp. I can't really remember how many times I stopped after that. I think I went two laps at a time, trying to kill a bottle of Clif Shot drink mix during that time. I also threw down a few packs of the Clif Bloks here and there. Also after lap three I turned on the bar light. Not long after, the helmet light started to fade, so I rode w/ just the bar for awhile and that sucked for me. So at the next pit, I threw a fresh helmet battery in the camel and had helmet and bar light for the remainder of the night. That rocked.

Daybreak and the sound of birds chirping may never be as appreciated as during an endurance race. Holy hell...that was great. I had been telling myself all night that I would get stronger when the sun came up. I don't think it really happened, but I think I was able to pick better lines, so my laps stayed consistent. So here I am wrapping up 6 laps, just after 6AM. Two laps to go to meet my goal. And the legs are still solid. My hands, shoulders and triceps are taking a serious beating though. Bryan's Ibuprofen is helping. Two pills here, one there, and I'm doing alright.

I got through 8 and took a break. I think I was going out for nine when I caught up with Ricky. He asked how I was doing...I told him I was doing OK and going out for 9. He asked if I knew where I was in standings. (Pause here...I had some fantasy during the night that I might actually podium. I had heard rumors of some super-hero, bike-cargo guy that was going to dominate SS Solo so I had ruled out the top spot. One of the guys from my squad was out there, and he's an animal, so I couldn't rule him out. I had no idea who else might be in front of me. All I knew was I was running consistent, and my legs felt good) So Ricky tells me he thinks I'm in 1st and that I should go check. I didn't want to do that. By this time, I had convinced myself I was definitely going to do 10 and that 11 was possible. How did I get here from there? I have no idea.

During Lap 8 the stomach started getting upset. Too much Clif Shot and other random enduro products? Who knows. It reminded me of the evilness that set in during the W101. So I turned to the ultimate medicine...Famous Amos cookies and lemonade. Damn, it was good. That got me pumped for the start of Lap 9. And hour later, more cookies and lemonade and I was out for number 10, just after 10:00. I was tired, the upper body was aching. Triceps were fading on every climb (every climb that I rode, at least). I finished up 10 and decided to forego the cookies and lemonade. If I was indeed winning, I wanted to lock it in. At 11:10, I rolled out. Some of the climbs went a little slower, but I still managed to push myself to climb a few things that had been notoriously challenging for me (for those that were there...the really short, rooty climbs on the back side).

And so I finished up 11, sometime around 12:15 or so. I handed in my wristband and asked if I won. One of the volunteers said yes, and then another followed that with "we are all winners." So I asked again, "but really...did I win?" And they said yes. Sweet Jebus. The other guy from my BB squad that I feared finished up 11 too, not sure how far back. He had light and air pressure issues. Given that, he must have put in a herculean effort to get as close as he did. Not really sure where crazy cargo man finished.

Re: my performance, I have no idea where it came from. If you had asked me if that was possible anytime before ~8AM on Sunday, I would have said no. Maybe it was the Chipotle. Maybe is was the cross-training I did that week. Maybe the Monkey in 32x18 is the machine for me (been riding the converted Walt w/ the Titec Hs in 32x19 and 32x20 for awhile now...didn't touch it during the race). By all accounts, I should have cramped. I was creeping up those hills just waiting for a quad to explode. Never happened. The stars aligned. That's all I can say.

I guess I'll postpone joining the softball league, for now...