I tell you what…it was about 10-15 years ago. I had headed out on an easy-paced mountain bike stroll and decided to roll by the Waterford Hills BMX track and attempt a few laps myself. While I was pumping through the burms, a couple of young kids rolled up on their neighborhood cruisers. I instantly saw this as a great opportunity to foster some young racers and promote the sport of racing bikes. So I sidled over to the kids and proposed, “I will give a quarter to the first one of you across the finish line after one lap out here”. The thought of the prestige and cash on the line made the kids eyes light up like saucers and they eagerly agreed and lined up with ferocity in their eyes like seasoned racers on a world cup course. “On your mark, get set…GOOOOOO” I screamed as I watched these kids stomp on the pedals and turn themselves inside out like their lives depended on the outcome of this non-official exhibition. Rounding the last corner, I watched one young man extend his lead to an insurmountable gap as he looked back gloating at his friends and celebrating before he even got to the line. Breathing heavily but filled with the elation of his first race and win, I rolled up to the young champ and made yet another proposition, “I tell you what, lets go double or nothing, I will give 50 cents to the first kid across the line after two laps”. Without words, the kids instinctively lined back up with the hopes of another shot at winning.
“On your mark, get set….GOOOOOOO….GOOOOOOO…GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”, this time the kids went at it even harder than they did last time, mentally neglecting that they had to ride an extra lap than previous and simply focused on besting each other. Again, the same young man as the last race boasted strength and stamina above the rest, and established a healthy lead already into the first lap. As the young riders came through the start/finish line and embarked on their final lap I could see the intensity in their eyes; it is the kind of intensity you only get to witness on young racers who have not yet figured the game out…it was the intensity of unguided missiles!
Rounding the last corner, the relentless speed of the previous champ came stomping at the finish line. His chest was heaving and his heart was about to pound out of his chest. As he crossed the line he pumped his fist in the air and executed a celebratory skid that would raise the brow of Smokey and the Bandit. He picked up his bike above his head and let out shouts of glory. (*Side Note: By the time Dybo gets to this part of the story, he is usually laughing so hard he can barely get the final words out) Then, within an instant, his complexion quickly turned green, he doubled over, started heaving, puked his lunch up and fell to the ground. Man, I tell you what…that was the best freaking 50 cents I ever spent in my life!
After weeks of frustration trying to find a way to get this movie to upload, I have finally done it...I hope you enjoy. I apologize for the significant reduction in quality from the HD version...it's the only way I could get it to upload.
I’m finding that when you set a monumental goal and achieve it, it is a bit tough to move on from that point. If you don’t achieve the goal at least you can ask yourself what you can do to change the outcome in the future and then begin working on those preparations immediately. Essentially, your failure can serve as a catalyst for future efforts. However, when you achieve what you presumed as unachievable and the elation fades with time, you are left asking, “what’s next”?
I had conceded weeks back that after the 24hr race I most likely would not be able to race many road races for the rest of the year. That was a sacrifice I was willing to make in order to attempt this feat. However, although I am definitely not firing on all cylinders yet, I have been recovering faster than I planned.
As a result, I decided to make this past week the denouement or conclusion if you will for my season. Sure there will be a few races from here on out (perhaps dust of the cyclocross legs, and Iceman) but these events are more notoriously noted for their propensity for over consumption of cider, little donuts, and of course…the almighty, all healing, always fun and tasty loud mouth oat soda cowboy elixir.
Frankly since I’ve gone back to work I have been a bit tired and lackadaisical, so allow me to entertain you with the cliff notes version of last week; free from rich and expressive literary ramblings.
Finkelstein wins the Nation’s Longest Stage Race: Yes, it’s true folks…after a hard fought battle beginning in January I have toppled my competition and deservingly won the first ever annual 10,000 mile challenge. It was Wednesday at 7:38 when I rolled my ten thousandth mile of the year in the pouring rain and thus receiving my crown and this prestigious award.
Bon Voyage Waterford: Thursday marked the final Waterford training series race. In true DK form he snagged the final win at Waterford earning him the title of the most Winn ingest and celebrated Jew on two wheels at Waterford for the 2008 season…hat’s off Daniel!!! I myself took 5th after being chased down by a fellow WSC team mate, who will remain nameless, on the second from last lap.
Priority Health Cycling Classic: This cobble stoned, rattle your brains course served as an excellent venue for none other than the WSC’s finest and loyal member John Coyle to snag his first ever “Who Cares? I’m Flying Award”. Sure the guy has a silver Olympic medal stashed away somewhere in his abode but everyone knows you haven’t hit the big time until you are honored with the W.C.I.F. award. John sat in the Cat. 2/3 race hidden like a stealth ninja ready to attack his adversaries and at the most optimal moment unleashed the fury snagging the field sprint and a well-played victory. In a virtual repeat performance, John hoped right into the Master’s race immediately following the 2/3 and grabbed up another podium spot at 2nd. Let’s all raise our camera equipped helmets to John; he is this week’s recipient of the prestigious W.C.I.F. award. *It is also worth noting that Mr. Coyle forgot about the time change for the Windy City to Grand Rapids and was literally being pinned on the line after mad scramble to get ready in time.
“I really can only go fast on my bike for about 5-6 seconds…so I have to be very calculated as to when I choose to do that” -John Coyle
The highlight of my day: Having John Coyle, a man who achieved what I regard as being unfathomable (winning an Olympic medal) ask me about my 24hr race in astonishment and comment, “I can barely finish a 2hr race…I could NEVER fathom doing what you did”.
A return to the careless wonderment of college keggers: Angela and I headed out early Saturday evening to stay with some friends in Ann Arbor and prepare for the Ann Arbor Priority Health Cycling Classic the following day. I remember sushi…a martini…shots of sake…a walk across U of M’s campus to observe young adolescents having the time of their life, and finally landing at Angela’s cousin Bobby’s house for a raging keg party that offered much diversity! The next morning I awoke to rain and was excuse fishing to not buck up and throw my leg over my skinny tired bike for one last race. We headed out to Angelo’s restaurant for a gorging and I conceded to simply watch the race for the day after coming to the realization that my lolly gagging had caused me to arrive at the race too late anyway. However, after being informed that the race was running behind 15 minutes, I suited up and rolled to the line with absolutely no awareness of the course and approximately 0.3 miles of warm up. The impulsiveness was actually a bit refreshing I must admit. After hanging in for a half an hour and praising God that my obnoxiously large breakfast remained in my stomach, a cash prime was called of which I snagged. From there on out, my seat post slipped down about three inches and I sat up calling it a day and a season.
No one can live the dream forever. Getting to wake up every morning and literally have no other responsibility than to ride your bike is a bit like eating ice cream for every meal. It is delicious and tastes amazing but is in no way nutritionally sound. I had an amazing summer and got to go and do a lot of great things. However, as of 7:00am this morning the "eager to learn" young minds came instinctively flocking back to school like the the salmon of Capastrauno. To be honest with you, I am eager to get back to routine and rejoin "the real world". The dream is over...only 184 more work days to go until next summer!
This past Friday we held the WSC/Albion Hills post-race celebration bash at my house...here are a few scenes from it. Angela's parents had this custom bottle of wine made for me. However, it's too awesome to ever crack it open.
Plenty of beer, food and socializing.
Plenty of hot chicks!
Great friends...
After the selfless effort that my support crew bestowed last weekend I was at a loss to find a way to properly thank them. So I had the idea to make them a clock out of recycled bike parts which I presented to them at the party. The 24hr movement represented the race and the cog at the bottom was engraved "In Union There Was Strength 2008 Albion Hills" to always remind them that without their presence this couldn't of been possible and that while it was an individual win it was a team victory.
Also, I edited the race footage into a 20min. movie which I debuted on the 16 foot Outdoor Stein Theatre screen but am having problems getting it to upload on the blog...look for that coming soon.
“There is something that happens in a 24 hour solo race. At one point you come face to face with your very own soul. There is no hiding in a 24 hour solo race”
-Chris Etough
I apologize for the length of this entry, but lets be honest…it was a long race! For reasons I’m not even quite clear of anymore I choose to focus my entire 2008 season on finishing on the podium at my virgin attempt at a 24 hour solo race. I did have other goals and objectives in addition, but everything was designed to lead to this event.
The preparation in and of itself was a journey as well. Everything did not go as planned and there were several speed bumps of adversity in the road. Crashing hard at Superweek did not only weaken my body but also left some serious damage on my nerves. In addition, I was sick more this summer than I have ever been. I attribute this mostly to overtraining. My immune system was constantly working on overdrive and finally began to fail shortly before this race. One of the hardest obstacles for me to overcome was conceding to swallow the fact that I needed to get off the bike, rest, and not race if I wanted my dream to be a reality.
An interesting thing that occurred throughout this entire endeavor is that I began to see a clear vision of the people in my life who were true supporters of what I was trying to do and accomplish and those who were the skeptics and eager to watch me crash and burn. I am grateful for both ends of the spectrum too because you all provided fuel for me in your own way.
In my final weeks preparation for the event I found myself calm, relaxed and extremely eager to get everything underway. This was quite the contrary to my state of well-being just three weeks prior. Friday morning our journey began with some breakfast at Toast in Ferndale. I was joined by Angela, Ryan, the Dolpinator, Alan, Scott, Aimee, DK, and the Godfather himself; the Dybo. The extra support to see me off was a great feeling. After an indulgence of epic proportion and some of the slowest service ever recorded we were on our way to the land of our neighbors to the north; Albion Hills, ON.
My support crew consisted of Alan Smith, Scott Kroske, and Angela. I was confident I was in good hands and with people that were truly committed to supporting me. However, the synergy and cohesiveness that this group produced far exceeded any expectations I ever held!
When we arrived at the course, we set up our pit like a seasoned Formula One pit crew. In less than an hour we had created an epicenter of endurance mountain biking support.
Shortly after, we kitted up and ventured out for a pre-race lap and course assessment/inspection. I had done my homework for this race quite thoroughly. I knew that every winner in the past had averaged 1:06 laps. My goal was to ride sub 0:55 laps until nightfall, buy some time, and then settle into a consistent rhythm while taking breaks as necessary. While I rolled my pre-race lap I tried to visualize each section of the trail and how I would use it during the race (i.e. where to eat/drink, where to stretch, areas that catered to my strengths, etc.). I rode at a pace that would feel sustainable for some time. My lap ended up coming in at a hair under 0:51, which left me feeling confident.
From there we hopped in the car to gorge ourselves on high fats and carbs in order to obtain the fuel necessary for the epic challenge that lay before us. Dinner was followed by a brief beer stop (for the crew) and a direct b-line to our hotel for a good nights sleep. Saturday morning I awoke at 4am as excited as a child on Christmas morning to run downstairs and scope out his presents. However, I forced myself to try and sleep longer but simply drifted in and out of consciences for the next three hours dreaming about the race. When the troops and myself finally awoke and were ready to go we hit the local family diner hard and all through down on some hungry man’s breakfast. We arrived at the race at 9:45, just over 2 hours before start. In preparation for the race I had literally goggled all of the solo men category start names and knew Erick Auger (Quebec’s 24hr Enduro Superstar) was the man to beat. Ironically, his pits were set up within arms reach of ours. I must admit, the sight of his custom bikes adorned with his name, full spectrum of sponsors, and appearance of seasoned 24hr experience was quite intimidating at first. While I was running around not thinking straight and scrambling to prep myself as well as my two bikes, Erick looked calm and collected and was running through a race routine that seemed well-rehearsed and calculated. Needless to say, I was able to get myself together to approach the start line by 11:00. By 11:20, Erick was already lining up at the line. This action communicated to me that he meant business and intended to win the race. Knowing that positioning on a mass start approaching 1000 starters could literally translate to huge chunks of time either lost or gained, I decided to line up right next to him. We sat on the ground and chatted while the race was in the final moments of getting underway. He knew that this was my virgin attempt and was quite cordial and helpful in sharing tidbits of survival strategy with me. In the final minute, as I sat there on the line and listened to the crowd of hundreds countdown, time started to move in slow motion. In my head I thought about everything I had done to bring me to this very moment. I took in one last deep breathe and heard the gun, months of anticipation were now over. I was able to obtain the exact positioning I wanted in the hole shot; not too close to the leaders but not stuck behind any of the schleps. I quickly realized that I had managed to get a few spots on Erick right off the bat. By the middle of the first lap I had put a minute or so on him but he was still in sight in the sections that the trail switches back on itself. By the end of the lap he had caught up to me and sat on my wheel for the remainder of the lap. Coming through the timing tent in unison and beginning our second lap I made him take the lead. I sat on his wheel for the majority of the lap and studied his riding style, paying close attention to his strengths and weaknesses. He seemed to be a little more proficient than me on the downhills but was climbing slower than me and was not taking as efficient of lines in the tight sections. Without a whole lot of calculation or foresight, my adrenaline took over and I found myself attacking him on a climb about midway through the lap. When I looked by I saw that I had instantly put time on him, so I decided to try and extend my gap and pushed it a little harder. For the next several laps I continued to put 3-5 minutes on him and managed to get the lead up to 35 minutes or so by nightfall. Meanwhile, we had both managed to lap everyone else in the field at least once. The mandatory time set forth to put your lights on was 6:30. As I rolled through the pits, I stopped as the whirlwind of efficiency of Alan, Ang, and Scott simultaneously shoveled food in my mouth, mounted my lights, and cleaned the dirt of my face, legs and arms. When I rolled off I thought that performance would of made Mario Andretti zealous. My motto for the evening was “just make it through the night”. A lot of inner demons surface during your night laps. I was keeping myself together mentally but I was having a hard time dismissing the thoughts of worst case scenarios. My pit was radioing me the splits and it seemed that Erick and I had quite a volleying of time scrounging going on. At 2:00 am I hit my first wall. My body and mind told me its time to pack it in and shut down. My lap time drastically fell by 10 minutes or so and I struggled to keep the cranks turning. I had a bit of a moment with God at this time which helped me to find new strength and persistence I didn’t know I had. I also actually had a bit of an out of body experience where I had a conversation with myself encouraging and reassuring myself that I was in the best place position and simply needed to do whatever it took to sustain it. I had not taken a break yet or even gotten off the bike for longer than 30 seconds. I decided to announce to the pits to get some soup and a chair ready. In their copy of my typed nutrition plan it read: I will consider taking a 15min. soup break during the night if necessary, encourage me to change my kit during this time. As I approached the pit, the soup, new kit, and chair were waiting for me. I sat and ate my soup and kept asking the crew if this was ok. I refused to change my clothes as I thought it would take too much time. I looked at the crew and commented, “I know I can do this, but I cannot do without you guys, I need you”. The next lap I started to turn it around and gain some time back on him but still wanted to take breaks as I came through the pits. Prior to my arrival in the pits the next lap, Kroske had set the chair back out for me upon which Alan took and threw it in the woods commenting, “He can sit when he’s dead, if he loves to ride his bike so much, let him ride his bike”. The absence of the chair that lap nearly killed me but that is why I brought Alan, he knows when its time to be a hard ass. The nighttime continued to linger and not only was my physical stamina beginning to fade, but my mental stamina was as well. Not much was going through my head but the anticipation of the sun arising and how I was going to react to that. I was hoping the increased visibility would allow me to see my lines better and speed up my lap times. As the sun arose, my triceps were on fire from the intense pounding they had been taking. The course seemed to get in worse shape as the race went on. Roots that were sticking 2 inches out of the ground yesterday were now 6 inches out of the ground. Hills that were smooth and fast rolling had become sandy and wishy-washy. But alas the sun was up and I had still managed to keep and lead in the high 30s. However, only two laps into the morning sun, Alan had to announce to me to lay off my brakes and start riding as efficiently as possible because the juggernaut force of the French-Canadian had gained back 19 minutes on me in a matter of two laps. I was in a world of hurt and was starting to crumble mentally. Thoughts and memories of failed breakaways and the past races that I “almost” won started conjuring up and infiltrating my psyche. I thought to myself, this guy is seasoned, he knows what he is doing, he’s been eating and resting all night and he’s going to ramp it up now that the sun is up. For the remainder of the lap I kept looking back waiting for the red and white jersey of Erick to roll up on me and roll by like I had flat tires. My early race confidence was transforming into self-doubt and I was succumbing to my insecurities. I started considering the possibility of taking second and was negotiating with myself that at least that was still within my goal. At that point, knowing I was over a lap up on third place, I almost just wanted Erick to catch me so this pain could subside. Earlier that lap I even commented to Alan, “I don’t care if he catches me, at least we can take second”. He replied, “F That! We didn’t drive all this way to take second!” As quick as my mentality crumbled, it was built back up when I rolled through the timing tent and Alan announced that I took seven minutes back from him that lap. I was also informed of some encouraging thoughts sent my way from some friends back home. Kroske had been sending updates out to a huge text list. I started to not only ride for myself, but for everyone who had been supporting me. My mantra than switched to, “Not without a fight, You can rest when you’re on the podium…rest when you’re on the podium…one foot in front of the other…rest when you’re on the podium…this is what everything has lead to…this is what you set out to do…rest when you’re on the podium”. Meanwhile, several other participants in the race had taken note of the battle that had been developing the whole race. Fresh riders on relay teams would ride up to me and provide me with encouraging words and say things like, “It’s almost over, you’ve got it, your lead is insurmountable.” Luckily, this season and this season only I had finally learned to suffer. However, the suffering I had practiced prior to this was a mere fraction of what I was going through at this point. I could here Ray Dybo in my ear saying, “you need to suffer…dig…dig…suffer”.
A week prior to my departure I had went over Ray’s house to pick up some borrowed equipment for the race. During this visit Ray had delivered a most convincing, slightly vodka induced, pep talk about how him and I share the ability to persevere. He said you have learned to get yourself in the shape you need to be in, you have learned how to race, and you have the intense ability to persevere and that is why you ARE going to win this race. I left that night believing him and it was exactly what I had to hear at the moment after being barraged earlier that week with skeptic’s comments that I had not prepared enough or correctly for this.
At 9:00am Alan announced that if I finish the lap I was on and two more than mathematically we have the race in the bag granted I maintain my time gap, which had been steadily staying the same for about 2 hours now. Although the thought of two more laps was excruciating, the news was a light at the end of the tunnel and hope. I spent the rest of that lap getting myself mentally prepped for two more laps. At around 9:45am I had rolled through the timing tent and began what I thought would be my second from last lap. However, as I rolled through the pits that lap Alan looked me straight in the eye and told me, “We need to talk, but we can’t do it here, we’ll talk at the start/finish line”. I knew what he was going to tell me…he was going to mutter the most horrifying words, “you’re going to need to go out on another lap…a 23rd lap”. The thought made a huge lump grow in my throat and while I started to take my mind of the trail I found myself taking a handlebar to the gut and toppling over my bike. Initially I thought I had broken a rib, but luckily it was a mere inch below my rib cage. However, it didn’t stop my insides from feeling like they were on fire and bleeding profusely.
Sure enough, at the start/finish line I am greeted with, “The time gap is really close, he’s going to have to work hard to make the time cut off, I don’t think he can close the time gap, but he will go out on another lap if he can so you are going to have to as well for insurance purposes”, he followed by, “we will radio to you as soon as we know if me makes the cut and you can get off the course…but the good news is, if you finish this lap than you will have set the course record for this race for the most laps completed ever by a solo racer”. At the time, a record meant nothing to me; I looked Kroske straight in the eye and said, “Get me the hell off this course as soon as possible…I mean it”. Knowing I had a lot of time in the bank and being in a suffering state I never knew was possible, I rolled that final lap slowly and carefully. About half way into the course is a brutal switch back climb that seems to go on forever and seemed to grow exponentially as the race went on. As I approached the base of it, although I had ridden it the entire race, I knew I was going to need to hike the bike up it this time if I was going to survive this lap. I was about half way up it, I had been racing for over 24 hours now, screams of encouragement were in my ears from other riders and I looked back and saw the dreaded red and white jersey of Erick starting the climb and looking as strong, composed, and fresh as at the beginning of the race. My heart plummeted, my adrenaline coursed through my body faster than I had ever felt before, and my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest onto the dirt. I jumped on my bike, threw it in the big ring and hammered harder than I had all race. As I got to the top of the climb I looked back and had lost sight of him. For the next 15 minutes or so I ramped my speed up more than I had the whole day, even hitting 30mph+ on the straightaway. I couldn’t feel my body or hear myself breathing, I could only hear my mind racing with the thought of getting nipped at the line after 24 hours + of leading the race.
Finally I had come to the pits were I shot by the crew screaming, “He’s right on my tail, He’s right on my tail, He’s right behind me!”. I looked at them is dismay to find that they were not at all panicked like I was and had a beer for me and were announcing that I had won the race. Erick had pulled in the timing tent at 12:01 and had not made the cut. It then became apparent to me that I had completely hallucinated the entire chase! Earlier in the race I had saw that same real image and I think my mind replayed it, your mind will do crazy things under intense fatigue! The race was over, I could stop riding…but I didn’t. I decided to go for the course record and finish the lap. I had about a half an hour left to finish a section that had been taking me 17 minutes earlier in the race to finish.
The victory had not set in yet. I had two more monster climbs to make it over and that’s all I could think about. 18 minutes later I rolled through the last section of course and towards the start finish line. I had visualized myself throwing my hands up for the victory but only had the strength and stamina left to pump one fist in the air. I had been in the saddle for 24 hours and 48 minutes for a total of 230 miles and over 20,000 feet of climbing. As I checked my timing chip one last time I threw my bike down ran towards Angela and embraced her. We kissed and I fell to the ground crying hysterically. She put her arms around me and was crying too. I was speechless I had nothing to say. I sat on the ground and cried for about 5 minutes before I could get up. The feeling was indescribable and not even real yet. Ang looked at me crying and said, “You put your heart and soul into that baby…I’m so proud of you”.
After savoring the victory for a while I got up and rolled back to the pits by myself and continued to cry more. When I got back, Erick’s wife gave me a hug and congratulated me and I proceeded to find Erick and pay my respects to him for such a great race. Throughout the race I had gained some supporters but also some enemies. It seems that some of the French Canadians weren’t particularly thrilled that a no-name dark hoarse had snatched up the victory. While I got cleaned up for the podium I knew what I had to do. When the announcer called my name out and I approached the stage, my medal was slipped over my head and I unzipped my Wolverine/American Cycle and Fitness jersey to reveal my Made in Detroit logo T-Shirt. I could her crickets in the crowd at that point, angry Canadians thrust looks of disgust upon me and I swear I even saw a mom cover her child’s eyes! So what did I learn from this experience about life and myself in general? Etough was right; you do come face to face with your soul. The race breaks you down to your simplest being and as a result, you are able to achieve some incredibly acute clarity about all facets of life. I have this overwhelming feeling of contentment about everything, my family, my friends, Angela, my job, my house, my life, everything. I truly feel blessed. I had never planned for anything more in my life or choose to put my everything into one event than I had for this. I found strength and persistence I never knew I had. When I sit and think about what my support crew did for me I still get emotionally overwhelmed. Without Ang, Scott, or Alan I could of never achieved any of this. Each one of them was as selfless as can be and worked so hard for over 24 hours and did not sleep as well. I am so happy to have experienced such a life defining moment with these people and feel that a very strong bond was created through it all. I am eternally thankful for everything they did.
So what now? I’m the kind of person who lives for whatever is coming up next. I didn’t really plan for much past this event. Through this event, I qualified for World’s next year…so perhaps that?
However, for the time being I am going to savor this feeling and relish in my contentment with all the people and things I am surrounded by.
For two years now my dilemma has been the debate between participating in the National Crit Championships at Downers Grove or in one of the most elite and prestigious Kickball Tournaments the thumb has to offer: The Port Hope Kickball Tournament. In the interest of conserving myself for this upcoming weekend and as an effort to rectify a sub-par Oak Park Kickball season (4th overall), I decided to make the venture up to Port Hope this past weekend to make my family, my Lord, and myself proud. Needless to say, the trip was well worth it. Our team, The Bayside Tigers, secured the overall win in dominant fashion without losing one game. The taste of victory is so sweet!!! Special occasions deserve special celebratory attire!
Hopefully this success spills over into this weekend as well.
