Endurance Racing

Someone who doesn't know me very well asked me the other day why I was into endurance racing. Seems like a miserable thing to put yourself through.

I couldn't really come up with any reasons to do it, only that when you go to an endurance race as a spectator and you see it actually happening, it occurs to you that you'd like to do it too. Mostly, if you look around at all the pain people are putting themselves through, you actually see a lot of smiling, laughing, and generally having a good time. It defies logic in a lot of ways.

For fun, I thought I'd put up some pictures of that fun.

The 24 hours of Moab.



The 24 hours of Winter Park


18 hours on the farm


The Paranormal


Camp Hilbert Enduro


The Burn 24

In every one of those pictures, I can pretty much recall that exact moment. Riding, having a good time, enjoying being on my bike for a long damn time. And as I was putting those pictures up there, something occurred to me...they're all taken during daylight.

Because it gets dark, and it really starts to hurt a lot, and I don't remember many night laps but for the most part, they're hard and they suck a little.

And when the sun comes up, you look like this sometimes:

Ouch.

You just gotta hope that all that pain you put yourself through during the night pays off, and when it gets light again, you're somewhere near the front and still moving forward. The memory of all that pain during the night fades away quickly, like a bad dream.

I am one of the few lucky enough to get to race with family. Shannon, though a self-proclaimed runner who is dabbling in mountain biking, has started to full-on rally. Riding with your wife is cool. Racing with your wife is even cooler. This is a real question she asked me, "Is running 12 miles on Saturday morning before the 18 hour race really a bad idea?"


And of course, Shawn is pretty freaking great at this stuff. Lots of experience, a huge engine, and the sort of stubbornness that it takes to successfully put yourself through that kind of pain for a long time. And yet, he's been through the worst of it enough times to still have some humility and fear it a little too. So when the 18 hours on the farm rolls around on Saturday, I've got him picked for that $500. The real payoff, though, is getting to pass him in the wee hours of the morning and slap his ass one time, real hard, because it's a rare occurrence to be riding with him when he can't catch me. So I've got to take advantage. What are brothers for.


Photo, circa 1981 or so. Shawn, as you might imagine, is pulling the sled. I am the good looking one in the Planter's Peanuts stocking cap. I only wish we could still go that fast.

Good luck everybody at the 18. Don't forget to rally a little bit while you're out there.