Race Report: How to Hit a Wall

The good news: I finished El Tour de Tucson.
The bad news: I blew-up with 50 miles to go, and my time wasn't fantastic (5:18:40).

Race Report:
Overall, it was a really long day. I got up at 02:00, had some pasta, checked my bike and got to the front of the gold line by 03:30. I waited around for 15 minutes before Schuyler showed up and put his bike next to mine. We subsequently got in trouble with a 'bike patrol' guy who had a serious power complex. Apparently moving your bike 10 ft forward to mine is unacceptable, despite there being a 20 ft hole in the group where bikes can go. He took Schuyler's number, but we pretty much laughed at the guy. The remaining 3 hours went pretty quickly. Kate came around 05:00 to give me more pasta and to keep us all company.

Kate and I at an estimated 06:00. Thanks to Devon for the photos!

By now the nerves were setting in, and all I wanted to do was begin cycling. 06:55 came. Those cycling fell eerily quiet as we mounted our bikes. We were all ready to go. But the announcers weren't. There was still the national anthem to play. Now having lived in America for 3 years I've heard some pretty lengthy renditions of the 'Star Spangled Banner', as singers seem to think that the more drawn out you can make it, somehow the better it is. Following that criteria, this was one of the greatest ever performances of the anthem. I shit you not. It was ridiculous. The "...home of the brave" line at the end took a full 30 seconds. 30 seconds!!! It felt like an eternity.

Sometime during the anthem. Me in disbelief.

Finally we got to the 10 second countdown. 07:00 hit, and we were off! And holy shit were we flying! Right out of the gate Schuyler and I were trying to force ourselves to the front. We knew the first wash was in 8 miles, and we needed to be close to the leaders by then so we could cycle and not walk through it. Our average speed for those 8 miles was 28 mph, with surges up to 34 mph. It was crazy. Schuyler mentioned later that he was following my wheel until some rider completely cut him off and he lost me. I didn't see him for the rest of the ride.

We crossed the wash, and I was with the leaders! I had made it, but boy was I tired already.  In the video below you can pause it and scroll to 1:30. You'll see me on the far right-hand side of the frame! I'm the one with the sexy leg warmers on. Soon after you can see how everyone stops and gets off their bike.

I clung to the back of the 200-odd group for the next 10 miles. We were still going along at a quick pace (25-27 mph), and I was trying to recover. We past a sign that said "Only 80 miles 'till beer". I think it was meant to be encouraging, but it was exactly the opposite.

Minus a couple of small crashes, the ride out to Saguaro East was pretty uneventful. I was enjoying the moment, having caught my breath, and going along at a quick pace. I found a couple of other cyclists that I knew and we stuck together in the pack for a while. It was now Mile 35 and ahead of me I could see the front of the pack. I was only 20 m from them! What was even better was that we were still averaging over 25 mph. This was to be the greatest feeling I'd have all day.

Past Mile 35 there was a lovely downhill. Except, wait. Oh crap. I don't appear to have a high enough gear compared to the other bikes. I'm spinning out at 42 mph and people are passing me. I drop to the back of the front pack. For the second time I have to dig deep and catch back on. I just managed it after the downhill finished, courtesy of having gears that are once again useful. However, now I'm noticing some serious rattling from my bike and I begin to get a little worried. It turns out that diagnosing a bike problem at 25 mph is pretty difficult, especially as you can't exactly look down for very long. It appeared to be coming from the front wheel, but what do I know? My best guess was that a spoke had broken. Not the greatest news, but I decided to continue. Then I lost a Gatorade bottle. Double Damn.

At the second wash (Mile 47), the lead pack split. Unlike the first wash, there's a stretch where you actually have to carry your bike here. The first part you don't, and I very nearly slid out on the soft sand. Traversing the remainder of the wash took a bit of time as a bottleneck formed, but we made it out without too many problems. By now the leaders were gone, but we quickly formed a chase pack. By Mile 50 we were still averaging over 24 mph, even after running through the wash. We were on course to break the 5 hour mark.

Mile 60. The wall.

This was the point where my legs started to feel pretty tired, and I was struggling to hold onto the chase group. I suddenly realised that in all the excitement of the Tour, I had failed to eat anything for 2 1/2 hours! This was an awful situation to be in. The only thing that I had put in me was my Gatorade drink, but not much considering I lost a bottle. Perhaps a litre at the most. Bottom line: Not enough.

"Bonking". This is how I felt, but obviously that's not me. There's no water in AZ for a start. Blue Beauty Blog

Simply, to bonk is to run out of glycogen in the muscles. In response the body switches over from burning carbohydrates to fat. Except I have little fat, and so I was pretty much out of energy. Here's a good article about bonking.

The rest of the ride was pretty much a disaster. I put down some power bars, but once you've hit the wall it's already too late. It was now going to be will-power that would get me home. I dropped off the back of the chase pack and couldn't go faster than 15 mph. I felt dreadful; my legs like jelly. It was a weird feeling but I couldn't even get out of breath. My legs weren't working hard enough to do so.

Between Mile 70 and 90, I kept being caught by smaller groups. I managed to keep pace with them for a little while, but ultimately I slipped back. I knew now that I wasn't going to get under 5 hours. I had failed my goal and now the biggest question was whether I was going to make it at all. To make matters worse, nature gave a final "Fuck you" by giving us a strong headwind for the last 20 miles. However, I gritted my teeth and became totally determined not to be dropped by another group that swept us up. It was painful, and wasn't really necessary, but I still wanted to finish in a reasonable time.

For what it's worth I stuck to that group all the way to the finish, completing the smallest of victories. My average speed over the last 50 miles was a terrible 16 mph, but I've never pushed myself harder. I gave it my all. When I crossed the finish line with a 5:18, I realised how badly I bonked. The chase group I was in, and should have been fairly comfortable with, finished in 4:48 for platinum.

I was so happy to get off the bike at the end. Despite not getting the time I wanted, it was a fantastic day and one I'll never forget. The atmosphere, the cyclists, the strangers who cheered for you by the side of the road. It was all unbelievable.


Lingering questions:

Are you angry at yourself for not eating?
Not really. That's where experience counts, and I got a ton of it on Saturday. Consider this lesson learnt.


Are you going to do it next year?
You betcha!

Friends at the end. We've come a long way!