Afton, Minnesota
"There is no story to tell."
That was what I was thinking at about 10:00 pm last Friday night. I was five hours into the 24 hours of Afton mountain bike race in the Afton Alps, Minnesota. Up until this point everything had been pretty routine. Yeah, it was really hot and the climbing was killing everyone but that stuff is all normal.
For the first time in a 24 hour race, I have a support crew. Joanne came with me to this race so I was staying better fed than normal. Pierre Ostor met us at the race site. I met Pierre last February in Alaska and again in June at the 24 hours of Adrenalin. This time Joanne and I were staying at his house after the race. Joanne helped crew for Pierre as well.
The course was dry and relatively easy except for the climbing. Each lap of the course has 600 ft of vertical climbing so after the first couple of laps the high heat and humidity was taking its toll. I was drinking about 750 ml of fluids per hour and was still getting dehydrated. After six hours of racing I had not gone to pee once so I was really getting concerned. Usually I go every two hours in a 24 hour race. I bumped up the fluids to 1 litre per hour and things finally started to flow. That's a relief.
Still, there was nothing extraordinary about this race. It was business as usual. The bike was working great, the lights were working fine, and by midnight, I was peeing regularly. It was even starting to cool down.
There is a saying in these types of races. "A lot can happen in 24 hours, and it usually does."
Well, in this case, "A lot" happened at 2:15 am. A storm blew in of hurricane magnitude. I was at the very top of the mountain when it struck. One minute it was a fine summer evening and the next there was a wall of wind and water in my face and all around me. The lightning lit the trail so often that I barely needed my headlight. I considered this to be a pretty dangerous situation. In the open there was risk of getting hit by lightning and under cover there were trees coming down. I met up with another solo rider and we picked our way down the mountain together. Near the bottom he told me that he was dropping out of the race.
I considered doing the same. Then I remembered my last race. A change in the weather had reduced the race to a snails pace. Instead of adapting, I gave in and regretted it for a long time after. I was determined to not let that happen again. Rather than dwell on how bad this was, I decided to plan how to get through it.
At the end of the lap, I would change into thermal underwear. Those would keep me warm, even when soaked. I would install fenders and change into some shoes better suited to walking because in this weather there would be lots of walking. Also, I would make sure that my spare brake pads were easily accessible. The course would soon turn to mud and brake pads would disappear after a few laps. This change in conditions would be enough to take some already exhausted solo riders over the edge. Although I had no idea what place I was in at this point, I figured that just by staying in the race I would move up a few places.
By the time that I reached the timing tent, the snow fence entrance had blown down and all the power was off. The race director was there. He told us that he is stopping the race until the weather improves. It is simply too dangerous to be on the course. It was a very good decision in my opinion. I've been in five 24 hour races with all kinds of different weather but this is the first time that a race had to be stopped in the middle.
I went to our camp expecting to see Joanne in the tent. She had been in the tent for a while but the wind started to lift the tent with her in it so she retreated to the car. I got in the car and tried to get some sleep since I figured that it would only be a couple of hours until the race started again. I couldn't get comfortable so I suggested that we go into the tent and get in our sleeping bags. We looked out the car window and realized that our tent was gone!
We had a lot of stuff in that tent. My tool box, all my spare parts, and all of our luggage were in the tent. In total, several hundred pounds of gear. Also there were six pegs holding it down. The wind had picked up the tent, tool box and all, and carried it about 20 feet, turned it upside down and landed it on top of our neighbours dome tent. Both tents were demolished. Ours was brand new. I had never even slept one night in it.
There was nothing we could do at the time so I found a way to get comfortable and went to sleep. Pierre was in his Jeep resting when the storm struck. He thought that it was unsafe there so he went into the ski chalet and slept on the floor. We found out later that air planes had overturned at a nearby airport and transport trucks had been blown over on the main highway.
By 6:00 am the storm was over and the sun was coming out. The camp looked like a disaster zone. Tents were down everywhere. Garbage cans were filled with a tangled mess of aluminium tent poles. One tent had blown half way up the mountain. A race meeting was called for 7:00 am. At the meeting we were told that the race would go on. The ski patrol had already cleared the course and made several route changes to washed out areas. A second mass start was scheduled for 7:45 am. All previous laps still counted toward the total.
The sun was hot but the humidity was much lower now. The course dried out very quickly and after a few hours you would never have known how bad that storm really was. In a way, it seemed harder to stop and then start again than it would have been to just keep going all night. Once I stop, it would be so easy to just stay stopped. Lots of people never started the second time.
Too my surprise, my legs were pretty fresh after resting for 5 hours. I was doing laps almost as fast as at the start of the race. I was drinking 1 litre per hour but, once again, still no pee after almost 6 hours. I have never sweated or drank so much in my life. I moved up to 1.5 litres per hour and finally got some flow.
Around 11:00 am Joanne had some news for me. "Don't get excited but there is a three way tie for third place and you are one of the three." How could I not get excited? I have never finished in the top three of a 24 hour race. To do so in a field of 28 riders would be, by far, my best finish ever.
With 6 hours still to go, I knew that I had to keep eating and drinking and not get caught up in trying to go fast. When the end of the race is this close, it's easy to calculate how many more laps you can complete before the finish. So I started a count down. Around 2:00 pm I got passed by a solo rider. I asked which lap he was on but that he said he did not know. Sure.
At the end of the lap I asked in the timing tent what place I was in but they had not merged the computer file from the night before so they had no idea. I asked Joanne to try to find out but she said that no one knew. Only 3 more hours and I don't have a clue where I am or who I am chasing. All I could do was ride hard and hope for the best.
I finished the race at 5:40 pm. Really happy that everything had gone well, even with the storm. I didn't bonk, I didn't get too dehydrated, and my bike didn't break. What more could you ask for. I asked what place I was in but they still could not tell. I couldn't believe it.
At the awards ceremony it was a total surprise. " Third place solo, Bill Shand." It was the icing on the cake of a really great race. I finished on the same lap as second place. First place was 2 laps ahead. Pierre finished 10th which is very impressive when you realize that he did another 24 hour race only 2 weeks ago and a 50 mile trail run 2 weeks before that. Holy Cow!
After the race we went for a celebration meal in White Bear Lake with Pierre and his wife Cheryl. Lots of wine and pasta. Boy I slept good that night.
Sincerely,
Bill Shand
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