One Full Turn of the Planet
The 24 Hours of Moab
By Jean Carlan
“A 24 hour mountain bike race? With no sleep? In the dark?” My Park City friends would ask after I told them my plans for that October weekend. Most couldn’t imagine a 24-hour race experience. I had only read about such events myself. It proved to be one of the most challenging and rewarding days of my life.
The day before the race our group of ten, four Team Sugar women along with our support personnel, tested the course. That pre-ride would be the only lap where it would be possible to enjoy the magnificent views. Set in an enchanted, red rock desert valley, the course rolls over jeep roads, singletrack, quintessential slick rock, sand traps and many challenges even for professional mountain bikers. With plenty of climbing, too; 1,360 feet per lap. Add to that some really hairy downhill sections - the infamous ‘Nose Dive’ was where Medics and photographers were stationed through the night.
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Monique Beeley |
Team Sugar was entered in the Expert Women’s class, but I was the sole member who had never raced expert. I was designated to ride fourth in our relay order. Thankfully, my teammate Misti would do the notorious Lemans-style running start. Our calculations showed that all of us would do 4 laps, each lap about an hour and a half, over the 24-hour time limit. The top pros would break an hour and the more relaxed teams might take 2:30 per lap. Fatigue and sleep deprivation were sure to slow our times over the course of 24 hours.
Race day! 11:30 am on Saturday. Leadoff racers stashing bikes on the racks at the start and jockeying for position at the rope, ready for the sprint. Spectators were vying for their spots as well. My first lap wouldn’t start until around 4:30 pm, but already my heart rate was up in Zone 4. The race announcer hyped the crowd to a frenzy! The gun fired precisely at noon and within seconds the crowd couldn’t see through the dust cloud that billowed high in the air.
I’m certain that the sprinters couldn’t even hear the deafening roar of cheers through the chaos of the short, sandy sprint. The lucky and swift front-of-the-pack racers quickly got onto their bikes and started climbing the sandy singletrack, avoiding the dreaded bottleneck.
You’d think that 4-1/2 hours between laps would be an endless amount of time to eat, relax, de-sand your bike and components, and even do some socializing. Contraire! Supporting my teammates, preparing my body and bike and keeping up with the competitors’ times made those hours go by quickly. Soon it was time for my first lap. Christie rode into the finish area screaming my name, not realizing that I was right there, ready to go. Our first exchange process went fast and smooth. I had been so worried about losing the baton, the wooden dowel that all competitors are required to pass on to the next rider.
Hop on, clip in, ride! I felt strong. By now, the field of 500 teams had spread out and I was racing against the clock. “Can’t Stop,” the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s, filled my head and kept me focused. The first 3-1/2 mile climb felt easy. The technical sections, including ‘Nose Dive,’ were so tricky that I got off to run. I wanted to ride, but discretion trumped valor. I would only lose a few seconds by running, as opposed to risking a time-consuming crash. Soon I was pumping the big gear and accelerating on the steady downhill toward the Butte at mile seven. Exhilarating! Carefully but quickly I glazed over all the sand traps, potentially very dangerous at such high speeds.
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...and with a clod of dust. They're off! - Monique Beeley |
The first time down “Corkscrew”, a wide but steep downhill, a huge sand trap caught me off guard. I was too focused on the path dead ahead and my front tire dug into the deep sand. My bike and I rolled together. Corkscrew and the climb out of that low spot were to be my nemesis for the next three laps. But quickly I put my song back in my head and got back to work. The timing clock ticks away with no pity.
The last miles coursed along BLM roads through the valley, presenting panoramic views to anyone that had the time to look around. Cutting swiftly through the air, I strained to shave precious seconds off our time. Heading into the finish zone, I wanted to look fast and strong as I passed by my husband, friends and teammates. Misti was waiting, ready to repeat the cycle.
Our goals going in were to do our best and have fun. However, discovering that we were currently in 3rd place, the podium now became our new goal. Another team from Park City was barely ahead of us. Perhaps we could even catch them. Any mechanical problem — a flat tire, chain break, derailleur malfunction — would severely affect our standing. A team can race and be in the lead 23+ hours, but with just one mis-shift that breaks a chain, the competition will take full advantage. As would we.
The bright afternoon turned to dusk, then darkness. Riders continuously passed our campsite, most unnoticed. Of course, our camp came alive when a Team Sugar rider flew by. Our bonfire kept us warm and our cooks kept us well fed. We watched the slow and eerie procession of headlamps, miles away.
My second lap began around Jay Leno time and ended half past midnight. Nourishment and rest. The temperature was around 40∞F. My third lap began around Good Morning America time in complete darkness, but soon the sun peeked over the horizon to illuminate this mystical, beautiful desert valley. But hardly beautiful, both laps featured an endo on ‘Corkscrew.’
We tracked our times and our competitors’ with mounting interest and anticipation. By morning, we were still in 3rd place by about a half-hour. If we just kept riding consistently we were confident in reaching our new goal, the podium. Then, it was time for my final lap. I had to mentally prepare myself to ride safe and quick, to keep us in contention. After five times around over the past three days, I knew this course well. I was dog tired, but energized to be anchoring my team to a possible podium placement. Again, I dismounted and ran ‘Nose Dive’ but was finally able to conquer some of the other challenging downhills. And then came “Corkscrew.” Gritting my teeth, I kept my head up and rode lightly through the thick sand with my butt way behind my seat. This time I made it! The adrenalin from ‘cleaning’ my nemesis gave me energy for the next technical uphill, which I conquered easily. Success breeds success. It fueled me all the way to the finish. For the fourth and final time I rode strongly and proudly by our camp, holding Team Sugar in third place.
Looking back on that October weekend, I remember the sunny, warm days, the sandy, dry environment. The chilly nights, glorious sunrises and sunsets. I remember the riders that passed me and riders that I passed, all cheering each other on. I recall how utterly drained we were between laps but how adrenalin pumped us for 24 straight hours. The endless number of times the last line of my inspirational song ran through my head: “This life is more than just a read through” and the encouragement of my teammates and friends who fueled my spirits. Yep, a full day, with no sleep, and in the dark. The 24 Hours of Moab. One of the best days of my life!
Jean Carlin is the Manager of the Washington School Inn, a lovely bed & breakfast located in the historical old town section of Park City. Jean works hard and plays hard. Her story is a personal diary of the fabulous 24 Hours of Moab.