Other articles in this series...

• Introduction
• Computer says... yes!
• Kick-start Nutrition
• Rob Lee, Meet the Pro
• It's not all about the Pasta
• Basic Training!
• Start the day the right way
• Spring training update
• Summer training update
• Gary Rides 24 Microsite Live
• Our Week with Team Syncros Part 1
• Our Week with Team Syncros Part 2
• What Bike?
• The rest of Gary's kit
• Gary Rode 24

Amateur MTB Marathon: Gary Rode 24

£724 raised for CLIC Sargent; 24 hours, 17 laps and 208km of riding; 8925ft of climbing; 3 crashes, 1 tyre change, 17 hydration pack changes, no punctures; and more rain and mud than I care to remember.

I rode 24 and I finished 14th.

The race was almost over before it started though. On Tuesday some back and chest pains started to kick in; I initially figured it was just stress and tension. But it got worse and come Wednesday night there was genuine concern my Pericarditis had come back – at this point my wife and I had all but decided it was race over as it would be too risky for me to compete.

I carried the pain through till Friday and even on my sighting lap it was bothering me. The only glimmer of hope I had was that it got better overnight, it was ok for the first hour or two of the day and it didn’t get any worse while riding – although it was still pretty uncomfortable.

The sighting lap went well, the course was dry, I was quick on the Whyte 19 (perhaps too quick for race pace but I was riding with Scott Cornish so I blame that) and I knew I’d be almost as quick but for less effort on the Whyte E-120. The only thing to do was to get to the pub, have a meal, chill out and hope that it was just race day nerves and tension.

I awoke Saturday morning not feeling too bad. I took it easy and elected to walk to the course rather than catch a lift in the car. I got kitted up and even made it to the start line still feeling ok – looked like it was race on after all!

I had a pretty good spot on the start line, easily in the first third of the pack. I hoped I’d not get caught up with too many front running team riders but also be clear of all the bad bottle necks. It started well with a 10 minute challenging loop to thin the field before dumping us into the arena to start the lap proper.

Riding well, perhaps a little fast, I was certainly caught up with riders doing a pace a little above what was right for me, but not excessively so and I held station. I knew a big fire road drag was coming up so I could move over, slow down and focus on settling the nerves and getting some early fluids down.

Only before I could get there disaster struck. Barely 15 minutes in and I’ve already crashed, not on nice soft mud either but on tarmac! I’d already identified this as a potential crash zone - a slick technical little descent dropping you into a sharp right-hander on tarmac - and I’ve only gone and binned it anyway! My tyres caked in mud gave no grip on the polished, dirty asphalt, and in a split second the bike washed out, dumping me down on my hip and forearm.

I’d ripped one of my bar grip end caps off, it looked like I’d split my carbon handlebar, there’s a few spectators shouting encouragement and trying to pull me up and asking if I’m ok. I knew my hip and arm were screwed from the dull throb welling up and I somehow manage to not cry. Was the race really over already?

I settled down into the climb; it was probably down to the adrenalin but the pain was manageable and even beginning to subside a bit. The rest of the lap goes by without incident and I come back round in a respectable 1 hour including the start loop and waiting for a few bottlenecks in the course.

 

It was nice coming round to my pit area, to see my crew waiting with hydration pack and some food, and a few friends had turned up as well. I wanted to say so many things, to say “hi” to new faces, to say thanks for being so ready with everything. But all I blurted out was “I’ve crashed” and started blabbering about what might be damaged and what hurts. Sarah, Steve and Zoe hauled me off the bike and got me sorted for the next lap, Brendan inspected the bike and found all was fine. I was back out within five minutes; the whole thing a bit of a blur.

Obviously if I was going to do this, I was going to do it in style. So I crashed again! A rider was down in the course and I came into the Cottage Return section way too quick with my only option to bail into the ferns on the outside of the bend to avoid running into them - ferns and plenty of brambles that is. Cut to pieces and slightly shaken I tiptoed my way round the rest of lap literally screaming at myself in my head to “chill out!” 

Thankfully I settled down for a few laps and all was well. My lap times were staying at the one hour mark and my crew had worked out I was on for an 18 lap finish, more than good enough for a top 20 result despite currently running around the top 30. My plan was to be relentless and consistent and hope that riders would break in the night, I saw soloists coming by looking quick but also looking tired. I was tempted to pursue but at five hours in, I decided to let them go and enjoy how good the legs were feeling, cuts and bruises aside.

I wasn’t done just yet with crashing and I dropped it on the road again in a different place. This time the other hip and forearm. “No bike damage, get back on, ride it off. That’s it now, no more crashing Gar!”

The course was getting pretty dry by this point and despite my climbing getting a little slower I was picking up time in the singletrack sections. With all the woes and mishaps behind me I was beginning to really believe in myself now and I felt on fire.

Around teatime, the rain came. Mainly mist, a bit of spitting rain, no biggy really. The open sections were getting sticky and splashy but importantly the tree covered singletrack sections weren’t affected. But the rain kept coming and before long it was soaking wet everywhere. The mudguards came out and even the waterproof shorts, and the lap times began to plummet too.

It was now becoming a war of attrition and as the lights went on and the sun went down I was witnessing crashes everywhere and I was struggling to keep the bike upright myself; I had at least one heart stopping near miss each lap. But the course was getting emptier as the night rolled on and I was getting whole periods of up to 20 minutes without seeing another rider. I was still gutted to be outside the top 20 but I started to take heart in the fact that I was still out here, putting the laps in and not giving up.

As I got tired the night riding really got out of hand, I usually fancy myself as quite the wet weather specialist but by this point I was useless on a bike and I was still running my intermediate tyres. I rocked up into the pit demanding that Brendan (my mechanic) go and buy some mud tyres. I came around once more and he had a pair on Bontrager Mud X tyres waiting to go. We changed my clothing over, I ate some hot food and the tyres went on the bike. What a difference, the tyres brought me 15 minutes a lap but more importantly my nerves were back in check and I relaxed a bit.

I made some friends on the way round. Darren was also a rookie and on the same lap as me each time round; we were jostling for position for almost the entire 24 hours and he would ultimately finish a lap up on me and take 11th having a much better morning than me – well done mate!

Also Julie Greengrass from Kinesis Morvelo was doing her first 24-solo, we were “solo friends” and she’d pass me in the first climb each time and I’d pass back around the Cottage return descent; we’d have a quick natter and a status check before plugging round on our own. We lost touch in the early hours and got out of sync so it was a massive relief to hear her crew tell me she was still going (on her way to 3rd in the end, awesome work). The sense of camaraderie in these events really keeps you going! I’d also like to thank the spectators along the last stretch of the arena who cheered me along and called out my number practically every lap!

The sun started to come up, the lights came off and I started to see the true horror of what we’d been riding in. The bike was just covered top to bottom in thick mud, it was like the Somme out there! My crew shovelled yet more food down me and got my kit changed over again.

By this point they were essentially taping and patching my body up on a per lap basis now; blisters on toes, knuckles and palms rubbing and sore. Scott Cornish (fellow racer and trainee physio) was giving me trigger point therapy to try and release back and shoulder cramps too. I thought the sun coming up would bring me some renewed energy but in reality I was truly broken.   

I’d done some incredible work overnight overhauling 13 riders and now found myself in 13th place! Although I’d perhaps done too much work because I was really flagging now and my lap times were getting dangerously close to the two-hour mark as a result.

I quickly dropped to 14th and the entire morning was literally a case of hanging on. I had desperate visions of plummeting down the standings as fresh-faced soloist after fresh-faced soloist came by so quick it felt like I was going backwards. One came by and asked how I was doing, apparently it looked like “I’d seen the night out” – talk about understatement! Anyway, turns out he’d had six hours kip and I began to think that perhaps all these suddenly quick and numerous soloists must have done the same. It turns out with one lap to go that I had in fact clung on to 14th – all I had to do was grind round one more time and not get passed.

I don’t really remember the last pit stop. I know there were lots of people there but I honestly didn’t want to go round again. I’d just lapped in 2hrs 5mins and I couldn’t face going slower again. I refused food; I refused drink; I just wanted to stay in my chair and go to sleep. Somehow my crew managed to kick me out again.

My legs still felt surprisingly good but it was the constant pins and needles in my hands, the knots in my shoulders and the blisters on my big toe and thumbs that was holding me back - that and trying to stay awake. I also had chronic heartburn, which for the last three laps had been giving me massive heart palpitations, obviously something concerning given my previous illness.

I found two caffeine energy gels in my jersey pocket and a heartburn liquid sachet. I stopped at the bottom of the first climb, figured “what the hell”, necked all three and started riding.

My hands, shoulders and foot hurt, but with the heartburn and heart fluttering gone I was able to press on. And press on I did. I got the dreadful first third of the lap out of the way in no time and was blasting through Bluebell and Cottage Return before I knew it. I circled the shooting grounds and even cleared the uphill boggy woodland section which I walked the three laps prior.

I came screaming round into the arena and over the start finish line in a totally unexpected 1hr 20, some 45 minutes quicker than the lap before. In fact, my crew told me it was unlikely I was going to come round with time for one more lap.

As it turns out, I’d come round with a few minutes to spare. Was I going to go round for one more lap? The desperate numbing in my left hand, which was now void of any sensation, said no. I hugged the team as Martin the race organiser came and asked if I was going around again, to which I just about managed a shake of the head. He called out my name saying I’d finished, currently 14th and I got a nice cheer from the spectators. Someone may come round and pip me now but I didn’t care. I came here to ride 24 and I’d done it. I was safely well inside the top 20 and at worst was likely to come 15th.

As it turns out, I’d done enough and 14th was mine.

I slowly limped back to the pits, I don’t know who took the bike, my helmet, my gloves or anything but thank you!

A chair waited for me, a chocolate milkshake, a cup of tea, some energy drink. I sat and sipped each in turn, people patting my back and talking to me. I don’t remember taking any of this in, I’m just focusing on not crying or not being sick. Deciding it would have to be one or the other I broke. Tears streaming down my face, I’m not even sure what they’re for – was it the pain, was it the happiness or was it just a chemical induced reaction sent by my brain? I don’t know.

I do know it helped though, I felt human again, I could start to feel again, I felt clear-headed and almost well again. The tears were clearly my brain letting my humanity and emotions come back again after it being buried so deep in the hells of the night.

Keith Bontrager once said “you don’t race for 24 hours solo, you just exist”. Having done 24 hours solo I know exactly what this means now. It was hard, it was brutal, it was even massively not fun at times. But it’s been a positive experience and one I definitely want to do again. I was hoping to find the answer to the question “why?” though. Sadly I still don’t know.

Maybe the answer is “Just because”.    

Thanks...

I always hate doing credits because of the fear of forgetting someone - I apologise if I have!

Sarah Lake for simply putting up with everything, the 24-hour has taken over our lives a bit and your patience has been phenomenal!

Steve Dolphin for managing me all weekend; Zoe Hull for excellent crewing and motivating with Steve, despite having your own riders to look after; Brendan for keeping the bike in tip top condition despite the conditions and lots of photos.

Rob Lee for mentoring me all the way on race craft and dumping all your knowledge onto me, and for the shout of encouragement each time you came screaming by. 

Jamie Richards for sorting out my diet and all manner of health issues, for bringing me back from dire illness and motivating me all the way! Thanks to you and Shona Rodger for making to trip to be there as well!

Jon Riley for helping me understand the science of sports performance a little better and convincing me it's actually possible for my body to do this.

Scott Cornish for keeping my back and shoulders in one piece on race day and actually running the whole Clif climb on foot with me on race day to apologise for your DNF and not being there to see me round the first 12-hours, meant a lot!

Twin Six and Ryan Carlson, the kit was brilliant to ride in and your distinctive jerseys got me plenty of recognition on course by spectators (who cheered each time) and faster team riders (who gave me bags of space).

Whyte Bikes, Dakine and Keith Jepson (Max Bikes PR). The bikes, the EZ-up and Hydration packs were simply flawless!

Giro, Light & Motion, Madison and Albert Steward, the Helmet, Gloves and Lights were the real deal, flawless till the very end! I ran out Giro gloves due to the horrid conditions and according to my thumbs and palms, they were sorely missed once I was forced to switch brands.

Nutri-Link for the discount on supplements, a huge factor in my recover from the summer illness. 

Anybody who came to visit the pit in person, sorry I couldn't have taken more time to speak to you, it was appreciated!

The team riders who quickly learned I was soloing and gave me lots of room.

The fellow soloists who were always up for a chinwag on the way round. Special thanks to Darren and Julie - you guys helped keep me going and well done on your results!

The spectators round the far end of the arena who cheered me on literally every lap - it might not have shown at times but I really appreciated it!

The organisers for putting on such an epic race!

Everyone who donated to my just giving page, all donations were gratefully received.

• Introduction
• Computer says... yes!
• Kick-start Nutrition
• Rob Lee, Meet the Pro
• It's not all about the Pasta
• Basic Training!
• Start the day the right way
• Spring training update
• Summer training update
• Gary Rides 24 Microsite Live
• Our Week with Team Syncros Part 1
• Our Week with Team Syncros Part 2
• What Bike?
• The rest of Gary's kit
• Gary Rode 24

Gary Lake - Executive Editor

Gary Lake has been mountain biking for over 15 years now and has had a passion for everything cycle related ever since. He is a CTC-qualified trail leader and 24-hour Mountain Bike racer.

Gary has always been looking for a way to give something back to the sport. With a successful career in digital media and internet marketing, and with over 10 years' experience in the industry, it was somewhat inevitable that Gary would put these skills to use in something cycle-related.

After a year in the planning and making, in February 2010 Cyclist No.1 was born.

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