Cyclists from Hermosillo are known for their night riding. I’ve been on night rides at Bachoco where 40 riders routinely show up. This makes perfect sense, of course, given that the summers are hotter than Phoenix and much more humid too.
So it was only natural that they host an all night race. It’s the only 12 hour race I’ve heard of that runs only at night. At first I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the race–I knew it would be a brutally hot race. Knowing the race course (La Jolla) scared me even more. I have seen La Jolla destroy many an American, myself included.
But my friends (Sergio, Rolando, Oscar) of the club Tremos were putting on the event and I was eager to test the endurance in my legs after riding the divide this summer.
We were lucky to hook up with Jeff Handy for the ride down. Jeff had been planning on the Insomnia race for a while and offered to let Paula and I come. It made the driving time much less painful as Jeff was interesting to talk to–and of course I wasn’t driving! Sharing the cost of the toll roads, gas and hotel made sense too.
During the week the forecast was as expected: 105 to 110, high humidity and a low temperature of 84. 84 degress at 5am means 90’s almost all night long. But at least the sun is not out.
Well, things changed a couple days before the race thanks to a tropical storm off the west coast. The forecast flipped to an almost unbelievable 84 degree high and a 100% chance of rain. That’s right, 100% chance of rain. Even if the Universe imploded or time ceased to pass completely, it would be raining in Hermosillo on Saturday.
We arrived midday, checked in to the hotel Bugambillia, then (tried to) take a long nap before the race start of 7pm. It was raining steadily throughout the drive and when we went to sleep.
By the start of the race, however, only clouds and thick humidity remained from the storm. This was not at all what I was expecting.
They did the typical Leman’s start. A few guys lit things up from the get go. One team four man team had several pro riders who were determined to not just win the race but lap everyone as much as possible. They were flying throughout the race.
Lapping, it turns out, was not very hard to do at this race. The course was 4.15 miles long and a ‘good’ lap was between 20 and 25 minutes. This was definitely too short, but it meant that I caught and lapped all of the rest of the solo field fairly early in the race.
It was around lap 13 that I rolled up behind Vaquero (2nd place solo). He knew immediately who I was and asked when I was going to stop to take a rest. I replied, “not yet.” He then cranked it up a notch. We rode three 20 minute laps together, switching off the lead. He is a much smoother downhill rider while I am a stronger climber. I would put 30-45 seconds on him by the top of the switchbacking climb only to have him catch me easily on the downhill. I was enjoying the battle raging between us. We rode an amazing pace, feeding off each other’s energy. I followed his lines on the downhill; he paced off me during the climbs. Of course it helped to be sitting on a one lap lead throughout the battle. At 20 minutes a lap, though, my lead was not huge.
At some point he asked me how much time had passed. I don’t think my answer of 5:40 was what he wanted to hear. Midway up the next climb he stopped to let me by. He had yielded. On the next lap I passed him again (he had taken some rest). He again asked when I would take a rest and let me go.
I felt superb throughout the race. I never wanted to sleep and barely spent any time not riding. My legs never slowed me down. The real struggle was to keep my fuel tank above empty. My pace was high enough–close enough to a shorter, faster race, that I was burning calories like crazy. Cliff shots and bars disappeared but I was fighting a losing battle. I managed to eat some solid food–sandwiches, gold fish crackers–but my slow laps were due to the onset of bonk more than anything else.
The only thing that bothered me was my hands. It was so humid that my clothes, shoes, gloves–you name it–were constantly soaked. I took my gloves off for a few laps, which worked until they became so sore that I couldn’t hold onto the handlebars anymore. Unfortunately this course really doesn’t let up much. You are either climbing or descending, often turning, which requires a firm grip on the bars. I borrowed a DRY pair of spare gloves from Jeff which made a world of difference. But it still took 3-4 laps for my hands to stop screaming at me.
I must admit that I had the best support crew of anyone at the race (Paula). She was there at nearly every lap, nearly always having what I requested during the last lap. I spent less than half an hour not riding. She did an incredible job.
The brevity of the lap wasn’t exactly a boone for motivation. I would think, “ok, 5 hours to go, not bad.” Then I’d realize that was 14-15 laps. Ouch. It was getting tedious, but I knew things would change when the sun came up.
I became aware that something had changed. The grass along the trail was somehow different. I looked at the sky and could tell that the hue was just slightly different than what I had experienced for the past eleven hours. Then, for the next lap I became reacquainted with a trail that I had been riding all night but had not seen during the day. It was a strange sensation. I knew throughout the night that there were mountains, cactus, wildlife and beautiful views out there. But these things were just outside of my perception. I had no memory of them, so it was as if they did not exist. I lived in my HID bubble, riding the same lines over and over, with seemingly nothing changing.
I knew sunrise would boost my motivation, but I did not know how surreal of an experience it would be. Suddenly I was riding a completely different trail. Yet it was the same trail. What were once random flashes that I caught only glimpses of were now solidifying into what was lying behind the deception of darkness: boulders, cactus, other trails, trail signs, water bottles. I still cannot get over how strange it was to be so familiar with something (I had ridden 26 laps during the dark) then to have it evolve into something else. It was beautiful, actually. I’ve never seen La Jolla during the monsoon season.
After sunrise Vaquero caught me. He again asked if I had rested. I never even sat down during the race and my longest transition was about 4 minutes. He passed me during one of my near bonk laps. I tailed him into the start/finish to refuel. While shoving handfuls of licorice, crackers and PB&J in my mouth Paula told me I was now only 2 laps ahead of him and that he could conceivably still catch me. I increased my pace, but so did Vaquero. I rode near 20 minute laps again, but saw myself lose about half a lap to him (I could see him finishing the lower loop as I was just starting it). But there was not nearly enough time left. I finished with 31 laps to his 29. Unlike relay races in the US, this race ends exactly at 12 hours. If you didn’t finish before then your lap doesn’t count.
Jeff and his teammate James were out there battling it out as well. I wondered if James was going to lose his motivation, but he and Jeff both stuck it out, riding consistently for 5th place. I saw them a few times out there and was able to talk to Jeff for a bit. But otherwise I was by myself, occasionally speaking some broken Spanish to the few that would listen. El Sol! El Sol esta aqui!
The report would not be complete without mentioning El Gato. The rumor was that he would attend the race in the solo category. But the start rolled around and no Gato! This wasn’t too surprising, but I hoped he would eventually show.
During lap 6 I rolled up behind a rider without a light. This wasn’t too uncommon–people’s lights run out of batteries or fail altogether. But we were about 2000 feet from the start/finish and this guy was riding away from it. I did not recognize the jersey, but I did recognize the movements of the rider. Sure enough it was Santiago, riding a singlespeed and living up to his nickname of El Gato by riding without a light. He had shown up late and was on lap 2. I talked with him for a while. He said he had hoped it wouldn’t be cloudy so he could ride by moonlight. He was riding singlespeed but was regretting it since his chain was skipping (or some other problem). He was not out to race, just to have fun (yeah, I’ve heard that before). Eventually I said goodbye to him. A few laps later he was drinking a Tecate on the side of the trail.
We napped again in the morning at the hotel, then Jeff summoned enough energy to drive us home. It was a great trip and an awesome race. For now it’s time for sleep, more sleep and quesadillas until my stomach bursts.
Some stats:
31 laps
127 miles
11:32 moving time
13,000 feet of climbing
11 mph average speed
Thanks to: Paula for the support. Jeff for driving and the company. Jerry Quesnel and Chris Everist for the use of their HID lights. My old halogen lamps would not have made it through the night, and being able to run HID all night was an advantage (though most riders in Hermosillo have HID as well, it seemed).
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