Sleep Deprivation, Little Sugary Donuts, Feminine Hygiene Products
and the World’s Toughest Bicycle Race
Competing in the 3050-mile Race Across America is a very different experience for every cyclist. Each is assailed by their own particular demons, both physical and psychological. But just as different is the experience of the rider and their crew. While the rider may be dealing with isolation, physical fatigue, and mind-numbing terrain, the crew faces logistical challenges, mental fatigue and mechanical breakdowns.
Hannah and I wanted to capture our experiences, as crew chief and rider respectively, for Team RACE in RAAM 2007. Sometimes our experiences overlapped, sometimes they diverged completely. The experience was also different for every one of our crew members; this is how it felt from our perspectives.
Although we’ve broken the trip into eight separate days, the experience itself was of one unending, increasingly delirious journey. It didn’t matter whether it was 3 PM or 3 AM, our task was the same: to hustle our butts to from Oceanside, California to Atlantic City, New Jersey. This is the how the story unfolded as the continental United States slowly rolled under our wheels.
DAY 1 – OCEANSIDE, CALIFORNIA TO PRESCOTT, ARIZONA
HANNAH: I’d already been awake, organizing, shopping and sorting for thirteen hours by the time the race began at 5 pm. My adrenalin and nervous energy weren’t about to let me sleep for another couple of days at least. We had a team photo on the beach, sans one of the crew members who thought that ogling bikini-clad-Californian hotties was a far better pastime than a team photo with t-shirt-clad-Torontonian notties!
DAVID: My riding partner Dave Eleiter won the coin toss and chose to ride the first shift from the start line. Dave and I had agreed to 3-hour shifts: he would ride for 3 hours while I rested in the support vehicle, then we would change places. The crew would also change on the same schedule. They would switch from a driving role to navigating to resting. We would maintain this schedule 24 hours a day, for however many days it took to reach the finish. On paper, it all looked good.
HANNAH: Seeing Dave line up with all the other team RAAM contenders gave me a sense of nervous pride and sent chills down my spine, like a mother sending her kid off to his first day of school. At 5 pm sharp, they were off, and there was no turning back! The crew, Adam, Mike, Shanny, Bonny, Chris and Josh, climbed into their respective seats. Odometers were zeroed, walkie talkies switched on, route books opened and Red Bull put on ice. Our Race Across America had begun.
I was in Ernie, our follow vehicle, for the first 91.3 miles until we could meet Bert, our support vehicle. I wanted to see how things would fare in the first few hours because there were so many rules about where we could and could not exchange riders.
The first designated RAAM exchange point was at the Old Castle Trading Post. Thank God it wasn’t our exchange point because it was frantic with riders yelling and screaming to their exchanging partner at too fast a pace to be safe. Trying to make too quick an exchange so early could cost teams the race. Dave rode through safely in the middle of the pack, strong and steady. So far, so good!
DAVID: I waited to start my first shift at Lake Henshaw. As a few of the first competitors came past, I couldn’t believe how fast they were going. Didn’t these guys know it was a 3000-mile race? They were pushing like it was a half-hour time trial.
Dave rolled up beside me, face covered in sweat, and I pedaled off. I tried to settle into a groove but felt edgy and agitated. Little things distracted me. My handlebars were loose. My water bottle cages rattled. My computer wasn’t registering my speed. But most alarming of all was my heart rate. My heart rate monitor, strapped around my chest, was set to beep whenever I was pushing too hard, when I got into the anaerobic zone. My coach Nigel had counseled me to keep my heart rate in a comfortable zone so I wouldn’t blow up in the first couple of days of the race. During the first shift, it beeped constantly for nearly three hours. When I got off the bike, I stripped off the monitor and never put it on again.
After the first shift, my glutes were so tight I could barely walk. After six months of training, I’d had two weeks of tapering before the race. Now my body was in shock from the sudden demands of RAAM. I began stretching after every shift, and Hannah massaged my legs to loosen up the muscles. I could see the next few days were going to be hard on the body.
By the time we exchanged again, Dave had climbed over 2000 feet of elevation and I enjoyed the benefits of his hard work. Before me lay the twists and turns of Anza Borrego, a long descent known as the Glass Elevator. The road descends at an eight per cent grade for over ten miles, all the while giving a spectacular view of the California desert below. I crouched down on the bike and let gravity pull me down. Forty, fifty, sixty miles an hour. The follow vehicle had to stop because the brakes were overheating. I rolled on, downward along the smooth switchbacks, onto the desert floor, hot and flat as a stovetop.
HANNAH: Heading out of California and toward Arizona, the landscape changed dramatically and I had to keep reminding myself I was in America. Everything around me was so foreign, nothing was familiar. Box Canyon, Mecca, the desert….I was in a desert!
DAVID: My first night ride was surreal. I was surrounded by a panorama of stars, planes and satellites, and the roadside scrub was illuminated in the eerie glow of my headlight. At the Time Station at Chiriaco Summit, my enthusiasm got the better of me and I dashed off without the follow vehicle behind me. A RAAM official saw the infraction and gave us a 15-minute penalty. I was pissed; I’d been trying to play by the rules, but RAAM has hundreds of rules, each of which must be abided, every mile of the route.
HANNAH: The race was timed in Eastern Standard Time, not local time, so all our clocks were set to EST. At 7 am RAAM time (4 am local time) we rolled into Quartzite on the border of California and Arizona, to meet two RAAM crew veterans who were going to join us for support until Tuba City: Chuck and Miss Lee. They had volunteered their time, expertise and vast RAAM wisdom to us – complete strangers. I will probably never get the chance to repay their kindness but my gratitude to them will last forever. They did laundry, shopping, and ran up Yarnell Grade with sprayers and sponges to cool down the riders!
But more importantly they gave us, or rather me, the confidence that we were doing okay. It was such a relief to have them on board for that time, guiding, encouraging, supporting and reassuring us. When they left us just outside of Tuba City, I felt a pang of anxiety. Now we were really on our own.
DAVID: Chuck, with his slow southern demeanour, had some pointed expressions for the harsh terrain. “Yeah, there’s some climbs coming up alright” he’d say, “but the Yarnell Grade, that’s real.” I got to know what real meant soon enough: the Yarnell grade was a five-mile uphill grind in ninety-degree heat.
HANNAH: The big test of whether this would be a successful race came around 9 am at Time Station 5 in Hope, Arizona. Breakfast. Bert was parked with coffee, tea and cinnamon toast ready to share with the crew in Ernie. And bugger me if it didn’t go according to plan! That first morning’s coffee was apparently a RAAM highlight for Shanny. Maybe this RAAM thing wasn’t going to be so tough after all!
DAY 2 – WILLIAMS, ARIZONA TO CORTEZ, COLORADO
DAVID: Dave and I began the race with a very disciplined diet: liquid nutrition on the bike, complex carbohydrates and recovery drinks as soon as we finished our shift. But as we began to burn twelve thousand calories a day, our bodies craved more food, and more fat. I asked Hannah to find me some Hostess Fruit Pies, 500-calorie sugar bombs that came in four delicious flavours. They soon became a staple not only for Dave and I but for the crew: they all seemed to see this road trip as an opportunity to indulge every sugary, chocolatey, trans-fat-laden whim.
My second shift of the day was three solid hours of climbing. Chuck and Lee stood at the side of the road and sprayed me with water as the altitude and the temperature increased. To my surprise, we were keeping pace with many of the 4-man teams. I had imagined that beating the time cutoff at each of the Time Stations would be our biggest concern, but we were already six hours ahead of the time cutoff, and our advantage continued to grow. The three-hour shifts also seemed to be working in my favour; I’d enjoyed a long descent into Prescott, then another descent into Flagstaff, where Hannah was waiting for me with a mixed berry fruit pie. True love resides in such brief moments.
HANNAH: The incomparable duo of Chuck and Miss Lee left us at Gray Mountain and we continued alone into the Navajo Nation. I have a deep respect for all Native Indian cultures and it was such an honour for me to be travelling in their lands, seeing them in their natural and ancestral lands rather than being subjects in a museum like they’re an ancient forgotten people.
DAVID: Both vehicles stopped for breakfast and I rode on into the Painted Desert. After being shadowed by the vehicles for a full day, I felt an exuberant kind of independence riding alone, just me and the sun rising over my shoulder. I had an hour of pure, placid riding before the crew caught up to me again and I was reminded that we were in a race across the country.
HANNAH: The highlight of day 2 was Monument Valley, home to the Navajo people. An incredible display of naturally eroded sandstone monuments. It’s massive. Just massive. This land is so big it’s
difficult to take it in the first time you see it. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s so calm there, so spiritual and magical. It has to be seen to be believed. After a rider exchange in the middle of Monument Valley, David took his yoga mat outside to stretch. I couldn’t think of calmer place to relax the body and mind.
DAVID: I had a rattling cough in my chest that wouldn’t subside. I was worried that it would become a problem in the altitude of the Rockies but there didn’t seem to be much I could do. I’d only slept for an hour the first night, and managed about three hours’ sleep the second night. Sleeping in the support vehicle was difficult; it was hot and uncomfortable, and since the bed was at the back of the vehicle, it seemed to magnify every bump in the road, every curve, every sudden stop. I was getting enough sleep to get by; Dave, as it turns out, was not.
DAY 3 – DURANGO, COLORADO TO TRINIDAD, COLORADO
HANNAH: Day 3 took us into Colorado, the one state I’d been patiently waiting to see for years. The Rocky Mountains hold a very sacred place in my heart. I love to be surrounded by them. The riders climbed the better portion of 170 miles to reach the summit of Wolf Creek Pass and the Continental
Divide. An eight-mile, seven per cent grade climb to an elevation of 10,857 feet. Awesome. Unfortunately we conquered it at midnight so the surrounding beauty couldn’t be fully appreciated.
Night time brought more concerns than simply missing the natural beauty however. The cold was cutting, I saw light snow falling. The rider exchange was very hairy to say the least. We were all glad when it was over. Immediately after it I went to bed for a much needed 4-hour rest. At that point I hadn’t slept for 69 hours . . . I was fucked and I don’t apologize for saying so.
DAVID: We’d cut through the southeast corner of Utah, then entered Colorado near Battle Rock. We could see the Rockies approaching and steeled ourselves for some monumental climbs. My first shift in Colorado was 40 miles of uninterrupted climbing, and Dave and I continued to ascend with every three-hour shift.
I was taking a fairly ridiculous amount of supplements: multivitamins, iron, vitamin C with calcium, digestive enzymes and probiotics. Before every shift on the bike I took electrolytes, glutamine, turine, branch chain amino acids and ammonia neutralizers. After every shift I took Recoverite, antioxidants, l-carnitine and lipoic acid. Something in that pharmacological mix was working because I could feel that I was getting stronger. The only issue was that saddle sores were beginning to appear, so I put a gel cover over my seat. That helped – temporarily.
HANNAH: I think the highlight of day 3 would have to be Monument Lake. On the way to Time Station 20, we had a rider exchange right next to a beautiful crystal clear mountain lake, and we couldn’t resist. Shanny, Bonny, David, Adam, Josh and I went down to the lake to enjoy its coolness. The guys jumped in as I washed the dishes in the fresh water. Until we heard “you can’t swim in there!”
With puzzled looks we all wondered why and ignored the warning. Sod that, we all thought, we’re hot and it’s cold! Then we saw why we weren’t supposed to be in the water. A dead fish floated by. The bloody lake was polluted! The beautiful crystal water couldn’t sustain life anymore because it was a
cesspool of shit. We laughed off concerns of major skin reactions, worms and diarrhea, took showers
and went on our way.
In a moment of genius efficiency, Adam tied his Keen sandals to the bike rack of Bert to dry off the
polluted water. Shanny, in a moment of crew efficiency, placed his iced tea on the bumper of Bert so he could check that the bikes were tied securely to the rack. Forgetting his iced tea, he got back in Bert and drove off.
Guess which one made it to the next exchange? That’s right. Shanny’s iced tea made it all the way just resting on the bumper. Adam’s tied down left sandal . . . didn’t make it. He was down one sandal.
Not just any sandal, a Keen sandal. He was so distraught, his RAAM nearly ended at that moment. There’s a happy ending to this story though . . . but later.
DAY 4 – KIM, COLORADO TO MOUNT VERNON, KANSAS
HANNAH: Just as day 3 was ending and day 4 was beginning just outside of Kim, Colorado, we came across soloist #120, Philip Baker. I remember seeing soloist Lou Lamoreux just waking up from a sleep in a car park somewhere but I too had just woken up from a 4 hour nap and was hazy myself.
For me, encountering the soloists was THE moment of the trip. Philip was having a rough time of it but still forging on with the full support of his crew. Canadian female soloist Caroline Van Den Bulk was just up ahead on the same road. She looked strong and healthy. Incredible to think that we would never catch up to the lead solo riders.
DAVID: The Race Across America began as a solo race twenty-six years ago, and the solo riders remain the very heart of RAAM. Lou Lamoreux was the first soloist we caught up with. I considered slowing down and talking with him, but he seemed to be lost in his own world. I rode past and continued on.
The next solo rider we caught was Tom Seabourne. I rode beside Tom for fifteen minutes, the maximum amount of time allowed by RAAM rules. He was suffering, but was still in great spirits. “I’ve tried to quit” he told me, “but my crew won’t let me.”
HANNAH: I cannot fully explain how I felt seeing these people because, like much of RAAM, you have to experience it to believe it. At this point, our riders had come 1,140 miles together; these people had come 1,140 miles alone. Seeing them filled me with so many emotions. I was in awe of their effort. I was honoured to be witness to their struggles and amazing achievement. I was moved to tears by their will and determination, despite their obvious struggles.
As happy and proud as I am of David and Dave’s achievement, it pales in comparison to what the soloists were doing. Solo RAAM isn’t twice as hard as two-man – it’s 10 times as hard. Whenever we passed a soloist I honoured their efforts in my thoughts and with shouts of encouragement. Whether they finished or not, they are the heroes of RAAM.
DAVID: My feet were swelling in the heat and I had to douse them in ice water after every shift. My chest congestion continued, so I took whatever medication Hannah handed me. But none of my problems were anywhere near the magnitude of what the soloists were going through. They put suffering into perspective for me.
HANNAH: At this point crew members were starting to lose all sense of decent, logical thought. Chris had called up on the phone simply to tell us he was confused and didn’t know why he was calling. Someone (I have decided to keep their identity a secret) had requested long-sleeved pants. And apparently I didn’t know who the crew chief was. Ernie had become a vortex for some of the crew who, the second they entered the vehicle, were in their own mad little world complete with inside jokes and weird behaviour. Minds and bodies were starting to waste away.
Actually, that’s not completely true. Some bodies were requiring more space because of the sheer quantities of sugar donuts, chocolate chip cookies, chips and fruit pies being consumed. It was amazing, really. Mike can eat like I’ve never seen anyone eat before. It’s easy to get sucked into; by day 7 I’d started eating cookies just because they were in front of me.
Remember that sandal story earlier? Well, Team 203 from Slovenia found us at a rest stop sometime on day 4 and approached us, waving a sandal in their hands. They asked in broken English if it belonged to any of us. When the laughter subsided, Shanny was able to say yes indeed it did belong to one of us. Adam and his Keen were reunited. Wild eh?
DAVID: As we rode, cars and trucks honked at us incessantly, and I tried to understand what the honks meant. A horn, it seems, is very inarticulate instrument for conveying emotion. But I started to get the hang of it. Short little honks seemed happier, seemed to be saying ‘hello, you bicycle nitwit, where are you riding to?’ Whereas longer honks seemed to carry a tone of aggression, seemed to say ‘Get the hell off my road, you Spandex-wearin’ fairy!’
HANNAH: As morning broke on day 4, we were driving through very thick fog. It was impossible to pass vehicles because we couldn’t see more than 30 feet in front of us and those transport trucks go so fast it was too late when you finally saw their headlights. Consequently both vehicles missed a turn. In fairness, it was an unmarked turn. There was a white RAAM arrow spray-painted on the road for us but we were too busy nervously watching for other vehicles ahead to notice it. We got Ernie and Dave back on course without too much time wasted.
Day 4 also took us through Greensburg. The site of a massive tornado on May 4 which devastated and levelled the town. It was a sobering moment. Piles of rubble littered the areas that were once front gardens no doubt. Nothing was left, not even trees, they were bare. It was strange to see it with my own eyes because this was the kind of thing I’d seen on CNN and in movies, now it was real to me. It was very, very sad.
DAVID: Greensburg tore me up emotionally. I rode slowly through the town, looking at the devastation that had descended out of the blue little more than a month earlier. Trees were just jagged spikes reaching toward the sky. What were once buildings and homes were piles of rubble, intermingled with trucks and furniture and cinder block. It all seemed so completely random, yet so unbelievably powerful. A tornado can, in seconds, reduce decades to memories. I just started crying at the sight of all this destruction, crying until I couldn’t see the road in front of me.
We soon arrived at Time Station 26, the McDonald’s in Pratt, Kansas. They offered free food to every RAAM rider and crew member, as they did every year. What we didn’t notice was that Team 203, the third-place team, was at the same McDonald’s at exactly the same time. We were neck-and-neck. But I was much too busy inhaling a Big Mac, large fries, chocolate shake and large black coffee to notice.
HANNAH: Here I HAVE to say something about the people at these time stations.
Not every Time Station was manned but the ones that were were manned by the most enthusiastic, generous, patient and understanding people I have ever met. Every question was answered with patience and interest and every need was met. They volunteered their time day and night, cold drinks and food were supplied. They had crates of water and bags of food we could take if we liked. Wading pools of cold water were put on, hotel rooms offered for showers and rest. They are a credit to America and I for one have turned a new leaf in my thinking toward Americans after this trip. Their support was heartwarming.
DAY 5 – EL DORADO, KANSAS TO JEFFERSON CITY, MISSOURI
HANNAH: The highlight of day 5 was reaching the halfway point, 1526 miles. Almost to the minute
of Saturday 16th at 5pm. And a clean shirt for Shanny! As his own personal challenge Shanny had
decided, much to the dismay of Bonny and I, that he was going to wear only two shirts the entire trip. Today was the change day!
In honour of getting to the halfway point, David was presented with a Reese’s Peanut Butter cup, Dave and packet of Twizzlers and the crew, a shower! For most of us, it was the first shower we’d had. In some cases that was obvious. Rumour had it that lead solo rider Jure Robic had treated himself to his first 15-minute sleep at the halfway point.
DAVID: Writer Larry McMurtry, in his American travelogue Roads, said “My attitude toward Missouri is that it’s a place to get through as rapidly as possible” and I had to agree with him. The motorists in every state we’d passed through had been courteous and friendly, but as soon as we crossed the border into Missouri, the welcome mat was whisked away. Drivers intentionally came as close to us as they could, forcing us further onto the shoulder. One redneck in a diesel pickup slowed in front of me, then floored the gas, leaving me choking in a black cloud of exhaust.
The same level of intelligence was demonstrated when we pulled into gas stations and variety stores. One gas station attendant was commiserating with me over the price of filling up our RV. “Gas is gonna go down by a dollar in the fall” he assured me, “as soon as we blow up Iraq.”
HANNAH: I had a wee breakdown at the halfway point. Since my 4 hour rest on Friday at 1 am I’d had only 90 minutes’ rest, and I really needed more. I’d taken to using No-Doz to stay awake to help the crew get extra resting hours by taking their navigating shifts in Bert. It worked, and I was happy to help the crew rest more, but it meant I was resting less.
I also wanted a change of scenery from Bert. I’d been stuck in the support vehicle since day 1, doing the same goddamned chores over and over. I was getting claustrophobic. I was emotionally drained but there wasn’t going to be any reprieve any time soon. I was still loving the whole experience, I just needed a change of pace, and maybe a sleep here and there. I shouldn’t complain too much really, I did give myself that role after all! Next time I’d do things a bit differently. For one, I’d be one of the riders.
In the early hours of Sunday 17th, we caught up to Larry Optis in Nevada, Missouri. Larry was one of two Canadian soloists and a friend of David’s and mine. I was elated to see him happy and healthy and still moving forward. David was on his bike at the time and was able to catch Larry and stay with him for 15 minutes. Larry looked refreshed to see David and I’m sure it lifted his spirits to have a friend to ride with for a short while. That boy inspires and it was obvious he was having the journey of his life.
DAVID: Catching up with Larry was a delight. We share the same sponsor, Team RACE, and had done many training rides together in preparation for RAAM. Where other solo riders had shown a grim determination, Larry was carefree, positive, well-rested and lucid. Even though he’d had laryngitis and had been held up by mechanical breakdowns, he was clearly enjoying every aspect of the race. We rode together for fifteen minutes, then he cycled off alone, fifteen hundred miles still ahead of him.
DAY 6 – MARTHASVILLE, MISSOURI TO INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
DAVID: My saddle sores were becoming a serious issue. It was becoming painful to sit on the bike, no matter how plush the seat. I could ignore my sore legs and sore feet, but I could not ignore the insistent messages coming from my butt.
We applied moleskin and duct tape to my underside, but found that the contours were very tricky and didn’t take kindly to being taped over. The moleskin and duct tape lasted for two shifts before I tore it off with a painful scream and considered other options.
As dusk approached, I rode off and began my shift alone. Ernie and Bert would have to take a detour because of a low bridge. I stopped at the other side of the bridge, the meeting point we had agreed to, but neither vehicle was in sight. I tried the walkie-talkie. No response. I continued up the road, uncertain as to whether they would come looking for me or remain at the bridge, waiting for me. As the sun fell below the horizon, I stopped my bike at the side of the road. RAAM rules dictated that I couldn’t proceed without a follow vehicle at dusk. I stood alone for five long minutes, until the walkie-talkie crackled to life and Mike reassured me that Ernie was on his way.
HANNAH: The highlight for me on day 6 came very early on. Shanny, Bonny and Mike gave me flowers! Two plastic cups filled with them. It was delightful and I was very touched. On the other hand, Day 6 was plagued with construction, wrong detour routes and incorrect directions in the route book. It was an infuriating and stressful day for our navigators.
Around 5 am on Monday at Time Station 37 in Effingham, Illinois, Bonny and I managed to go for a run. It felt so good to do something physical. It sounds silly, but sitting in a vehicle for days on end is
exhausting, you feel sluggish and tired. The run refreshed us and put some life back in our legs.
DAVID: We left Missouri for Illinois, then hammered on into Indiana. Unable to sleep between shifts on the bike, Dave was becoming seriously fatigued. He’d only slept a few hours in the six days we’d been racing. Apart from a few words of encouragement at each exchange, I’d hardly spoken to Dave since we left Oceanside. I had no idea what physical and mental challenges he’d been struggling with. I suggested Hannah massage his legs, asked the support vehicle crew to be as quiet as possible, and I offered to ride as long as Dave slept. I rode for four and a half hours, and Dave finally got some solid sleep.
HANNAH: David’s backside problems were pretty dire at this point, so we agreed that we could do the longer shift on the condition that he stop every hour and a half to take a short break. He amazed me. His mental and physical strength never wavered. Not once did he complain, whine or demand a shorter shift. Whatever it took to get the job done, he just did it. I felt so proud of him. The longer the event the better for him, because it gives him the time to improve and get stronger.
A few hours later, Dave woke up well-rested and ready for action.
DAY 7 – CAMBRIDGE CITY, INDIANA TO SMITHBURG, WEST VIRGINIA
DAVID: Riding during the night, I started to get a little delirious. I stared listlessly down at the sinuous lines of black rubber sealant that had been applied to the road. They began to take shape: I saw Arabic writing and the faces of family and friends joined into long totem poles. We had all begun to suffer from a kind of jet lag, that odd physical disconnectedness of time and space. But we weren’t moving at the speed of a jet, we were crawling along at eighteen miles an hour. We had a kind of slow-motion jet lag. Call it bike lag. Days and nights had no definition, our only clock was the endless succession of three-hour shifts that came one after the other after the other.
HANNAH: One brilliant thing happened on Day 7 at Time Station 42. The manager of the local Best Western Hotel had put on free rooms for us to use for showers and rests. Bonny and I had showers. I tell you, it’s incredible how good a girl can feel after a warm shower. It put life back into our tired souls. I BEGGED Shanny to take one but he didn’t. Jesus, he stunk, and I didn’t mind telling him. It had come to the point that we had to keep windows open all the time to try and rid the vehicles of the smell. I couldn’t come up to the front of Bert when he was driving or navigating because the smell was so pungent. Boys.
Ok, so I haven’t mentioned much about David’s rear end situation. But here’s the skinny on it. It was bad. He had open sores that were getting bigger. They weren’t infected because we were religious about cleaning the area then lathering them with antiseptic cream whenever he was off the bike. But when he was on it, the only way he could ride was by numbing the area with cream. What cream you ask? Vagisil. Who knew! Vagisil numbs the skin. By applying it every time he went out, he was able to ride relatively pain-free for the first two hours. By the time we hit Ohio, we were in desperate need of more; he’d stormed through one tube in Missouri alone!
At Time Station 44 in Circleville, Ohio, I hit a 24-hour grocery store. I’d become very efficient at knowing exactly where to find certain things that kept popping up on the shopping list and grabbing them at high speed. With my list of basic necessities I scoured the joint. Arms loaded with milk, bread, cookies and Gatorade, I was desperately seeking Vagisil. They didn’t keep it with all the other toiletry stuff. Where the hell was it? I had to enlist the help of the check-out lady.
“Ma’am, where do I find the Vagisil?” I whispered.
With a wink she said, “Oh I’ll show you honey, it’s right over here.”
I followed her to the only closed-off aisle in the place. The maintenance men had just given it a new coat of wax and no one could walk on for another couple hours, until it was dry at least. Shit.
“Oh Christ, Ma’am, I can’t tell you how much I need that Vagisil.”
“Oh I understand honey, don’t you worry, I’ll get you your Vagisil, I know your pain, believe me!”
“Oh no, it’s not for me.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, you won’t leave here without your Vagisil, I know what you’re going through.”
She asked the Mexican maintenance man if he was Carlos or Jose and tried to convey my mission to him. He either didn’t care or didn’t know what she was saying, thank God. I stepped in. I told him in Spanish it was an emergency and I needed to get something from the freshly waxed aisle. Was it ok if I walked on it? Yes, he replied!
I carefully walked down the aisle and grabbed two tubes of Maximum Strength Vagisil. I’ve never been so happy to have feminine hygiene products in my hand! All I had to do now was clear my name as a yeast-infected mad woman.
“This is for my boyfriend” I told her, “he has saddle sores, he’s been riding across the country for almost seven days and this is the only thing that numbs the pain.”
Did she believe me?
“Oh, you’re in that race, well good luck to y’all.”
Ahhh . . . .sigh of relief.
DAVID: We had crossed from Indiana into Ohio and were bearing down on West Virginia. At 7 PM, Dave and I gathered the crew together and we agreed to change to 2-hour shifts. Dave and I were finding it hard to stay focused for three hours on the bike, and 2-hour shifts would allow us to keep both our speed and our motivation high. Two-hour shifts would also be easier on my butt. At this point, we were willing to sacrifice sleep for speed.
Through the night, Adam often kept me entertained as I rode. He read from trivia books over the two-way radio, and often interrupted his trivia show with faux commercial breaks. “C’mon down to Possum Hollow Taxidermy in Collins, Missouri!” he’d shout into my ear. “we’ll stuff yer possum, yer buck, or yer Grandma!” I laughed out loud as I kept pedalling across the inky hills.
Adam had bought a license plate at a gas station that spelled it out clearly: Git R Done. Before the race I had assured the crew that safety and sleep would come before our competitive instincts, and I didn’t want to compromise their physical or mental health. But it was clear that we all agreed on our mission: we would do what was necessary to Git R Done.
HANNAH: We’d been in second place since record holders McNulty and Petersen had dropped out of the race for medical reasons. We’d known for a day or two that Team 203 was very close behind us, and at one point we were neck and neck in Kansas. Now they were only about an hour behind. We wanted to ensure a second place position in Atlantic City, so we picked up the pace and widened the gap. Shorter shifts were good in the hilly Appalachians and if we could have good rolling exchanges, the pace could remain high until the finish in Atlantic City. We’d worked too hard to give up second place now, and the race was on.
DAY 8 – GRAFTON, WEST VIRGINIA TO GEORGETOWN, PENNSYLVANIA
HANNAH: West Virginia, Maryland, West Virginia again, Maryland again, Pennsylvania, Maryland
again, Pennsylvania again, Maryland again, Pennsylvania again. Jesus, how did that happen? These states must be very oddly-shaped because I know we didn’t back-track at all. I have to take a look at a map sometime to figure that one out.
Day 8 was an awesome day. We knew it was going to be the last full day of racing so the boys kicked it up a gear and the crew was energized. I was excited; it really felt like a race now. Up until this point it had been about the experience and just getting to the finish line, now my own competitiveness came out and I pushed the riders to go for it.
A part of me wanted this race to end. I was just exhausted physically and emotionally. Another part of me wanted it to never end. David and I were in our element, we had done it. We had nurtured this baby together and it had been a success. I didn’t want that feeling to end. But it had to of course and in second place to boot! Wow.
The Appalachians were beautiful. The states of Maryland, West Virginia and Pennsylvania are really stunning but the climbs they offer are something else. Seven, eight and nine per cent grades are common, and hills come one after the other. The riders got hit with an awesome storm while climbing, massive rain and strong winds and loud cracks of thunder and magical fork lightning. It was pretty impressive to watch – from a vehicle. I was in Ernie while David was climbing during the storm, he was so impressive and strong. He had two flats on one hill . . . can you believe the luck? He remained calm and positive. Mike fixed both flats in the time it took David to eat two cookies! Go team go!
DAVID: The Appalachians were hell. They presented much more of a challenge than the Rockies had. In the Rockies, our legs had been fresh and although the climbs were arduous, there were fewer of them. By the time we reached the Appalachians, two and a half thousand miles of fatigue had accumulated in our legs, and the hills just kept coming and coming relentlessly. As soon as I ground my way to the top of a climb, I would see another immediately in front of me. My quads were becoming inflamed. Between shifts, I laid ice packs on them to reduce the swelling.
The weather had, until this point, been very good to us. Where we might have had hundred-and-ten degree temperatures in the desert, we had ninety-degree temperatures. Where we might have had relentless headwinds in the prairies, the winds were reasonably light. But our luck had finally run out. We were hit with heavy rains just as we began to climb the Appalachians. Caught without my rain jacket, I got soaked in the downpour. I couldn’t imagine how the crew was staying right behind me in the follow van, whipping down a dark, rain-soaked road surrounded by a shroud of trees, but I put all my faith in them.
HANNAH: I never saw either rider lose their temper, at least not to anyone’s face! Above everyone, the riders were entitled to lose their tempers once in while. I asked David later how he kept his calm throughout the race. He said he was just grateful to have people there looking after him and doing things for him all the time that it wasn’t an issue. Our crew had given up their time and in some cases their salary to come and help us make this happen. He was just grateful for that.
DAVID: Dave and I both lost our tempers, but only on our bikes. The reasons were stupidly insignificant: I got frustrated at one point because the earpiece for my walkie-talkie was impossibly tangled in the chin-strap of my helmet, so I couldn’t communicate with the crew. Dave told me he lost his temper while rolling down a lonely road in Illinois, shouting “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” pointlessly at the empty countryside. But these moments passed quickly. We knew we were blessed to be in the midst of such an incredible experience, and to be supported by such strong, compassionate, trustworthy people.
This would be our last full day of riding. We were within reach of Atlantic City, and building our advantage over the third-place team. That meant we were within reach of finishing in second place, and finishing as the top Canadian team. Although Canadian solo men Peter Oyler and Larry Optis were certain to finish, Canadian solo female rider Carolyn Van Den Bulk had been eliminated by the strict time cutoff.
I asked Hannah to buy some champagne to share with the crew at the finish in Atlantic City. That turned out to be a challenging task in Pennsylvania, where the focus is firmly on, as the locals put it, ‘Suds & Booze.’ But Hannah came through, as she had throughout the race.
DAY 9 – DEL MEM BRIDGE, NEW JERSEY TO ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY
HANNAH: We entered New Jersey going over the Del Mem Bridge from Delaware. Dave got a ride in
Ernie because bicycles aren’t allowed on the Bridge. He was to be dropped off at Time Station 55 at Burger King, where David would resume riding.
This was the home stretch. We could smell Atlantic City! And it stunk actually. We hadn’t been near a major metropolis for a while now and it was kinda nice. I didn’t miss the traffic, the smog, the high-rises or the big city attitude – oh the New Jersey attitude! But let’s dwell on the good things.
David was feeling strong so he didn’t want to do the exchange so he kept riding to TS 56 at McDonalds, the last time station we would have to call in. When he arrived he was shattered: he had just ridden 51 miles against the wind, without eating enough food. He devoured cheeseburgers and french fries like it was his first meal. An official greeted us and congratulated us on a great race. God, it felt good.
DAVID: Since Dave had taken the first shift out of Oceanside, I thought it would be a fitting parallel for me to take the last shift into the final Time Station. But my enthusiasm had overtaken my common sense: the ride lasted an hour, then two, then three, and I became increasingly tired and hungry. My quads were burning, and my left leg was too weak to support me if I stood up to pedal. My head drooped, my butt was increasingly raw. I was sustained by the thought of the finish in Atlantic City – and hamburgers!
HANNAH: Dave rode the 9 miles to the Atlantic City Expressway onramp where the two riders would ride with police escort to the Boardwalk where we would be waiting. This was the first time that David and Dave had ridden together since Oceanside, California, 8 days earlier. And the first time no doubt for both of them to ride with a police escort! The onramp was where the race ended and our official time was recorded: 8 days 4 hours 46 minutes.
DAVID: Dave and I climbed onto our bikes one last time, our bodies sore and stiff. Our police escort led us along the expressway, into the gaudy lights of Atlantic City and onto the Boardwalk. The rumble of the wooden planks of the Boardwalk felt every bit as good as I had imagined they would. RAAM officials ushered us onto the stage, peppered us with questions, then hung weighty RAAM Finisher medals around our necks.
We stood on the stage after the ceremony as RAAM legend Danny Chew peppered us with questions. We were dazed, elated, exhausted. We didn’t know what we were supposed to do or where we were supposed to go. For Dave and Hannah and I, RAAM had been our life for the past six months, and now it was suddenly over.
Although it may have looked as though Dave and I cycled to Atlantic City, in reality we got there because of the seven people in the vehicles that travelled with us. They repaired our bikes, repaired our bodies and kept us entertained and motivated every mile of the way. They got us to the start, got us to the finish, got us through heat and rain and dark moments of self-doubt. There wasn’t a hill that I climbed without hearing their encouragement. There wasn’t a mile when I didn’t feel their reassuring presence behind me.
HANNAH: I felt pride and honour, having been a part of their incredible journey. Seeing them up on the stage, talking briefly about their experience, why they had done it and what they had gone through to get where they were was a wonderful moment. Thank you to David and Dave for giving me a memory, an experience and friendships of a lifetime. You have inspired many with this journey, thank you for making me a part of it. David, I love you more every day and your strength amazes me. You are my hero.
And thank you to our incredible crew. You were all chosen for a reason and you never let us down. You were all as strong, in fact even stronger, than we had anticipated. This race would not have been possible without you.
DAVID: The Race Across America has the same restless spirit as America itself, the need to move forward at all times, the 24-hour, non-stop buzz. Dayton Duncan has said “one of the defining characteristics of Americans is an unquenchable restlessness, an itch to see what’s over the next horizon.” Well, I’ve been across America, and I’ve seen what’s over the next horizon, and you know what it is? More damned hills!
HANNAH: I have to tell you all one last thing.
Remember that Keen sandal that Adam lost and was later miraculously reunited with? On the way to Newark airport, his sandals stunk so much he carelessly wedged them in the window to air them out.
Bonny warned him that he was taking a risk, especially with his track record.
One thoughtless elbow move later that triggered the electronic window release and poof . . . one sandal tumbled over the six-lane highway, never to be seen again. It was lucky for the team that RAAM was over because had that happened during the race Adam would have surely thrown in the towel . . . or his other sandal at least!