Furnace Creek 508 2002 Team Poodle
By Doug (Dog) Sloan
The FC 508 is a 508 mile bike race
through the Southern California deserts, no drafting, (nearly) continuous
riding. (Here’s my report from 2001.)
This year I was not able to train nearly as much as last year, primarily
because we had a baby in June. At nearly the last minute, a few weeks prior to
the event, Peter (Penguin, Poodle) Pop (click
here for
the Penguin Poodle Team Report) suggested we put together a four man
team to race the 508. The team version of the race allows four riders to ride,
one at a time, in leap frog fashion over the course, each taking a turn, then
loading up in a van and driving up the course to ride after the other three
have ridden. I figured that since I didn’t think I was in shape enough to do
the whole 508 miles this time, a team would be great, as I’d have to ride only
about 125 miles of the 508. No problem, right?
Peter recruited two other riders, Joe Peterson, with lots of
team 508 and
RAAM
experience, and Tim Skipper, also an experienced rider. Joe would be the
downhill/flats specialist, as he’s a big, strong rider. The crew would be Paul
Biron, who did the race solo last year, Tim Coleman, a California doubles
triple crown stage race winner who crewed for me last year, Linda (Mrs. Penguin), and a
wild card unknown at the time. The unknown (to me) crew person had a family
emergency the day before the race, so Tim Skipper recruited Tony Estrin, a local bike
fanatic, to fill in just hours before the race. Again, many thanks to the
crew, who sacrificed a weekend and a few days’ sleep to help out. Without them,
this could never happen.
The logistics for a four rider team are bit more involved than solo. Each of the two vans would carry two racers and all their gear, as well as two crew members. Then, we must plan for who would do what when, what our relative strengths are, and make some attempt at a strategy. We ended up with two vans packed to the ceilings with bikes, spare wheels, food, clothes, tools – in an attempt to be prepared for anything. This is very important for the team version of the race, as the plan is to never, ever, be stopped on course. Someone must always be riding.
The bikes this year would be a Cervelo P3 time trial bike with a disc wheel, tall 56x11 gears, and low aerobars, a Bianchi EV2 built up extra light at 12.5 pounds, and a Colnago C40 with a Record triple crank and various wheels. That should about cover anything.
Here are some photos of the racers and crew getting ready the morning of the race (click on photos to enlarge):
^Peter Pop and Tony Estrin
^Tony, Tim Skipper (back turned), and Tim Coleman
^Tim Skipper (back), Peter, Tony, and Tim C.
^Tim C., Tim S., and Tony
The team record is under 22 hours, but we knew we would not make that. A good
goal seemed like under 24 hours, which is about 21 mph average. That seemed
possible, despite the 35,000 feet of climbing, bad road conditions in areas,
and headwinds that can reduce flat land speed by 10 mph at times (not to
mention heat, sleep deprivation, and, of course, the distance).
The race director, Chris Kostman, has an evil (prankish) side, and we made the
mistake of leaving the team name (totem, which must be some animal name) up to
him. He sort of combined “Dog” and “Penguin” and came up with “Poodle.” Once
named, there is no changing. So, we received about the least intimidating,
unmanly name possible. Thanks, Chris.
We got most everything sorted out the morning of the race. While the solo race
starts at 7 a.m., the four rider teams start at 1 p.m. There were some special
road conditions, due to a recent forest fire around the first 40 miles of the
course, so we had to plan around that. Tim Skipper would take the first turn,
then Penguin, then me. We were saving Joe for the first bomber downhill/flats
area.
Penguin and Joe left to get situated 8 miles into the race to be ready for the
first switch. We saw Tim off, then sped up course to be ready to pick him up.
The transition went fine, and we were in respectable position.
Early on it appeared that our primary competition would be the Falcons and the (Duke Energy Morro) Eels, even though technically the Eels were in a different category, age 50 and over. The Eels are an experienced team, and obviously comprised of very strong riders. We battled with the Falcons back and forth for a few hundred miles, until they got ahead and retained an almost identical 18-20 minute margin throughout the entire race. It appeared that the Falcons were out-climbing us, but we would take back some on descents and maybe a little on the flats.
^Team race start (Tim Skipper 2nd from right)
^Penguin - first pull
^Skipper, after first pull (he'd never look this fresh again)
^Joe, a/k/a "the freightliner", blasting along around mile 40
^Paul Biron and the Penguin/Poodle Mobile
Climbing well is critical in this race. With
35,000 feet of climbing, riders
spend a lot of time going up hill. This is the equivalent of five centuries
with 7,000 feet of climbing each, or more than twice the climbing of the
Terrible Two double century, one of the toughest 200 mile events in the
country, with an extra 100 miles thrown in. While few of the climbs are very
steep, several go on for 10-20 miles – yes, continuous climbing for 20 miles.
Throw in a little headwind on one of those, and you can spend a lot of time on
a hill.
We did not have any “true” climbers. While Penguin is good, neither he nor any
of us can keep up with a good road race-type climber who does not have to last
the whole 508 miles alone. Throw in a few lightweight climbing specialists,
and you’ll have good recipe for winning the team race. Peter, Tim and I can climb in
the “respectable” range for ultra riders, but are far from being considered
“fast” climbers, in my estimation. I think this made the most difference in the outcome of our
race.
I learned early on that this race, the four rider version, that it is not for riders who just aren’t in shape enough for the full 508 miles. The speeds and efforts required during each turn on the bike are very taxing. Essentially, you go all out each turn, whether it’s a 1.5 mile turn up a steep climb, or a 15 mile section of rollers and descent. You absolutely waste yourself each time. While I generally rode at a 75% of maximum heart rate when doing it solo, this time it was more like 90-95%, breathing as hard and as fast as I could, lactic acid destroying the muscle fibers, sprinting up to the next rider for the switch. This is not fun. This is pure agony. Anyone who has done a 10 mile time trial knows what it feels like to be maxed out for 25 minutes. The trick here is to do that repeatedly for over 24 hours with roughly an hour rest in between turns. After several turns, I find that my muscles are getting sore, and it takes longer each time to get past the stiffness during each turn, especially if the last turn was particularly long.
We found that the Falcons were taking shorter pulls up the big hills, and possible using some climbing specialists to do so. We might get them back on a descent or flats, then they'd do it to us again on a hill. Hmm. We reconsidered, and changed our strategy to match. However, it seems we did this too late, as it turned out by half way they put 18 minutes on us, and then kept the same lead for the entire rest of the race.
We hit the first time check at 82.25 miles in California City at 5:16 p.m., first place in the under 50 teams, but behind the Eels (over 50 category) by 11 minutes. We had averaged about 19.3 mph. Not too bad, given all the climbing in the first 40 miles.
It got dark around 100 miles into the race, as we started at 1 in the afternoon. Night time presents new challenges, as in this race the riders must continuously be followed by a vehicle. Therefore, at each handoff, the next rider and van must be ready to go to avoid any down time. There are also the various challenges like lights burning out, requiring a new light to be handed to the rider, who then holds it in his hand while riding until the next handoff. Or, plunging down twisty mountain roads, like the descent after Trona into Panamint Valley, which is nasty enough during daylight. At night, it was a bit hairy, as the van's lights inevitably were pointing in the wrong direction, with the bike 50 feet in front of the van and already rounding a curve the van had not reached. I found the Panamint descent much more difficult at night than Townes Pass, even though the speeds were about 20 mph less.
Sometimes the natural lay of the land and strategic locations for handoffs made for some extended pulls. I had the first one of these on Trona Road, involving several climbs and descents, pedaling on the descents in my 56x11 gears nearly spun out to grab every last bit of speed possible. I found that spinning that hard can wear you out fast. It seemed like everyone got a little "surprise" extended pull now and then, either because of the landscape, someone not ready, someone tired, or mere miscalculation. Everyone was extremely team oriented and good-natured about it, though, and we took it all in stride.
We got to the Trona time check at 152.53 miles in 7:42, averaging about 19.8 mph. We dropped behind the Falcons by 2 minutes, and our vans were passing each other constantly on the road. The required gas stop went smoothly, and we sped away north toward Panamint.
The climb up Townes Pass was fairly uneventful. We kept the pulls short, maybe 1.5 miles each at a time, but Penguin had to take double the number of pulls, as Joe was in Penguin's van and had to be prepared for the 5,000 foot descent into Death Valley. When we switched near the summit, our van had to speed past Joe to get in front of him to mark the road about a 1/4 mile ahead to help visibility (and therefore safety) on the 60+ mph descent. Joe had a 61x11 gear for this, and made great time down the hill well past Stovepipe Wells, pedaling hard all way to Devil's Cornfield. We had passed a number of solos on the way up Towne's, with a long trail of flashing lights ahead of us. I think it was getting to be around midnight now, and the stars became very clear as we ascended into the thinner, dry air. You get a chance to notice some of these things when you are not on the bike constantly when doing it solo.
After averaging about 19.5 mph to the Furnace Creek checkpoint at 251.76 miles (almost half way), which we hit at 1:54 a.m., in Death Valley Chris Kostman came along for the first time, and leaned out the window as he passed and took a few photos, mentioning in between, "Could you get any more aero?" I accommodated the sarcastic suggestion and dropped to the aerobars, despite being on a climb (click to enlarge):
(Photos courtesy
Chris
Kostman/FC 508)
I see Chris caught Penguin right before or after a pull, too:
(Photos courtesy
Chris
Kostman/FC 508)
I forgot to mention, but really need to, that we passed Steve Born in Death Valley. Steve was doing the race solo, and was on schedule for a very respectable time. What is absolutely amazing, though, is that Steve did the route backward the day before the race, finishing just in time to rest a little bit, then do the real race, making it the Furnace Creek 1016. Unthinkable.
After Death Valley the Jubilee and Salsberry climbs begin. Do these hills go on forever? We were hitting these after midnight, and my mind was starting to warp a little from the lack of sleep and fatigue. Each turn, the legs took a little bit longer to wake up, and discomfort was setting in. There was no sense trying to sleep in the van, as the time between turns was too brief, and with all the activity going on.
It was fairly uneventful from the climbs to the Shoshone checkpoint at 325.33 miles, 6:20 a.m. Sunday, 17.33 hours, with our speed having dropped to 18.8 mph because of the long climbs, then on to Baker. Joe took the long pull from Salsberry Pass to the turn to Shoshone, very long. The sun started to rise after Shoshone. Oh, daylight. Much better. I took the descent after Ibex Pass, but started having the chain skip around on the rear gears on the time trial bike. This was very irritating, especially when trying to pedal at 120 rpms maxed out in the big gears downhill. Ok. Done with that bike.
We arrived in Baker at mile 381.6 at 8:45 a.m., making good time, but still 18 minutes back from the Falcons. We were now 19.75 hours into the race, averaging 19.3 mph. It almost seemed like Falcons got a lead they were comfortable with, then just maintained that. Darn. I took over at Baker and rode on alone while both vans gassed up, the crew got donuts and coffee (and the other riders showered and had pancakes, for all I know :-) I found that I was making about 15-17 mph up the 22 mile long KelBaker hill, where I bonked last year and was reduced to 4-5 mph. Yes, last year it took me 4 hours to climb this one hill! Not this time. We still spent a long time on that hill, though. Here's a shot Chris Kostman took on the climb:
(Photo courtesy
Chris
Kostman/FC 508)
Joe again took the following descent to Kelso, and man can he fly down the hills. No arguing with the physics of 220 pounds of lean muscle.
The legs were really screaming for relief by now. Every time we got on the bike again, the first 5 minutes or so were spent working out the stiffness, then about the time you started to feel loose, you'd be spent and need to stop. The "fun" factor was diminishing rapidly, changing to the "let's just get this over" sentiment very quickly.
Joe again took the plunge to the bottom of the next descent, crossing under Interstate 40 and leading to the turn at Route 66, just out of Amboy. I was on here, and found the road to be much smoother than last year, appearing to have been repaved, which continued most of the way up the hill to Sheephole summit, too. There was a stiff headwind into Amboy, making 17 mph very difficult. After the turn back to head up Sheephole, though, this changed to a slight tailwind, which was a relief.
You could tell we all just wanted to get to the top of the Sheephole climb, as the race is mostly downhill, flat, or just slightly up hill from there. Peter and Tim took some fast climbing pulls, but I was pretty spent. We made Sheephole, at mile 479 at 2:10 p.m. Sunday, giving us an average now of 19.0 mph over the 25.16 hours of racing. We checked in 20 minutes behind Falcons, and realized that barring a disaster for them, we were stuck behind them. No way to make up 20 minutes over 29 miles.
We finished up with Joe on the long descent, then Tim, Peter, and me (with maybe everyone taking a turn in between -- I can't recall); I took it through town, until we all got together about 1 mile out and finished together. We finished at 3:44 p.m., 26 hours 44 minutes, with an average speed of 19.0 mph. Our goal was under 24 hours (21 mph), but there was no doing it this time. We were still 20 minutes behind Falcons.
It seemed like we were all thoroughly spent. Of course, we had to stay standing long enough for the finish photos, though:
Joe, Doug, Peter, Tim and Chris Kostman
(Photo courtesy
Chris
Kostman/FC 508)
I don't know about the others, but I was absolutely spent after this race. I could hardly walk, and standing was difficult. I desperately needed solid food (without sugar), and so we set out to locate anything. KFC looked good, so we stopped there, where I proceeded to lose everything I had drank in the last 50 miles in the parking lot. Well, at least this year I made it until after the race.
It was fun, in a psychotic way. There are many differences between solo and team. I realized that the team race is not for those who think it will be easier, as you don't have to ride the whole distance. While you only ride roughly 1/4 the distance, you do it so much harder, so much more intensely, that it really hurts. I thought I'd have time to sleep, too, but no such luck. The intervals were just too short. My neck and rear end suffered much less, as expected. Even using the low slung time trial bike for a lot of the race, the rest periods in between allowed stretching and relief from all of the problems associated with aero positioning, so no problems. Hydration was not a problem compared to solo, but then it was 20 degrees cooler this year, too. I never felt bonked at all, but later in the race I started feeling sort of queasy, with all the carbs in the stomach and riding so hard. Switching to the carbon bike with 28 mm tires the last hundred miles made it much more comfy, something people might consider for the entire race, actually. I wish I had done that last year.
It's probably still too soon (now 4 days after) to think about doing it again, but I don't think I would. It's just too intense for too long for me. If I ever do this race again, I think I'll stick to solo.
Again, many thanks to the crew, the race volunteers, and my fellow racers. They all did everything we could have wanted or needed, no problems whatsoever.
More links:
Route, including hill profiles and 3d views