The Coolest 24 Hour Race Against Cancer (Hardwear Sessions)

By Sean McDevitt, MHW Tent Designer

In the days leading up to the Coolest 24 Hour Race Against Cancer, I thought about my love for racing my mountain bike for 24 hours. I am no young up and coming racer, I have a full time career designing and developing tents and bivies for Mountain Hardwear. As a life long athlete, I have never been good with moderation. I am either full in or not. When I ran, I ran marathons and ultra marathons, when I climbed, I free-climbed El Capitan or Lost Arrow Spire. But in regards to my love of 24 solo bike racing, I am reminded of a quote from Steve Prefontaine:

"A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more."
- Steve Prefontaine

At noon on May 3rd I rolled out in the back of the pack of 24 solo riders as the race began. It was my third 24 solo bike race since September. I had improved at every race; I was hoping to better my 16th place at Old Pueblo. I took my time as I slowly reeled rider after rider in. Half way through the lap the top teams relay riders caught me and passed me. I was just trying ride within myself. I finished the lap with my buddy Pat who was racing 8 hour duo and doubling with Jonas as my pit crew.

Lap after lap I tried not to think about going 24 hours. I had learned to turn my brain off; 24 hours was just too much to bear psychologically. After 3 or 4 hours of racing in 90F weather the fresh legs gave way to a two pronged attack of nausea and cramping legs. After the 5th time I gagged trying to swallow Endurolyte pills I started chewing them. After chewing maybe 20 pills I rolled into my pit to try some crackers to settle my stomach. It was a bad sign that I had trouble swallowing; but a good sign that I had done 78 miles of mountain biking in roughly 7 hours.

Around 8pm I rolled into camp for a quick dinner; change of kit and to put on lights. As I shoveled tortellini, I heard over a speaker "And in first place 8 hour duo, my grandma rules." Grinning from ear to ear, medals in hand, Pat and Jonas strolled into camp then quickly got me rolling with fresh bottles and lights. At midnight I rolled into camp and changed batteries and forced down more tortellini and bread. As I rolled out for more Jonas mentioned that they were crashing for the night. They had prepped all my bottles, food and batteries for the remainder of the night. It was up to me; all I had to do was to pedal.

So I pedaled, and pedaled my way through the night, climb by climb, lap by lap. Around 2 am I began having auditory hallucinations. The squeal of my tires against the dusty trail sounding like words being uttered. Around 4 am, the smaller trees on the side of the trail started looking like people. Around 5am, after 17 hours of racing my mountain bike, Pink's Floyd's "Nobody Home" was a completely inappropriate play list selection. At 5.30 am I rolled into my pit for my final battery swap and headed out for my 5th and final night lap.

At 10 am I rolled into camp and asked Jonas and Pat, who wanted to do my final lap with me. Soon enough Jonas suited up and rolled out with me in the rising temperature. It quickly became apparent that I was a shell of more former self as Jonas inadvertently dropped me on every slight incline. Halfway through the lap Jonas took a short cut back to camp. He smartly realized that I would be better served by packing up my camp then trying to pace me. I was relieved, almost gleeful as I made it over the final climbs and rolled into the start and finish. I dismounted and crossed the finish for the final time as the race promoter Jim Northey, over the speaker system offered some compliments about Mountain Hardwear giving donations in the fight against cancer. I wanted to thank Jim for putting on a wonderful race for a great cause but I was shelled. I think I smiled weakly, maybe waived a little then walked my bike back to camp.

I remember my hands being too weak to close a Ziploc bag, my neck too weak to hold my head up. I also remember laying in a fetal position inside my Casa 4 tent as Pat and Jonas packed up camp. I had given everything I had. It was a good day. 6th place isn't so bad either.