The Texas Time Trial, a RAAM qualifier, consisted of 48-, 24-, 12-, 6-hr and one-lap Sprint divisions on a 26.5 mile loop course with 1,150’ climbing per lap down into and back out of the Brazos River valley on a really hot day.

I did the 12hr just for kicks because the venue was only an hour away from where I live. I didn’t really train for it specifically, other than the training I’m doing for Ironman Longhorn (they need to change the name because it’s really a 70.3). Results? I covered 5 laps, 132 miles in a 12hr window.

I “only” averaged 15.2mph when I was actually riding (which was about 8.5 of the 12 hour time frame because I took a :30-minute nap about 100 miles in, then I left early right after my final fifth lap even though there was still time on the clock. I told them "No Mas" about 4:30pm and verbally tapped out, which I guess is where they got the 10:36:00 from. No one doing 12hrs or more was blowing through this course. Look at the average paces and the average ages. Much older than I am. I guess the other 30-somethings were off doing triathlons. :) It was nice stopping after each lap, getting something to eat and drink, then riding off whenever I felt like it. I was planning on doing 6 laps, but OMG after 8+ on the bike and being out there since well before sun-up, it became a mental beating. I just stopped after my fifth lap and said, “Meh, that’ll do. I’m going home.”

I yanked up my shorts to show off my Sweet Tan Lines. I still had a sense of humor and I don't take races too seriously. Oh, and Mr. T doesn't like you looking at my junk. Trust me - the uncensored version would make the Polish Cycling Team blush.

Other than the obvious (get on your bike and ride, eat real food, take breaks, and go as long as you can), I did make a few observations. When you’re out there all day, alone 99% of the time, you tend to notice things:

1. The bottom line ($$$) is the bottom line: I’ve noticed over the past few years that formerly endurance-only events, such as marathons and longer triathlons, have started adding shorter distances. For example, many marathons offer other distances, from 1 mile “family fun runs” and 5ks up to a half, and it is common for a triathlon to have an Olympic, Sprint, and Relay. At first I thought it was a great way to get people interested in the sport because most people aren’t going to run 26.2, but 5k is much more approachable. I have now come to the unfortunate conclusion that RDs include shorter distances to attract more entrant$, and more entrants mean$ more money, sacrificing service to the longer categories. From a business perspective, I get it: Often these events claim to raise money for charity, so out of necessity, the event organizer caters to the largest divisions – the much shorter races – because 1,000 people running a 10k is better than 100 people running a marathon. But for those of us who do the longer distances offered at the events, we are now the minority and as such, we are a second-class after-thought.

Two instances at the Texas Time Trial really drove this point home. I arrived at the race site at 4:30am for a 6am start. I parked my car among all the other cyclists’ cars in the public park adjacent to the starting area. Since I crewed myself, I set up coolers and grocery bags of food under a tree. I had it all set and was clipping in to head to the start when 5-minutes prior to the start, the race official and the guy who owned the race (it’s a small race, so I knew who they were) came up to me and said, “You can’t park here. We need these spots for the Sprint race.” I am not conflict avoidant, but when the race official and the person to whom you wrote the entrance check (whom I suspect were a couple) tell you to move your car, it’s not wise to argue. I would only lose because I know an unfair fight when I see one. So I pack my crap back up, ask some thinly-veiled, snarky questions - "What time is their race? Oh, that's like seven hours from now?" and "So when I finish my first lap, all these cars will be gone too?" - and move about 50' away, set-up my stuff again, and walk over to the start. I didn't exactly hurry because I knew a few minutes out of 12 hours wouldn't matter.

It really wasn't a big deal and it didn't ruin my day, but 1) I found that open spot several hours before the Sprint racers even woke up; 2) it’s a public park – there are no designated spots, 3) I was parked where I was supposed to be - among many other cyclists’ cars, 4) I paid 3-times the entrance fee the Sprinters did, and 5) I was starting the race while the Sprinters were still at home asleep, and I will finish about the time they get out of the shower and onto the couch with a beer. The key difference, and this is the only distinction that matters to the RD, is that there were about a dozen people riding the 12hr (12x$150=$1,800) but there were 50 riding the Sprint (50x$50=$2,500). So, it’s an easy choice: The RD must make it more convenient for the higher paying (group of) customers. I get it, but I won’t do that race again because I think there is a pecking order: if they had asked me to move because a 48- or 24-hour rider wanted my spot for any reason – maybe they wanted to be under a tree – I wouldn’t have given it a second thought and would've moved without hesitation. But to move my car for a Sprint (and it wouldn't matter if they had <1hr 40k plans) . . .

You can tell that it's pretty much, "park wherever you find a space." You set up a tent with some chairs and crew from there.

I giggled at how ridiculous another instance was while out on the race course which is wide-open country roads with no one on them. You can see (and hear) riders from a half-mile away. It was mid-afternoon and I had been out there for probably 7 or 8 hours (and the longer distances had already been out there for days). When the six hour and Sprint events started, a course marshal on a motorcycle road up next to me and said, “Watch out. The six hour/Sprint group has started.” I thought, “I don’t give a @#$%!” I had been out there for hours, was literally 100 miles ahead of them, and I was expected to defer? Granted, I wanted a break so I pulled over and grabbed what little shade there was. I watched the first cyclist who had a huge lead blow by, then I pulled back onto the road and rode off. The field (I can't even call it a peleton) was so stretched out that riders were half a mile apart. There was no need to warn anyone. It didn't bother me because I was sucking anyways, but I hope he didn’t go up to people riding 500 miles in 48hrs, fighting to get into RAAM, and tell them the same thing. Really? C’mon. When I came across riders doing the 24- and 48-hr, I gave them a very wide berth. I quickly learned from watching this group that they find a casual pace and then crawl into little corners of their mind and don't come out. I wasn’t going to do anything to interrupt them and surely didn’t expect them to “watch out” for me and my little 100+ miler.

2. Ultras are mental: I’ve reached a point in my conditioning where a 100miler is pretty standard, so I figured another 50 or 60 miles wouldn’t be that hard. Physically, everything past 100 all felt the same. I wasn’t getting any sorer. I wasn’t getting any hotter or any more tired. But my mind wasn’t in it. I lost interest in being out there. It was a weird feeling. I could still stand and climb, so my legs were fine. I was just not into it anymore. After 7 or 8 hours or so, I kept finding myself standing up and coasting and looking behind me. There was never anyone behind me. So my theory is that once you’ve conditioned up to 100 miles or so, beyond that is mental preparedness. To borrow from Yogi Berra, “Baseball is Ultras are 90% mental. The other half is physical.”

There is a good article in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram where they interviewed a few of the RAAM qualifiers and they said the same thing: Texas Time Trials gives cyclists true test.

3. Race surface is the second most important consideration. After I’ve determined the training weather at home and likely race-day weather, I’m going to drive 100% of the course (or rely on a very accurate accounting of every single inch of the course) and then I’ll decide whether to sign up. The course in the Time Trial was horrible – it was all chipseal and there are too many events out there to settle for riding on that garbage road surface.