MOAB: THE "MOAB X FACTOR"
On paper, and during pre-rides (if you have never raced here before), the course is really not all that bad. Sort of like a big sand box with a bunch of rocks thrown in, one steep climb, a bunch of really short ones and one gradual climb at the end. No problem.

Then throw in temperatures that swing from 75 degrees during the day down to about 35F at night, rocks that seem small but begin to sap your energy, sand that moves to places where it was cleared until it's over three inches deep, long laps, hot sun, dehydration, and dust so bad at night it looks like fog.

The course that looked "easy" now has become both physically and mentally brutal.

I call it the "MOAB X FACTOR."

RACE START
Le Mans style running start is always hectic.




Some 400'ish teams start, the gun goes off and the running/pushing starts. Dust is flying everywhere, but I somehow make it around the tree in the middle of a field and start running toward my bike. Seconds before I get on my bike, a racer with blinders on almost runs me over. Guess I should've tried running before this day, but I don't think my leg injury from June would've allowed it.


On the bike, I try to pick my way through all the people as I am at least 75 riders back from the front. I do my best to get my way through without killing myself as I witness two major crashes on the dirt road section before we even hit the trails.

I had it in my head at the start line that I was going to race my own race, not get caught up in the front and try to just maintain a steady heart rate and place. Consistency is good on this course; stay consistent and you'll make the podium. Don't, and you will not.

On the first lap, I clear the entire course clean--and even clear the steep climb (ed. note: not only is the climb steep, the thick blanket of sand instantly drains power for even the strongest riders) on the backside that everybody walks. This would be the only time I clear it.

Holding a heart rate around 150-170 the whole first lap, I roll lap after lap.

DUSK
The sun was going down at this point, and my heart rate was starting to go down with my power. I couldn't push too much past 130 on my heart rate monitor and I was only eight hours in. I knew what was happening. The monkey on my back from a few years ago was coming back. The dust was causing my asthma to kick in full force. I was now fighting demons in my head and in my lungs, along with the battle that was going down on the trails.

I would drink some strong coffee to see if that would help.

10:30pm'ish
Darkness and cold temperatures are now in full force--along with my asthma. Power is still low, my throat is starting to tighten up and in my head, I'm contemplating pulling the plug but not physically saying it. My pit crews' eyes tell me to keep pedaling.

I take all my asthma meds, an extra jacket and a bandana to cover up my face when the dust gets bad.

I eat some food, drink a can of Coca Cola, and a full cup of strong coffee and sit for 15 minutes. Then my asthma meds kick in--I am a new man. I can breathe.

(In hindsight, this is basically where I lost 3rd place--but this is also where - had I not of stopped - I more then likely would not have made it to the end.)

Also, Ian Leitch from Indy Fab (he was helping a friend, not racing) peeked his head into my tent and said something to the effect of, "You got to keep going, everybody is cracked and keeps stopping. You still got a chance, the race is wide open now."

Those words coming from an experienced/successful 24 hour racer made me believe I still had a good chance at a podium spot.

NIGHT LAPS
Laps tend to lengthen compared to the day as people get freaked out about the darkness and what lays just beyond their eyesight. So they brake and kick up a TON of dust. So bad it actually looked like fog.

The bandana saved me not only from the dust, but also helped to keep me warm, and the vision of me wearing it during the race had me thinking that the locals in town would be talking about the skinny dude wearing nickers, spandex and a bandana riding around in the middle of the desert for weeks.

Around 3am, I go flying around three slower riders on the next to last downhill which has a crazy little drop right in the middle of it. I pass them up and try to grab my bottle but somehow go off the jeep trail, into the soft sand and then proceed to go flying. It was quite a crash, but the sand cushioned the blow and I was back on the bike within five seconds.

The three riders I passed looked at me in disbelief as they saw me crash, get up, and then pass them again 20 seconds later. My buddy Gerry once told me that if you don't crash at least once during a race then you probably weren't going fast enough. That was my one and only crash of the race.

NIGHT TURNS TO DAY
I must say, the sun coming over the horizon is a beautiful thing to see, especially when you have been on your bike for the past 18 hours.


With it comes warmer temperatures and a feeling of closure knowing the race is soon coming to end and you can finally get that cheeseburger you have been dreaming about since midnight.

At this point in the race, I am sitting somewhere in the top five. I am getting reports that I am close to the guy in front of me and the guy behind is something like 40-50 minutes back.

Soon, I catch the guy in 3rd at the end of one my laps. I am cooked at this point, two more laps to go. I'll grab some food, try to hold it, but I don't have much left in the tank.

TWO LAPS TO GO
Somehow the guy in 3rd got past me in the pits and turned out a fast lap, I would come in about eight minutes behind him with one to go.


But now I am getting reports of another rider being somehow only 20 minutes behind me. In a complete panic, I go out with both guns blazing.

ONE LAP TO GO
I am not thinking about anything at this point. I just need to clear all these sections that were troubling me due to fatigue. I somehow clear them all, except the steep climb on the backside.

About six miles from the finish, I am flying and catch up to Josh Tostado (who wins at the end). He was two laps up on me at the time. We chat briefly, but I tell him I need to keep rolling fast as I think there is a rider behind me.

I roll on, now only one lap down. Too bad the race wasn't 12 hours longer. NOT.


I would roll about an hour thirty lap. The rider behind me was 30 minutes down--plus one lap. 3rd place was just 16 minutes ahead of me.


28 hours after race start, standing on the podium--4th at 24 Hour Nationals.


I honestly didn't think I would even get a chance to race in Moab after my tibia fracture at Big Bear earlier this year. I also would like to say thank you to all my sponsors, pit crew and family. I truly appreciate your support and for pushing me through the tough times.

Now I can rest (at least for a few days).