Another RAAM Done and Dusted

Its been five days since we've finished. Funny, it took just over five days to cross the country and I am still recovering! Am currently in New York City with the family: my brother Marcus, my cousin Brendan, my parents Kaye and John, and my fiance Ewin.

There is a lot to do in the city that never sleeps.

Yesterday Ewin and I spent the whole first day in the Big Apple indoors snoozing and trying to work through some of the emails I have missed.

A long overdue update is in order....and I apologise on behalf of people part-working in media. This story is now five days old. Too old for most news outlets. But gaps need to be filled and I will attempt to do this in parts...

Prologue

The Race Across America begins in San Diego, California and finishes 3000 miles later in Annapolis, Maryland. The concept is simple: whoever gets across the country first, wins. Team Type 1 competed in the eight person category. Our race tactics involved separating the eight of us into two groups of four. Each group of four would perform short time trial ‘pulls’ before rotating with one of the other three riders on the shift. Relay exchanges took place with a leap frog van, containing the ready riders and their bikes which would be driven up the road. The riders must exchange in accordance with race rules, or face a time penalty. Meanwhile, the other four would be trying to get some sleep in an RV being driven up the road to the next team exchange point/shift changeover. Team exchanges took place every five-seven hours. We continue like this for 24 hours a day until we get to Maryland.

Part One - Results

We didn't win.

We came second to a team of great endurance time triallists from Norway. No, they are not professional riders. No, they did not come over here just to beat us. No, they are not arseholes.

They were great riders and athletes. They had a terrific team and organisation, and it was such a pity we couldn't spend more time up the front giving them a good run for their money.

We tried though. For five days, thirteen hours and forty minutes our team chased and chased the Nordic giants. Sometimes we gained time on them, at others we crumpled as they stormed through the windy sections or when conditions were at their most trying.

For five days, thirteen hours and forty minutes all we thought about was trying to close the time gap. Hoping to crest a hill and see the lights flashing on their follow vehicle. We hoped for reports on them cracking under the conditions, or losing their way in the complicated and confusing roads criss-crossing the east part of the country. We hoped we would find a new strength in us all that would charge on through the night, ramp up our speed an extra mile or so per hour, somehow dig enough to whittle away their time gap. Anything.

Sometimes this happened. We were so proud to learn that my group had ascended Bobcat Pass, Colorado and into New Mexico twenty minutes faster than our competition. We were also devastated to learn that over the next time station, we would lose time by the exact same amount as what we had gained, purely from our lung-strained team battling the cross winds of New Mexico while our competitors rolled out fresh legs which stomped all over us.

Other times we thought this had happened, only to learn of the opposite. During our crossing of the Ozarks, Missouri, we had pushed so hard through the night. We had attacked every hill, our exchanges were on-key and sharp. Super smooth. Surely we hadn't lost any time from this and had played our game as best as we could have. Yet morning hit, and as we strained ourselves into the timestation to changeover with our other half and get some well earned rest, we were devastated to learn that we had lost time again. How could that have been? How could they have ridden so much faster than us?

And at other times again, the race twisted and turned again. On occasion in our favour. After racing our hearts out for 6.5 hours through the Ozarks, my team of four received just an hours sleep before being shaken awake to prepare for another 6 hour slog out on the road. Our resolve battered and bruised from losing time during our shift, we couldn't believe that our other team of four had made up time to the Norwegians in the short period we'd had for recovery. How could that be? Were we that much slower? Were we always racing against the tougher pairings of the Norwegians? As we entered Illinois, it was the lowest of the lows for our foursome. I just couldn’t help it: I cried and cried. I was exhausted and demoralised. Our best wasn't good enough. But we couldn't give more than our best. The whole situation sucked. As we donned our skinsuits, we were also pulling onto us the weight of expectations of countless friends, families, sponsors, supporters and those with type one diabetes. We could barely hold ourselves up. The thought of it all made me cry again.

The RAAM powers that be must have taken a sign of our desperation, and at our darkest hour was the timing of the greatest mistake by the Norwegians. Missing a key turn, they had pushed themselves hard for forty minutes off-course. On discovering their error, they piled into their cars and drove frantically back to the point of their diversion. The added time meant we completed this time station at a considerably faster speed than them, which lifted our hearts and gave us just enough hope to rest well and look forward to our next shift, and to doing better again.

Part Two - the crappy parts

In five days of non-stop racing, twenty-four hours a day, a lot can happen. Things can go wrong. Navigational errors like the Norwegian example can easily happen. In the last two days of the race non-riding members of TT1 joined us on the crew in the key viewing position: front passenger seat in the follow van, also our key navigational post. In the technical sections of eastern USA, our wrong turns and time lost to navigational errors increased tenfold. Luckily they were surrounded by well drilled drivers and leap frog van operators to double check turns and correct errors quickly. But a significant chunk of the forty minutes ‘given’ to us by the Norwegian wrong turn was eroded.

Our leap frog vehicle, loaded with three riders and seven bikes, became bogged (stuck in sand or mud) twice. The first occasion we called on the RAAM media crew to give us a hand in pushing the car out. The second time was at night, meaning our race had to stop until we could get the vehicle clear - all crew and riders pitching in and removing obstacles and weight. The major problem was that we had parked against a ‘Share the Road’ sign with a picture of a bike. Our roof rack (and bike) was wedged against the sign, and two of our crew pushed and pulled desperately to remove the offending sign to clear the way, yanking the good bike karma promotional display out of the way. The van was back in action and we returned to racing within 90 seconds.

We received three time penalties for failing to abide by competition rules. These totalled one hour, which were added to our total race time. Although none were the errors of our foursome, we were the lucky ones who had to sit in the cold and dark in Mt Airy, Maryland, sitting in the penalty box until the officials allowed us to resume racing.

Our foursome suffered nausea and nosebleeds from the elevation in Arizona, Utah and Colorado, and later simply nausea from eating too much cycling-specific food products. Of the four of us, I was the only one who didn't vomit! The closest I came to was actually following a pull, where I dismounted and started to return to the van, only to notice that I was walking through a sea of maggots deposited after a car had exploded a rotting armadillo carcass. Lovely stuff!

We rode in temperatures exceeding 100oF and below zero Celsius (25oF). We suffered head winds, cross winds and suffered less in the tailwinds. We struck some severe thunderstorms - the worst of which involved lightning coming *that* close to hitting Mark. The Norwegians reported lightning striking a nearby tree and covering their leap frog van with wood splinters. We raced on through all of this.

Mark suffered temperatures and a fever in the second, third and fourth shifts in the race. I suffered from poor adjusments to my basal insulin rates, and had to sit out pulls because my blood sugar was too low. Although I think I only needed to do this three times. At one stage, Andy was crook from high blood sugar. Matt had nosebleeds and suffered from needing to hear the corny pop song, 'Barbie Girl', too many times.

Part Three - the good parts

Its hard to think of the good parts of the race. A few come to mind. Matt yelling out the window at me and waving his shirt while I was suffering at my worst. Andy wearing a skinsuit he had cut the bottom leg bands off, which meant each time he rode they would ride up his legs. They called them his 'Daisy Dukes'. Mark describing every shift, no matter how tough, as 'good'. Carl our mechanic deadpanning with, 'just a short pull. 87miles okay.' Marcus, my brother, relentlessly chasing us after we overshot an exchange in order to grab our bike and run it back to the car, while we tried to stagger back on foot in our bike shoes and cramping all over.

Back at a shift exchange, which was the only chance to see our other foursome before they hit the road during our recovery, was always a highlight. Seeing them all freshfaced and eager to slaughter the time gap we'd opened up despite fighting so hard not to. Or to maintain our good work. The pictures completely reversed at the end of their shifts as we enthusiastically pledged to continue on in the mission.

This was where the support crew were at the most impressive. Crew to remove seven bikes from the van, and reload seven new ones to match the new team going out (why seven? each of the four riders had two bikes - and one bike and rider was already out on the road kicking off the first pull until the leap frog van was reloaded) . Crew to remove rubbish, water bottles, retiring riders gear, and to reload more water, bottles, food and new riders gear. New crew to drive and mechanic/navigate. Crew ready with recovery drinks for riders. Crew with the portable shower ready and loaded for quick and occasionally refreshingly cold showers. Crew ready to massage burning thighs. Crew to disinfect drink bottles, and wash all dishes from meals prepared by our crew cooks. Crew to drive our RVs. Crew to navigate our RVs. Crew to find Laundromats across the country regardless of the time we passed through major towns (anything open in Durango at 2am?). The crew were simply, superb.

Yet my favourite part of all was accidental. We had been climbing hard through the long steep hills of West Virginia, when our coach Rick Crawford suggested we keep Andy fresh for the 16 mile descent. Andy was to ride his TT bike flat out the whole way. Matt, Mark and I continued the rotations on the climb, going as hard as we could until the next rider took off from our tyre marks. We hadn’t realized we were so close to the top when I went out for my turn. I rounded the corner, and rounded the hill at the same time. I was on the descent! Rick had forgotten that the first five miles of the descent were very technical and probably less than ideal to be riding flat out on a time trial bike. As I was still in climbing mode, I had been on my road bike. Perfect for this sort of downhill. I felt like a kid in a candy store. I rode my bike like I had stolen it. I quickly caught our leap frog van and passed it. Next in line was a truck. I sat behind for a few corners but got impatient. I waited for a tight corner then made my move, passing him on the right as per race regulations. I loved every minute of it. The road eventually flattened out and we were able to get the leap frog van up the road in time to get Andy out and on his TT rig for the remainder of the descent. Perfect execution and a great blast to boot.

Part Four – My Impacts

This year I didn’t follow any heart rate information at all. I kind of forgot to on the first shift, and then after that I knew it would never show me any numbers sufficiently high enough. Plus you can’t see the info in the dark anyway. I do know my body suffered a lot, but I just can’t tell you exactly how much.

As I alluded to earlier I struggled with basal adjustments. In the first shift there was little to adjust – adrenaline counted for a lot of the first shift, although by the second half of that shift I had halved my basal rates. I did this again on the second and third shifts but struggled with a few too many lows (three), which required sitting out a turn. The fourth shift I dropped my basals to 70% lower than normal, which seemed to be okay. The fifth shift I dropped them again to 75% but this was no good. The body had started to readjust and this was too little insulin. I changed back to 50% after that. By the seventh or eighth shift I had a really really tough slog and my body was hurting bad. I didn’t adjust my basal at all. I think this was because of Bob’s theory about the body hurting and releasing ketones into the blood stream. This was the only shift I needed to do this, as after this I began getting almost three hours sleep recovery which made a huge difference in being able to recover, feel better, and have the body respond better.

I also consistently went low in the recovery van after each meal, with the exception of the time where my body was hurting the most, where I actually woke up high. But most of the time I would wake up around 50-60mg/dL (2.8-3.4m/moL).

Performance wise I still don’t know how I went. My fears of not being fast enough, or not doing enough preparation work I think were founded. I struggled with the event more than I can remember from last year. But I can’t really compare last year to this year. Last year was hard all the time. So was this year. We were faster this year. The key this year was that we always had a carrot up the road. Motivation, amazingly, for five days, thirteen hours and forty minutes, was not a problem. Get on the bike and ride as hard as you can. No problem, the Norwegians are just up the road and we need to chase them down.

Still, there were times when I would begin a pull, and run out of breath too quick, and say to myself, ‘I can’t finish this. I can’t do it. I can’t ride any more.’ Then I would think about everyone and everything: my teammates, the follow van, all of our crew, all my family, all those kids with diabetes, all those parents, all of the people who just love what we are doing and are so impressed by it all. Most of all I would think of my fiancé, Ewin, who would never conceive of me throwing in the towel, who would push me out at Mt Dandenong time and time again. How would I explain to everyone why I had quit? There was no way. I can’t not stop. I must keep going. Somehow. Plus the Norwegains are just up the road…

There are many people to thank for making this possible.

All our sponsors:
Sanofi-Aventis, the makers of Apidra
Abbott Diabetes Care, the makers of the Freestyle Navigator continuous glucose monitoring system
Insulet Corporation, the makers of the OmniPod insulin pump
Dex4, the makers of fast acting glucose
Orbea
SRAM
Oakley
And everyone else who sponsored and supported the team…!!

For me personally, I would like to add:

Of course I need to thank my three teammates who saw it all: the hurt, the heartache, the tears and the cries of 'yeah america!' and 'yeah diabetes!' You guys were great and I couldn't imagine better folk to suffer so much with.

The crew - thank you for all you did, and for doing it so wonderfully. Really, a fantastic lineup and an awesome execution. On all fronts. Really can't say enough about how great they were.

To everyone that posted, listened to my GabCasts, sent messages and simply followed the race - thankyou so much. Although we didn't have a lot of time to read all the posts on the blog (I saw them once the entire trip) we were updated on just how much support we received. It made a difference. Thanks again.

Sydney Brown – for hooking me up to the GabCast and for being such a great support

Missy and Bob Foy – for providing me with a training base in North Carolina

My brother Marcus – for coming over to crew for us and doing a superb job

My cousin Brendan (‘Cuz’) – for also crewing and teaching the US how many shrimps to put on the Barbie

Nathan, Matt and Bobby – for being with us in spirit and carrying us through our darkest times. We thought of you all so much.

Work – thanks for the time off and all your support!

My parents – thanks for all your support, for coming over and for putting up with me.

Ewin – thanks for everything. I love you so much.

Images - the first four shots are courtesy of my brother Marcus Hanley.



Awaiting the start at Oceanside
The 'A' team ready to go: Mark, me, Andy and Matt
With my brother Marcus and 'A' team leap frog van driver.

Cant wait to climb this one!

Adventures for the Cure team consisted of fellow Team Type 1 member, Adam Driscoll. We passed the team just as they were about to descend this valley in California. Their four-man team rode fixed gear bikes the entire way. Imagine this descent on a fixed gear! Arrgghhh..

Mark in Monument Valley

Our shift rotation meant Mark was the rider out on the road when I had my camera and was able to take some pics! Here he is again in Monument Valley

Rob on the roof waiting for a bike to load, while Marcus gives directions to Andy

Marcus and Carl loading a bike from the ground this time - a rare sight

Support crew in action at a shift changeover - all bikes off, stuff out of car, then reload everything...and do it quick!!

Strutting my stuff back to the car

Freezing in Durango Colorado at around 2am. It got much colder after this, dropping to 25oF (below zero)

Mark with his 'telly tubby' - his Freestyle Navigator secured in his gut

At another shift change - this time in New Mexico at sunset

Andy exits from the shower

Battling fatigue, Mark, Andy and me

Andy and his 'Daisy Dukes'

Andy tests his blood

The four of us after our most trying and emotional shift through Illinois: me, Andy, Matt and Mark. Our spirits remained intact.

Mark tests his blood while Andy tries to sleep in the back of the RV

Hanging onto the cookies as the RV moves on: me, Matt and Andy

Matt keeps up his eight hours sleep per day between ride pulls

Andy in West Virginia

Mark in West Virginia

In the penalty box: my cousin Brendan and myself stand in front of the Mt Airy Bicycle Shop at 4am. Behind us is a tandom made from bamboo.

Mark and Matt do a team time trial into the finish.

We roll the last four miles of the course - time clock has stopped - to the finish as one big happy eight person family. Its the first time we've ridden with the other four. A time to celebrate.

Team and crew on the podium

Champagne time on the podium