mental limits

PART III:
Mental limits

In 2001, I was going to ride from Inuvik, the furthest point north in Canada to Point Pelee, the furthest point south. The goal was to do the 7200 km distance in 18 days, averaging 400km per day. The Dempster Highway consists of 750 km of a rough gravel road. I made the mistake of trying to achieve the 400 km per day goal on that road as well. I made it through the gravel roads alright, but after two more days of an incredible effort against a headwind, it was time to re-evaluate my circumstances. My mind kept going back to the 4 days I had just gone through. My thinking process would not allow me to entertain the very real possibility that the next 14 days may be much more forgiving conditions. I kept thinking about another 14 days of the same thing. I could not accept the challenge. I had gone through a lot physically, but it was the mental challenge that got the best of me. I stopped riding after 4.5 days. The ride home was one of the most difficult things I have ever experienced. Mentally, I had reached my limit for that trip.

After 5.5 days during RAAM, my neck muscles failed. Besides the physical challenges RAAM throws at you, now I could no longer hold my head up. I had over 5 days to go. How was this going to be possible? I had two choices, quit or find a way. My crew (my kids) went to a hardware store. They bought some PVC tubing and duct tape. They built a frame mounted on my back, which allowed me to strap my chin into a duct tape sling. I was able to hold my head up, without putting strain on my neck muscles. For 24 hours after that, I fought the desire to quit, but I stayed on the bike. Mentally, this was one of the hardest things to accept and fight through. Five days later I arrived in Annapolis, 10th overall and first in my category. For that time and place, I discovered mental toughness I did not know I had.

Conclusion

Ultra-marathon is a classroom. The subject is character-building. Within a very defined time frame, you will experience mentally and physically, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. You will push former perceived boundaries and limitations, never knowing how you will respond. Sometimes crossing your limit can come as a result of seemingly minor things like a flat tire, a bit of rain, or even an unsupportive crew member. The next time those same adversities will be the motivation needed, to set a PB. In ultra-marathon cycling, there is no guaranteed outcome, but one thing is for sure, you will be stronger in character because of the experience.

Application of lessons learned coming in a couple of days

Welcome to the Mojave desert

PART II:
Physical limits

During Race Across America, I was only 6 hours into what turned out to be an 11 day race. Temperatures of over 40 degrees celsius, combined with relentless climbing, resulted in severe cramping in both calves, thighs and hands. My fingers were wrapped tightly around my handle bars. I could not let go, even if I tried. My stomach became unsettled and began to reject the calories I so badly needed. My system began to shut down. We were barely 200 km into a 5000 km race. While I was physically spent, previous experiences had taught me that this did not have to be the end. Soon we were approaching the night time, and along with it came some cooler temperatures. I reduced my efforts. My stomach began to settle, and I was again able to take in much needed nourishment and fluids. I had approached my physical limitations, but I had stayed within them. I had successfully avoided a DNF for now.

After about five days on the road, I got this sudden extreme pain in my right thigh. It felt like flesh was being torn right off my bone. This extreme pain lasted for about 24 hours. I thought I was heading for a certain DNF, but I stayed on the bike. Then my pain disappeared. Five days later I rolled unto the docks of Annapolis. Many times I thought I had reached my limit, only to discover I had more to give. Arvid

Part III:  Mental limits - coming soon

Hot Pursuit 2010 Poster

Pushing the limit, Part I

Riding a bike does not require a unique athletic ability. Most of us can do it. But what happens if you just don't get off? You have just become an ultra-marathon cyclist.

Here is a 3 part glimpse into what you can expect.

PART I:
Sleep Deprivation

Since staying on your bike is key in reaching your destination, we (ultra-marathon cyclists) have a tendency to cycle many hours without sleep. This can lead to some unique experiences. Here is one of them.

Early on in my cycling career, I participated in Boston-Montreal-Boston. This is a 1200 km unsupported randonneur event. While the cut-off time limit does allow you to take some sleep breaks, it is not always easy to find a place to sleep. One of the check points with some sleeping accommodations was a community center. When I finally got there around 2am, most of the cots were already occupied. I still found a place and I thought I would just go to sleep right away. No such luck. The snoring from about 50 people around me was unbelievable. I think the decibel level was approaching 90. After three hours of tossing and turning, I got up and continued on to Montreal. A quick meal and I was on my way back. By 3am, I was back to the Snorers Inn. A combination of physical discomfort (pain) and a desire to get back to Boston asap, led me to get back on the bike after another futile attempt at sleep. By the time the sun came over the horizon, I had not slept for more than 15 minutes at a time in 66 hours. It took every thing I had to keep my eyes open. I was alone somewhere in the back roads of Vermont. The fight to stay awake was all consuming. Then I began to enter a mental state that I knew was not real any more, but I was powerless to do anything about it. It was around 9:00am. In the distance I saw three children dressed in flower girl dresses. They were standing by the road, waving at me. It looked like they were going to a wedding. I thought this was great. Finally I was not alone anymore. When I got close, they turned out to be three mailboxes with a couple of US flags waving in the wind. It was then I knew I was hallucinating, but I could not get out of this state. I also became concerned about my food and water. Would I have enough for me, and get this, for my bike? I actually found myself dividing the food between me and the bike. My bike took on the personality of another human being. I did the only thing I could do. I stopped, lay down in the ditch. I closed my eyes for about 15 min. My mind was clear again. I no longer saw things that were not there. A couple hours later I finished my first 1200 km ride. That certainly was pushing sleep deprivation a little past the limit.  (This was the only time I experienced this)

Stay tuned for Part II, Physical Limits

Arvid