Heading to a race on a friday afternoon, regardless of how early you can escape work, will inevitably result in bumper to bumper traffic. Used to the freedom of bike lanes you curse the drivers around you, throwing hooks they seem to lack flow. On my way to the Gravity 12 Hour, it happened, stationary on a major freeway, I longed for the smell of dirt and the feel of two wheels.
Three of us made the trip to Rosewhite for the Gravity 12 hour, David, Ryan and myself, in anyones books a quality 3 man team. The was problem with that, in my mind it was fun last year (a 3 man team) and ergo a 2 man team would mean more fun! Ryan had the same thought but took it one step further, opting for a solo entry. Ryan and I brought along our single speeds, his being rigid, while David had a pair of geared bikes.
David managed to trick me into the first lap with a claim that it's traditionally the faster rider's job. This meant I would either have to show the world just how uncoordinated I run, or claim to being slow.
The start came suddenly, a mass of bodies scrambling towards bikes waiting patiently for their arrival. I found my bike where I'd left it, keeping David company at the far end of the transition area, I jumped astride inelegantly, a fitting finish to my clumsy running. Ahead 20 or so riders were already making their way on to the course, up onto the first hill I found the going easy. Adrenalin coursed through my veins, and I climbed like a man half my size, passing those more adept at running I slotted into the singletrack in the top 10.
Gravity is a rare race where the course doesn't change from year to year. It's name derives from a profile that feels like it's either going up or down the hills of the Victorian high country. A few months after last year's race, fires ripped through the area, turning everything black. While regrowth had begun, and dappled shade was on offer, the oppressive heat of the day had everyone wishing for more cover.
As the race wore on, riders wore out, the searing temperatures taking their toll on tired dirty bodies. 36 degrees (Celsius) in the shade left riders shaking in pools of sweat after every lap. Gulping water like a fish, riders gathered under awnings and trees, hoping to bring rampant heat levels under control.
Every lap I knew I was playing with heat stroke, but I couldn't let David down, I wouldn't let the team down. We were in 4th for mens pairs, each update showed little change in the splits to 3rd and 5th, but it seemed impossible for it to continue. We were both slowing a little each lap, the exposed first climb seemed to grow longer as we raced through the middle of the day. The steeper climbs of Heartbreak and Redcarpet took more energy from weary legs. Each lap we changed, uttering the same words, "just roll a few more".
Just after the 6 hour mark, while within minutes of first (solo) Ryan started to get cold shivers and stopped riding. Around us people were doing everything they could, heads under taps, ice bags on the neck, 6 hours to go suddenly felt like a very long time.
Around 6pm the sun began to dip low, and shadows lengthened. With a marked drop in the air temperature we suddenly felt alive again, enthusiastic might be a bit of an overstatement, but the sentiment is on track. From here even tired brains could calculate how many laps were left. 5th place was closing in on us, but I knew they were hurting. I wanted desperately to strike a deal with them, to end the pain, to stop the cramping, but after 9 hours of racing it wouldn't be the right thing. We would race until the clock struck 9pm, most laps would win.
David finished his race under lights, the joy of finishing pushed him to wipe 30 seconds off his previous lap, 30 seconds less time for me to recover. I tore down past the tents near transition for the last time, knowing 5th was somewhere between 1 and 10 minutes behind, knowing that I'd cramped on the previous lap, knowing that this was the last lap.
The 5th team contained a very good friend, Campbell, while I very much wanted him to succeed, I very much didn't want him to succeed against us. Campbell had hit the wall and started cramping hard on his last lap, which meant I was being chased by his team mate, the problem was I had no idea who his team mate was. Every freehub heard behind me, every light flashing through the trees, in my mind, became the mysterious 5th placed team rider. I flew down descents memorised through the day, but neigh on invisible at night, I attacked climbs before they even started, I prayed my body would hold out.
Out of the single track for the last time I knew it was done, only a few hundred metres separated me from the line and an end to the savagery of the race. A twinge of pain started in my right leg, I tried to ride through it, the twinge turned to a twang, the twang to a twong and soon I was out of made up words. In the few moments it took to get some momentum back a rider flashed past, oh god, please don't let that have been him! I crossed the line and desperately searched for the jersey burnt into my mind. "What team are you in?" I asked, fearing the answer. His answer was drowned out by the flood of relief in my brain. He was in a 4 man team, it wasn't him! We'd finished. The pain had finished. I was finished.
It's races like these, that take you to the edge of oblivion, that make you feel so alive. You spend all race hating your rivals, you hate every one of them for creating so much misery for you, but under that there is a deep rooted love, for without them, you'd never suffer so good.
19 laps, completed in 12 hours, 14 minutes and 36 seconds, just one lap shy of what we'd achieved as a 3 man last year.
A quick thanks to Gavin, who's photo of my filthy legs I have appropriated for this post.
A striking purple Corretto
