L stGears

Reviews and inspiration from the bicycle kingdom

Bill Palladino
July Staff Writer - Fixed Gear Gallery
www.fixedgeargallery.com

Bicycles and other freewheeling ideas 2008 Blog: www.lostgears.blogspot.com

Email: lostgears@gmail.com

Riding the National 24 Hour Challenge

PREPARATION:
Dennis wakes me at 5:30 sively during this event…testing them out.) “When I stop,
am and says, “Get up, see make sure I’ve got fresh bottles, check my pockets for food.
you at Denny’s in fif- Give me a banana or something once in a while. Maybe a
teen.” I grumble and wet paper towel for my face, and a splash of water. I doubt
head for the shower. I’ll need ‘em but take the extra wheels just in case…. And
Dennis is out the door keep your phone on.” I’m suddenly taken aback with re-
wheeling his Pinarello sponsibility!
Paris in front of him
down the hotel hallway. The start/finish line is at the Thornapple-
That Italian beast is Kellogg High School in Barry County, Michi-
worth about three times what I paid for gan. I arrived too late to drive the car up to
my car but gets a lot better gas mileage. A the tent….too many cars in there already. So
few minutes later I’m packed up and tak- we have to park in the sports complex park-
ing Emma, my yellow lab, for her stroll ing area a few hundred yards across the
around the hotel property. fields. This, as it turns out, is a bad mistake. It
forces me to lug all the crap from the car to
We’re here to support Dennis in his the tent by hand. Emma, on the other hand
twelfth attempt at the National 24 Hour thinks it’s a gas. She gets to frolic
Challenge. As its name suggests it’s a 24 alongside and greet all the
hour event where you ride as far as possible from brightly dressed people. “Hey
8AM Saturday to 8AM Sunday. Thus far his longest dad, let’s go back for another
jaunt here was 326.5 miles. That was last year. Dennis load! Woof, drool.”
is 63 years old. Gol darn stud-duck if you ask me.
The start is a festive conflagra-
The National 24 Hour Challenge started in 1983 as the tion of carbon, aluminum, steel,
brainchild of Diane Obermeyer, a former national title spandex and the smell of sun-
holder in 24 hour events. The first event boasted 18 screen and chamois
riders, mostly from the small cycling club that Ober- butter. It’s all con-
meyer belonged to, the Rapid Wheelmen. Since then the 24 trasted by the flutter-
Hour has become the largest event of its kind in the U.S., fea- ing of tartan kilts on the
turing hundreds of riders from scores of states and even a tra- ditional entourage of
handful of foreign lands. bagpipers. The din
from their pipes fills
I pull up to Denny’s, a place I haven’t been inside of since my the morning air with a
college days in the 70’s. Dennis has already plowed through
breakfast and is catching up on the latest Barack Obama news
on his Blackberry. He’s pretty intent at this point, so I don’t
say much. drone of impending
battle. This mood is
PRESSURE’S ON: Then come the instructions: “Set up the accentuated by the
gear at the tent,” (cooler, food, box of water bottles, and a staccato clip-clop of
chair for me.) “One and half scoops of this, one scoop of that, cleated shoes on pave-
and a big squeeze of either the chocolate or orange gooey ment – soldiers in
stuff. You decide.” (Dennis used Hammer products exclu- queue. A P.A. an-
nouncer barks
 demands of the riders and support personnel, and a nervous
energy enlivens the air. “Five minutes to the start!”

Dennis suggests this year he probably didn’t train as smart as

he could’ve leading up to today. “I figure that one needs be-
tween 2,000 and 3,000 miles for the year prior to the event.
I probably had 2,000, but they were so scattered and I was
inconsistent. I know better, but other things in my life just
got in the way. The time to plan was back in October/
November 2007. I didn't do that. One needs to sit down and
make a training calendar.”

The riders and their support teams are as varied as the pat-
terns on their jerseys. Some venture to do this alone with no-
one to support them. They simply pull up to a tent that they’ve
preset and take care of themselves. Others have full-on armies
of specialized volunteers each with a given task, taking shifts
through the long hours. Then there’s the biggest group and they resemble us: one person sitting on a folding chair in
front of a tent with a cooler. It’s a tailgate party for the weirdest football team you’ve ever seen! The infield at the start/
finish is a rainbow of tents and chairs and celebratory flags. If you’ve ever seen a movie version of King Henry V, imag-
ine the battle seen at the end and just squint your eyes. You’ll get the idea.

Most riders who’ve done this a while have a fairly standard encampment: One big walk-in tent – inside it a cot, some
chairs, and supplies organized for easy discovery. Outside the big tent, some kind of tarp or “EZ-UP” to provide shade.
Out here, some lounge chairs, the cooler, a small table for mixing, and maybe even a camp stove to heat soup.

The serious folks and their

buffed out Special Forces
teams have lights, stop watches, laptops, and veritable mobile bike shops ready for the worst en-
emy interdiction. Our little insurgency has the bike equivalent of a pup-tent with
a distracted watchman out front throwing treats to his scrawny little camp dog. That
being said, what we lack in glitz and muscle-flexing we make up with our zeal. Dennis is my
hero after all and Emma and I are here to show him some props. You go boy!

GETTING TO IT:: As the start’s appointed hour gets closer Dennis makes some final adjustments to his
“weapon” while I blunder around the cooler looking for something good to eat. Dennis takes off his plain red jersey and
pins his race number to the back. The race organizers have foregone all the digital electronic timing devices and gone
back to a simple, less glitchy system. Here, they simply punch a set of numbers already printed on the race-number and
call out the rider’s number to another volunteer with a clipboard. When riders complete a given section, race officials
tear that set of numbers off. It’s a good and practical solu-
tion.

The first loop of the race is 126.7 miles, making a big cir-
cle around the small towns and farm fields of Barry
County. The terrain is flat to mildly hilly, and this morn-
ing there’s an unquenched Sun keeping the riders
warmed up as they begin the circuit. There are three
checkpoints along this route where riders get their mile-
age verified and support personnel are allowed to meet
up with them. My job is to jump in the car and get to each
checkpoint just ahead of Dennis. This is a job, as I’ll dis-
cover, at the edge of my skill-set.

Another missive comes from the stage area: “Two min-

utes to the start.” Now the riders begin to gather in
bunches at the start/finish line. I ride with Dennis a lot

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 and I’m suspecting he’ll latch on to a group behind the leaders. He won’t stay at the front, but back in the pack
enough to gain some drafting benefit. The best riders will go full-on during this first leg. There’s some advantage to
putting as many miles behind you as possible early on. Dennis checks his pockets, sticks a banana in his shirt pocket,
and makes one last inspection of the Pinarello. For those of you who know Dennis he has a disclaimer for why a lowly
entrepreneur like himself owns the same bike you might find under Alejandro Valverde in the Tour. “Lest y'all think
I'm just totally loaded or a trust-fund kid, I've got to tell you about it. It's an '07 Pinarello Paris, Force group,
Easton ec-90 clincher wheelset plus an Easton sew-up Tempest II Carbon wheelset. I got it last fall from a US do-
mestic pro team when they cleared out last year's bikes. It had been raced, and there's a few nicks and scratches
on the frame. I paid $3,500 incl extra shifters, crankset, cassette, 2 chains, 2 BB, bar tape, etc. A pile of stuff. I just
happened to be in the right place at the right time.” We’ll also find out later all that bling is good for attracting
young riders of the female persuasion.

“One minute to start.” Now he moves about six rows back and settles in for the start. He’s a pretty intense person at
this point, choosing not to engage many people, even me, in conversation. He seems much more intent on some men-
tal preparation. When I asked him about his overall strategy for the race his response seems to mirror this. “It was
generally to 'ride within myself',” he says.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 GO: At ten seconds to

the start, the announcer counts it off, and
the whole crowd of onlookers joins in. At
“GO!” the pipers begin to play some Scot-
tish or Irish ditty - I can’t tell the differ-
ence - and the hoards of riders click into
their pedals heading out the driveway.
Dennis passes me by with nary a glance.
Only 23 hours 59 minutes and 30 seconds
to go.

You should know that Dennis comes to

this type of race honestly. He’s a sea-
soned athlete. He’s not quick to admit it,
but he took second place for his age
group in the state road race back in 2002.
This is not a lark for him. He understands
bicycle racing, knows his body, and
seems to understand its limits. This year
marks his twelfth run at the 24 Hour
Challenge. I was interested in how he got
started… “Back then the 24 HRC was the big annual ride of the Brickheads, (The Brickheads are a group of…shall
we say… “well-seasoned” riders from Traverse City. Brick Wheels is a local bike shop.) I hadn't started riding with
them on Sunday yet, but I heard about the 24 and entered. Rode with them till 60 miles when I got dropped. I
still had the most miles of the group with 193 that year. Just kinda kept coming back.” That is a terrific summing
up of Dennis’s personal perspective. I’ve ridden with him for three years now. He’s about 14 years older than me and
still manages to keep “coming back” enough to kick my butt and leave me in the dust most days.

With the riders off and pedaling, my only job now is to pack up a few things in the car, (remember the first parking
mistake,) and head to checkpoint one some 37 miles out. I pack up my 1990 Saab convertible with Dennis’s supplies,
some dog toys for Emma, my fixie, and a spare set of wheels for D’s bike. Before heading off I wait for the riders to
make their first pass of the school, this about nine miles into the ride. Emma and I stand by the side of the road and
cheer as Dennis zooms by about 50 riders back, but still in the lead group. He looks great. Later he’ll tell me the fact of
him being there, at this point in the face, is purely accidental and not part of his strategy.

By the time I get to checkpoint one, a school at some rural intersection, it’s already mayhem. The parking lot is loaded
and all the best spots close to the pass-through are taken. I find a good spot in the shade and prep a couple of large
bottles with Dennis’s performance concoction. Emma makes lots of friends and then happily curls up on the lawn

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Why would I do it again?

4
 “I always think about George
Watson when I think about
the 24Hr. George died in 1996
of a heart attack while riding
his MTB on the trails up at
Shanty Creek. He loved the
24Hr. He loved heading down
there with all the guys (used
to be 10-12 from up here)
George loved the camaraderie
and always thought 350 miles
was an attainable goal for me
even though he never did
much past 200 himself.
George would have loved this
fixed gear thing. I used to
take FGG#1 up to his house
in the early spring and he and
Ross and I would ride up to
Ellsworth and back and those
guys would totally trash me.
They'd be on $5k Kestrels, I
was on my $5 Fuji and I loved
every minute of it.”
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 Random Photos from Checkpoint #2

while I wait for my hero to show up. He’s dropped off the lead group and at first I think that I’ve missed him somehow.
Then he shows up with a small group of riders about ten minutes back. He’s pretty nonchalant as he pulls in, exchang-
ing the bottles, looking for a wrench to fix a squeaky headset and moving on with only a word or two.

Time to checkpoint #1 - 1 hour 51 minutes. (2007 split was 1:47)

The second checkpoint is more picturesque. It’s a small church with lots of trees and shade. By this point most of the
support personnel have developed convivial relationships and are sitting in chairs relaxing together.

The first riders in are all business at this point. They stop just long enough for the officials to check off their numbers,
grab a water bottle and off they go. Some of them wait for their small groups of cohorts. This seems to be a key tactic of
the high-mile riders. They always ride with a group, even if only two or three bikes.

Dennis comes in with a small group quite a ways back this time. But he’s looking good and feeling pretty confident. He
just grabs a banana, some liquid refills and moves on. The leg preceding this checkpoint is just past the first set of hills
and begins to take its toll on riders as evidenced by how far they’ve spread out.

Time to Checkpoint #2 - 4 hours 16 minutes. (2007 split was 4:26)

The third checkpoint at about mile 100, is in town but it’s 2 pm now and the Sun is at its highest. It
is hot. The checkpoint itself is in some parking lot with no shade. Those of us poor souls who’ve
chosen not to ride have a different sort of torture to deal with…. waiting in the heat. Emma decides
the minivan with the two big ice coolers looks more inviting than my Saab and quickly pours her-
self under the shade of the rear hatch. She gets rewarded by the owners with chips of ice.

Dennis is still having some problem with his bike and heads for the support tent. Each checkpoint
features a volunteer mechanic sitting a booth sponsored by a local bike shop. Between checkpoints
there’s not much help out on the course, but once you’re at the checkpoint the mechanics can pro-
vide just about anything but the strangest velo-esoterica.

When he gets to me, this time he takes off his helmet and has me douse him and his “do-rag” with water. I push a bottle
of water in his face hoping he’ll drink it plain, without all the goop, but he refuses. I also force an energy bar into his back
pocket. It’s squeezed in there with half a PB&J sandwich, “made with bad white bread. Good bread can’t hold up to the
squashing." That’s a free training tip from a master folks! Interesting to note here that Dennis hit the 100 mile mark right
at 6 hours both this year and in 2007. Not bad. In terms of his performance for the 100 mile opening ride, Dennis says,
"Most people ride that big loop conservatively, not wanting to burn up too much. I think perhaps having a Powertap and
knowing more about one's self, I'd bet I could have ridden the 1st 100 maybe 10% harder, which might be a key to getting
350."

Time to Checkpoint #3 - 6 hours Zero minutes (2007 split was 06:00 )

Checkpoint #4 is back to the start/finish and ends at 127.6 miles into the ride. Keeping in mind Dennis’s goal for this year
of 350 miles, this puts him about 2/5ths of the way. Here I get to set up at the tent and relax a bit. Dennis managed to

6
pitch the tent exactly at the start line, first tent in file. So my job now is just to sit here in plain sight of the long entry road
onto the school property and wait for him. From my vantage point there’s probably a mile of the course visible as it curls
in from the farm fields in the distance. One by one and two by two the riders come in. They enter on one side of the circu-
lar driveway in front of the high school, do a complete loop passing the start/finish, then exit at the same place they en-
tered the property. Enough riders are coming through now that it all resembles some large, slow-moving, machine. Gears
turning and grinding, with people like me with nothing much to do but run around providing the grease once in a while.

When the first loop is done riders start a sub-section covering some of the same ground. It’s 23.7 miles long. This segment
will stay open until just before dark when the bottom checkpoint is closed and the last loop engaged. This last section is 7.5
miles in length and is fairly flat. It’s referred to as the “night route,” and provides better security for riders but gets fairly
monotonous. So most riders work hard to get in as many of the second loops as possible before nightfall.
Dennis comes in all alone again. And he’s looking a little perturbed. “Give me a towel and some damned water,” he barks.
Yikes! I think. What happened? I figure somebody cut him off at a turn, or some car came too close, one of the usual com-
plaints. “That last bottle of energy drink didn’t have the lid tightened down and when I went to take a drink the
whole thing dumped on me.” There goes my career as a domestique! A minute later he’s more jovial and laughing as I try
to make amends by cleaning the Pinarello a bit. It’s a gooey mess too. Carbon and sugar don’t seem to mix all that well.
Other than the quick sponge bath, he doesn’t stop, just stands over the bike and quickly moves on.

Time to Checkpoint #4 (End of the big loop) - 8 hours 10 minutes (2007 Split 07:48)

As Dennis leaves, it’s ten after four in the afternoon. He’s out on his first of the 23.7 mile loops. Again, my job is just to sit
here and make sure he’s supplied well as he comes around. Looks like it’ll be about an hour and half before I see him
again. It’s here, while Dennis is still out on the course, that I get in trouble…or more precisely Emma does.

We’ve been sitting in the only shade I can find by a brick wall next to school under some smallish trees. It’s hot and
Emma’s just been lying on her blanket with her toy, “Lambie.” Let’s just say she’s way out on the cute scale about now.
Suddenly over the P.A. come this strident voice saying, “We have to enforce the rules of the 24 Hour Challenge and those
of you with pets on the premises must take them off the property immediately. It’s right there in the registration packet.
You are jeopardizing our ability to use this school property. You know who you are.” Crap! There are about ten of us with
dogs here. For the most part they’re all pretty quiet, and I imagine all just
as cute as Emma. But now they’re fugitives.

I’m stuck though. I can’t take her anywhere, we don’t have a hotel, and
there’s nothing close by. The Sun is still too high in the sky to put her in the
car. The tent is too hot. So I make a command decision to keep it on the
down-low and ignore the request for now. My neighbors in the next tent
are sympathetic. They actually offer to take another person’s dog to their
in-law’s house. Emma does me proud and just sort of disappears into the
landscaping for the next few hours. She’s tired anyway. I’ll wait for the Sun
to set and then put her in the Saab. I’m sympathetic to the race organizers
too and don’t want to make trouble for them, I’ve seen how hard they
work to put this thing on. My bad - guess I should’ve read the fine print!

Dennis returns from the first 23.7 mile loop in just over two hours.

Total time through this leg, - 10 hours 15 minutes. (2007 Split 09:34) he’s starting to run a bit behind. It’s now 6:15 PM.

He surprises me again when he comes back through and just rides right by, never even looking my way. What’s the strat-
egy here I wonder. “The three loops are pretty different. Obviously the big day loop is just a, well, a big ride. The goal
is to finish up in decent shape...somewhat. And it depends on the temperatures. Finishing up the 126 miles around
3:30 in the afternoon it's always hot. I always head right out onto the evening loop of 23 miles and get two of them
done, regardless of how I feel. It's always great when night comes and it cools off a bit.”

As an endurance athlete myself, I’m interested in how Dennis passes the time out on the road. Some people listen to tunes

7
 on their iPod, and I know he does this too. But even that noise
can’t stop your brain from working. In perfect form Dennis’ re-
sponse is no surprise, “Typically it's some mechanical or design
problem that will usually occupy my brain. Like how to design
a different propane burner for my kiln, or perhaps how to re-
organize the front page, (of the fixed gear gallery website.”) And
what about conversation? A 24 hour event is grueling and people
tend to conserve energy both physically and mentally, so talking is
sometimes difficult. Dennis has a solution and he’s sitting on it.
“It's always nice when a young woman starts up a conversation
with 'ya right? Well, TWO women did during the 24hr, though
unfortunately not about my terrific physique, but instead about
my Pinarello!! ~ ‘Oh, My God !!, that's my absolute dream bike
you've got.’ ~ I'll take a smile anyway I can get it.”

The loop he’s on now, the 23.7 miler, closes at 9PM. So as he heads
off, I know he’s only got time to make one more here. You have to
be through the bottom checkpoint by 8 PM or you don’t get credit
for those miles. Forty minutes into this section, my cell phone
rings and it’s Dennis. “Broke a spoke about ten miles in. Bring
the other wheels and meet me at the bottom checkpoint. Move
fast! I’ll creep in there as best I can.”

I grab the carbon Tempest wheelset along with Emma and hop in
the car as fast as I can. Technically I’m only allowed to provide support to Dennis at the checkpoint. So Dennis has to
make his way limping along with his wheel rubbing the front brake for seven or so miles. This is all for the safety of both
riders and support personnel. It wouldn’t be good for sup- port
vehicles to be stopping along the
side of the road

anytime a rider needed something. Too many opportunities for disaster on

roads open to all vehicular traffic. I keep this in mind as I make my way the 15
miles to the other side of the course. I carefully pass fifty or so riders along the way.
When I get there Dennis is standing in the shade talking to some folks. “The front (18 spoke)
was so taco'd it rubbed the pads even with the QR open. I rode about 3 miles at 7mph to the checkpoint
while Bill drove out here. I was crawling so slowly with that wonky wheel, that everyone passing me was, like –
‘hey, are you ok?’”

We quickly exchange both front and rear wheels and Dennis beats me out of the checkpoint. He shows up at the start/
finish an hour or so later at 8:15 pm.

Total time through the second 23.7 mile loop 12 hours 15 minutes. (2007 Split 11:35)

Amazingly, even with the technical problem, he manages to do this leg in the same time as the last one, 2 hours flat. I
imagine there’s some adrenaline reaction, but then there’s Dennis’s explanation: “….yes, those carbon wheels are
1300gm and surely make you feel like you're faster anyway.”

At this point the racers shift to the night course, a 7.5 mile route designed to keep the riders closer to home in the dark.
Here’s where it gets pretty monotonous for everyone involved. I keep myself occupied talking to neighbors and watch-
ing the other racers come through. It’s evident now that the time in the saddle and mileage is beginning to take its toll.
Many riders come through, getting off their bikes, and take a short break or even a nap.

The race organizers also provide a professional chiropractor who gives free adjustments on a couple of tables inside the
school. A lot of riders just get off their bikes and take a stroll. Some stop at their tents for a massage while grabbing some
real food. There are no two sets of strategies alike in this war of survival and attrition.

At one point late in the evening the P.A. guy makes a grim announcement. “The national weather service has issued a

8
severe thunderstorm warning for this area, including golf ball sized
hail. We’re going to keep our eyes open, and if the storm does hit us,
we’ll have to stop the race at that point. For the moment, proceed as if
it’s business as usual.”

Towards midnight or so the wind begins to blow wildly. There are tents
blowing across the field. Riders are ducking into tents, people running
into the school. It’s a Wizard of Oz moment, no doubt. Dennis comes by
and I tell him the news. “No shit, like I didn’t know that already!” An-
other point for the domestique. “Find my rain suit and get it ready, O.K.?” He
decides to keep riding. I tell him I’ll be in the car for a while, but will
check back.

The night loop is taking him about thirty to forty minutes to transit each
time. I think this is pretty good, especially considering the wind condi-
tions. Some of the high-mileage riders are running in small packs and are
getting split-times called out to them as they zig-zag through the start/
finish area still tucked into pace lines. “That was 22 minutes…go, go, go.”
It’s like some high-school track coach yelling at these fast-moving wraiths
on wheels. These are hard cores, and they will ride over 500 miles today.

The next time I see Dennis he’s visibly slowed down and stops for a quick
break, scouring the cooler for something edible. He doesn’t say much, just
sits in the chair and eats a few things, then mounts the bike and disap-
pears around the turn, red taillight flashing.

This point in the night is fascinating. It’s pitch dark out here, but all the
bikes have serious lighting gear on board. Some carry these huge expensive battery packs in the water bottle cage, others
have several cheap flashlights taped to the handlebars. One person has a vest that lights him up like some freak at the
Burning Man festival. But the vest does its job. You cannot miss him as he rides by. Dennis stopped at one point and in-
stalled his BLT Hi-Power FireWire 4.0 lighting system with a handlebar mounted battery.

Looking down the length of the entry road its an eerie sight as a straggly line of dim headlights approaches around the
curve, and right next to them, heading off in the opposite direction, scattered flashing red lights, blink, blink, blink, on
their way back out.

The rain finally comes about 1AM, but not too heavy. It cools things off and freshens the air. Seven hours to go.

I miss Dennis on one of his transits. I was probably getting a slice of pizza, or looking at the race photos from past years
in the school, or some other tough job like that. Let’s count this as the last straw against my domestique career.

I catch up to him an hour or so later at the tent. He comes in looking resigned, but not necessarily disappointed. Dennis
decides to park the bike for a while and get some shut-eye. I’m not sure if he means he’ll continue later or not. He ducks
into the little tent and I head back to the car where Emma and I curl up together for a few hours.

THE MORNING COMES: At seven AM, I get up with a start, grateful for a few hours rest, and run to the tent. The
Pinarello is still leaning against the fence, and the tent is zipped up. I can hear him milling around in there. He’s packing
up. “At around midnight I did some arithmetic and calculated my best total would be 309 or 314. Since I've done
over 300 miles six times, and it wasn't going to be a personal best, I punched out.” We both sit now talking and
watch the rest of the riders still on the course come streaming through. The pace-line boys are still at it. “Go, go, go, you
can do one more lap, go!” Others are riding no-hands through the checkpoint. Everyone gets huge applause from the
sleepy-eyed spectators. The P.A. guy is still announcing rider’s name, hometown, and total event mileage as they come
by. You can taste everyone’s excitement to finish this thing. And I do mean everyone.

One lesson for me here, and I’m not whining, is that it’s a difficult job for the crew too. I’m not as young as I once was
9
 and staying up for more than 24 hours is tough on me. I can see that if you
wanted to truly do well in this, you’d need at least a couple people in your
support team. They can’t do you much good when they’re sleeping in their
car or wandering around the encampment out of boredom. If I were to crew
this thing again, I’d want to emulate some things I saw other crews do.

• Have a big walk-in tent with decent lighting so you can find stuff.
• Have a shade-covering up front where rider and crew can sit.
• Bring more provisions for real food.
• Have a table that makes mixing and serving food more comfortable.
• Create a caloric intake schedule. (This comes from years running 26.2
mile marathons.)
• Create a predictable set of splits for every leg of the race and adjust if
necessary.
• Work more closely with the rider during training prior to the event.

The National 24 Hour Challenge is a great community event. Both effective and colorful. The organizers should be
proud of putting on such a well conceived and executed bike race. Take a peek at their website if you're interested in
riding in 2009. This year there were no fixed gear entries, but there have been in the past. There were also a smattering
of single-speeds, tandems, and recumbents as well.

Dennis finished the 2008 24 Hour Challenge with 239 Miles.

It was far short of his personal best and his goal for the year.

“Ok and what about that elusive 350 miles? Well, I need to be 10 pounds lighter and
I'd need to have ridden 5,000 miles from January through June….say 5th. Stay tuned to this channel and we'll see
if I'm able to do those 2 little things, eh?”

As we pack up the tent and the cooler I ask Dennis if he had some inkling as to his potential performance prior to the
start. “I think the first realization came a couple months ago when I knew I wouldn't have my old adversary, Dave Orr,
to humiliate this year. Maybe the Tour of Colorado was just too good to miss. (Dave Orr is a friend of ours from Trav-
erse City. He and Dennis have a long-standing and hilarious relationship that seems to revolve around their competi-
tive riding spirits.) “Seriously, I've just been doing too many other things this year. I simply didn't have the miles in
my legs to contend. 335 miles would have taken 1st in my age group too.”

When we talk about training Dennis references a book by Joe Friel, The Cyclist’s Training Bible. It’s based on his theo-
ries of Period Training. “Not enough space or time here to tell you about how I would set it up, suffice to say that
it generally uses one rest week per month, and starts with a base phase and works different skill sets right
through one or more target events. Next year?”

So seriously, what about next year? “Yes, I presume I'll do it again, though I'll "try" to map the season out properly
in October and set myself a weekly/monthly training schedule and "try" to keep with it. Remember the "Rule of
Two and A Half ?" - serious training, even at my level, is at least "a half." Last year I rode my rollers for at least an
hour every single day in January, and I was pushing 3,000 miles for the year by mid-June - even though I had
pretty much trained within the "Base 1 & 2" profiles.

Why would I do it again? I always think about George Watson when I think about the 24Hr. George died in 1996
of a heart attack while riding his MTB on the trails up at Shanty Creek. He loved the 24Hr. He loved heading
down there with all the guys (used to be 10-12 from up here) George loved the camaraderie and always thought
350 miles was an attainable goal for me even though he never did much past 200 himself. George would have
loved this fixed gear thing. I used to take FGG#1 (Dennis’s first fixed gear bike and #1 on the website,) up to his
house in the early spring and he and Ross and I would ride up to Ellsworth and back and those guys would to-
tally trash me. They'd be on $5k Kestrels, I was on my $5 Fuji and I loved every minute of it.”

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After regaling me with this story of how a great friendship encouraged him to seek higher levels of performance within
himself, Dennis looks me right in the eyes and says, “Next year… the 24 Hour Challenge… think you can hack it
Palladino?”

LG

REFERENCES:

National 24 Hour Challenge http://www.n24hc.org/

Brick Wheels http://www.brickwheels.com/

BLT Lights (NORCO) http://www.blt-lights.com/

Fixed Gear Gallery http://www.fixedgeargallery.com

All photos by Bill Palladino © Copyright 2008 Bill Palladino and FixedGearGallery.com. All rights reserved.

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