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SPONSORS 2007 |
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RAAM summary
As promised, I will try to tell you what occurred during this insane race. The race report is relatively long, but it took me only 13 minutes to read it. If one compares with the 12 days that took me to cross the USA on a bike, I think that it is a good bargain for you. Moreover, with all that it occurred during these 12 days, I could easily have written a book of 300 pages. So now, it is your turn. Attention, 3... 2... 1... 0!
I have just crossed in my support van the Del Memorial Bridge in New Jersey (prohibited to the riders), and I’m getting ready to get back on my bike for what seems to be a “promenade de santé” of 50 miles until Atlantic City, town of arrival of the Race Across America 2007. After all, what represents 50 miles when one has just made nearly 3,000 miles in 12 days through the United States, riding in the deserts of California, climbing the mountains of Colorado, crossing the high plains of Kansas, the numerous rollers of the Midwest and the steep walls of the Appalachian Mountains, standing temperatures from +110 ºF to +40 ºF in a few hours, avoiding the constant traps that offer the road like the potholes, the debris, the trucks and the raccoons!, sleeping finally only a few hours in the motels or on the side of the road. I tell to myself at this moment that these 50 miles will just be like an easy Sunday ride, a “piece of cake”, that the hardest part of the race is over and that nothing wrong can happen to me anymore. After all, I feel good physically, the weather is nice, and I have 3h to do it, with an average thus of 16.5 mph. My dream to finish the RAAM as a solo rider, the hardest bike race in the world (No, it’s not the Tour de France!), is on the way to be carried out after 3 years of effort. What I don’t know yet is that the dream is about to become a nightmare. These 50 miles will be probably for me the hardest mentally of the entire race. As for my team which is in the van behind me, they are about to live the most stressful 3 hours of this adventure.
For the 3rd time (2nd time in solo), I find myself on the starting line of the RAAM. After my DNF (Do Not Finish) in 2005, and in spite of a great 2nd place in a 4-man team the following year, I know that this year I cannot fail, and that I must give it all to cross the finish line in Atlantic City. My winter training went very well, the crew team is experienced and ready, the sponsors were all lined up in time, and my family for the 1st time will join me in this adventure. In short, all the lights are green when I start riding my bike in Oceanside, Ca for a 3,042 miles grueling journey through the USA. However, the RAAM, like the Everest or the Vendée-Globe Challenge for example, is one of these very rare sporting challenges where no one can predict what’s going to happen, even the best specialist in the world. There are so many different parameters to manage, that a simple grain of sand at the beginning of the challenge can become insurmountable after a few days and can lead to a DNF. But it is what makes also all the charm of this kind of extreme challenge. It is in the difficulty that we really know what we’re made of, and the RAAM is conceived to push the competitors to their extreme limit, and even beyond at times. I am aware of that when I ride the first meters of the race, but I am ready and I rely on my team.
The 1st day of the race goes very well, thanks to a great weather and a temperature in the Californian desert lower than 110ºF. I decided, in agreement with the team, to ride fast and to accumulate a maximum of miles during the first days. I feel great, and it is a treat for me and the crew team which follows me to ride in a beautiful landscape of desert and canyons. In spite of several stops to eat, I manage to ride 340 miles the 1st day and this without any sleep. I am in 13th place out of 30 solo riders. My team is very happy because, contrary to 2005 when I had ridden only 280 miles and was 24th out of 26 solo riders, this year they see me actually "doing" the race, and not a randonnee.
However, the 1st big difficulty of the race, located after Congress, AZ, called Yarnell grade, a pass of 6 miles at 6%, is coming up. I decide to take my first sleep break before the pass because in 2005 I completely blew up during the climb. It was a wise decision because I climb up the pass without any problem, and I climb down immediately towards Prescott, AZ. After a 2nd sleep break at the end of the night in Flagstaff, AZ, and after having ridden 233 miles for the 2nd day, we move towards Utah and the famous Monument Valley
As in 2005, we have the chance to cross Monument Valley during the daylight. It is an imposing landscape that one can never forget. Rob, the crew chief and team doctor, takes benefit of this amazing view to take a picture of Estelle and me which will be eventually published at the beginning of August in the newspaper "Improper Bostonian", in the hope of publicizing the fundraising project. The 3rd day goes without problem while riding 250 miles, which will bring us at the bottom of the Rockies in Colorado, and the famous Wolf Creek Pass, higher pass of the race culminating at 10,857 feet.
8 miles at 7%, here is very simplified my problem with Wolf Creek pass. In 2005, it took me nearly 3 hours, in the middle of the night and with a sluggish pace to make it to the top. In 2006, because of respiratory problems, I had not ridden 1 yard, leaving to my teammates the “privilege” to climb up the "beast". This year, I arrive at the bottom of the pass at the end of the day where the entire team waits for me, knowing that it is an important moment. The weather is very nice, and the colors in the pass are splendid. I ask Estelle to make an interview at the beginning of the climb, taking advantage of the imposing landscape and the still gentle slope. Everyone is hyped up and encourages me, knowing that this time I have the legs. Indeed, after only 1h20', I arrive at the top of the pass. All the team and I are very pleased, to have finally overcome Wolf Creek. With our surprise, we meet at the top Michelle Grainger, a pro cyclist who finished RAAM in 1990. She gives us invaluable advices, especially on how to deal with saddle sores that starts to bother me.
The rest of Colorado goes without too many problems, by paying attention to manage the sleep, the food intake, and especially taking care of the saddle sores. I ride 225 miles the 4th day and climb up 2 other big passes of the race, La Veta Pass (9,413 feet) and Cuchara Pass (9,995 feet) without problems. The descent of Cuchara while going towards Trinidad is for me an emotional time. Indeed, it is on this portion of the road that Bob Breedlove, veteran and a RAAM legend, had an accident and died in 2005. It is mainly because of this accident that I had decided to give up this same year. A memorial exists now at the site of the accident. In 2006, I had not seen it, but this year I pay attention not to miss it. I make all the descent at a moderated pace when suddenly, I see on the side of the road a white cross with an inscription in red. After having a thought for Bob, I continue riding towards the East of Colorado and the next state to be crossed, the very boring Kansas and his high cereal plains as far as the eye can see.
The crossing of Kansas is in general synonymous with head-wind or cross-wind. Luckily, it does not blow or a little this year, but the road remains terribly monotonous, absolutely flat and straight for miles and miles, interrupted with water towers from time to time. After 5 days of race, it is very hard to be motivated in riding in that brutally boring landscape, and for the first time I feel down. While arriving at Mullinville, KS at sunset (TS#25), my team gets angry at me. They are frustrated to see me slowing down and wasting an invaluable time to get back on the bike after a sleep break. The explanation is violent and allows me to “wake up". I ride almost all the following night, with only a 30 minutes nap in the early morning. While arriving on the highway which goes to El Dorado, KS (TS#28), I recognize the site where I had decided to give up in 2005. Wanting to do something “special” and to restart nicely my unfinished business 2 years ago, I decide to accelerate and literally to do a 25 miles time trial. My average speed goes up to 25 mph until, while taking the exit, I see the following van of Jean-Marc Velez, the other Frenchman of the race. From this moment, I give it all in order to finish in front of him at the Time Station. I passed him with less than 1 mile to go, riding at nearly 31 mph. I never rode that fast since the start of the race. While arriving in El Dorado, I am hyped up because I rode 290 miles this 6th day, we passed the half way point of the race, I find myself in the 12th place, I will join my family this evening, and more importantly I feel very good physically. Unfortunately, all the good things often come to an end, and mine will be brutal.
I finish my ride across Kansas (Yay!) at the beginning of the night after having passed Fort Scott (TS#30). It is there that I meet Anne-Cecile, my wife and Damien, my son (Estelle being with me since California). The emotion is intense, but we don’t have much time because the clock does not stop. The night is very difficult and I have a very tough time to keep my eyes open. After a 2 hours stop in the early morning, I set out again to ride across the rollers in Missouri. The day goes well, and after having ridden through Jefferson City and seeing the Capitol, I arrive at sunset in Marthasville, MO (TS#34), feeling good and in 13th place. After a good meal, I set out again with the hope to ride well during the night. However, quickly I don’t feel well; my mind is very confused, and I have delusional thoughts, mixing dream and reality. I ride very slowly, trying to sort things in my messed brain. The hours go on and my situation is worsened. I stop twice in the middle of the night to sleep in the van, because I know that only the sleep can help me getting through this. Unfortunately, the debt of sleep is too important, and 20 miles before Greenville (TS#36), I collapse on the side of the road, incapable of going further. Fortunately, Rob, the team doctor, called by a crew member, arrives quickly, and places an I.V perfusion. Twenty minutes later, I set out again painfully towards Greenville where a motel room awaits me for 3 long hours of sleep. When I set out again, I feel much better and this feeling of living an awakened nightmare is forgotten (for a while!). However, I lost 5 hours during this incident, and also the contact with the other solo riders. I find myself at the back of the pack, but I was so close to a DNF that I put into perspective my place in the general rank.
The next day, I cross the end of Missouri, Illinois, and arrive in Indiana while having ridden 280 miles, much better than the 210 miles of the day before. In Indianapolis, I have the great pleasure to pass the last cut-off of the race with 6 hours to spare. Now there is only 800 miles to go, after having ridden a little more than 2,200 miles. Unless a catastrophe occurs, and in spite of the Appalachian Mountains to be crossed, I feel relatively good and confident about my chances to finish the race before the deadline. Unfortunately, nothing is ever acquired in a race as long and grueling as the RAAM, I soon will learn it with much pain.
I set out again of Indianapolis after a 3 hours rest and ride very well until the moment I arrive in Ohio. From relatively flat, the road becomes tougher with a succession of never-ending rollers which hurt the legs very badly. I start to feel some pain in my left thigh. More hours and miles later, and in spite of the care of our Massage Therapist Deb, the pain worsens and it is with anxiety that I arrive in Parkersburg, VA (TS#46). There is less than 500 miles to go before Atlantic City, but there are now the Appalachian Mountains to cross. On the contrary of the Rockies, the Appalachian Mountains are successive short hills but very steep, and with only one valid leg, the task is likely to be very complicated. I cross Virginia State painfully, by stopping several times to “limit the damage”, and the entire team set up a meeting on the parking lot of a mall in La Vale, MD, Time Station #50, at the bottom of the hardest stage, with no less than 4 steep hills to be passed.
Against part of the team which was afraid of my reactions, Rob, the crew chief, tells me that, based on my average speed during the last 12 hours (7 mph), I would not arrive in Atlantic City, 310 miles away, before Saturday midday. That means that I won’t be an official finisher, but also that 2 members of our team will have to leave the race early because they have to take their flight for France in Boston Saturday evening. I set out again of La Vale while thinking about Rob has just said to me. And I conclude that I have only one choice: to ride as fast as I possibly can, in spite of only one leg in “working order", since the left leg is unusable, at least in the mountains. Either the right leg holds up in the steep hills which follow and I am likely to arrive before the deadline (Friday evening) in Atlantic City, or it does not hold up and I would have to give up, and we will all be in Atlantic City Thursday evening. When I arrive at the bottom of the first hill, I found a good rhythm, but I’m anxious about this first difficulty. I climb up the hill in zigzag to save my right leg, because the slope is so steep. I am almost sure that the leg will not hold up, but with much encouragement from the entire team and in spite of the rain which now falls, slowly I managed to get to the top and climb down immediately on the other side. That first climb gives me confidence, and against all odds, I patiently manage to climb up the other hills of this section. Finally, there might be a slight chance that I can finish the RAAM before the deadline and I continue to ride on during the night, without any sleep. I arrive in the early morning in Pennsylvania, in the Amish country where, exhausted, I give myself a 10 minutes nap on the side of the road. There is only left now no more than 110 miles to be done in 6h, with an average speed of 18.5 mph. Not that obvious, but luckily the wind pushes me in the right direction. I ride the next 60 miles averaging 19.5 mph, and I arrive at the Del Memorial Bridge in New Jersey that I crossed inside the van, the bridge being prohibited to the riders.
The last 50 miles are completely flat, the weather is perfect, and I have 3h to do it, with an average speed of 16.5 mph. All seems to be on my side to finish the RAAM with a flourish. I start out this last straight line confident and happy to finish the race, with the support of my incredible team. Unfortunately, as in Missouri, after a few miles, my mind becomes quickly very confused, probably by the lack of sleep of the last 24 hours and the accumulated stress. I can’t think straight, and I am completely unable to realize what is going on. That occurs at the worst moment because time is now really limited and therefore it is out of question of stopping. At one time, I turn right without any reason, whereas I should have continued straight. The team which follows in the support van stops me and asks me why I turned. I didn’t have any idea. A little later, I see a Mac Donald restaurant, and I go straight to it, knowing that the last Time Station is a restaurant of this company. I stop in the parking lot and my team comes towards me, telling me that unfortunately it is not the good one. During a good part of these 50 miles, I didn’t stop telling my crew, through the 2-way radio, that we were lost, that we had already passed by there. They had hard time to convince me that we were on the right direction. Fortunately, in spite of my total incoherence and many stops, I was still able to ride at a good pace. Finally, after 2h49' of intense stress for my team, and of extreme confusion for me, we arrived at the access ramp of the highway which goes to Atlantic City, official place of the finish line of the Race Across AMerica 2007.
The relief at this moment is intense for everyone but is contained, because the stress of this last day was very important, and we don’t realize yet that it is over, that we succeeded. We will have to wait until the final banquet a few hours later, with the publication of the results by the RAAM officials, and the photograph of the entire team taken behind the banner indicating my time, to realize what we have just done. My official time will be thus 12 days 5 hours and 34' to ride the 3,042 miles from Oceanside, Ca to Atlantic City, NJ. Even if I were alone to pedal, I could never have realized my dream without the devotion of my team. I would like here to thank from the bottom of my heart Rob, Jerome, Herve, Deb, Thierry, Fred, Christian, Sylvie, Anne-Cecile, Estelle and Damien. Those who gave me financial support to make this adventure a reality must also find here the recognition which is due: Axel Johnson, ISAC, Treestar, Coherent, Becton-Dickinson, Cytek, Wheelworks, Avis and the French Consulate in Boston. Moreover, it was a real honor to raise money on their behalf; May Partners In Health and Nashoba Learning Group find the means of their ambitions. I also thank John McClellan, whom I regard as my American brother, for his constant help and support over these 3 years. Lastly, nothing would have been possible without the support of my family, thank you very much, Anne-Cecile, Estelle and Damien.
Finally, a big thanks to you all who had supported me throughout these 3 years, and who has had the courage to read this race report until the end. But don’t go away now, because the next adventure is already planned! The next year will be the year where I will participate to the Ironman triathlon in Arizona in April, in order to try to qualify for the Ironman World Championship in Hawaii in October. And the RAAM in the solo division is planned again in 2009!!!
My very best regards to all,
Patrick www.patrickautissier.org
PS: A first short video has been posted on the website, the pictures are posted on the website as well, and you will find here a summary in figures of my race.
Pps: The fundraising for Partners In Health and Nashoba Learning Group will finish December 31, 2007. So it is still time to give. |
