12 Hours of Lodi Farms - Solo

I cruised into camp after lap number 4, and before I could dismount Warhorse, Stew exclaimed, "Hey, your competition just packed up and went home...I even got a picture of him leaving!"

"What???  Did he wreck, have a mechanical issue???  Why???"

I felt a moment of happiness and triumph and I was only 4 hours 19 minutes into a 12 hour race.  The competitor I was most concerned over had just left the race and I was over a lap ahead of 2nd place.  Almost simultaneously, I felt another wave of emotion, but this one was lack of motivation to keep racing.  I lost my fury.

What was I going to do now for the remaining 7 hours and 41 minutes?


This scenario, like most, began on a cold winter day browsing through bike races on BikeReg.com.  As I scrolled down the page of races, I stopped on the 12 Hours of Lodi Farm in Fredericksburg, Virginia.

I had been hearing for several years how awesome the 12 Hours of Lodi (pronounced low-dee) Farms is from the folks I met from the DC Metro/Northern Virginia area.  Each year, while racing the 9 Hours of Cranky Monkey mountain bike race in Maryland, I would always hear of the greatness that is Lodi (again, pronounced low-dee) and that if I ever had the chance it was a "must-race" event.  Let me just say that definitions obviously vary greatly on what constitutes a "must-race" event.

The 12 Hours of Lodi, as the name implies, is a 12 hour race where teams of 2 or 3 riders, or solo riders, complete as many 9 mile laps as possible in the given 12 hours.  This race in prior years was run from midnight to noon, forcing racers to ride the large number of laps in the darkness.  This format was later changed from noon to midnight, and this year was changed to 10am to 10pm.

I homed in on this race because it had a clydesdale class (riders over 200 lbs.).  I'm trying to stay away from this class this year, but for a 12 hour race, I didn't think I could compete against the really skinny fellas, so clydesdale class it was.  My buddies Stew, Joe and Chris had joined forces as Team Angious Fury to compete in the 3 Man team class.

I was really looking forward to this race.  I wanted to shift to more endurance racing this year to build my strength toward better a better finish at the Hilly Billy Roubaix in June.  I even began cyber-stalking the competition on Strava to drive myself crazy in the months leading up to the race by looking at other racer's rides, average speeds, elevation profiles,etc...yeah, I know, it's a sickness.

The Friday before the race, we all made the 5 hour trek down to Fredericksburg to establish base camp and recon the course.  Joe and Stew had beaten Chris and I to the race venue by several hours and were preparing for a pre-ride of the course when we arrived.  From the directions provided in the registration information, it seemed easy enough to find, but without Joe and Stew's advice and the signs the promoter had put up, I'm sure we'd still be out there on east banks of the Rappahannock River wandering aimlessly in search of the race venue.

Camping was spartan, at best.  Three porta-johns were on the far edge of a circular field, but not much else.  The promoter was setting up the registration tents and timing station and a few other teams had set up camp beside us, but that was it.  We were warned to bring everything we may need and we were glad we did.

The team next to us gave us a warning the course was very technical and a full suspension bike was the tool for the job.  I looked around at the topography, and the small section of trail next to camp and assumed the "technical" portions of the trail were hiding out of site.  Joe and Stew returned from their pre-ride and gave me the report...the course was twisty with some roots, a few log crossings, and some short hills.  By West Virginia standards (Cooper's Rock, Valley Falls and Big Bear), the course was about a 3.5 on the technical scale of 1-10.

Race morning arrived, up and out of the tent, looking for coffee...the promoter promised pizza, beer, and coffee.  Well, I was advised the coffee would arrive around 11:30am...while I was racing...aghhhh!  Off to Sheetz or McDonalds!

After the coffee run, I walked over to register and the registration volunteer told me I was the first to register and asked me what number I wanted...well now, uhhh, let me think, how about number 1?  It was available and for the first time ever I was going to have the coveted number 1 number plate...what???...no number plate, OK, number 1 bib to pin to my jersey, that would be fine...what?!?!?, no bib either, OK, then what magical numbering device awaits me?  The volunteer handed a thin blue hair scrunchy, with a small metal tag with a paper circle containing the number "1" written in permanent marker.  This was to be my "baton" that would signify my number and I would display this to the timing officials at the end of every lap.  Crap...I really wanted a number plate with a big "1" on it.  I also received my number and category (SC...Solo Clydesdale) written on the back of my calves in permanent marker so those that riding behind me would know who I was and what category I was racing in.

Fast forward to 10am race morning...the race was postponed 15 minutes to allow racers travelling south on I-95 to make it to the race...there had been an accident on I-95 delaying traffic (big freakin' surprise) and folks were running late.

But 10:15 soon came, and the whistle blew to start the race.  The field of racers clumsily followed a pace bike through a prologue section of trail to prevent a huge cluster of racers entering the woods at one time and piling up on each other.  After the half mile prologue, we came out of the woods, past the timing tent, and the race was on.

Everyone pegged it and I latched on to the back of the lead pack running in the top 20.  Stew and Joe weren't kidding, this trail was twisty.  It wasn't long before some of the riders in the lead pack started falling off the back of our train.  I passed when I could and after 10-15 minutes of riding, I looked back to see barren trail.  Apparently, the rest of the field was way behind already.  I was trying hard to keep my heart rate down on this first lap, but still get a good gap on any other racers in my class so I could have some breathing room on the many laps to follow.

The course was ridiculously twisty and turny, and yes, there were roots everywhere, but they were not an issue in the dry conditions.  My buddy Stew described the course design brilliantly.  Imagine if someone threw spaghetti noodles up in the air and they landed on a map...the resulting mess was the trail system...by the end of the first lap, I realized he wasn't far off the mark.

I rolled into the timing area, gave them my number, and was off for lap 2.

Pedal, pedal, pedal, brake, pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal, brake, pedal, brake, brake, brake, pedal, pedal, brake, brake, log crossing, pedal, brake, pedal, brake, pedal, pedal, brake...I think you get the picture.

This was the routine.  No real place to coast or rest.  The turns were so tight, you couldn't roll through many of them without hitting the brakes, the downhills were short, the uphills were short, the straight sections were very short.  This course was not suited to my style of riding.  I ride similar to how a freight train operates.  I like to get moving, and stay moving, only slowing or stopping when absolutely necessary.  Stop-and-go traffic is not my strongsuit.  It takes way too much energy to accelerate over and over when you're a bigger rider, but no time to whine, this is what I signed up for, so time to just suffer through it.

It wasn't long until I was rolling through the timing tent, stop long enough so the volunteers could record my number and time, then off for a second lap.  I was finally warmed up and rolling pretty easily.  I was getting used to the choppy riding style needed for this course and began to find the limits of my tires through the tight rooty turns.  I kept an eye on my heart rate and it was well under usual race pace...this was intended, but the nature of the twisty-turny course helped keep the heart rate to an all-day level.

Lap 2 was in the books, checked in with the timing officials and off to camp to grab a pb&j sandwich, shotgun a Pepsi, fill up the camelbak and back onto the trail.  I learned I had enough GU Roctane in my Camelbak to fuel 2 laps and stay well-hydrated, so I carried just enough gels and energy chews to get me through.

Just for the record, GU Energy is a sponsor of Consol Energy Racing for its second year.  I race well on GU Energy products, and have found Roctane to be my go-to for my drink mix...it has caffeine, slow-burning carbs and agrees with my system, but even if they weren't a sponsor, I would use Roctane...it's just that good!

Laps 3 and 4 were uneventful, a little slower, but not much.  I pull into camp after lap 4, and this is where our story picks back up.  Stew just informed me my competition left the race, I stand around in disbelief, but eventually prepare myself for another 2-lap outing.

As I check in after lap 5, I see CER teammate Joe Sheets waiting for Stew to come in from his lap.  So, I chat with him for a second, check my splits at the timing table and learn that I most likely have the Clydesdale class cinched up.

Stew blazes in from his lap, and Joe is off on his third lap.  I latch on to Joe's wheel and hope to follow him as far as possible to regain some speed and motivation to stay in this race.  Joe is riding well and I have trouble to stay with him but manage to get the legs firing again and stay with him.  For the remainder of the lap, Joe and I trade leads on the course.  I find out that Joe was also using me for motivation, and both our laps were faster for it.  That lap with Joe stands as one of my all-time favorite race experiences.

We both roll in to the timing station together and Joe checks in first so he can send Cyborg Jones out for another hot lap.  Jones looks at me for a split-second thinking I'm going to ride with him on a lap...fat chance for that though.  I wore myself out keeping up with Joe so there was nothing in the tank for a sub-1 hour lap.

I roll back to camp with Joe, worn out, dirty, sweaty, but content.  I take my time to eat, fill up my Camelbak, stretch my sore back, and finally sit down in a chair.  This would prove unwise.  I sat there for over 30 minutes and getting back up was more than a chore.

Back out for laps 7 and 8.  Lap 7 was tolerable and the muscles still felt OK.

Lap 8 was tough.  I was no longer able to power through the really rooty stuff with any speed and as a result, I felt EACH and EVERY bump.  By mile 5, I decided this would be the last lap...there was no need to abuse myself anymore.  I had won Clydesdale class by 4 laps and was running 3rd overall among all the solo riders.  I didn't have the legs to catch the two solo racers ahead of me and if there were other riders behind me that wanted to go out for another lap, that was fine with me.

I finished the lap, stabled Warhorse for the night, got cleaned up and out of the clothes I had been wearing all day, and walked back to the timing tent to check the standings and start an hours-long pizza binge.

As I stuffed my face with pizza, I was able to watch fellow CER teammates, Joe and Stew, who were racing  with our buddy Chris from Dynamic Physical Therapy Cycling's Chris.  Their team, Angrious Fury, was battling it out for 3rd place.  They had been moving between 3rd and 4th for many laps and Chris came in off his last lap with a 6 minute lead.  Stew blazed out for his last lap with the intent to keep as much of the six minute lead as possible.

He did just that...through the darkness we could see the headlight of a rider coming in fast and as we strained our eyes to make out the rider, we all realized it was Stew riding triumphantly toward us, and Angrious Fury had secured 3rd place.

We all waited around for the remaining racers to come off the course, then awaited our turn to hear our names called by the official with our official placings.

Up first in the awards were overall solos, so I walked up, shook hands with the promoter, congratulated the competition, and walked over to the prize table to see what magnificent reward awaited for my 72 mile effort.  Hmmmm, I picked through all of the options...jerseys, pumps, taillights, nutritional items, random bike parts...OK, hard to decide, so I scanned for the newest-looking items on the table and settled on some handlebar grips.  $20 handlebar grips. I've since decided the handlebar grips will reside in my trophy case as my award for all my effort.

It was a great day on the bike for me and my other CER teammates.  It was a grass-roots race that is in its 17th year, and I was happy to have thrown my hat in the ring.  I can't promise I'll be back anytime soon since it's over 5 hours away, but I won't rule it out either.

As I'm finishing this long-overdue blog post, I've learned to appreciate the races that go well, because some absolutely don't...but that's a story for another post, so stay tuned.


Special thanks to Aaron Spicer Photography for sharing some of his great shots!  Click here to view his Lodi album.