Countdown to Landahl

In just a few hours, hearty souls (and more than a few crazed lunatics) will take the field for the start of the second annual 24 Hours of Landahl. This will be my fourth ‘round-the-clock event in the last 7 years and I’m still looking forward to it. I cut my teeth in the muddy trenches of Snowshoe in ’01 (and subsequently swore off racing, biking and anything to do with water and/or dirt) only to head to Moab the following year to do the duo pro category. Five years later and I’m still finding sand.

Needless to say, those two experiences—hell and high water—gave me pause. For several years, I just figured the race organizers were either crazy or sadistic. Or both.

Then there was last year at Landahl. Sweet, flowing, wooded singletrack that wasn’t covered in sand bogs and hadn’t been submerged for three weeks? I was, in a word, stunned. Flying around on my third lap in the dark with my lights fading quickly, I was giddy.

“This is awesome!”

And indeed, the event, the support and the course were awesome. Granted it did rain and the resulting mud was testing, but as I sit waiting for the race tomorrow, I’m quite looking forward to it.

Preparation for the race has been much simpler this year, too. And I have a good feeling our team is going to win our category. Primarily because we’re the only Homer’s registered for the Clydesdale class, but still. Honestly, this is one of the first times I’ve been worried about losing too much weight before a race. Fortunately, my trainers, Ben and Jerry, have helped me out.

Beyond training, just getting the gear set before the race has been loads simpler. In part, this is because I still have my checklist from last year. But mostly, it’s because most of my camp gear has remained untouched in my garage since the day I got back from last year’s event. As I went to move my cooler, it was heavier than expected. “Hmm. I wonder what I left in there?”

Turns out: two bags of ice. For a year.

“That’s not good,” I said to no one in particular. It is perhaps a testament to the initial cleanliness of the cooler that there wasn’t a new species of life living in there after all this time.

Funky cooler cooties aside, it’s going to be a good race.