Red Bull Timelaps 2019

It was about 8:00 in the evening that I realised the Red Bull Timelaps wasn’t going to be the joyful team bonding experience I had expected. It had rained since the start, with wind that was so strong I was literally taken out by a flying gazebo before I’d even completed registration.

I’d just finished my second stint and darkness had well and truly fallen as I came in. Large parts of the event site had quickly disintegrated into a mud soaked shoe sucking hellhole and as I shivered in the pit lane shelter I couldn’t face the trudge back to the tent we’d pitched in the camping area that had all my lovely dry clothes in it.

I sipped gratefully from the hot tea clutched in my cold hands and tried really hard to not think about the fact that we still had seventeen hours to go. I’d expected to feel like this about five in the morning, I had never imagined I’d be feeling this bad this early in the event.

‘Hey, guys, we’ve still got seventeen hours to go!’ someone piped up from the darkness on the other side of the tent.

I thought long and hard about throwing my thermos of tea at them.

Much much earlier….

We’d done the Red Bull Neptune Steps earlier in the year and had a ball, with some slick organisation and a unique challenge delivering an experience that was very short and sweet. The Red Bull Timelaps was a different beast – proudly proclaiming itself as the worlds only 25 hour long 24 hour race, it takes place on the weekend the clocks go back meaning each team has to race the hour from 1-2 twice. With the EU scrapping daylight savings time (and Britain likely to follow suit) in 2021 there are potentially only a couple of chances left to take place in this race.

A tactical wrinkle is added by the ‘hour of power’ – at the second the clocks go back, a special shorter course is opened on which every lap counts for double. If you arrive seconds too early you have no option but to go round the standard, nearly 7k, course again, losing precious laps all the while.

There were 224 teams, nearly 900 competitors and a liberal sprinkling of pros (bike and triathlon) dotted around. Make no mistake, this is a hardcore event; ‘the Glastonbury of endurance riding’ as Steve, one of our team may have described it.

James from my tri club pulled together three teams – two equal ‘A’ teams of awesome if rabidly competitive animals and a third that was less focused on crushing everyone and thing in front of it. I gratefully slipped into the third team as the weakest cyclist even there. With a few weeks to run, Matt my younger brother joined a team from his tri club, so it was going to be good to have a few friendly faces there.

‘For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned’

-Benjamin Franklin

With 12 people in 3 teams racing for 25 hours, the logistics were going to be complicated. We met a couple of weeks before the event and discussed how the race would play out. We quickly talked through how we would get everyone out and around for hour long stints so we all got to see the course in daylight, then possibly switch to longer turns as the night fell to allow people to rest, then maybe shorten up again once we started to tire the following morning. The logistics, however, quickly turned into a huge challenge as we started to list out what we thought we needed. In the end, just the share items (excluding bikes, clothes, gels etc) looked like this:

• Gazebo x3 for the pitlane
• Tent for sleeping
• Camp beds x5
• Camping Chairs x10
• Camp Lights x4
• Camping Stove x2
• Fold out Kitchen
• Kettle + table
• saucepan
• Tea, Coffee, Squash, Sugar, Soft Drinks
• Pot Noodles, porridge, super noodles, dehydrated curries
• Bacon + rolls for the morning
• Power packs x 6
• Track Pump x 2
• Ear plugs
• Tools
• White board (to track next rider and expected ride time for each team)
• Bike Rack x 8
• Luggage trolley
• Coolbox/bag
• Workshop Stands
• Turbo
• Bin bags

Fortunately everyone chipped in and we quickly knew where everything was coming from, and at least had a vague idea how we were going to get it there. However, we quickly realised we might need some help just keeping track of things. One of the team had done the event before and they had a soigneur; he reckoned it made a huge difference by just lifting some of the mental load from exhausted riders. We put a call for help out to the tri club; we decided to try for two so they could also have some rest or nap time and astoundingly quickly Kate and Michaela offered to give up their entire weekend to support us.

As the weekend approached, the weather forecast steadily worsened, and I panic bought a pair of overshoes and a couple of extra pairs of bib tights – it would turn out to be the best decision I’ve made in a long time.

Some of the team packed hot water bottles, but didn’t mention anything to the rest of us. I’m definitely not bitter about their lack of communication around this.

I packed the car the day before. There was so much stuff going in there I knew it would be like a jigsaw puzzle, so wanted to think it all through. I pretty much filled a seven seater car with tent, camp beds, chairs, stoves, food etc, and had to plan to wedge all my kit in the gaps left.

Race day

I’d promised to give Matt a lift but warned him I didn’t have much room for personal gear. I don’t think he believed me until I turned up at his – on the plus side by the time we’d wedged our sleeping bags, changes of clothes and coats in there nothing was going to move as we drove in.

I did honk a massive motorhome as it shot through a stop sign without slowing in Windsor, forcing me to brake sharply and the pile of gear behind me to groan threateningly. Spotting the Giant race bikes on the back we were unsurprised as we followed it all the way to the event car park – something that took a lot longer than expected as the wet ground appeared to be making parking up harder.

Red Bull clearly anticipated issues and had asked competitors to arrive in timed slots – with our arrival time scheduled for 8:00 am and the race not starting until 12, we had plenty of time so we relaxed as we inched forward in the queue. Brilliantly, James came and found us and told a marshal he had a space for us, sliding a cone aside and parking us right near the camping area behind two of our other team cars.

Registration was painless (although you did need to have the whole team present) and we were issued with race numbers, individual timing chips and branded socks. Soon as a team we were unloading and building our gazebos in the transition area – with three teams registered together we had 3 3mx3m areas which we were quickly making full use of. The luggage trolley was worth it’s weight in gold.

Race start

At 11:45, Russell made his way to the start; as our ‘Rider 1’ he had been given the job of not getting swept away with the excitement of the race start. Although the first two laps were motor paced, one of our other teams watched in hilarity and dismay as Steve then buried himself riding with the fastest chain gang for a lap or two, but he checked his heart rate and backed off before doing any real damage to himself.

At 11:55 Russell was back in the pits with a flat rear tire and James was sprinting to take his place on the start line.

This was a real issue for all over the weekend as we had over twenty punctures between the three teams and I understand one other group abandoned after having seven punctures in the first two hours. This also cut down on the rest the team got – not knowing when someone would roll in with a flat meant that as soon as the rider before you went out, you had to be dressed and ready to go, usually in something less warm, if more breathable.

The wind did not relent, but at 12:00 precisely as the bikes started to roll it also started to rain.

As rider four I had quite a wait before my first turn – not as long as it should have been as James also rolled in early with a puncture. As I rolled out almost immediately a huge group buzzed past doing 40 something kph and rider after rider swung past and in with less than an inch clearance to sides and front. I suspect this is not a race for nervous riders.

The road we were riding on was gravelly, and I understand had been freshly resurfaced which combined with the rain probably contributed to the number of mechanicals. On my first lap I counted seven riders fixing punctures at the roadside. We had been warned about a steep downhill into a chicane; this turned out to be something you could take flat out if you were confident and turned in for the following left hand corner late rather than on the ropy bit of road surface, but the other steep descent where fields opened out at the fastest point caused riders with deep aero wheels more trouble. The biggest issue on both parts was when other riders did something unexpected, especially once it got dark.

There were a couple of glorious sweeping bends that could be taken fast and wide and a number of short but savage climbs, some of which looked a lot easier than they actually were.

I was frustrated by how hard I had to work while out for the first ride – it was only after checking everything else I thought to check my tire pressures – 40psi instead of the 100 I usually ride with at the back may have had something to do with the draggy feel of the bike.

At this point, our super soigneurs were already proving their weight in gold. Or carbon, more relevantly. As each rider rolled in, exhausted from thrashing around for an hour, they would find their warm clothes, get them sorted with hot drink and food and made a careful note on a whiteboard of who had just left, when they had left and when they were due in, and who was next. As puncture after puncture hit we would often get a yell from a rider racing past on the start finish straight:

‘Lewis is on the way in and needs to borrow a bike’

The long transition lane gave us a chance (usually) to get things ready and fire the rider back out again, or line up the next rider hastily shedding coats and hats and pulling on gloves and helmets.

As it started to get dark, the temperature started to fall rapidly….

Nightfall

Obviously, once it was fully dark we had fresh challenges to deal with; front and back lights were mandatory but even with what can only be described as light cannon on most of the bikes the loss of depth perception and concerns about suicidal deer and pheasants made me very glad we’d all had a chance to familiarise ourselves with the course. Thankfully, as twilight eased in it finally stopped raining, which meant we could be dry in between rides – providing we could muster up the self discipline to actually change out of our sweaty kit rather than just bundling up in coats and eating some food.

Some of the marshals were insanely brilliant – one young lady at the top of a hill about halfway round was shouting encouragement at every single rider each time I went round, and we all mentioned her incredible enthusiasm and stamina. I was pleased when she reappeared about ten in the morning and I was able to tell her she’d made a massive difference as I whizzed past.

I also continued to pass riders with endless punctures; changing a flat in the middle of a wood in the dark is no easy task even if you stand yourself next to one of the lights being used for event signage. At points it seemed like an upside down bike was the official logo as no sign could be seen without one.

Riding the course at night was no harder, but I did struggle with reading my Garmin and was surprised to discover that without daylight I often couldn’t remember which gear lever does which. My power meter had been giving me stupid numbers all day, so it was actually a bit of a relief to ignore everything but what was shining in my front light beam and the trail of red lights I was chasing.

There was always another rider in view, and often it looked amazing, although the highlight had to be the part of the forest that the organisers had flood lit in alternating green and purple. It was a genuinely spectacular surprise the first time round in the dark and always something to look forward to as it meant you were about to hit the big drop, only leaving breakheart hill before finishing another lap. Or maybe even finishing your turn.

There was a huge central shared marquee with four big heaters and rows of picnic style benches that was warm, but brightly lit and noisy, so anyone trying to sleep had a number of options – shiver in the pits, try to ignore the noise in the marquee, or trudge across the mud to the camping area – none of which were ideal. This presented more of an issue for our support who from time to time had to track down members of the team who had snuck off for a nap, and then bravely wake a potentially grumpy rider. I think I would have used a long stick, for a number of reasons.

People soon started reorganising the areas by the heater vents as makeshift drying racks, and as the night wore on the smell of the room became… challenging. Groups coalesced around the much hotter external exhausts like homeless people under a inner city bridge albeit waving kit over the shimmering air. Alan quickly regretted his decision to join them when the obvious inevitably happened and he melted his lovely new shoes, a tragic set back that he handled surprisingly well.

On the plus side, at least he didn’t manage to set a heater on fire, which happened about two in the morning, filling the shared area with burning plastic fumes and requiring the doors to be thrown open and all the lovely warmth to be ventilated away for a while.

Our low point was early in the evening – still wet, with two or three turns to go before daylight and rapidly running out of dry kit we all struggled to be positive. Kate and Michaela felt our suffering as if they were riding with us and both refused to go for a nap, choosing to stay with the bulk of the group in the pit, quietly discussing all sorts of things as the night wore on.

As we approached the Power Hour, things started to look up.

We’d all picked our fastest riders to maximise our double lap scoring and given them as much rest as we could. I was the rider who would launch James, and as I circled the course as fast as I could I was furiously doing maths in my head. Frustratingly, I quickly came to the conclusion that if I started another lap I’d probably launch James into the power hour course six or seven minutes into the hour, and that was assuming I didn’t have a mechanical on the way round, which would be catastrophic. Reluctantly I pulled into the pits ten minutes early; everyone understood the decision but as we stood waiting for the right moment to fire James onto the course I felt terrible.

James shot out in a huge gaggle of riders as every team tried to time their arrival to the second; and then we waited. We’d grown use to the constant buzz of riders going past and the sudden silence was deafening. We would have no idea how things had gone for approximately an hour and a quarter as they finished the short course and then completed a lap on the normal course before coming back in for a rider change.

As it turned out James smashed it for us, banging out seven laps for a total of fourteen; we all had huge sympathy for Adam in one of our A teams who had a flat in the middle of the critical hour and only managed three. He was not the only one as many riders found sharp objects on this new stretch of track and considerately swept them up in their rubber.

It was somewhere about two o’clock (the second one, after the clocks went back) that I wandered into the main tent to warm up a bit, and just lay my head on the table and went to sleep. I woke up what felt like seconds but apparently was at least thirty minutes with a stiff neck and dribble on my sleeve. Trying to sleep on the bench to ease my neck, I fell off when Adam considerately detonated a fresh inner tube next to me. Still, at least that gave him, James and Matt a chance to tell me how spectacular the Power Hour course had been as they were three of the riders out there, although it did significantly mitigate the sympathy I felt for his misfortune.

At this point we could (not literally) see the light at the end of the tunnel. Most of us were warm(ish), dry(ish) and only had a few turns left to go.

Daybreak

I was on the last turn of the night. There were now a lot of slow riders out on the course as energy levels dropped. There were still some phenomenal trains flying around as well – usually with one of our teams embedded. As I turned into the pits I nearly crashed in a developing depression just before the dismount line which was fortunately filled in the next time I arrived. I didn’t appreciate the marshal who hooted ‘that was the best one yet’ as I wobbled. As I ran down the transition lane I could see the sky lightening – no sign of the sun yet, but I knew the next rider would get to enjoy the dawn break. I really enjoyed the moment where I was able to tell the resting teams that the sun would be up in the next ten minutes.

After some food and having learned my lesson about staying in my sweaty kit I trudged off to the tent to change. The freshly risen sun exposed the brown expanse where eighteen hours earlier there had been grass. I wished I’d brought wellies (although those who had constantly complained how cold they were) as my trainers were pulled off my feet multiple times – fortunately I was able to catch myself before we had a sock down situation. Everything was covered in mud, and it’s going to take weeks to get all of our kit back to a socially acceptable standard of cleanliness.

We took the opportunity to pack away the lightly used tent to try to speed up our later departure. Kate and Michaela unflaggingly continued to do anything and everything they could to help, including picking up the wet sweaty kit abandoned in the tent (yeah, it was mine) before we collapsed it. It was massively appreciated by all of the team.

With the sun rising, the mood continued to climb. I was really keen to finish the event as last rider – the same way I’d started, but the timing kept getting more complicated. Our riders were getting tired and we had to ask Russell to dig deep to do another five laps when he would have preferred to do three; James then went out early to do three laps which was all he had left in him but that still left me with an hour and a half to finish the race off.

Matts team were down to two laps a rider as the exhaustion bit, but with a long transition run we really wanted to keep long stints for as far as we could manage. In the end, I rolled out with an hour and thirty five minutes to do – but with only my second turn in daylight I quickly found myself going round faster than I’d planned and realised I had the chance to squeeze in an additional lap – providing I didn’t blow up.

As the clock ticked relentlessly away, but the laps to go dropped I was able to sustain the speed and came over the line with about five minutes remaining. My team had completed 106 laps and came 145 out of 224 – something I was immensely proud of given the standard of the other riders. Incredibly our top team came 18th, the second team proving unable to fully recover from some badly timed mechanicals.

The event was really well organised; the facilities were brilliant (it was a nice surprise to have non portaloo toilets, showers and bike washes) and I actually really enjoyed the second half.

But I’m not going to rush to do it again.

It wasn’t the physical challenge – and it was tough, definitely tough – but the mental pressure of being unable to rest properly, worrying about what’s happening and just knowing that there’s so much more time to go when you’re already tired is horrendous. I’m going to do something less awful instead.

Like an Ironman.