Performance-enhancing drugs

“Intention and theory don’t change the world – only decisive action does.” 

I left the fourth van stop near San Felipe 5 ½ hours after the start of the race with plenty of energy. I knew there was a Baja Pit in this area too. The white tape I had put on my front fender had the race miles of all my stops written with a Sharpie. Van stops in black, Baja Pits (gas) in red, and physical checkpoints in blue. My own headlight would light the tape up at night, so I could see the colors.

I looked for the Baja Pit close by but couldn’t see it. I stopped and asked another team waiting for their rider where the Baja Pit was. I couldn’t take any chances of missing one. ¼ mile ahead.

A question I am often asked is why doesn’t my own van fill up my gas tank? There are 22 Baja Pits and only 11 planned van stops. That’s one reason. It is odd that a half dozen van stops and Baja Pits are in the same spot, (maybe 50 yards to one mile apart) and I have to stop at both. But it saves the van from having to carry so much fuel, and the Baja Pits are only a 30 second stop. Still, it’s one more stop you have to remember.

The road out of San Felipe started out fast. You could go 90 mph for 15 minutes, but there were four 90 degree turns in the stretch. I blew by one, with both wheels locked. Fortunately, it was a tee in the road with no penalty for missing the turn. I needed to watch the GPS carefully to see upcoming turns. Taking your eyes off the road at 90 mph on a dirt bike is against your instincts.

The smooth road ended abruptly into whoops. 23 miles of whoops, most of it with loose rocks in them. I found a rhythm and made it through. I recall in 2015 when we pre-ran this section, I struggled. Now this challenging section was much easier for me. I had been training in many ways to push through “this sucks,” and now it was paying off.

The course dropped me onto a paved road. A few miles and I’d see my van again. It was a great stop. I felt good and the team was encouraged by my condition and spirits. The idea they all had of their job of trying to keep a half-dead man alive had not materialized yet.

There had not been much for the mechanics to do yet. The bike had not been on the ground. Some mouthfuls of food, chia drink, quick shoulder and arm massage, and I was gone again.

I was on a performance-enhancing drug – dopamine. Our brains, yours and mine, make dopamine when we play games, and especially when we compete. My brain knew I was in a race and it was cooperating. The sun was getting higher in the sky and it was heating up for the day. I navigated the mixture of Baja terrain and put miles behind me.

The course went through a tunnel under the highway. I made a little mistake on a boulder and slowed for a few seconds. I heard another bike behind me and got some motivation to kick it up a notch. I had been riding dust free for some time now and I wanted to keep it that way if I could. I left him behind and didn’t see him again.

The desert is full of wildlife. The first time you see a jackrabbit you have to think about what you’re looking at. Their ears are so very big compared to their body, and they move so quickly that it doesn’t register to someone from the woodlands.

Monarch butterflies and other butterflies can be numerous, so much so that unfortunately they wind up splattered over your goggles.

Another unusual sight is Road Runners. These birds dart across the ground in blurring sprints – just like the cartoon!

It was mile 360 or so. One pastime over these hours of riding was math. “1123 minus 360 =…..oh man that’s a hard one. Let’s see. 1123 – 300 is 823. Then minus 60 more. Oh crap don’t hit that cactus…soooo, umm, 823 minus 60 is 763. 763 miles to go. Okayyyy….so what percent complete is that? Well, ummm….”

“Just keep going until the math gets easier.”