I was expecting the worst. Rain, temperatures hovering near zero, and 24 hours of either racing or preparing to race. I also hadn’t had the chance to get any night rides in beforehand, so I was super paranoid about riding in the absolute darkness that is the mountains at night. Turns out, none of my concerns were ever validated.

Myra and I arrived on the Friday before the race (six hours later than we had planned, of course), and just managed to squeeze a pre-ride in before night fell. We got everything unpacked and somewhat set-up and then headed out with the sun still in the sky, and only one hour later we were picking out way through technical singletrack without lights and only a vague idea of what lay in front of us. No matter. After finding ourselves becoming unreasonably paranoid about bears – dusk long having set in, and alone on the trail – we rolled back into camp with a good idea of the track for race-day.



Camp. Camp was… sufficient. The Canmore Nordic Centre was under construction for a long while but enough of it was finished to host all 1100 or so competitors this year. Our six hundred-sq/ft campsite sounded huge but got less-huge after all eight people, four tents, one good-sized gazebo, one kid, four bikes, and one brand-new puppy all got comfortable. All was well, but the fact that what we were camped on was a large gravel lot is still with us today. Even without the freakish windstorm that blew in around 10pm (right in time for Myra’s first night ride), there was a nice film of dust on and in everything. The windstorm just made sure that the dust got worked in to every nook and cranny it wouldn’t have otherwise. One of our neighbors tent’s actually ended up straddling Dave’s at some point during the night.

Race. The 24 hours of Adrenaline has been around for about a dozen years, and every year has categories from solo (masochists) to corporate teams of 6-10 (wussies). We were a team of five (Ken, myself, Sheldon, Myra and Dave), and ran our laps in this order.



The course layout was awesome (co-designed by last-years solo champion) and had an element of everything in it. The first 4km’s were straight uphill, some of it fire-road, much of it tight laced with roots and rocks. All in all, slow going. The rest was a great blend of technical single track, both up and down, a little double-track, a little fire-road, lung-busting climbs and brake-boiling descents, and some (but in my opinion too little) extra steep and technical downhill. 15km in all, and every inch of it pure fun.

We all woke from a decent nights sleep and prepared our rides for the punishment we had in store for them over the next day. We were all thankful that Ken was up first. The 24 Hours sends the first riders off with a Le Mans start. Now, the original Le Mans Du 24 Heurs had the drivers line up across the road, scamper across to their cars, and speed away. Misnomer is right, as one of the bystanders remarked as all 450 or so competitors, all clad in cleated mountain bike shoes were packed together at the start. Ken had to run 600 meters up and down hill, then jump on the bike and peddle the 15kms. Nice work. Ken technically put in the fast-lap of the weekend for our team (factoring in the run).

I have never raced in anything before, and was pretty excited. Ken came racing in, made the baton switch, and I was off. Then off literally to adjust my seat-post, then off a couple more times in the course due to pushing too hard and getting mixed up in the roots. I thought I had botched it, but ended up with a good time (on paper, our team’s fast lap of the weekend). I was shooting for a sub-hour lap and got it. Sheldon was next, then Myra, then Dave, and so on for 24 hours.



Myra had the honour of doing the first real night lap. Previously, I had destroyed our bike-mounted light on my second lap. It never actually got dark enough for me to need the lights but they had to be mounted by 7pm. About midway through my lap I felt something neither wooden nor rock-like hit my frame and get spit out by my rear tire. I took a quick survey of my bike (without stopping) and decided that although odd, everything was still functioning, so all was well. It was when I got back and Myra pointed out the lack of expensive (to us) equipment on my bike, that everything made sense. So we were forced to buy a better, brighter light, and Myra was off.

The new light had a new battery, and although we were assured that they came charged, it gave out two-thirds of the way through Myra’s lap. We thought she had made good time and assumed all went smoothly, so the good time turned into a great time when we learned that she was forced to complete the last three km’s on foot.

Four hours between laps seems like a lot of time. It goes by pretty quickly when you have to check the bike over, let the heart-rate drop, find and make something to eat, see the spouse off on their lap, and be up and ready and at the transition point in case the rider before you puts in an extra quick time. For me, that added up to one hour of sleep in 24. I didn’t eat anything real between my second and fourth lap either. My guts hated me for feeding it mostly energy gels and Powerade and decided that if I wasn’t going to feed it right then, I couldn’t now. Even so, there just wasn’t enough motivation for me to find a source of light, get the stove burning, and make some real food being as tired and sweaty as I was, in the middle of a dust storm in the middle of the night. Try for sleep.



The wind died down for my night lap. I don’t function very well in the cold, so I bundled up. Way up. I knew I was overdressed less than a minute into my lap, but it was too late then. I dropped a few pounds of sweat that lap, rode almost a km off course at a poorly marked section of trail, got spooked, but had the time of my life. I love night riding. Love it. Our new light was great, and combined with our helmet light I had the confidence to ride only a few minutes out from my daytime pace. Although I would have slapped you for saying so at the time, I’m actually jealous of Myra for getting two night laps in.

This is getting a bit lengthy, so I’ll try and sum up the rest. Ken, Sheldon and I got a fourth lap in, and to the surprise of all of us (I think), it was within minutes of our first lap. There’s something about morning that rejuvenates. Sheldon crossed the finish line for us, we got the cars loaded up in a hurry and dragged ourselves to town to grab some real food (I use the term loosely) and put our feet up. The lady at A&W adamantly refused to believe that she was looking at a Papa burger when I told her I had ordered a Teen. She took it back, slapped some cheese and bacon on it, gave me back my partly eaten burger, and told me that I was wrong. This burger, I was told, which still lacked any sauce and was built in a completely different order, was in fact, a Teen burger. They had just forgotten the cheese (and bacon). I was completely amazed. So was everyone else. None of you care, and if you do you probably shouldn’t, but it’s a week later and I’m still blown away that this tiny Asian woman (very much running the show, and running it in an Asian dialogue at very high volume) had the balls to stare me in the face and tell me that this circle was a square, and that I should be happy I got a circle at all and not a swift kick in the face.



So, all in all, the 24 Hours of Adrenaline was an absolute blast. I’m still smacking on the great taste of competition and will arrive in the UK looking for the first race I can enter. Our muscles are still a little tight, believe it or not, but we're pretty mch recovered from our bruises and scrapes. Myra brought some of her lighting truama home with her. The second night after the race, she shakes me out of sleep to say, "I need the light for my lap!". Staring at me with wild eyes, she was still there, it seemed. She tells me that she was actually annoyed at my response of, "What? What planet are you on? Hond on, I have to go to the bathroom". This was urgent. There was no time for delay.

Our mountain bikes are already sold and gone, and I already miss mountain biking a bunch, but our road bikes will do the trick till then (plus I got a new one!). We’ll put those to better use where we’re going, and we’ll be back on the trails soon enough.

We wouldn’t have had as good a time as we did without our friends, and want to say thanks to them for a great time. We’ll miss you, but I can’t think of a better way to part ways than on the trail.

That’s one adventure we can check off the list, and on to the next.

Stay tuned.