Matt refueling in the pit... Photo by Mike Bittons

As the day wore on, the rain increased to a full-on downpour at times. The trail worsened as massive puddles formed and sections of mud turned to pudding. This weather started to take its toll on the racers, as well as our bikes. The mud and grit piled up in my shorts. Dismounting and remounting my bike felt like I had sandpaper instead of a chamois in my shorts—just awful—and no amount of wet naps would fix it.

Ignoring pain is something I've become pretty good at, so I pressed on. Through the day my team would let me know how I was doing. After a few laps, they told me I was in third place. I wasn't riding very fast but this was a pace I felt I could sustain. After four laps (36 miles) my bike started to fall apart, so I took Jen's bike for a lap. The bike geometry made it very difficult to ride the technical sections and she had the new Shimano shifters that I wasn't familiar with. Let's just say it wasn't my prettiest lap.

My 14th lap was one of the hardest. I was not able to shift into my smallest chain ring in the front because my cable housing was packed with dirt. This meant that on the two sections I should have been on my small ring, I had to walk. This was not part of the plan. All I could think about was some random (and possibly incorrect) fact I had read somewhere that biking was five times more efficient than walking.

" All I remember them saying was that if I saw number 36 to ride like hell..."

In the pit after my 15th lap, the crew reassured me that I was most likely still one hour ahead of third place, firmly in second. It might sound strange but, because of my mental state, I was starting to question if they were telling me the truth or not. All I remember them saying was that if I saw number 36 to ride like hell. I started out on my last lap just trying not to kill myself on the dangerously slippery rocks and roots. I wanted to believe I had an hour lead and could just ride safely and take second place. Within 20 minutes I couldn't believe what I saw. A rider passed me, which isn't uncommon because we were sharing 95 percent of our course with team riders. As this rider passed, I glanced at his number plate. To my horror, it was number 36. I started thinking, �Is it 36 or 34? I was riding with number 34 earlier, right? Hmm, I think it's got to be 36�. That's him!� Number 36 had just passed me and moved into second place. I followed closely for about a minute and just didn't have it in me to stay on his tail and make this a race for 2nd. It broke my heart. I looked deep within myself for further strength and tried to get out of the saddle and climb hard a couple of times, but I was too weak. I wanted to chase him; I wanted to have enough strength to put the hammer down. I just didn't. It was all I could manage to keep pedaling my granny gear up the seemingly endless climb. Finally, at the top of the last climb, I bombed into the finish line at 24:19:10, 14 minutes behind second place. As the announcer called my name and put the medal around my neck for finishing, all I could do was smile with this dazed look on my face. He smiled back and said, �You did awesome, man! You left it all on the course huh?�

Yes, I did.

In this 24-hour period, I rode approximately 144 miles with 24,144 feet of climbing. My epic journey was over�at least until October when I do it again in Moab.

Matt Hart is an elite adventure racer with Team DART. They are currently ranked 9th in North America. As a solo endurance mountain bike rider, he is sponsored by Hammer Nutrition/E-Caps and the Downhill Zone. Contact Matt.