John D'Elia at midnight starting the record ride across New York.

Including my failure at RAAM 2005, I had spent over $50,000 on bike racing last year. In 2006 I wanted to compete for Ultracycling Cup Competition (UCC) points but to do it a little less expensively. Looking through the UCC rules I saw that I could get points with a record attempt of some distance. I chose the New York North to south solo record because it was nearby and because at over 300 miles it would give me two UCC points with a successful attempt.

Getting a crew for was easy. My buddy Chris Accetta is a race junkie with many events as crew chief under his belt. He is always ready for another adventure. His easygoing style and quick humor take the tension out of any racing situation. My colleague Chris DePalma also agreed to go — another veteran of many races and a real wiseass. He usually places an "I love pain" sticker on my follow car. Sandy Whittlesey came along as our official. His plan was to officiate for Russ Loomis on his bid to establish a Vermont south to north record the day before my ride. Then he would meet us for dinner and a nap before our midnight start in northern New York at the Canadian border. Sandy would ride in our follow car to the finish in Connecticut and then come back to my house in Middletown, CT. From there, Sandy would complete the loop by riding his bike ninety-five miles back to Deerfield, MA.

Chris Accetta on the left and Chris DePalma driving, with the official, Sandy Whittlesey, in the back seat.

We drove to Rouse's Point on Friday night in a driving rainstorm and got to bed at three a.m. We couldn't hang around the hotel all day so we took a spin up to Montreal to take our minds off the job ahead. Chris D. picked up some very nice cigars, which we hid in the Gatorade jug so we could cross the border. If asked, we would have told Border Control that they were Dominican, not Cuban, and that they were standard race equipment — victory cigars.

At eleven we got up and the guys set up the bikes and the car. I had a very light Colnago CT-1 to start the ride. It had carbon components and super-light tubulars that literally hummed when you got it moving. If I had to switch to a heavier but more comfortable bike I could hop onto my Colnago C-40, a road racer that is quite comfortable for brevets and long races. This one had a triple crank that I always try to keep secret. I don't want my competitors to know what a lousy climber I am until it is absolutely necessary. Then they can watch me humiliate myself when I drop down onto the 30-tooth granny ring and crawl uphill.

Bud Eichorn had set this record, establishing a time of 20 hours 8 minutes in 2005. Per the rules we used the same end point, the spot on Highway 9B where Central Diner is located, just a couple hundred yards from the border control where we boosted the cigars. As I stood there in the desolate mist with Chris, I said, "What a strange place to be, and what a strange thing to be doing." To which he replied "You're just thinking of that now?"

D'Elia climbing another hill during his record ride across New York.

As an engineer, Sandy always figures out the angles and leaves as little to chance as possible. He asked me a lot of questions about split times and calories per hour, trying to get me to see the ride in scientific terms. I hadn't really looked at it that way. I was just going to ride hard enough to go fast but not hard enough to throw up or crash — that was my plan. His questions at dinner made me feel unprepared and when we returned to the hotel I couldn't fall asleep. His mind uncluttered by questions or plans, Sandy got into bed fully clothed and was snoring within forty seconds.

I was shivering at the start as an icy mist kept falling. I was thinking of the destitute man I had seen in Montreal, whose sign said "need blankets". I began to ride a little better when I turned south onto Highway 9 in Champlain. I had a wind on my right shoulder that kept countering around to a headwind. I tucked down onto the aero-bars to hide from it and the tubulars were making that beautiful humming sound. I felt like I was crushing the ride as I headed into Plattsburgh where the revelers were outside drinking beers. People were cheering me because they thought I was both nutty and courageous, and my posse was rolling right behind me.

That is one of the great things about the sport — doing things that are a little nutty but not enough to hurt anybody.

We were hit by a torrential downour.

Below Plattsburgh the course hugged the river but in the dark you couldn't see water. Now the wind was in my face but I could still kept moving. I came into Adirondack Park where several long climbs got my attention. Just as I crossed some railroad tracks my i-Pod played a song that started with a train whistle. The guys were handing up Hammer Gel flasks and Gatorade. By daylight I was still in reasonable shape, covering my first 100 miles in well under six hours. I began to think I was going to obliterate the record if I kept this up. But, pride always comes before a fall, as I would find out later.

By around seven a.m. I started riding poorly. Chris noticed it and offered to get me breakfast at McDonalds. I had jumped off to Highway 22 and was hitting the Adirondack foothills. My lack of talent for climbing was starting to take its toll in terms of speed and energy used. At one point some dogs rushed at me but Chris D. guarded against their attack by placing the follow car between these insane canines and me. The guys in the car were leaving me alone except to hand out food because they could see how funked out I was. The wind was bending the trees in my direction and I couldn't tuck down far enough to duck away from it anymore. Somehow I still managed to get to 200 miles in 12:05. I thought I had eight hours to do 110 miles and that was very doable — as long as the distance was correct. But we had made some assumptions about the course, which later turned out to be wrong, and the remaining mileage was greater.

At about mile 260 one of the tubulars blew and Chris D. took down the other bike. I felt shot from time trialing into the wind all day but that was my first time off the bike. I was only off the bike for a total of eight minutes during the whole record attempt. I knew I couldn't ride faster than Bud but if I was disciplined with my breaks I could have a faster overall time. It had been showering all day and I was soaked and filthy. The guys kept trying to lift my spirits with off color remarks but I was getting more and more uncomfortable.

We got hit with a torrential downpour, including large hailstones and lightning around mile 280. The hail was stinging my face and hands and the road was flooded from gutter to gutter. But this seemed particularly adventurous and I knew the crew was protecting me against traffic if not against electrocution. My chances still felt good when the wind came about and it was pushing me south now. After 40 minutes the sun was out for the first time that day. I thought I had 30 miles left and about three hours to do it. It seemed that I would take the overall record with around an hour to spare. However our calculations had been wrong. We took major roads without shortcuts in order to avoid getting lost. Bud had used a sharper pencil using more different roads but with a shorter overall route by 20 miles. By the time we got to Brewster everyone realized our mistake. I thought I had eight miles left but actually it was 24. To add insult to injury I kept hitting red lights, stopping dutifully and cursing my fate.

Hail pounded the rider and van.

By the time we got to Bedford it was clear we would not get the record. We kept encountering wall-like hills and granny was back in business. I couldn't go faster than four or five miles an hour on some of these. I wasn't riding the bike as much as I was shoving it up these hills. We were looking for the intersection with Route 120 but it seemed to never come. I stopped at another interminable red light and looked at my watch: 20 hours before, I had started this freakish escapade. I wasn't going to make it. The crew looked dejected. They had worked just as hard as I had and now I was letting them down.

A woman in a Lexus sedan almost wiped me out at a yield sign but Chris A. warded her off. I crossed under the highway and finally turned onto 120. It was still light out so the crew pulled ahead to find the finish for me. I made the left onto American Lane and unclipped.

Officially my time off the bike for the event was eight minutes, but I was still eleven minutes outside the overall record. [D'Elia did set the record for men age 18-49.]

Official Record: 329.5 miles in 20 hours 20 minutes, average speed of 16.2 mph
Start: SH 9B at Canadian border near Rouses Pt., NY
Finish: SH 120 at NY/CT SL near Greenwich, CT.