When my Krew Chief and I were finally debarked we found ourselves at the Beach Park Resort just outside of Fortaleza on the east coast of Brazil. It was close to 20 hours before the official start of the Desafio 24-Hour ultramarathon race. The race was born of the vision of RAAM Team Brazil's consummate founding racer Michel Bogli whose passion for cycling...ultra racing...has always been evident during his many RAAM outings.

The Beach Park Resort just outside of Fortaleza, Brazil

As we arrived in country Friday afternoon in early November, we were greeted by Michel who gave us the quick driving tour of the area on our way to our splendid oceanfront accommodations at the Beach Park Resort.

Michel had some race organizing yet to do while the Chief and I needed to de-crate my bike, sign papers, utter some quotables for the local press and then attend the pre-race meeting. In the time that we had, the Chief and I took in the sights as we could. There were the requisite sea breezes and undulating palms as well as the miles of pristine white sands of the beach. I was fortunate to have brought a bike or this might have turned into a love story.

There was the water park next to the hotel with slides, pools, concessions and all the accouterments you'd expect with any self-respecting water park. As might be expected some of the swimwear on the locals tended toward lean. It wasn't Carnival but it wasn't the YMCA pool in Wisconsin. While witness to this traditional local Southern exposure might have been part of my sacrifice for being in Brazil I must confess that when some of the men walked by similarly (un)dressed I reverted to my own Southern tradition from down South in the land of cotton. I had to just look away, look away.

Michel Bogli at the pre-race meeting

The pre-race meeting was presented in Portuguese while as a true American I only speak English. Getting comfortable enough to sleep through the meeting I knew the Chief would tell me later what I missed. Yet I kept jerking back into near consciousness imagining I might have heard my name as if the presenter were talking about me. My Krew Chief BK and I had tried to seat ourselves inconspicuously in the back but a couple of times BK's elbow met my ribs as it appeared some of the other attendees were turning around to look at me, or not. No one seemed to be pointing. Before the meeting I had asked BK to check my back just in case to make sure no signs had been posted there. Maybe I should have asked her to check my forehead for secret cryptograph maybe a third eye or an L.

The meeting was followed by an all anyone could eat pig fest of excellent and varied food where I met some of the players in the upcoming race. Most of those I met would be racing on four- or six-person teams.

Mass start of the Desafio 24-Hour

The race started at 9 a.m. Saturday. I had been able to make a brief rolling inspection of the course the day before. It was an out and back eight-mile course with a large roundabout at each end. The course was closed to vehicular traffic except for police and race officials. It was a wide two-lane road with excellent pavement whose white striped shoulders and high curbs at each edge of the pavement added to the visibility at night under the full moon.

The start of the race was just beyond the front door of the hotel and maintained a party atmosphere throughout the race with live entertainment including at one time a group of spinners numbering in the hundreds. We were almost always within sight of the beach, which we mostly paralleled.

While there were no flat sections there were several short 9%ers in addition to the 1/4-mile or so 9% climb very near the start/finish. There were constant hills, some quite steep, all the way to the turn around followed by the same hills all the way back to the start/finish. On the way back to the start/finish you would fly down and around the 9% toward the electronic lap counter and the roundabout full of team transitioners. In this large roundabout you would weave through the transitioning teams and get whatever handoffs you needed. There were booth/tents nearby where people rested or ate real food.

Flying into the turn at the Desafio 24-Hour

Fortaleza's weather is interesting because it is so consistent that it may be uninteresting. Every day this time of year the high temperature is 86 deg F...every day. The wind blows 16-18 mph out of the southeast every day and never stops at night...ever. At one section of the racecourse there are wind-driven electric turbines that always spin. Some of the locals claim the turbines are the source of the constant wind. Some of the competitors begged the race organization to turn off the turbines.

There were 13 soloists including a worn out 20-year RAAM veteran who was almost late to the start. The number of team racers was almost countless so I'll just say 130 or so. I squeezed onto the back of the group as the starter gave the signal to commence. Everyone rode to near the top of that first 9% then all the extra team racers turned around to clear the way for the rest of us. I wore race #2 as the race's special guest while the previous year's winner Claudio Clarindo wore #1.

Claudio Clarindo, winner of the Desafio 24-Hour in Brazil

Having started at the back I had no idea where in the wide, wide sea of teams were my soloist competitors except that they were all ahead of me. On the first lap I eventually started passing other racers. The hills and the wind seemed a lot more daunting than they had seemed on my practice lap the day before. At least the road was still smooth and the weather was much like home on a good day if Florida sprouted hills.

After a while it seemed that while I passed no one, I was passed briskly and often. At my age I feel entitled to ride like a girl. I even ride a compact bike frame often compared to a girl's bike. Here these women were all passing me. Eventually I actually caught and passed some solo racers. I could tell they were solo racers by their numbers but more so because I was able to pass them. Many of the racers who passed me did so with such speed that I couldn't read their numbers.

The Krew Chief

Shortly before nightfall I took a forced break from the race but not from the action. Once more topping the big 9%er my rear derailleur fell off. I picked up the plastic pieces to see that it was irreparable. The trip back to the start/finish was all down hill and I would have coasted it if part of my broken derailleur had not been inseparable from my dangling chain. So I walked. I really hated to have traveled all that way just to race 100 miles and take a short walk.

There was one such racer who, unless he was on a team of six twins, seemed be taking extra shifts for his team as he went by often and fast until I saw him stopped on the opposite side of the road answering the call of nature with his number exposed to the public. His race number matched nature's call #1. It was solo race favorite Claudio Clarindo. By his easily recognizable race attire I realized he had passed me many times in my first eight or ten laps. So early in the race and so many laps behind.

Fans cheering Claudio Clarindo, the winner of the Desafio 24-Hour in Brazil

The Chief and I found out early that the cheap two-way radios we had hoped to use didn't really work with all the hills even on a short course. I was always in too much hurry for effective communication when I would pass before my Krew Chief each lap. With water and nutrition topping communication's priority list I was never sure what lap I was on much less what lap anyone else was on.

As I approached the start/finish on foot I received several offers from team racers who would lend me their bike, none my size. By the time I was nearly close enough to throw my radio to her (not at her) my Krew Chief could hear my radio signal. By the time she uttered her last "whaaat?" I was handing over my radio. My Mektronic nine speed electronic shifter was unfixable and not easily replaced. I had brought a Krew Chief to the race but no Krew.

Left to right: Nilvio Fecchio (second), Claudio Clarindo (first) and Rob Kish (third)

I was able to borrow a complete bike in my size and by local committee we transferred essentials like pedals and saddle but no aero bars. It was great to have a bike with which to continue. I rode this gift bike for a couple of laps until, through great ingenuity and profound kindness from concerned strangers, my bike was returned to me with a rare replacement nine speed shifting system. I suffered less than an hour 10 minutes off the bike time.

During my unwanted down time I did learn that some how I was holding on to third place having been "only" two laps out of first place just before my mechanical mishap. I guess first place Claudio Clarindo had been passing me so many times partially for fun or maybe I just way over-counted.

Back in the saddle with everyone still passing me, at times it was fun to get passed by team racers who couldn't quite keep their pace until I would eventually pass them back before they could finish their shift of one lap. It was even fun at times to see how fast some people could go by. Sometimes I'd pass the wind turbines and without the sound of the head wind I'd hear only the sound of tires and the whooshing individual fan blades. It was a race and there were fans out on the course.

Throughout the night, with all the wind and all the climbing, I grew pretty weary. At the extreme outward turnaround checkpoint I could barely utter my race number ID as required by rule. I was supposed to say dois (two). At times I just showed two fingers. A couple of times I may have said due (two in Italian). With the sun's return throngs of unseen birds in the bush cheered loudly and enthusiastically.

Rob Kish relaxing with new friends

I finished in third place, well behind first and second. Before the race I didn't know how far I'd ride but I thought it would be at least 400 miles. As it turned out I only rode 330 mi. In my defense: I did climb 25,969 ft. Where'd that come from? Now that's a hard 24 hour.

Due to time (off work) constraints the Chief and I were unable attend the post race banquet but we had fun at the brief ceremony immediately post race. The well-organized race and the time in country were fantastic Michel Bogli is a racer's race organizer who sees things well through the eyes of a racer. On the way back to the airport we stopped at the beach in downtown Fortaleza where we drank coconut water right out of the nut with a straw. The locals say it's better aide than Gatorade. It's all about the total experience.