Suzuka Version 3 - Fun in the Sun

My jaw started to seize and hurt.  All I wanted to do was eat that stupid sandwich, but the simple motion of my jaw with the effort of a single bite was overwhelmingly and surprisingly painful. Odd.  I didn't recall using my jaw for the past few hours (and anyone who knows me knows I have the jaw endurance to talk for hours).  But, at least the cold had luckily never gotten to me, which was good considering my comfortable seat upon the concrete floor outside pit 46.  At least I was out of the rain.

Almost.  Polishing off the bottle with a bit of vinegar in it, I began searching the shortlist of places my other bottle could be.  The humor hadn't escaped me.  I had just sat down under shelter after a grueling few hours in the freezing rain, only to run out of water; wasn't there plenty left on me and in my clothes?  The other bottle was in the rain.  Great.  As well, one bottle down meant that I carried another 750 ml for the fun of it, but I was glad to have it to help with the sandwich I could barely eat.

I started to think about all the people who wonder why I sign up for this kind of stuff.  Then, I smiled, which hurt, looked around, and took to eating my sandwich.

A few minutes probably passed.  I had wandered off, completely engulfed in the fact that I couldn't taste my sandwich, but somehow I thought it was delicious.  Snap out of it.  "How many laps did you do?" I asked Kouki.  He was dry, but I hadn't noticed.  My senses were a bit numb, as was my attention to detail.  I felt like a lizard in a freezer now that I wasn't producing large quantities of heat.  He smiled sheepishly and said, "three."  "Three?!"  I asked in dismay.  Clearly my jaw only disliked eating.  How could he only do... did he quit?  Disheartened, it was then I noticed he looked well-rested.  A sigh to know I was more alone in my experience slipped, and it wouldn't be the last.

Earlier, in my second lap, I had lapped Kouki, but never again.  It wasn't at all unreasonable to think he picked up his pace, since last time he managed to do so and only be one lap behind me for almost three hours.  This time around, I thought the same had happened, and I admired this beginner's strength and toughness.  The remaining laps in the rain that day, I kept hoping I'd see him again, but that was impossible, for he had spent his time sleeping in his car.

I sighed again when I learned that his story wasn't unique.  Of our group of about ten, four had quit on account of shivering in the rain.  I felt betrayed by the attrition rate.  I look at fair weather athletes like most people look at fair weather sports fans; not positively, but quietly.  Stay with your team, or in this case, stay the course.  Start the race.  Finish the race.  If you need a hand, you'll find one at the end of each arm.

For some reason I was now standing, sandwich in hand like it was some fascinating project I had to complete before putting down, or like I was concerned someone else was going to eat it.  Hara-San called me over to ask my registration number.  "2397.  Why?" I asked.  Standing dry and in his coat next to another man who was also dry, they were both looking at a phone when it dawned on me; they were looking at results.  My previous best was 20 laps in four hours, which amounts to the following:

Total climb: 6,138 ft (1 870 m)

Average speed: 18 mph (29 kmh)

Total distance: 72 mi (116 km)

Best lap time: 10:22 (20.8 mph, 33.6 kmh)

In the rain and cold, everything changes.  Layers go up, and mobility goes down.  Waterproof layers aren't nearly as aerodynamic, and with carelessness, can be just as sweaty inside as it is wet outside.  If the rain stops, so does the ironic natural water cooling.  It's ironic because, after all, weren't you trying to keep that very water out?  Well, yes, but it's a balance.  Too much cooling from the rain is called hypothermia.  And too much waterproof clothing is called dehydration.  At the onset of four hours, it's difficult to guess how things will turn out.  Will the rain stop?  Will it increase?  What do the clouds tell you?  On a hilly course, your temperature will fluctuate when you climb and descend.  What's the right number, type, and order of application of your clothing layers?  How far should that zipper be up to get the air you need to keep moisture down, but keep the flung water from that other guy out?

There's a lot of guesswork that goes into getting that right the first time.  Reducing the number of guesses comes from not caring what the weather is day in and day out, and just doing what you do.  Of all the guesses I had to make, I guessed right.  All those mornings in the rain, enjoying life and the peace that comes with immersing yourself in what you're doing, paid off.

Regardless, I expected to have done 19 laps.  A record-tying 20 would have been nice considering the circumstances.  But neither was the case, and I couldn't have been happier when I found my results:

Laps: 22

I danced and yelled like no muscle was tired.  I jumped around, eyes wide and body full of excitement.  Are you sure that's me?  2397?  Yes?  WoooooOOOOO!! ヤタ!! (yata!! (I did it!!)).  There may as well have been a rave at that very moment, as I was on cloud nine.  High fives were the new black.  Monster Energy Drinks wishes it could have people that excited.  At that moment, I knew exactly why I signed up.

The corresponding numbers for 22 laps in 4 hours, 4 minutes are:

Total climb: 6,752 ft (2 058 m)

Average speed: 19.8 mph (32 kmh)

Total distance: 79.3 mi (127.6 km)

Best lap time: 9:43 (22.3 mph, 35.8 kmh)

After a few minutes, I calmed back down, but no longer had a place to put my smile, so I kept it on.  It makes eating a sandwich nearly impossible.