Since we're in mid-October and spooky things are happenin', let's talk about one of my old fears.
When I was 15 years old, I was afraid of sugar.
I never touched a single piece of candy or can of Coke. I never thought to grab a box of sugary breakfast cereal from the shelf at the grocery store – like the ones with every color of sugar possible, formed into hoops or loops or pebbles or flakes. I didn't eat at school most days because those carb-rich lunch foods would make me feel like I was going to gain weight. I never gave into syrupy sports drinks, even if they were supposed to be “good” for me while I trained on my bike 16 hours a week in the heat of June.
At that point in life, I was training more than I ever had, all while living off of grilled and unseasoned proteins and vegetables, and coming home from every ride feeling heavy fatigue, otherwise known as “bonking” in the culture of cycling.
That summer, I signed up for a fundraising event benefitting pediatric cancer research, known as the “Great Cycle Challenge.” I aimed to ride 1600 miles that month – a big milestone for someone who had never ridden for more than a few hours at a time, and for someone who didn’t consume anything other than water during exercise.
The month started off strong. In the first two weeks, I rode 30-50 miles on most mornings, and rode 20 in the evening with my dad, who would sometimes join me after a long day of work. I felt energized those two weeks, but only from the new thrill of riding itself, and not touching those frightening carbohydrates all the while.
In the following week, as anyone could have predicted, I felt myself unable to get out of bed and unwilling to swing my leg over the top tube of a bike again. I took most of that week off from riding and lowered the mileage goal day-by-day: 1500, then 1400, 13... I knew that I was letting down those who had helped me fundraise for the event. I finished below my goal, with only 1100 miles.
The following years of riding were much of the same: a burst in mileage and training volume followed by days of fatigue.
It wasn’t until four years later, in 2021, when I realized that those frightening little specks of sugar were the solution to my problem of repetitive bonking and endless frustration. That sweet realization came from the impulse decision to partake in a race: The National 24-Hour Challenge.
The N24HC is the “premiere 24-hour race of North America,” held in Middleville, MI. every year since the 80s. It was also the 24 hour North American championship race. Though this race wasn’t the nuttiest thing I’d participated in by much, it would double my all time one-ride mileage, seeing that I’d be able to reach the coveted 400-mile goal that I and most other riders had.
A week prior to the event, I texted my cousin, Paul, a PHD in nutrition, for advice on race fuel.
“Hey, Paul, I’m doing a 24-hour race next week. I was thinking I’d eat 40 grams of carbs per
hour. What do ya think?”
I thought 40 was a big number – that’s the amount of sugar in a can of coke.
“That’s low. I’d shoot for at least 50 grams per hour, higher if possible,” Paul responded.
For a short moment in time, I questioned science, and wondered if my body, or anyone’s body,
could handle that many carbs per hour. I trusted Paul, though, and since I didn’t have any other source to gain solid advice from, I figured would take his advice, and consume ~60 grams per hour for the duration of the race.
The morning of the race came. I lined up at the staging area with two generic Walmart water bottles (not meant to fit in standard cycling bottle cages) full of Gatorade powder and water stuffed into the empty triangle making up my bike frame. Another bottle was jammed into the back pocket of my jersey. The weather forecast predicted a record-high temperature for the race: 93 degrees, high humidity --
meaning sodium and hydration would be high priority, and making Gatorade the perfect choice of
fuel. I had sticky energy gels in another pocket, and bananas in the two pockets on my thighs, like two revolvers ready to fire.
The clock hit 8am and the bagpipes played for the riders’ departure (yes, that was a long-
standing tradition at the race).
The first lap was fast – the group took down the 50-mile loop in just over two hours. In the
process, we dropped around 180 of the 200 total participants. I stuck to my nutrition plan,
slurping down Gu gels and sucking down bottles of Gatorade as needed. With no effort at all, I
was dropping riders left and right, and my bike computer ticked over 200 miles.
I remember sugar was all over my hands, on my face, in my nose, and on the handlebars and
frame of my bike. I was tired of consuming so much sugar, otherwise known as "flavor fatigue." I didn’t care, though, and kept pedaling through the night. It felt like as long as I kept eating and drinking, my legs could keep turning the pedals. That feeling was right.
The nutrition plan fueled me to ride 367 miles in 24 hours.
Since then, my rides have been fueled with copious amounts of sugar. After doing research and conversing with Paul, I decided I was no longer scared of sugar, and instead embraced it. Now I drink soda, I eat candy, and I eat the cereals with every color of hoops, loops, pebbles, and flakes. While sugar may be a fear for some, I know now that those sweet little specks of sugar are all just fuel for riding and can help me go further than I thought before.
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