Dean’s Hour Record Attempt, Part 1

I recently took on my first hour record attempt in Milton, Ontario at the Mattamy Velodrome. Michael Kolesar hosts an annual “Day of the Hour” event where eight “lucky” riders sign up to bury themselves to challenge national or world records. All the complicated UCI rules and officials are in place along with doping control, yet Michael made this lengthy process much easier by handling nearly everything for us. At the end of another season disrupted by a May COVID infection, I was finally back on good riding form in August.

I’ve found the Mattamy Velodrome to be one of the faster sea-level velodromes and it was the perfect opportunity to test myself before the season ended. I’d done a practice session at Mattamy a few months ago so I had all my power and heart rate data at hour record speed on this track. After analysis, I developed a plan to attack the 45-49 year old age group hour record and I was off.

The Hour Record Assault Plan

Dave Enns, a local racer at the track, volunteered to help me with my splits and coached me through the attempt. His assistance was a tremendous help. We met the day before and I did a simulation of the first 10 minutes of the attempt from a standing start. I figured this would be a good opener, get me out of a starting gate with my 58×13 gear, and be done under threshold so it would be easy to recover for tomorrow. The 10 minutes went by fast, it was fun, and I felt great. However, unfortunately, the barometer climbed to 30.25 inches during the day and remained there through the event. Barometric pressure is the one thing we can’t control in an indoor velodrome; air density directly affects how fast we go. The graph below shows the pressure during the week leading up to the event and the week following. The difference between the pressure at the highest point on the graph (today) and the lowest point earlier in the week is over 300 meters of distance on the track. While I don’t expect perfect conditions, “slowest conditions possible” was likely to create some additional challenges.

Albeit a bummer, I didn’t let the pressure change my goal of going as fast as I could for the hour on this day.

I know enough to know that I had no idea how a full hour would go until I did it; I respected the heck out of the event and those who’ve done it before. This being said, I did have goals. Goal 1 was to break 50km; goal 2 was the 45-49 national record of 50.25km; and the final goal would be the 50.7km age group world record. Both these records were set at altitude at the popular Aguascalientes Mexico velodrome where the benefit of reduced air density often results in the fastest times. While the Milton track is at sea level, my test numbers indicated that 50.7km was still within reach on a good day. However, as mentioned, we did not have a good day with the barometric pressure where it was. Based on the reality in the atmosphere, I revised my plan of a week ago. Instead of increasing the pace to 17.6 second lap splits at 20 minutes to shoot for the 50.7km world record, I told Dave my new plan was 17.8-17.9 second lap splits the whole way. This would break 50k and allow me to contest the 50.25km record in the second half if I felt good.

My Hour Attempt

On the morning of the event, I warmed up on the trainer outside in the cool 60 degree darkness. I was happy to go first; not feeling like you’re waiting on an execution all day for your hour attempt was a benefit. Dave checked my bike with the UCI measuring officials and came out to let me know it was ready to go. When my warm-up finished, I walked into the warmer 75 degree velodrome and mounted my bike in the starting gate. The 5-second beeping countdown commenced and soon I was riding. It took around three laps to get up to speed and settle into pace. Dave started the 17.8 second splits and each corner, lap, and minute started to click by. The first five minutes soon passed and I felt great. I was enjoying this, or at least I was convincing myself I was.

Bike computers and power data are not allowed and Dave shouted key numbers out to me. Otherwise, I’m monitoring everything throughout my body as I ride, scanning for the first sign of distress. My breathing is steady; I don’t feel too hot; the air on my face still feels cool; my cadence feels good and pace feels easy. My hands are still dry and arms are relaxed; my line still feels smooth, and most importantly my lap splits are right where I want them at 17.8 seconds. The ten-minute mark came and went and all remained fine. I started to hear 17.7 second lap splits and then a 17.6; I was puzzled at how my splits were getting faster. The head-to-toe scanning continued, no sign of distress, breathing was aerobic, I smiled, the saddle and legs felt fine.

It’s funny what the mind can think about during a concentrated physical effort. In my case, I started thinking about the tires heating up more and rolling resistance becoming lower and the air moving more from all the laps I’m doing will naturally help me go faster. Understanding that the exertion will only increase as the minutes transpire, I felt that I could ride the current pace for another 50 minutes. All was going very well.

As the 17.6 second lap splits kept repeating and the 15 minute mark approached, I could hear in Dave’s voice part excitement and part concern. He knew this was world record pace, but he also knew it was faster than I’d planned. I relaxed and floated. I still felt great. I was hearing consistent 17.6 second splits and even a few 17.5s. I started telling myself, “You got this. Don’t change anything.” I was literally smiling and reminding myself how enjoyable this was. I was just going to hold 17.6 splits the rest of the way.  Easy, right?

The 20 minute mark started to show some cracks in my armor; things started to change. The effort felt fine, but I’m feeling a little warmer and I’m noticing heavier breathing. Time isn’t passing as fast and my ISM saddle is starting to bother. I’m feeling the pressure of the banked turns and I decide to back off and return to my original plan. I throttle down to 17.8-17.9s lap splits. This still leaves me a buffer to finish over the national record. However, after slowing pace, the warning signs weren’t subsiding. In fact, they were getting worse quickly. In the span of a few minutes, I went from holding steady splits to listening to them slow each lap. 18.0, 18.2, 18.3… I hoped that some kind of recovery would allow me to stabilize, but it was becoming clear I couldn’t hold anything that would finish me over 50km. My pace slowed to 19 seconds a lap and the physical and mental anguish is going off the charts – I need some relief.

Having told myself that there was no way I was stopping, I made a few desperate attempts to roll up the banking and stand up out of the saddle to ease off. Sadly, the mental torture session was no better. Riding a fixed-gear track bike at 90 rpm means you can’t coast and I tried soft-pedaling a couple of laps. Nothing was helping and all I wanted to do was stop. I could hear voices of encouragement as many present had the experience of knowing what I was going through. Unfortunately, the sinking ship never gets righted in this scenario. I still wanted to finish, but started asking myself why. We can all deal with the physical discomfort on a bike, but this was different. The mental torture of wanting to stop and the other part of my mind saying no continued lap after lap. Soon, there was no part of me that wanted to continue until the end. I stopped shortly after the halfway mark. 

Power Numbers Don’t Lie

I was so beaten and exhausted when I stopped, but all that was nothing in comparison to the relief I felt that it was over! I could unpack all the thoughts and decisions that went through my head between the 10 and 20 minute mark all day, but the power file
confirms what anybody watching would tell me. I simply went too hard and overheated.

Power file and timing mat splits showed everything I needed to see. I went 51km/hr for nearly 20 minutes after the starting lap before I faltered. The first 10 minutes were 373 watts which in itself was higher than the 365-370 pace I’d planned. Minutes 10 to 20 were at 383 watts and 51.2km/hr. Bingo, we have a smoking gun. All the heat training I did, pre-cooling that morning, and feeling as strong as I have all year on the day couldn’t justify that power output at that temperature in hindsight. I let perceived effort override my pacing plan.

We certainly learn more from failures than from successes. I regret not sticking to my plan. I regret underestimating how much overheating would eventually impact me, even with all my pre-cooling and heat training. However, I don’t regret stopping, even though I’m a little ashamed I did.  The following graphic from the timing page sums it up well. As you can see, the average pace rising leads to a downward spiral.

The whole hour record experience puts me into a unique, yet well-populated, club – those who have attempted an hour record and failed. I took a little solace that every person trying an hour record this day also joined the club. Immediately following my aborted attempt, I met Ed Veal. Ed held the Elite Canadian national hour record before pro triathlete Lionel Sanders beat it with his 51.3km run on this track. I recognized Ed from his commentary on YouTube during Lionel’s attempt. It was like he read my mind. Before I even described what happened he said, “I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. My first attempt I did the exact same thing and it was horrible. Keep your head up, everybody here has experienced what you just did.” The failed hour record group is a very supportive group – I’m fine, it’s as if I had a successful event.

I’m glad I tried the hour record, and I’m delighted that it’s over! I wonder many things about the day, such as how it would have gone had I stuck to my plan. I may have made it, or I may have simply blown up 20 minutes later. Regardless, I drove the eight hours home from Ontario afterward smiling and relieved it was behind me.

I don’t have plans to try the hour again. However, I also know that most eventually do try again. If I do, I promise more articles and photos about my equipment and training leading up to this attempt. Stay tuned for Part 2 where I promise a better answer to the common question, “So, if it was going so well what do you think went wrong?” I’ll take a deeper dive into equipment, cooling, heat training, and more.

Thanks for reading! -Dean