Dave Haase, a Fond du Lac man with childhood dependency on leg braces finishes 4th in RAAM solo (Race Across America) 3,051.7 miles from San Diego to Atlantic City, N.J., in 10 days....
http://www.madison.com/wsj/home/features/index.php?ntid=51935&ntpid=1 Wheel Warrior JOHN NOLAN [EMAIL PROTECTED] 608-252-6168 August 26, 2005 Ultra cyclist describes grueling race as 'pure freedom' Imagine you're Lance Armstrong, using nearly 500,000 pedal strokes to cover 2,200 miles spanning 23 days in the Tour de France. Now imagine churning an additional 800 miles. Oh, and cut the time by more than half. Tired yet? Dave Haase doesn't have to imagine it. The Fond du Lac man spent his last vacation cycling 3,051.7 miles from San Diego to Atlantic City, N.J., in just 10 days, embarking on an exhausting, mind-numbing cross-continental journey June 19 and arriving June 28, 252 hours, 41 minutes later. Haase was one of just 12 solo competitors to complete the 24th annual Race Across America (RAAM), an ultra-extreme sport rated by Outdoors magazine as the world's toughest athletic achievement. "The last 100 miles were the hardest," said Haase, 37, who spent an average of 22 hours a day on his bike with a crew of six following in a car and an RV evaluating every conscious and unconscious moment of his trek. Hard is a relative term for Haase, an employer of six at Attitude Sports, Inc., a Fond du Lac shop that sells and services bikes, skis, skates and snowboards. His motor is always running and he admits operating a business is "a 24-7 lifestyle, rather than a job." All of which only partly explains why Haase, a mountain biker who only two years ago entered his first extreme cycling competition in Iowa, would push his body beyond physical and mental exhaustion. He describes ultra cycling as "pure freedom." "It challenges your fitness, your mental capabilities and your body. I like that challenge," said Haase, who draws inspiration from his father, Richard, his mother, Donna, who has battled cancer, and his brother Dean, a former professional baseball player. "When people say things like 'You're crazy!' 'You're completely nuts!' and 'You are an idiot!' you know that you are doing something pretty special." All about RAAM Race Across America began as the Great American Bike Race in 1982, when four riders took off from Santa Monica, Calif., and raced to New York (the winner was Wisconsin's Lon Haldeman, who also won the next year). Its roots date to 1887 when newspaperman George Nellis followed railway routes on a 45-pound iron high-wheel bicycle and managed the coast-to-coast journey in just less than 80 days. The push for a formal race came after a man named John Merino began tackling the endeavor during the 1970s. In the 23 years since its debut, the event has been featured on ABC's "Wide World of Sports," ESPN, OLN, NBC and the BBC. "When I was a kid, I saw it televised in the 1980s," said Haase, who failed in his first attempt to complete the race a year ago. " . . . I thought 'That would be a cool thing to do,' but I hadn't gotten into cycling at that point. "You say things, but you never necessarily mean it." Today, the race is run from west to east to avoid headwinds and to take advantage of mountainous terrain that tends to be more forgiving when attacked in that sequence. Not that it provides much solace. "The thing about this year's race is it was hard the whole way across," Haase said. "It was always over 90 degrees. Out West, in California, Arizona, Utah, it was always 100-degree temperatures and 115 to 120 degrees on the road. "Some of that area has some pretty good mountains. The heat along with the fact that there was always a crosswind made it difficult. It's harder to ride in a straight line when the wind is blowing from the sides." The American 'Tour' The Tour de France rates as the world's most revered cycling race. But is it the toughest? Some call the Race Across America the Tour de France the American way. Haase said there are a number of differences between the races, the most obvious being that Tour de France riders work from a peloton whereas RAAM riders are left to their own devices. "You have no one to pull you up a hill, no one to draft, so it can be lonely out there on the road at times," Haase said. Haase said the mental strain is greater in RAAM but the speed and explosiveness in the Tour is something that can't be matched. "I couldn't ride the Tour de France," he said. Haase added he doesn't believe many riders in the Tour de France could complete RAAM, much less beat him doing it - Armstrong included. "I would challenge him to (try it). I wouldn't be afraid of racing him, not in a race like this," Haase said of the Tour's seven-time champion. Ruling the road Unlike the Tour, there are no predetermined stages in the RAAM. Cyclists ride until they need a rest - usually 90 minutes or less. For solo riders, rules are minimal: Riders must check in at 57 timing locations about 50 miles apart along the route. Drafting behind other riders or vehicles is not permitted. Riding with another cyclist is permitted only for 15 minutes in duration during any 24-hour period. Riders may not cut the course, must ride on the shoulder and all traffic laws must be obeyed regardless of urban or rural setting - that means obeying all lights and stop signs. This year, Haase was passed early before eventually finding his rhythm and surging through the field. "Two times I talked to riders," Haase said. The race features solo (men's and women's), tandem, two- and four-person competitions and an eight-team corporate challenge, in which teams raise money for charity. Dr. Eric Heiden, Madison's five-time Olympic gold medalist speedskater, competed for the eight-person Team Donate Life, a group of medical professionals who raised money to raise awareness about organ donation. Heading into this year's competition, there were 228 finishes and 40 unofficial finishes out of 453 starts in the men's solo competition. Fifty men have finished the race twice. Rob Kish, the only rider with as many as nine finishes, has completed the race a whopping 19 times, although once was unofficial. Among the women, there were 35 finishes among 64 starters. In all, 169 people have crossed from the Pacific to the Atlantic oceans while 107 - many who have tried repeatedly - have not made it to the finish line. This year's race featured 26 solo entrants, of which only 12 riders - one was a woman from Sweden - made it to the Boardwalk in Atlantic City. One rider dropped out with 179 miles remaining - he was victimized by taxing climbs in the Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia - and a veteran rider from Illinois was killed when his bike veered into the path of an oncoming truck. Haase finished fourth. Numbers are numbing Completing the Race Across America is an awesome feat, considering only about half of the entrants reach the finish line. A few numbers from this year's course to chew on while you ponder saddle sores: The 150,000-mile distance covered by the 12 solo finishers is approximate to circling the Earth six times at the equator. The 110,000 feet of climbing approximates the distance from Earth's surface to the edge of space - it's also three times the altitude flown by commercial jets and nearly four times the height of Mount Everest. Elevation ranged from 70 miles below sea level (El Centro, Calif.) to 10,867 feet above sea level (Wolf Creek Pass in central Colorado). The course passed through 13 states - California, Arizona, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jersey - and reached its midpoint in Mount Vernon, Kan. The race passed through approximately 300 communities, defined as at minimum a gas station and a store (200 included a hotel). The straightest, flattest section of the course was a 22-mile stretch in western Arizona. A physical toll Preparing for, and competing in, the Race Across America is a daunting physical task. Haase said he began training in earnest beginning in January, noting that winter in Wisconsin makes full-time training prohibitive. "A normal day of training, pre-RAAM, I would wake up at 3:30 to 4:30 a.m., go out and ride until 8:30 to 9:30 a.m. anywhere from 40 to 120 miles," Haase said. "Then I work from 9 a.m. to 8 at night, usually. "Some days I'd go out and ride to midnight, 1 or 2 a.m. then sleep and do the process over. Twice a week I'd do a night ride." Once on the course, riders burn about 9,000 calories per day, consuming 28 fluid ounces per hour - not much is water. "The most important thing is nutrition," said Haase, who speaks from experience after mismanagement of his intake ended his 2004 race in a West Virginia hospital. "On the bike, you stick to a liquid diet consisting of Perpetuum, produced by Hammer Products. That gives us the amount of calories and the right format of protein, carbs and fat needed for the race. "The only time I ate solid food is when I would sleep. Right before then I would do a carbo load of pasta and protein drinks. You only would do that when you know you're going to sleep. If you try to eat too much food, it requires energy to process and it could give you an upset stomach." In 2004, Haase says he ingested too much liquid without the proper electrolytes and ended up gaining - not losing - 14 pounds. "Last year, for instance, (the crew) just handed me fluids as I felt hungry or thirsty," said Haase, who lost 10 pounds in the 2005 race. "This year, (the crew) tracked every ounce of fluid and Perpetuum in a diary. Also, I did a urine test. Every time, we checked hydration levels, then I would weigh myself to see how dehydrated I had become." Haase said there were only two instances this year when he pondered quitting the race. The first was after barely 100 miles when he began to feel dehydrated and he fell from fifth to last in the men's standings; the second instance came in Ohio, "when I was completely uncomfortable. "I was barely going at all, so I stopped and cooled off in the motor home. It was 95 degrees out. One of my crew members got on me. I got a good lecture (on staying the course)." Relying on a crew Haase's road crew this year included crew chief Chris Schultz, nursing student Keelyn Behm, and lieutenants Justin Kelley, Wayne Lanser, Dick Haase (Dave's father) and Shannon Teska. Together, the six individuals were responsible for round-the-clock monitoring of Haase's well-being. Primary among the duties was keeping him on the road, said Teska, Haase's girlfriend for the past 10 years. Other duties included driving, laundry, bike maintenance and repair, calculating and documenting Haase's intake, tracking his physical condition and hygiene and myriad others including communicating with race officials and media. Teska said Haase would change clothes at every stop - "he was in love with three or four pair of shorts so we were constantly washing them at gas stations" - and while he managed just two showers, a sponge bath was part of the routine. The crew was tasked with pulling their rider from the road if his pedal cadence declined dramatically. Keeping Haase from sleeping more than 90 minutes at a time was critical, Taska said, because it was important to keep him from slipping into a deep sleep cycle. "There was always something to do," said Kelley, who has worked at Attitude Sports, Inc., for the past two years. Riding with a friend Haase said putting a body through such duress can stress the mind, as well. "At times you think about nothing and at times you're out there hallucinating," he said, admitting at times he rides in a state of self-hypnosis to clear his mind. "You get into a rhythm where your mind isn't thinking about much of anything except going forward." One night, Haase said, he was churning along and felt the presence of a friend. Gerard Hauer is a former roommate whom Haase credits with introducing him to cycling. "He was one of the most carefree persons. If the wind was blowing, he would jump along and go. He was easygoing. I rode a bike a lot with him, had good times with him," Haase recalled. Hauer was killed several years ago, along with a girlfriend, when a drunken driver's car slammed into his truck. On one particular night of this year's race, his thoughts drifted. "It felt like he, specifically, was helping me pedal," Haase said. An inspiration Others - not just his crew - helped him pedal, too, although Haase wouldn't know it until he returned to Wisconsin. He discovered he had 380 e-mails from well-wishers and a message board on his Web site www.davehaase.com had about 500 postings. The RAAM Web site had thousands of views and his link to the RAAM page had "about 9,400 hits." Joe and Amy Lathrop of Sun Prairie were among those who made daily trips to the Web pages, keeping track of their friend's progress in real time. They were part of a group that threw a party in Fond du Lac welcoming Haase back to Wisconsin. They call him an inspiration. "You bet he inspires me. If you ask him, I bet he would deny the possibility of inspiring anyone. Dave does what he wants not to inspire, but simply because he has a reason lurking inside him," said Joe Lathrop, a former Trek employee who as a cycling enthusiast met Haase in 1997 and has since enjoyed a friendship. "For me, seeing a guy like Dave work 80-hour weeks and still have time to train well enough to place fourth overall in RAAM puts my schedule in perspective. "All of a sudden, 40-hour weeks seem like a piece of cake." And while some people might consider Haase a bit crazy, the Lathrops see a method to his madness. "He's just crazy. Or are we the crazy ones who think a guy is nuts just because he follows his heart - even when most 'sane' people see it as impossible?" Joe Lathrop said. "Sure, Dave's looney. But he's sly like a fox. Just ask all the guys he passed from San Diego to Atlantic City." So why does Dave Haase put himself through such an ordeal? The race doesn't pay - without sponsors, race officials say a rider can be looking at a tab of about $10,000 - with the solo winner receiving somewhere in the neighborhood of $25,000 based on a variety of rewards issued for performance. The rest of the field brings in a small fraction of that total. Some racers in the rear finish in arrears. Teska, for one, is uniquely qualified to answer the question of why Dave Haase puts himself through such trauma. She's a psychotherapist for Calumet County and is a psychology professor at Marian College in Fond du Lac. "I should have a session with him," she said with a laugh, adding he has always had a competitive nature that she speculates was borne from a childhood dependency on leg braces. "I don't know what drives him to do that . . . I think it's something that has evolved with him. It was a challenge to him, now it has become an obsession." Says Amy Lathrop: "I just think he has a weird definition of fun." Haase did, after all, ride across America on his vacation. madison.com is operated by Capital Newspapers, publishers of the Wisconsin State Journal, The Capital Times, Agri-View and Apartment Showcase. All contents Copyright C2005, Capital Newspapers. 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