Natchez Trace 444: Season 50 and a Mississippi Wild Clover

Joe Barr reflects on his 50th season of racing, a tough 444-mile time trial through the American South, and the lessons that come from a life on the bike.

Well, it’s finally done. Season 50 is complete.

It feels like yesterday that I was heading to my very first race on my shiny purple Falcon bike. Of course, that was 1972. What a journey racing bikes has taken me on over those 50 seasons.

The Natchez Trace 444 was a whole new race and a whole new experience.

Held on the historic Natchez Trace Parkway, George Thomas wasn’t joking when he described it as 444 miles of beautiful pavement, with no turns, no stop signs and no traffic lights. It’s certainly not a course built for a little guy who is perhaps too light and too old to race a fast time trial. But passion carries me forward every time!

The race starts near Nashville, Tennessee, passes through Alabama and finishes in Natchez, Mississippi. Beautiful landscapes, incredible people and plenty of Southern hospitality. Jill and I would happily return.

A crew built on trust

Alongside Jill, my crew consisted of fellow ultra-cyclist and World UltraCycling Association (WUCA) record holder Doug Chivington and his wife, Amber. Doug holds 13 different WUCA world records, so he’s a talented guy.

From the moment we connected in Nashville, I knew Doug and Amber would have my back. There was an instant trust, and I had a feeling we’d be seeing them in Ohio and welcoming them to Ireland before too long.

Setting the pace

The first 100 miles is where I set out my race stall.

My intention was to get close to four hours and ten minutes, averaging a heart rate of 160 bpm. That’s uncomfortable, but sustainable. It also makes fuelling a challenge from the outset.

Jill kept a close eye on my blood glucose levels through the Supersapiens dashboard. Between my bottle mix and TORQ bars, I maintained levels high enough to support the effort.

I came in at four hours and 20 minutes, ten minutes slower than my first 100 miles at Sebring earlier in the season. I put that down to the nature of the long, leg-sapping drags. What surprised me most, though, was the downhill riding. I had to push just as hard to maintain speed. Normally, downhills give you a little help. These ones, not so much.

I guess I’m just too lightweight!

At 104 miles, Chris Stellato, who had started five minutes behind me, came past. Chris is a super-fast time triallist on a fully loaded machine, complete with a rear disc wheel and the advantage of knowing the route. When he passed, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be seeing him again.

Still, I was pretty proud that it had taken him 100 miles to catch me. I’m his senior by at least 20 years!

I was now in second place, or so I thought. The tracking system wasn’t providing meaningful information for crews or the public, making it difficult to understand how the race was unfolding. It was the same for everyone, so there was nothing to do but stay focused on my own task. And my task is always to race for the podium.

Into the night

At around 118 miles, we had a 40-mile shuttle in the car because a section of the parkway was under reconstruction. We used the time to refuel and change into night-time clothing. We knew the temperature would drop, and after enjoying decent daytime temperatures, the night was going to feel cold.

When darkness arrived, I was ready to get stuck into the race.

I may not be built for time-trial speed, but I have plenty of experience managing performance through the difficult hours of darkness. I knew that if I was going to make the podium, this was where precious minutes could be gained.

I set off full gas, reeling in the flashing lights of the riders ahead, one by one. With every rider I caught, my confidence grew.

But I also knew what was coming. Sooner or later, that inner dialogue would start making its case for slowing down and coasting just a little.

This season had brought a marked improvement in my ability to sustain high output through the toughest night hours, even over multiple nights. I thought back to Race Across the West, where I’d put in a dedicated shift each night while riders around me were slowing down.

All the work Jill and I had done behind the scenes was paying off. I was becoming a better all-round ultra-rider.

You can’t fake this stuff. When you’re deep into the night, trying to hold speed and stay on the bike, the work you’ve put in beforehand is what you have to draw on.

My passion for racing with the top guys still trumps all the talk of age-related decline.

Fuelling the effort

True to form, the night was cold, but I managed just fine.

After the second, shorter shuttle at Jackson, I had a harder time getting going again. I was still deep in the darkness, and as the first glints of daylight appeared, so did the rising mist.

I’m no stranger to damp mist, but it really does get inside you after a night of riding full gas.

Meanwhile, Jill was managing my blood glucose levels. In fact, she was reducing the concentration of my bottle mix and asking me to leave longer gaps between feeds.

This is where continuous glucose monitoring can be useful. She could see that my blood glucose was trending high, above 170 mg/dL, for too long. We wanted to avoid adding a fuelling problem to the physical demands of the race and risking the dreaded performance gut.

Crisis averted. My gut was fine. I was simply fatigued from the effort.

The last 50 miles

The last 50 miles hurt.

I was feeling pressure from the riders behind, and because the tracking information was so poor, we couldn’t reliably monitor their positions. I had to assume they were just out of sight.

Larry Osland, an experienced recumbent rider, was fast on the flats and downhills. Thankfully, the final 50 miles consisted of long uphill drags. I knew that if they were hurting me, they would hurt him even more.

Leaving it all out on the road is an easy thing to say. Actually doing it is another matter.

You have to empty the tank, then find the reserve tank and empty that too. It takes experience, determination and a willingness to descend into a world of eye-watering hurt.

The parkway had mile markers, and I would search ahead for the next one. Thirty miles became 29, then 28.

I was done.

“Push, Joe. Stay on top of the gear. The biggest gear you’ve got.”

I refused to move out of the big ring on those last long drags.

“Feck it. I’m not budging.”

Up and over, and then the abrupt end of the parkway.

It was done.

We still had no idea what position we were in. All we knew was that we’d had a great race.

Mississippi Wild Clover

The crew bundled me into the car, and we scooted to the Natchez Grand Hotel, where George and his team were waiting.

Third place, in a time of 22 hours and 48 minutes.

And George awarded me a Natchez 444 name: Mississippi Wild Clover.

I kind of love that!

There were smiles all round, from beginning to end, followed by the after-party. George Thomas knows how to organise a race. He has a number of races on the world calendar, and we were keen to race with him again.

The Natchez Trace 444 was a brilliant experience, and one that Jill and I will remember for a long time.

A little armoured one

One last thought.

I became rather enamoured with the wildlife on this trip, especially the armadillos. Beautiful creatures whose name means “little armoured one”.

I guess you could say the same about me.

I’ve been known to armour up every once in a while. It’s been necessary at times, but more and more I’m realising that there is strength in the soft underbelly, too.

Perhaps that’s one of the things a life in racing teaches you. There’s a time to be tough, to dig deep and refuse to give an inch. But there’s also strength in being open to the people around you, trusting them and allowing yourself to be supported.

A heartfelt thank you to Team Chivington for taking Jill and me under their wings. Our connection with you turned this race into so much more than a result.

And after 50 seasons, I’m still finding reasons to keep going.

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Every race has a story, but the performance starts long before the start line.

Joe brings decades of racing experience to his coaching, helping riders develop the fitness, strategy and resilience to take on their own big challenges.

Train with Joe and put that experience to work on your next adventure.