Tour de Donut
Staunton, IL
July 9, 2005
by Cara McCauley (Team BMW-Bianchi)
The Tour de Donut occurs annually in Staunton, IL on the 2nd weekend in July. It is a 30-mile bike race with two donut stops sandwiched in the middle of it (at 10 and 20 miles) – for every donut one eats, one receives 5 minutes off their finish time. There are two separate categories: Fastest Time, and Fastest Adjusted Time. While not a traditional race, it provides me an excellent excuse to return home to St. Louis to visit my family and friends, as well as participate in a whole lot of silly fun.
Last year my husband Andy was here to put the front group to donut eating shame, but this year he chose an 8-day stage race, so I was left to make the 10-hour journey solo. The drive left my legs feeling really sluggish, but that didn’t deter my iron will to be the fastest donut eating fool in the bunch. I was fortunate enough to have my buddy Timmy Ranek back in the race after a year of recovery from his 2003 attempt, in which he ate 13 donuts and suffered magnificently. He came with a contingent of Big Shark donut domestiques, ready to help in getting him from start to finish as fast as possible. While I was going for the fastest time on the road, Tim’s goal was to have the fastest adjusted time. To do so, he was planning on skipping the donut eating at the first stop, and eating 20 donuts at the 2nd! My plan involved snagging one donut at the first stop and eating it on the bike. Last year I had trouble with the 2nd one so I decided to skip it this year.
What fun would the donut race be if I took it too seriously? I solicited the advice of my hottie BMW-Bianchi teammates as to the attire I should wear (last year it was a t-shirt with funny iron-ons). Help arrived the Tuesday before the race, an early bird b-day present from Mandy, Daniele & Nancy. I would be guest riding for the Doughnut Boy Racing Team, with a giant image of a donut across the front of the jersey! (A real team based in Carrboro, NC) A final touch of silliness involved wiring a fake plastic donut to my helmet (see photo below) to serve as a “carrot” to those non-donut eating fools in the front group who would be choking on my sugar surge dust.
While Tim and domestiques Greg and Johnny (sp?) lined up mid-field, I chose to place myself at the front of the group that included racers, tandems, hybrids, mountain bikes and riders of all shapes, sizes, and age. I intended to remain in the top 5-10 in the pack so I could be at the front for the first donut stop to make my grab. You have to stop and get your number marked with however many donuts you eat, and if you’re stuck waiting in line, you can miss the bus as the front group continues on while you’re still waiting for your badge of (dis)honor! The veteran volunteers are used to the first group rolling in and getting “O”s marked on their numbers (for shame!) so as we approached the first stop after a fast but uneventful first 10 miles I made my intentions clear by shouting “I’m taking a donut! I need a donut!” The volunteer who was marking me was laughing as I tore out of the stop, tasty pastry in hand. Homer Simpson would have been proud, except he would have taken, like, 10. I actually was one of the first on the road, and sat on three guys as I tried to shovel the donut into my mouth while redlining. They were mumbling something at me about pulling through, and my only response was to wave my hand and say “donut!” If they weren’t such donut pansies, they would have understood my predicament (besides, there was a mean nasty headwind).
After the first stop the field was whittled down to about 20, with Timmy’s super-stud Johnny riding fast tempo at the front. I was near the front on the blue train to avoid any possible carnage, when we blew right by a left hand turn we needed to make. About 5 of us missed it, and the field thought Timmy & co. were going for the fastest unadjusted time win, so they capitalized on our misfortune and hammered on. The vicious wind made it difficult to get back to the field (this from the girl who is so skilled at clawing her way back!) and it took about 2 miles to make contact with the field, which was slowly but surely shedding riders. By this point there were no women remaining in the front group (besides the tandem!), so I knew if I hung on I was golden. We came into the second stop, and I had difficulty getting a volunteer to mark my number – oh no! There goes the field! I had to burn a match to chase back on, briefly aided by a guy I wound up riding off my wheel (oops!). Once I got back on and rested a bit, visions of setting myself up for the final sprint to take the overall flitted in and out of my thoughts. They quickly disappeared when I saw the truck with the camera zoom past us, filming us as if we were Lance’s posse or something! TV TIME! We were riding hard but manageable, but I decided to do what Bob Roll would call the TV attack – you know it’s going nowhere, but it gets you out there for some tv footage. Man, it was hard… I also chose to do it right before and onto a stupid big ring climb. They caught me after about 30 seconds and I realized it was the last match I had to burn. Phooey. From there on out I was just sitting on getting a good workout. .
The final few clicks into town weren’t nearly as scary as last year, mainly because I wasn’t trying to maintain position for a sprint, and also because we were down to just 7 riders. I let the guys gap me through the final gravel-strewn corner, and sat up for what please Lord tell me will NOT be my only gun salute of the year. Surprisingly my Mom kind of got a photo of it.
So you think the story is over, do you? Hah hah hah hah! I refilled my empty water bottle and turned around in search of Timmy and co. I had left them at the second donut stop, Tim proclaiming “It’s eatin’ time!” with full-zip jersey wide open, large white belly exposed like the underside of a whale, only slightly smaller. I rode slowly, my legs and body not used to 90-degree weather and belly a little achy from such a hard effort with a donut inside. 10 minutes passed, 20, 30… where’s Tim? I passed the recumbents, the children on one speeds, tricycles, babies crawling… still, no Tim! At 30 minutes I stopped at a corner and asked the marshal if she had seen guys fitting their description roll by… nope. So I continued, and quickly found Tim & Greg limping along. Tim had failed in his attempt to eat 20 donuts, only making it to 18. The point of it is to SAVE time by eating a donut… once it takes more than 5 minutes to eat a donut, it’s time to go. Timmy’s domestiques failed a bit to keep track of time because they were too busy taking silly photos of him and his superhuman donut eating efforts. [if he emails me the photos which are HILARIOUS I will put them up on the a2coaching website in a gallery] As they left the second stop after being there over an hour, Johnny, the main horsepower, flatted, leaving Tim and Greg to their own devices. Greg killed himself to speed Tim along to the finish line, but the ferocious headwind along with Tim’s heavier belly (although he did get rid of many of the donuts before he started to ride again) kept them moving along rather gingerly. I turned around with them and was able to help a bit in getting them to the finish, but Tim ate a few donuts too many to make the podium, although we’re pretty sure he had a respectable top 5 finish in the Adjusted Time category.
To really add insult to Tim’s injury, I somehow managed to clinch the fastest adjusted time win as well, by virtue of eating my one donut but riding really fast. 2nd place ate 18 donuts! 18 donuts! A girl as skinny as me! Insanity.
The fun of the day was sealed as I went to a barbeque later that evening where Tim showed up with the recently developed photos from the disposable camera. Everyone roared at the sequence of events that went down at the 2nd donut stop. First, Tim eating a donut. Then, Tim lying in between boxes of donuts. Then, Tim heading to the bathroom, his number marked 18 times. Then, Tim in the bathroom. Then, Tim leaning over the porcelain god. That one was an action shot. You get the idea, I hope! I had fun catching up with old friends and actually managed to make a new one or two. All in all a great weekend!
Thanks for reading,
Cara McCauley
cara@a2coaching.com