Wow! We did it, we surpassed the 173.9 miles that previously held the Guinness World Record for the furthest distance traveled in 24 hours using a mouth-controlled power wheelchair. It was one of the most challenging experiences of my life and I want to take a few minutes to bring you all up to speed on how it all happened. This is a lengthy post, skip ahead as needed.

Inception and Early Planning

I first became aware of the record in August of 2018, shortly after my cross Washington ride. It seemed pretty out of reach but I kept it on my radar. Fast-forward six months and I was finishing up filming an Apple commercial when the producer and I connected and began discussing some of my aspirations. I mentioned the world record and he said let’s do it and make a documentary around it. I was more encouraged. Fast-forward again to October 2020 when I was riding down the Redwood Coast with my team and got a message on social media from a man named Zane who mentioned he could greatly extend my range with a different style of lithium batteries. I was intrigued.

Long story short, Zane and I began chatting, I mentioned the world record and he offered his help to make it happen. I then started thinking of locations, what challenges a 24-hour ride would bring and recruiting help wherever I could. The president of my board, Deborah Nelson, mentioned a really cool half marathon track she had done in the Portland area. This brought Sauvie Island to my radar. After a little more research on the location and a drive down to visit, we knew it was the right fit.

With our location scouted and chosen, it was time to start thinking about day-of details. The main challenges that we expected were temperature management, protecting my skin, physical and mental fatigue and potential mechanical failure of the chair. 

High quality gear is how I keep warm year-round outside in the Pacific Northwest. Since before I was injured I've always admired the quality and style of Arc’teryx. I would always purchase their gear, but would often have to save up for a year to get a nice jacket. We reached out to them a few years ago and they agreed to partner with us. For this adventure, Arc’teryx has continued to be incredibly supportive. They agreed to outfit me and the team to help manage the temperature issues. Sweet! I would be plenty warm and look good doing it.

We didn’t develop much of a strategy to protect my skin. I’ve been very fortunate over the years to not experience skin breakdown and we hoped this would continue through the ride. It did.  

There was no getting around the exhaustion I was about to experience. In general, I’m not a caffeine drinker, but coffee became a good friend during the ride, and was second only to the constant good company from friends, family, and supporters. 

In any big event, Mechanical failure is a real concern. I rely on my chair to get from A to B every day, but this was a new challenge altogether, and one with a time constraint. Failure was not an option and we needed backup! All we could do was bring duplicate or triplicate of any parts that could potentially break. Our local Invacare rep was able to bring down a second wheelchair so we could steal parts if needed.

The Guinness requirements for evidence are quite robust. They want 24-hour video evidence of completion. GPS data of the attempt in KML format (basically just Strava). They want lots of photo evidence. They require two witnesses/timekeepers to be on shift at all times and they can only work four-hour shifts. These individuals must also be independent, meaning they do not know me or anyone involved with the attempt. A surveyor must evaluate the course to ensure that the overall attempt is not made downhill. Finally, you need proof that the power wheelchair is commercially available. A number of boxes to check.

Chair Preparation and Logistics

Before we had received the Guinness guidelines for the attempt, we obviously had to have a chair to do it in. The chair I was in at the time (Invacare TDX SR) did just over 7 mph but had incredible range. Zane, who works as an engineer for Boeing, mentioned he had a way of doubling my speed and helping me extend my range using individual lithium battery cells made into a pack. The doubling my speed involved doubling the voltage of the chair. There was a ridiculous amount of work to make this happen and Zane was incredible throughout the whole process. The intention was to use this faster chair but with some supply chain issues, an incredible amount of wiring and soldering and limited time we had to move to Plan B a month or so before the attempt. This also calmed my conscience because the chair technically would not be a commercially available, unaltered wheelchair.

So instead, we decided to go with my daily driver Invacare SP2 power chair that has high-speed motors on it. I knew I could average at least 8.5 mph and doing the math it was completely possible. The batteries we had been working on transitioned right into the new chair and I was instantly transformed from 16 miles of range to more than 80 on a single charge. I immediately took advantage of my newfound freedom doing big 20- and 30-mile days in the weeks leading up to the attempt.

I go out riding a lot, like daily. In fact, I haven’t missed a day outside in well over five years. Doing this in the Pacific Northwest really puts wear on many different components. My stepdad, Russ, is the incredible human who keeps my chair going day after day. This project required even more intense maintenance. Be it fine tuning my sip and puff arm, installing canopy mounts, making my phone mounts just right, swapping out all the casters and lubricating all pivot points, he has always been there. My gratitude for his work through this process can’t be understated. It truly was a team effort.

Anyway, I sent an email to all the cyclists in my life who have supported me along the way and invited them to join me on solstice. My first calls were to Dr. B and Jimmy, these two do all of my rides with me. It was crucial that I have a variety of people to talk with and regale me with stories while circling that island more than 14 times. Most everyone agreed.

Throughout all of this, we were working with the documentary crew, Dominic and Corbett, to further organize logistics. It was super kind of them to take on this project and they certainly upped my excitement leading up to it. However, they both became much more than a film crew to us by the end of the event. The support and love these two showed was heartwarming and ever so thoughtful. They helped with everything. Securing permits, keeping everyone fed, organizing volunteers and witnesses, and keeping good relations with the island locals. Most of all, their excitement and positivity were infectious. So thankful for these new friends.

The day before the event we arrived at our air B&B in the afternoon and unpacked. We got some dinner and then went out to the island for a quick test lap with the sun low. We learned a few things. Sauvie Island is absolutely beautiful, I was able to average north of 8.6 mph on the loop, temperatures drop fast when the sun sets, and finally, there are a lot of bugs out at dusk.

We got me some safety glasses, reevaluated my clothing options, enjoyed a cold beer and tried to settle in to get some sleep before the big day. Sleep was hard to come by but I relaxed and laid in bed much longer than usual. I did not want to be in my chair longer than necessary. I believe I got transferred in around 3 PM and spent the next few hours relaxing with the crew before arriving at the island around 6:30 PM.

I had 90 minutes before starting my most difficult endurance effort yet. I spent that time chatting with all the folks who came out to see me off or to ride the first lap with me. A good friend Ian Ruder arrived shortly after and made everyone chuckle with some very amusing shirts he had made. It was me and the current world record holder with chiseled bodies going head-to-head like it was street fighter. The attention to detail is what really made these shirts amazing. I felt calm and lighthearted as the start time neared.

The 24 Hours

Minutes before 8 PM on solstice night everyone mounted their bikes and I gave a quick speech about our plans and waited for the final countdown. We started later in the evening to get the difficult night section out of the way first. I did end up forgetting one layer that I intended to wear from the start, some beautiful weather chaps from Diestco with checkered vans screen-printed on the feet. After completing one lap we quickly put the weather chaps on and added an additional puffy coat layer.

The first six hours were a breeze. Me and the crew enjoyed the night air and spent plenty of time chitchatting and goofing off. I would also be making notes of the things I needed at the next pitstop. Often things like water, a banana, fix one of the go pros, or 100 other little things that can’t be done while moving.

For lights I mainly relied on the factory lights and taillights/flashers that come with an SP2. I did include one extra bike light that I had plugged into a battery pack. However, we had a follow vehicle so there really was no shortage of light. At 1:41 AM the moon rose which also helped the situation.

One amusing experience we had around 3 AM was when a skunk darted out in front of me and immediately crossed to the road and started running with us from the other shoulder. I was a bit nervous to pass it up at first and everyone gave it adequate space. But eventually, we had to get by so I bravely started passing him up and he jumped into the bushes. That could have been bad…

A big challenge I didn’t expect was dealing with nutrition and hydration. I love a good authentic carne asada burrito and was hopeful that would get me through a good portion of the 24 hours. Instead, I didn’t want anything during most breaks. You’re just focusing on keeping the break as short as possible and I can’t drive a sip and puff with food in my mouth. So, I mostly went with a liquid diet, relying heavily on Ensure. I enjoyed a banana, granola bar and an apple but mainly I didn’t eat much. Similar with water. I should’ve rigged something up so I could be drinking on the go, it just gets a little sketchy when I have to take my mouth off of my steering straw to take a sip. Either way, the burrito may not have been the best plan.

I’ve mentioned repeatedly how amazing our crew is. What I didn’t mention is that one of our key players wasn’t able to attend. Jimmy, my bestie, tested positive for COVID days before his flight to Portland. We were all devastated, as was he. He did call me moments before the 24-hour excursion and encouraged me to take it hour by hour, lap by lap. It was good advice, wrapping your head around 24 hours of riding is really hard, focusing on the next hour is much more manageable. Video calls from him throughout the night and following day really helped keep my energy up.

I utilized my phone continuously throughout the ride. I could use voice control or switch control while circling the track to entertain myself with social media or texting back the people who were reaching out with encouragement. It was just one more distraction that helped me continue on.

Sunrise just after 5 AM was a welcome sight. My temperature continued downward, and I knew with the rising sun would come warmer temperatures. Unfortunately, it takes a while before the sun can do its thing and start warming me up. I was cold, right about 95.0 and I really didn’t want to dip into the 94’s. Shortly after sunrise I did get in my van with the heater cranking for about 15 minutes. Not sure it upped my core temperature, but the psychological boost was appreciated. I also had my 1st cup of coffee in 12 years around this time. That stuff works!

I hit my first serious wall right around 8 AM. I’d been riding for 12 hours; my eyes were getting heavy and I was having trouble finding distraction. My crew had been staying back, giving me space. Making it back to base camp was really hard. I was emotionally down. My body was tired and sore, had doubt on if I could finish and I certainly didn’t want to let everyone down. A lot goes through your mind and it’s easy to start getting negative. There was a noticeable difference in me when I made it to the pitstop. I took care of my needs and told the cyclists where I was at. Once we started up again, they started firing off riddles and jokes galore to ensure I had some stimulation. I can say with 100% certainty, they carried me through that low spot and any others that came after. I really can’t emphasize enough how much I needed fresh faces, conversation and just general encouragement. You can’t do this alone, or at least I couldn’t. Relying on others to help when things get tough is part of being a human being. You help those around you and reach out for help when it’s needed. None of us are an island.

There were other big milestones and happenings that really lifted me up. Having different cyclists coming and going with different stories and voices really helped keep my mind occupied. When I crossed the 100-mile mark I felt a lot of joy. For so many years a century in a wheelchair seemed so out of reach. Having my family involved really boosted spirits. My mom drove the follow car at 8 ½ mph ensuring our safety for hours upon hours. Then, having my dad out there with his huge white beard on a One Wheel (basically a motorized skateboard). That man rode over 50 miles to help me reach my goal. In addition,

About 9 or 10 AM my temperatures had started to go up and I was back in the 96s. I now had to prepare for some warmer temps for the rest of the ride. We stripped the puffy coat, weather chaps and safety glasses and put on my canopy and sunglasses. Something else to note, as a high quad I have some difficulty managing my blood pressure. Sitting up for long periods of time tends to make it low and me feel a little lightheaded. Every time I came into a pitstop, I immediately tilted. This gave my butt at least five minutes of pressure release and gave me a brief reprieve from the lightheadedness.

Things started to get tough again around noon. The wind had picked up, which was nice because it kept it cool, but it also made for a pretty strong headwind for 1/3 of the loop. It made it more difficult on the riders, brought pollen into the eyes and made it near impossible to use voice control on my phone. My body was also really feeling the miles and the loop was beginning to feel repetitive.

I still had plenty of motivation. I watch my average mph like a hawk. I was averaging 8.64 mph throughout the first six hours but I began to get complacent during the coldest time of night and early morning. I had dropped down to 8.58 mph and didn’t like seeing the downward trend. By noon I was up to 8.60 and felt like I was performing as I should. It also starts to feel like the end is in sight when there’s only eight hours to go. Finally, seeing the numbers of people at our base camp grow and other wheelchair users there to cheer me on was a serious confidence boost.

This is probably a good time to acknowledge two very special individuals. Celina Smith and Josh Blaustein. Celina, my girlfriend of 3+ years is not a cyclist. Don’t get me wrong, we love going on bike rides together and she really pushed her limits on our practice ride of 12 hours. But we were 16 hours in and she was still going strong. Chatting up whoever was joining us at that time, checking on me as needed and peddling her ass off the whole time. I could not love her more; she did not stop until the end and was with me from start to finish. I have the same to say about Josh Blaustein. This man first got me interested in bike touring before I was injured and has supported me to continue that passion even though now, I utilize a power wheelchair. He has been with me through every mile on Ian’s Rides. His calm demeanor, quick wit and fierce determination make him one of my closest friends. Did I mention he was my chemistry professor in college and that jerk gave me a B!

By far the most difficult part of the whole endeavor was the final three laps, more or less the final five hours. The miles felt long and it seemed like time had moved to a crawl. My body was spent and I was holding onto any positivity and encouragement I could. When I finally would make it to the pitstop it felt amazing to just stop moving and tilt back. I tried to drink as much water as I could and get a few calories in my belly, but just being still was what my body was craving. However, I kept these stops short and did not want to linger longer than I had to. Probably the most difficult part of the entire 24 hours was after those three pitstops. Forcing myself to tilt back up, bring the straw to my lips and start another loop. I was determined, but most of all I had this incredibly confident energy surrounding me by so many supporters and loved ones. Failure was not an option.

This is where you really embrace the misery. I knew it would be very difficult to accomplish my goal and expected some really hard times. I had found them and I had to deal with them somehow. I complained plenty, but I also really tried to suck it up and be in the moment, recognizing how my body was feeling and how my mind was rebelling. Understanding that this is what endurance athletes go through. I’m still not sure I qualify as an endurance athlete, but I have experienced some of the same psychological challenges. Success depends on digging deep and harnessing anything you can. I harnessed that misery. I knew it wouldn’t last forever and I just had to endure. Endure I did.

At the beginning of lap 15 we knew we had less than 2 miles to go to surpass the previous record. It was still hard to tilt up and grab that straw, but victory was within reach and the excitement was higher than ever. Approaching the 174-mile mark, Celina and Josh came up to the front and rode on either side of me. We were very emotional and so happy to be doing this together. I carefully watched the fractions of a mile go by until we crossed the mark. There were huge cheers and hollering from the cyclists behind us while Celina, Josh and I celebrated quietly and emotionally upfront and on the move. You see we couldn’t stop, we had to at least finish that lap. 10 more miles to go…

After that, the final lap was more of a victory lap. All the cyclists came up to congratulate me and I got to chitchat all the way to the finish line. As we approached that line, all of our supporters were there making quite the commotion. We had done it. We had traveled 184.4 miles. All the planning, organizing, training and hard work had paid off. There were cameras and microphones all over the place. A couple local news stations wanting interviews and smiles everywhere. Kissing Celina and finishing with my family brought tears to my eyes and the emotions were high once again.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever chosen to do. It was also one of the more rewarding. I believe that’s why people choose to put themselves through experiences like this. It’s an emotional roller coaster with some really low lows, but the elation, feeling of accomplishment and achievement once you finish is phenomenal. It’s overcoming the many challenges and doing it with your friends and family that brings all the good feels. I don’t know what’s in my future, I do know that I’m really proud of my accomplishment and my heart is full from all those who were there to help me make it happen. Time for some well-earned rest.