thedrifter
01-16-07, 07:10 AM
85 hours of pedaling put him in record book
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
By Chico Harlan, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
For 85 hours straight last week, George Hood rode on a stationary bike. He denied himself sleep. He hallucinated. He moved 1,082 miles, purely in theory. But when he stopped pedaling, his long trip going nowhere in fact landed him in two places: on a soon-to-appear page in the Guinness World Records book, and on a gurney bound for an Illinois hospital.
The spinning ultramarathon, as much a triumph of imprudence as endurance, ended just before midnight Saturday. Some 300 spectators watched Mr. Hood, 49, a native of Indiana, Pa., burn the last of his 27,854 calories and declare, "Mission accomplished."
With that, paramedics guided Mr. Hood from the Five Seasons Sports Club, in Burr Ridge, Ill., to an awaiting ambulance.
Starting several years back, Mr. Hood, a former endurance runner, began spinning -- the high-intensity cycling activity made famous through group health club workouts. He decided around eight months ago, though, to "take spinning to the next level" -- or whatever level it is that requires one to borrow the keys to the health club, and cycle nonstop from midnight until sunrise.
His motivation? He wanted a spot in the Guinness World Records book, the official catalog of all things historic and insane. In April, Mr. Hood, a resident of Aurora, Ill., and an agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration, walked into a local bookstore hoping to do some research. He found the latest Guinness volume and checked out the spinning record. Eighty-two hours.
It meant months of sleep deprivation training, learning to live on three hours per night. It meant ignoring his three teenage boys, and spinning 25 to 30 hours every week. When growing up in Indiana, and when attending IUP, he'd never been the archetype endurance athlete; he sang in choruses and performed in the orchestra, his sister, Sue McKissick, said.
But joining the Marines after graduating from college stoked Mr. Hood's mission-oriented outlook, those who know him said. Still, his first attempt at Guinness glory, in 1986 -- 13 hours, 12 minutes and 11 seconds jumping rope -- was broken again before the next publication.
"I saw 82 hours," Mr. Hood said, "and I knew it was attainable."
As a sanctioned Guinness record-breaking attempt, Mr. Hood's spinning mission followed the necessary guidelines. For every hour on the bike, he'd accrue five minutes of rest time. At all times, two volunteer observers watched the clock and maintained video cameras, which recorded (in a growing pile of two-hour tapes) every second of the accomplishment.
Just before 4 a.m. Wednesday, Mr. Hood arrived at his gym, alongside his father, George Sr., the mayor of Indiana, Pa. Accustomed to midnight training, Mr. Hood felt fresh. He pedaled the first 10 hours without stopping, per hour burning 300-odd calories and, as required, traveling at least 12 mph.
During the following days, Mr. Hood traveled the ups and downs that only a stationary bike could allow. A section of the fitness club had been cordoned off, and that's where one could find, depending on the hour, Mr. Hood's father, his three sons, his brother and sister, his chiropractor, his personal trainer, his Marine flag, his collection of supplements and energy beverages (he ate no solid food) and his stack of listening music, which included the theme song from "Rocky."
When Mr. Hood pedaled long enough to accrue a break -- say, 50 minutes -- he'd change clothes and take a power nap. "He'd fall asleep instantly," his father said.
During a mid-workout interview with a radio station, Mr. Hood responded to a question about the upcoming Chicago Bears playoff game.
He said he cared only about the Steelers.
For most of his spinning time, he wore a Steelers cap. He also received a note from Dan Rooney, the team's chairman. That, coupled with the $25,000 he raised for his selected charity, an Illinois organization aiding families of fallen police officers, he later described as the highlights.
Around 2 a.m. Saturday, Mr. Hood encountered his roughest patch. He felt an obsessive urge to see sunlight through the health club windows. The room seemed to change shape, and the walls danced around him.
"As the event wore on," he said, "I started to lose all sense of time."
In the final minutes of the event, the crowd roared with support. One standing close to Mr. Hood reminded the onlookers that they were "seeing history." It was 11:58 p.m. Mr. Hood had topped the world record, unofficially, by three hours.
"That's a mark that somebody can shoot for," Mr. Hood said later, after his release from the hospital. "It's really difficult to know what motivates people." He paused and laughed. "Just look at me."
(Chico Harlan can be reached at aharlan@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1227. )
Ellie
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
By Chico Harlan, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
For 85 hours straight last week, George Hood rode on a stationary bike. He denied himself sleep. He hallucinated. He moved 1,082 miles, purely in theory. But when he stopped pedaling, his long trip going nowhere in fact landed him in two places: on a soon-to-appear page in the Guinness World Records book, and on a gurney bound for an Illinois hospital.
The spinning ultramarathon, as much a triumph of imprudence as endurance, ended just before midnight Saturday. Some 300 spectators watched Mr. Hood, 49, a native of Indiana, Pa., burn the last of his 27,854 calories and declare, "Mission accomplished."
With that, paramedics guided Mr. Hood from the Five Seasons Sports Club, in Burr Ridge, Ill., to an awaiting ambulance.
Starting several years back, Mr. Hood, a former endurance runner, began spinning -- the high-intensity cycling activity made famous through group health club workouts. He decided around eight months ago, though, to "take spinning to the next level" -- or whatever level it is that requires one to borrow the keys to the health club, and cycle nonstop from midnight until sunrise.
His motivation? He wanted a spot in the Guinness World Records book, the official catalog of all things historic and insane. In April, Mr. Hood, a resident of Aurora, Ill., and an agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration, walked into a local bookstore hoping to do some research. He found the latest Guinness volume and checked out the spinning record. Eighty-two hours.
It meant months of sleep deprivation training, learning to live on three hours per night. It meant ignoring his three teenage boys, and spinning 25 to 30 hours every week. When growing up in Indiana, and when attending IUP, he'd never been the archetype endurance athlete; he sang in choruses and performed in the orchestra, his sister, Sue McKissick, said.
But joining the Marines after graduating from college stoked Mr. Hood's mission-oriented outlook, those who know him said. Still, his first attempt at Guinness glory, in 1986 -- 13 hours, 12 minutes and 11 seconds jumping rope -- was broken again before the next publication.
"I saw 82 hours," Mr. Hood said, "and I knew it was attainable."
As a sanctioned Guinness record-breaking attempt, Mr. Hood's spinning mission followed the necessary guidelines. For every hour on the bike, he'd accrue five minutes of rest time. At all times, two volunteer observers watched the clock and maintained video cameras, which recorded (in a growing pile of two-hour tapes) every second of the accomplishment.
Just before 4 a.m. Wednesday, Mr. Hood arrived at his gym, alongside his father, George Sr., the mayor of Indiana, Pa. Accustomed to midnight training, Mr. Hood felt fresh. He pedaled the first 10 hours without stopping, per hour burning 300-odd calories and, as required, traveling at least 12 mph.
During the following days, Mr. Hood traveled the ups and downs that only a stationary bike could allow. A section of the fitness club had been cordoned off, and that's where one could find, depending on the hour, Mr. Hood's father, his three sons, his brother and sister, his chiropractor, his personal trainer, his Marine flag, his collection of supplements and energy beverages (he ate no solid food) and his stack of listening music, which included the theme song from "Rocky."
When Mr. Hood pedaled long enough to accrue a break -- say, 50 minutes -- he'd change clothes and take a power nap. "He'd fall asleep instantly," his father said.
During a mid-workout interview with a radio station, Mr. Hood responded to a question about the upcoming Chicago Bears playoff game.
He said he cared only about the Steelers.
For most of his spinning time, he wore a Steelers cap. He also received a note from Dan Rooney, the team's chairman. That, coupled with the $25,000 he raised for his selected charity, an Illinois organization aiding families of fallen police officers, he later described as the highlights.
Around 2 a.m. Saturday, Mr. Hood encountered his roughest patch. He felt an obsessive urge to see sunlight through the health club windows. The room seemed to change shape, and the walls danced around him.
"As the event wore on," he said, "I started to lose all sense of time."
In the final minutes of the event, the crowd roared with support. One standing close to Mr. Hood reminded the onlookers that they were "seeing history." It was 11:58 p.m. Mr. Hood had topped the world record, unofficially, by three hours.
"That's a mark that somebody can shoot for," Mr. Hood said later, after his release from the hospital. "It's really difficult to know what motivates people." He paused and laughed. "Just look at me."
(Chico Harlan can be reached at aharlan@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1227. )
Ellie