Well, after years of wanting to and months of planning, the date has come for my first IronButt ride.
I'll be taking off at midnight with my roommate [on a 07 FJR] and heading to Florida and back on a big 1000 mile loop. We've done numerous 300-600 mile days in the mountains and a few interstate-only training runs. All the gear has been checked and is packed and we're ready to go.
The weather forecast could be better, but that's what I have rain gear for, right?
New gear that I've installed recently for long distance riding: 2.5 gallon fuel tank, throttle lock, and air deflectors.
I'll report back monday with results.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
UPDATE: The Full Story
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Let me preface this by apologizing for being verbose and having subpar pictures. I was descriptive because I've read far too many IronButt stories that are just 100 words long and dont give insight into the reality of the challenges of the ride. Pictures are hard to take when you're in a rush and hardly scenic when your only stops are gas stations. After riding for 100 miles, events start to blur so forgive me if my details are not perfect, but here it is....
My IronButt
My riding buddy and I have wanted to do an IronButt ever since we started riding together and, after months of talking and planning, we were prepared for it on April 21st.

Our complete route with fuel stops shown
I'd come home from work, packed, did some last equipment checks and adjustments, and was in bed by 7pm. With a planned midnight departure, I was going to need some sleep. I didn't get much; I was too excited and obsessing about details to sink deep, plus it was so early my body was wondering why I was horizontal.
11:15pm came quickly and I was dressed and on my bike and down the driveway by 11:45pm. We had to fill up our fuel just before departing--a critical part of providing evidence for distance and time traveled to the IronButt association--which gave me my largest fillup ever at 5 gallons. The prior week I had installed and tested my own design 2 gallon extra fuel tank which enabled me to get to the 150-175 mile mark without sweating. My Tourer gets 35-40mpg depending on my riding style and I figured on the interstate at 70+mph, I'd be on the lower end of that. The 4.4 gallon stock tank hits reserve at 3.2 which means 112 miles to reserve and 154 miles to empty; with my 2 gallon secondary tank, I bump those numbers to 182 and 224, respectively. Reducing the number and length of stops is critical when you're trying to go long distances in reasonable time. With this change, I'd cut my 1000 mile stops from 7-8 to 5-6.

My bike with extra fuel bag, airwings, cruise control and backrest--all essential
We left the gas station at almost exactly midnight and jumped on the interstate out of Charlotte. Our excitement of the challenge was dampened rather quickly when the road slowed to a halt as 3 miles of 3 lane traffic merged to one for construction. The weather was in the 50's, so we'd worn an extra layer to keep warm until the sun came up. This layer now made us hot, nearly sitting still on our bikes, and we had a nice layer of sweat under our clothes. What seemed like hours but was only 20 minutes later, we were back up to speed. The road was long and dark before us and the traffic was light.
An hour and a half later, we started hitting rain--not a drizzle, not a downpour, just enough rain to get us wet. We pulled off at the next exit to find a gas station with lights on but pumps not working so we jumped back on the bikes and across the interstate to one that was open. Filling up 20 miles sooner than I wanted to we donned our rain gear and headed back out.

There was no rain for the next couple hours. Now we had a nice base of sweat covered in damp clothes and sealed in with a water and windproof layer. I was less than thrilled at this combination but it was dark and we couldn't see the skies to know what what coming. We had already changed our route drastically to avoid the rain. Our plan was to run a big clockwise loop but with storms coming from the west, I figured if we rode counter-clockwise we'd skirt the rain all but the last hour or two instead of eight. I questioned this logic until later in the day it proved correct.
Riding through Atlanta at 3am is certainly better than rush hour. We rode right through the heart of the city and I still don't understand why the road swerves and jogs so much. Regular traffic has a problem with this but watching the 3am crowd handle it was no more comforting to two motorcyclists.
Glad to be out of ATL, we stopped for gas just south of the sprawling metropolitan limits. My riding partner is a great leader and, since he's usually faster than me and knows the route better, takes the lead for most of our rides. But for this length of ride, we decided to alternate leading each gas stop. It was my turn again and I knew this was going to be a long stretch as we were driving across Georgia the long way. With darkness still around and the radar saying there was something ahead, we kept our rain gear on just in case.
I took the lead for one of the longest and stressful rides of my life. Shortly after getting back on the interstate, we hit the fog. It was thick and the visibility was probably only a hundred yards or so. Given the high number of semi-trucks that were on the road at this hour [it was just after 4am by now], it was a bit unnerving. Then when the road construction started a short while later and concrete barriers were on the white and yellow lines, eliminating any shoulder and all margin for error. With a constant line of semi-trucks in the right lane and the left lane being half concrete/half asphalt with a height difference, I was stuck in the right half of the left lane passing trucks so close I could touch them. Riding this way into a fog for 100 miles was one of the more stressful rides I've done.
The construction ended and the fog lifted eventually and I was relieved to see both behind us. Another exciting change was the gradual fading of the darkness. With riding for 6 hours in the dark, the visual senses seemed dull and everything fades into two dimensions. When I was following, I'd just lock on my partner's taillights and stay with them and during the construction, I'd just focus on the narrow strip ahead of me I had to stay on--but as light began to fade the darkness, things began appearing both near and far--trees, clouds, even cars would grow as you approached not just be two brake lights that would float along.
When my trip-meter read 150, my partner signaled he was ready to pull over for gas and did so at the next exit. We found one side of the interstate had a closed gas station and the other had none--another wasted stop. Two miles down the interstate we had better luck. Now my stomach had woken up [it was 6:45am] and I downed some energy bars, Gatorade and a 5hr energy. With the sun rising, I could see the sky and it looked clear. I was glad to shed my rain gear which I'd worn needlessly for four hours. Ok, so it might have kept the damp fog from further wetting me but now it was going to be sunshine and maybe hot.

She looks so much better in the sunshine.
Riding in the morning sun was so invigorating. I was happy and excited plus being more relaxed just because I wasn't leading. Maybe it was more because I wasnt afraid for my life like I was back in the fog. Life was something I valued and though I always wanted to complete an IronButt, I wanted to do it safely. I knew there were inherent dangers to riding an IronButt:
(1.) 1000 miles on any motorcycle is dangerous because, well, its a motorcycle. It's not a car with 9 airbags. But I'd ridden nearly 10,000 in the past 9 months so that didn't concern me. What did was (2.) driving on the interstate. Not only is my velocity 70-80 mph instead of my preferred 45-65 but cars don't watch out for bikes on the interstate. I prefer riding highways [IE two lane, 55mph speed limit] and state roads; they're far more scenic, curvy and safe. At 80mph, my reaction time means more and with side-by-side traffic it's much easier for a car to swerve into you because you're in a blind spot or cut you off and force you to hit the brakes. Getting caught in a semi's rear turbulence or getting hit by a huge sidewind as you pass them is not my idea of a good time either.
And finally (3.) battling fatigue and exhaustion by trying to ride 1000 miles in just one day. I did my prep. I read the forums and the tips. I maintained my bike and have done a series of 300-500 mile days with no problems. I disagreed with people who said you should work up to it, 200, 400, 600, 800, 1000. I knew from my friends who run marathons that you don't need to build all the way to your distance. They run 5-10 miles regularly, maybe a half marathon, before jumping to 26.2 miles. I've done riding all day, dawn to dusk, numerous times into the mountains, which require far more intense focus and reflexes. With my cruise control and AirHawk seat pad, the only thing I had to worry about was mental fatigue. We overcame that with long gas stops. I say we because my partner took his time getting coffee and going to the bathroom while I relaxed, ate, and let my brain and nerves unwind for 15 minutes. Back to our adventure....

A high-quality shot at 80mph of the I10 onramp

The frustration of Garmin saying you're AT a gas station when there's none for miles.
We held off on our gas up until we hit the South Carolina border because gas is always cheaper because of lower fuel tax. A quick refuel and my partner took the lead.

Not quite chipper but still moving...
We had just passed 700 miles and he was anxious to keep a high pace and finish before we got tired of riding. Unfortunately, it was nearing noon and cars were filling the road. I've ridden motorcycle in Germany and people there know how to drive--no one is in the left lane except to pass. Going through SC, people were casually driving in the left lane one mile over the speed limit. We spent half of our time waiting on these either inconsiderate or naive drivers to slowly overtake another car and return to the right lane. Turning off I95 and merging onto I26 was the last change of the day and we were on the road that would take us to the finish. We'd just crested 800 miles and knew that the last fifth could be the most challenging.
The last 70 miles took forever. More cars passed us
in this time than had all day. Instead of reveling in our victory and
enjoying the mountain roads, I was stressed and eager to be done. We
rode all the way around town and to our hotel before I realized that we
needed a time-stamped fuel receipt to verify our time and location. All
the way back through town to find a gas station. My receipt was time stamped at 4:47pm which put us at 1050 miles in 16 hours 50 minutes

A far happier rider, glad to be done.
We gassed up for the last time and headed back to the hotel. An ice cold shower was refreshing and the flop onto the bed to be horizontal for the first time of the day was even better. 20 minutes of relaxing and letting the accomplishment sink in and we were out the door to celebrate. We stayed up until nearly midnight, sampling the fine foods and drinks of Asheville.
The next day, my aches began to manifest. My back was sore from being upright all day and my ass was definitely tender. I re-inflated my airpad and we were back on the road. Just 120 miles later and I was home. Even though we rode in the rain most of the way back, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My body was achy but it wasn't unbearable.
I stayed up until 9pm, reflecting on the events of the past day and thinking of what I did right and what could do differently.
NEXT CHAPTER: Lessons Learned and Essential Gear.
I'll be taking off at midnight with my roommate [on a 07 FJR] and heading to Florida and back on a big 1000 mile loop. We've done numerous 300-600 mile days in the mountains and a few interstate-only training runs. All the gear has been checked and is packed and we're ready to go.
The weather forecast could be better, but that's what I have rain gear for, right?
New gear that I've installed recently for long distance riding: 2.5 gallon fuel tank, throttle lock, and air deflectors.
I'll report back monday with results.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
UPDATE: The Full Story
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Let me preface this by apologizing for being verbose and having subpar pictures. I was descriptive because I've read far too many IronButt stories that are just 100 words long and dont give insight into the reality of the challenges of the ride. Pictures are hard to take when you're in a rush and hardly scenic when your only stops are gas stations. After riding for 100 miles, events start to blur so forgive me if my details are not perfect, but here it is....
My IronButt
My riding buddy and I have wanted to do an IronButt ever since we started riding together and, after months of talking and planning, we were prepared for it on April 21st.

Our complete route with fuel stops shown
I'd come home from work, packed, did some last equipment checks and adjustments, and was in bed by 7pm. With a planned midnight departure, I was going to need some sleep. I didn't get much; I was too excited and obsessing about details to sink deep, plus it was so early my body was wondering why I was horizontal.
11:15pm came quickly and I was dressed and on my bike and down the driveway by 11:45pm. We had to fill up our fuel just before departing--a critical part of providing evidence for distance and time traveled to the IronButt association--which gave me my largest fillup ever at 5 gallons. The prior week I had installed and tested my own design 2 gallon extra fuel tank which enabled me to get to the 150-175 mile mark without sweating. My Tourer gets 35-40mpg depending on my riding style and I figured on the interstate at 70+mph, I'd be on the lower end of that. The 4.4 gallon stock tank hits reserve at 3.2 which means 112 miles to reserve and 154 miles to empty; with my 2 gallon secondary tank, I bump those numbers to 182 and 224, respectively. Reducing the number and length of stops is critical when you're trying to go long distances in reasonable time. With this change, I'd cut my 1000 mile stops from 7-8 to 5-6.

My bike with extra fuel bag, airwings, cruise control and backrest--all essential
We left the gas station at almost exactly midnight and jumped on the interstate out of Charlotte. Our excitement of the challenge was dampened rather quickly when the road slowed to a halt as 3 miles of 3 lane traffic merged to one for construction. The weather was in the 50's, so we'd worn an extra layer to keep warm until the sun came up. This layer now made us hot, nearly sitting still on our bikes, and we had a nice layer of sweat under our clothes. What seemed like hours but was only 20 minutes later, we were back up to speed. The road was long and dark before us and the traffic was light.
An hour and a half later, we started hitting rain--not a drizzle, not a downpour, just enough rain to get us wet. We pulled off at the next exit to find a gas station with lights on but pumps not working so we jumped back on the bikes and across the interstate to one that was open. Filling up 20 miles sooner than I wanted to we donned our rain gear and headed back out.

Rain gear on and ready for the road
There was no rain for the next couple hours. Now we had a nice base of sweat covered in damp clothes and sealed in with a water and windproof layer. I was less than thrilled at this combination but it was dark and we couldn't see the skies to know what what coming. We had already changed our route drastically to avoid the rain. Our plan was to run a big clockwise loop but with storms coming from the west, I figured if we rode counter-clockwise we'd skirt the rain all but the last hour or two instead of eight. I questioned this logic until later in the day it proved correct.
Riding through Atlanta at 3am is certainly better than rush hour. We rode right through the heart of the city and I still don't understand why the road swerves and jogs so much. Regular traffic has a problem with this but watching the 3am crowd handle it was no more comforting to two motorcyclists.
Glad to be out of ATL, we stopped for gas just south of the sprawling metropolitan limits. My riding partner is a great leader and, since he's usually faster than me and knows the route better, takes the lead for most of our rides. But for this length of ride, we decided to alternate leading each gas stop. It was my turn again and I knew this was going to be a long stretch as we were driving across Georgia the long way. With darkness still around and the radar saying there was something ahead, we kept our rain gear on just in case.
I took the lead for one of the longest and stressful rides of my life. Shortly after getting back on the interstate, we hit the fog. It was thick and the visibility was probably only a hundred yards or so. Given the high number of semi-trucks that were on the road at this hour [it was just after 4am by now], it was a bit unnerving. Then when the road construction started a short while later and concrete barriers were on the white and yellow lines, eliminating any shoulder and all margin for error. With a constant line of semi-trucks in the right lane and the left lane being half concrete/half asphalt with a height difference, I was stuck in the right half of the left lane passing trucks so close I could touch them. Riding this way into a fog for 100 miles was one of the more stressful rides I've done.
The construction ended and the fog lifted eventually and I was relieved to see both behind us. Another exciting change was the gradual fading of the darkness. With riding for 6 hours in the dark, the visual senses seemed dull and everything fades into two dimensions. When I was following, I'd just lock on my partner's taillights and stay with them and during the construction, I'd just focus on the narrow strip ahead of me I had to stay on--but as light began to fade the darkness, things began appearing both near and far--trees, clouds, even cars would grow as you approached not just be two brake lights that would float along.
When my trip-meter read 150, my partner signaled he was ready to pull over for gas and did so at the next exit. We found one side of the interstate had a closed gas station and the other had none--another wasted stop. Two miles down the interstate we had better luck. Now my stomach had woken up [it was 6:45am] and I downed some energy bars, Gatorade and a 5hr energy. With the sun rising, I could see the sky and it looked clear. I was glad to shed my rain gear which I'd worn needlessly for four hours. Ok, so it might have kept the damp fog from further wetting me but now it was going to be sunshine and maybe hot.

She looks so much better in the sunshine.
Riding in the morning sun was so invigorating. I was happy and excited plus being more relaxed just because I wasn't leading. Maybe it was more because I wasnt afraid for my life like I was back in the fog. Life was something I valued and though I always wanted to complete an IronButt, I wanted to do it safely. I knew there were inherent dangers to riding an IronButt:
(1.) 1000 miles on any motorcycle is dangerous because, well, its a motorcycle. It's not a car with 9 airbags. But I'd ridden nearly 10,000 in the past 9 months so that didn't concern me. What did was (2.) driving on the interstate. Not only is my velocity 70-80 mph instead of my preferred 45-65 but cars don't watch out for bikes on the interstate. I prefer riding highways [IE two lane, 55mph speed limit] and state roads; they're far more scenic, curvy and safe. At 80mph, my reaction time means more and with side-by-side traffic it's much easier for a car to swerve into you because you're in a blind spot or cut you off and force you to hit the brakes. Getting caught in a semi's rear turbulence or getting hit by a huge sidewind as you pass them is not my idea of a good time either.
And finally (3.) battling fatigue and exhaustion by trying to ride 1000 miles in just one day. I did my prep. I read the forums and the tips. I maintained my bike and have done a series of 300-500 mile days with no problems. I disagreed with people who said you should work up to it, 200, 400, 600, 800, 1000. I knew from my friends who run marathons that you don't need to build all the way to your distance. They run 5-10 miles regularly, maybe a half marathon, before jumping to 26.2 miles. I've done riding all day, dawn to dusk, numerous times into the mountains, which require far more intense focus and reflexes. With my cruise control and AirHawk seat pad, the only thing I had to worry about was mental fatigue. We overcame that with long gas stops. I say we because my partner took his time getting coffee and going to the bathroom while I relaxed, ate, and let my brain and nerves unwind for 15 minutes. Back to our adventure....
I knew that the I75 section of Georgia would be a
long one but it seemed that it was nearly over. Just a short jaunt to
Valdosta and we'd turn for Jacksonville. But despite my hopes for clear
weather, dark ribbons stretched across the sky. Unlike a normal puff
of clouds or thunderstorm head, these clouds were long puffy stripes
that spread from horizon to horizon like a blanket pulled back in
billows in every shade of blue and grey. I was regretting taking off my
raingear and feared the worst but headed on. The bright morning sky
slowly fulled with this oppressive cloak. My fears were unfounded as no
rain fell and we crept from under it and back into sunlight.
I thought it would be just a short stretch to I10
but the turn didnt come. I passed the city, then I passed the Florida
state line and we kept going? Had they moved I10? It seemed to take
forever but the sun was up and the highway was virtually empty so I
wasn't complaining. 50 miles later, the interchange appeared and we
were on Interstate 10.

A high-quality shot at 80mph of the I10 onramp
What I remember from Florida was the ghastly
amount of advertising. The roads are littered with billboards and every
exit has something "you must buy!" But Interstate 10 was just a wall
of trees on both sides and the gaudy billboards were left behind in
lower Georgia. Before long, my partner was ready to stop for gas again
and we took the first exit. Then I remembered that Florida loves to
build long roads that go nowhere, just to be prepared for development.
Five miles of beautiful new roads later and we still hadnt seen
anything close to a gas station much less anything for sale. Back on
the road, we found gas at the next exit. And a Subway.

The frustration of Garmin saying you're AT a gas station when there's none for miles.
In the morning, I love eggs. Subway makes breakfast
now and so I had a white egg breakfast sandwich which had a consistency
unlike any eggs I've ever had but I was starving so it hit the spot.
Another Gatorade [I was in Florida], 5 hour energy and half hour later
we were back in the saddle.
Jacksonville was no dream with road construction and
we missed the bypass and rode straight through the downtown. Before
long we were heading north and back in Georgia. We hadnt had much
traffic so far but on weekends there's always traffic either coming to
or leaving Florida. It was mid-morning and this day was no exception.
All three lanes were bustling as we tried to navigate our way through
them. When the road narrowed to two lanes, it got worse but we still
were making good time.
We held off on our gas up until we hit the South Carolina border because gas is always cheaper because of lower fuel tax. A quick refuel and my partner took the lead.

Not quite chipper but still moving...
We had just passed 700 miles and he was anxious to keep a high pace and finish before we got tired of riding. Unfortunately, it was nearing noon and cars were filling the road. I've ridden motorcycle in Germany and people there know how to drive--no one is in the left lane except to pass. Going through SC, people were casually driving in the left lane one mile over the speed limit. We spent half of our time waiting on these either inconsiderate or naive drivers to slowly overtake another car and return to the right lane. Turning off I95 and merging onto I26 was the last change of the day and we were on the road that would take us to the finish. We'd just crested 800 miles and knew that the last fifth could be the most challenging.
Knowing we would be hitting rain late in the
day and seeing dark clouds ahead of us, we felt a couple small sprinkles
and pulled off for gas before hitting Columbia. The finish line was in
sight and I took a long stop to ensure I was prepared and ready. I
took off my jeans and still damp socks and put on a fresh pair of socks
and proper rain gear and steeled myself for the road ahead.
It was here that I recalled watching a show on the grueling physical endurance Navy Seals do to qualify. After something insane like 5 days with constant physical exertion, minimal breaks, sparse food and an hour of sleep each night, the instructor suddenly stops their training. When asked why, he said that everyone who would quit already had and that they had already pushed through so many physical and mental fatigue walls that the recruits would do anything they were instructed to, they would keep going until they actually killed themselves.
That notion seemed bizarre at the time but I think I was grasping a small piece of what it felt like. After 14 hours of riding, I was nothing but a programmed robot--ride, gas, repeat. The miles on the interstate just kept racking up. My tripmeter would climb to 120 miles before I even noticed it. Then I'd start looking for gas. Once stopped, it was routine: fill, drink, eat, stretch, adjust gear, climb back on and go.
I felt like I could do this forever. Lather, rinse, repeat. Doing some rough calculations, I found we could actually accomplish 1500 miles by the 24 hour mark. If not for the impending rain and prepaid destination, I might have tried it. I'll have to save that for another day.
It was here that I recalled watching a show on the grueling physical endurance Navy Seals do to qualify. After something insane like 5 days with constant physical exertion, minimal breaks, sparse food and an hour of sleep each night, the instructor suddenly stops their training. When asked why, he said that everyone who would quit already had and that they had already pushed through so many physical and mental fatigue walls that the recruits would do anything they were instructed to, they would keep going until they actually killed themselves.
That notion seemed bizarre at the time but I think I was grasping a small piece of what it felt like. After 14 hours of riding, I was nothing but a programmed robot--ride, gas, repeat. The miles on the interstate just kept racking up. My tripmeter would climb to 120 miles before I even noticed it. Then I'd start looking for gas. Once stopped, it was routine: fill, drink, eat, stretch, adjust gear, climb back on and go.
I felt like I could do this forever. Lather, rinse, repeat. Doing some rough calculations, I found we could actually accomplish 1500 miles by the 24 hour mark. If not for the impending rain and prepaid destination, I might have tried it. I'll have to save that for another day.
The dark clouds still loomed but once again they
held their drops from us. 80 miles of clear skies and as we crossed
I85, a road we had traveled down 15.5 hours earlier, we passed the 1000
mile mark. A mini-celebration was short-lived as we hit rain and knew
we had 70 miles of road, including wet mountain roads, before we were at
our destination.
After so many hour on a straight line of slab, my
arms were hardly ready for the twisting mountain road. We'd been
pushing the pace all day and my body was ready to be done. My butt was
starting to hurt for the first time all day and I started squirming to
try and get comfortable. The cruise control I had installed a week ago
had worked well all day, giving my right hand brief breaks from holding
the throttle. And the Airhawk air-filled seat pad had kept my bottom
comfortable all day but now, when I needed it most, it appeared to fail
me. Only the next day did I discover that in my moving, I had unscrewed
the valve and let all the air out. User error not product error.
But like having to go to the bathroom, one can hold
it for quite a while yet once you get close to a toilet, one thinks you
may pee yourself before you can get your pants down. Now, I was in this
predicament. I had come so far completely relaxed and having the day
pass so easily but now, so close to the finish line, I couldn't wait to
be finished.

A far happier rider, glad to be done.
We gassed up for the last time and headed back to the hotel. An ice cold shower was refreshing and the flop onto the bed to be horizontal for the first time of the day was even better. 20 minutes of relaxing and letting the accomplishment sink in and we were out the door to celebrate. We stayed up until nearly midnight, sampling the fine foods and drinks of Asheville.
The next day, my aches began to manifest. My back was sore from being upright all day and my ass was definitely tender. I re-inflated my airpad and we were back on the road. Just 120 miles later and I was home. Even though we rode in the rain most of the way back, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My body was achy but it wasn't unbearable.
I stayed up until 9pm, reflecting on the events of the past day and thinking of what I did right and what could do differently.
NEXT CHAPTER: Lessons Learned and Essential Gear.

