There is nothing quite like endurance racing. The world’s final two surviving 24-hour races – Le Mans and the Bol d’Or – take you through dusk and darkness, dawn and high noon, through sunshine and rain, sleeping and eating, pain and suffering, from thinking ‘what the fuck am I doing this for?!’ to whimpering ‘thank fuck that’s over!’.
Endurance racing is one of motorcycle racing’s most beautiful insanities. It’s hell in heaven, pandemonium in purgatory, it’s 86,000 seconds of non-stop tumult, not a single moment of quiet, just 50 or so superbikes and their riders pinging off the red line – broken engines, broken dreams.
Of course, that’s not what it’s like for the racers. At least, that’s what they tell themselves. They have to be cold-blooded about it, so…
