The Spiritual Experience of Le Mans

The year has rolled on to summer. We're mere weeks away from celebrating the first birthday of our blog, and in a matter of days, I'll be enjoying my yearly tradition: The 24 Hours of Le Mans. I've always struggled to explain what exactly it is about this race that separates it from all others - so much so that it transcends mere racing for me.

For those who don't know, the 24 Hours of Le Mans is an Endurance Race held every year since 1923 on the roads of Le Sarthe, France. The circuit, comprised of regular civilian country roads, stretches out over 8.8 miles in length, with lap times exceeding three minutes, even in modern day race cars. The race lasts one full day (traditionally beginning and ending at 4PM), as its name implies, and features the some of the greatest racing machines on earth. The list of great auto makers is long - from Bugatti to Ferrari, Porsche, Corvette, Audi, Mercedes-Benz, Aston Martin, Jaguar, Bentley, and Peugeot. The history of the race is rich and storied - and everything from novels to feature length motion pictures have been centered around the great event. Wikipedia has an exceptional article about the event and I encourage you to check it out if you're interested.

I started watching the 24 Hours of Le Mans in 1995, when Speedvision (now Speed), covered 12 hours of the event. I grew up on the Steve McQueen film about the race, and to watch the actual event was spellbinding. Simply put, I was hooked. Thankfully, good portions of the race (and even the entire 24 hours for a few years) have been carried on American TV ever since, and I've never missed a single year. The racing is fast and furious, the cars are gorgeous, and the human endurance required to win the event is nothing short of breathtaking. Three drivers per car split the driving for the 24 hour event, and with the exception of pit stops and possible mechanical failure, those cars will run every single second of the day and night.

There's really nothing else out there like Le Mans - not even in Formula One. The cars (numbering over 50) start off in late afternoon, blasting through the French countryside, still dotted with small chateaus and lined with tress - exceeding speeds of 200 miles an hour. As the evening wears on, the sun sets, bathing the French landscape in a beautiful early-summer amber glow. Then, as night falls, the headlights change the landscape, racing through the night is exhilarating to watch on television, and I can only imagine what it must be like inside of the confines of one of those race machines tearing down Maison Blanche or through the Porsche Curves in pitch darkness. Regardless of conditions, be it rain, night, or glaring heat and sun, the race goes on, until that next afternoon when the flag falls, and another team of drivers and mechanics and race engineers rise triumphant; defeating the elements, the strain of time itself, to add their name to the trophy at the Circuit de la Sarthe.

And yet, for me, this time of year - specifically this race - is a reflective point in my personal life. It's the mid-point of the year, a time to look back on what was, and assess where I'm going. I'm not sure why it's Le Mans for me, but it is. I wake up early Saturday morning, brew my tea, and sit anxiously waiting the start. Then I follow the race as the day goes on - which usually coincides with an F1 Grand Prix also held the same weekend. And for the entire day, I stay glued to the set, following pit stops, positions, and even listening to Radio Le Mans on the net - which actually broadcasts live from the track and does a nice job of covering those few hours when Speed steps away for other events. Yes, I'm addicted, I know - and nothing is going to change that.

As the sun sets, I step outside, watch the sky turning the same beautiful amber color that I watched on TV a few hours before. I breathe the sweet June air in deeply, think about my life, thank God for the blessings I've had, and for the gift of having another year to enjoy this great race. Then I head back inside and keep watching. When I was a little younger, I tried sticking it out for the whole 24 - usually failing to make it by an hour or so. Now I've gotten a little more rational, and actually sleep for a few hours during the night. But I always set my clock for 5AM the next morning, so I can enjoy the same sunrise that greeted France earlier that night. And again, I walk outside, listen to the start of a new day, enjoy the scenery (the best years are when the countryside is surrounded in that same layer of dew that I saw in La Sarthe), and just let time - and the worries of my life - stop. It's spiritual for me, there is no other way of putting it and I say so with no disrespect to genuine spiritual experiences. For some it's walking into Notre Dame Cathedral. For others, it's making a pilgrimage to the Middle East. For me, it's watching the 24 Hours of Le Mans, and experiencing the full measure of time at least once a year.

I know, I'm strange, unusual, probably even a little crazy for the whole experience - but I do love it. It's one of the highlights of my year, and I can't wait to enjoy another 24 Hours this weekend. Better yet, I can't wait for the year when I can pack my bags, hop the Atlantic, and see the event for myself - and breathe that fresh June air as I look through the trees lining Mulsanne and hear the sound of the fastest prototype racing machines on earth blasting by.

For anyone who wants to see what all of the fuss is about, Speed begins coverage on Saturday morning at 8:30 AM, and will cover the race for the most part, throughout the day. With the United States Grand Prix at Indy also being held this weekend, it's practically Christmas for those of us who enjoy great European road racing.