OT: Nascar and Nutrition

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June 14, 2006

New York Times

 

At 190 M.P.H., Who Needs a Spare Tire?

By KIM SEVERSON

 

LONG POND, Pa.

 

JEFF GORDON misses corn dogs the most.

 

Mr. Gordon, a compact Nascar dreamboat, has been careering around

racetracks since grade school. When the competition was over, his mother

took him straight to the drive-through.

 

He never outgrew his taste for fast food. But in 2004, after more than a

decade in the big leagues of stock car racing, Mr. Gordon realized that

his body and his driving might be better served if he ate better.

 

Like an increasing number of the millionaires who drive for Nascar, he

hired a nutritionist. No more lasagna on race day. No more barbecue. And

he's learning to live with less sugar.

 

When Mr. Gordon stays at his girlfriend's apartment in Manhattan, he

manages to work in elaborate dinners at top-shelf restaurants. And he

sneaks the occasional bowl of rocky road ice cream. But over all, he is

a changed man. " I used to hate salmon, " he said. " Now I love it. "

 

If you don't consider turning left for three hours a real sport, you

might wonder what nutritional perspective a Nascar driver's diet might

offer. But proper food and hydration is becoming as important on the

racetrack as it is on the football field or the tennis court.

 

Stock car racing is a sport in which winning and losing is measured in

milliseconds. Toward the end of a race, after three muscle-tense hours

in a cockpit that reaches 120 degrees, dehydration saps concentration

and poorly fed muscles fail. Under that kind of strain, at 190 miles an

hour, the wrong dish at lunch or one quart too few of water could mean,

quite literally, death.

 

Not that a change of diet and attitude is easy. Nascar is a big-bellied

sport with Southern roots and several million fans whose food culture is

built on barbecues that last three days, funnel-cake stands and homemade

beer nuts.

 

The chef Mario Batali, who waved the green flag to start the Pocono 500

here on Sunday, is trying to nudge Nascar food up the culinary ladder

with a new cookbook. But not too far up. " Basically we Nascar fans will

eat anything, and we're proud of it, " he writes in the book, " Mario

Tailgates Nascar Style. "

 

Since the sport began in 1948, the drivers have eaten that way too.

 

" What you ate didn't necessarily correlate to what you did on the

racetrack back in the day, " said Darrell Waltrip, the 1980's Nascar star

who now serves as the Fox network's color commentator. " I ran a lot, but

I certainly didn't pay attention to what I ate. Most of it was fried,

and I'm a Southern boy, so if you can fry it I'll eat it. "

 

In the 1990's attention to stock car racing took off, and the money

followed. Sponsors — including Pepsi, Kellogg's Frosted Flakes and

Budweiser — can pay more than $18 million to attach a product to a

racer. The total purse for the race Sunday was $4.8 million.

 

With such stakes, the nutritional strategy of the drivers is becoming as

important as the choreography of the pit crew and the quality of the tires.

 

" Taking care of my body is one of the few things I can do as a driver to

protect my asset, " said Jimmie Johnson, who leads Nascar in points

almost midway through the season. " The car is set when I get in it. How

I perform for the next three hours depends on me. "

 

To understand the physical impact of stock car racing, start in the

driver's seat. Roll bars and restraint devices leave barely enough room

for a person. The driver is wedged in so tight that the steering wheel

can't be attached till after he (yes, almost always " he " ) climbs through

the window into the seat. To try to keep him cool, his helmet is

outfitted with a little air-conditioner.

 

Unlike football or tennis, this sport has no breaks. " You are locked up

for 3½ hours from your nose to your toes, " Mr. Waltrip said.

 

The pressure on a driver doesn't stop with the heat. Carbon monoxide

produces pounding headaches. On turns, the sideways forces are twice the

pull of gravity. Bumps from other cars and maneuvering around crashes

take an emotional toll, further draining energy stored in muscles.

 

" This has an incredible effect on your internal organs, " said Robert

Hall, a trainer and nutritional adviser for Scott Riggs, 35, who has

been a driver in the Chase for the Nextel Cup, the premier Nascar

circuit, for three years.

 

Mr. Riggs, who finished eighth on Sunday, is not a star of the circuit.

But he believes his strict nutritional program will help him break into

the circle of top drivers.

 

Mr. Hall's plan for Mr. Riggs is based on getting protein into him

regularly on the theory that the body will consume its own muscle

otherwise. So every three hours while he's awake Mr. Riggs takes in

light protein. As race day approaches, he increases complex

carbohydrates so his glycogen supply will hold out.

 

The plan isn't groundbreaking sports nutrition. But it is new for Mr.

Riggs, who grew up and still lives in Bahama, N.C. " We had my

grandmother's cooking: fatback and butter and everything else, " he said.

 

Mr. Hall developed the plan by studying what he could on racing diets,

and there wasn't much. The main text was " Strength Training for

Performance Driving " (Motorbooks International, 1994). Mark Martin, a

47-year-old star who is in his last year of racing, wrote it with an

exercise physiologist.

 

" Mark Martin was Nascar's first fitness and nutrition guru, " Mr. Hall

said. " He shed light on taking care of your body and that Moon Pies,

fried chicken and colas weren't doing anything for strength, hydration

and endurance. "

 

On race weekends, when Mr. Riggs hangs out in the garage or in the car

transporter that doubles as an office and mobile shop, someone on a golf

cart will deliver a plate that usually carries a bland trio of skinless

chicken breast, whole wheat spiral pasta with a little fat-free Italian

dressing and sweet potatoes. Other times, the meal is just a

protein-laden power bar made by SlimFast, a sponsor, his public

relations man, Spencer Andrews, was quick to point out.

 

To stick to the diet, Mr. Riggs depends on the driver who moves his

$500,000 motor coach from race to race and cooks for him. Nascar drivers

have only about two months when they aren't racing, less than any other

professional athletes.

 

Teaching the support crew to cook healthy is the challenge, said Dave

Ellis, a sports nutritionist who trains collegiate and professional

football players and who worked with the Nascar driver Brian Vickers.

" And what do they know? " he said. " How to burn something on the grill. "

 

Especially on race day, what a driver eats takes a back seat to what he

drinks. Sweat is the enemy and hydration the obsession. Drivers can lose

more than three quarts of fluid, maybe eight pounds' worth, in a

three-hour race, according to measurements by Jeffrey J. Zachwieja and

other scientists at the Gatorade Sports Science Institute in Barrington,

Ill.

 

To help retain water, most drivers drink blends of electrolyte-filled

sports drinks and eat as much salt as they can stand. They salt their

drinks and salt their bacon. Canned soup is embraced as a health food.

 

During the race, some drivers drink from a system Gatorade developed. An

insulated three-quart bag is tucked up into the roll bars. A tube with a

valve that fits in the driver's mouth delivers a cold blast of liquid

whenever the driver bites down.

 

Forcing drivers to drink during the race is one of the most challenging

aspects. To help, the system was designed so the sports drink is kept

cold. And drivers are encouraged to simply urinate in their suits.

 

" It's not a matter of comfort, " Mr. Ellis said. " A full bladder can dull

the body's natural instinct to hydrate. " (He offers a tip for newcomers:

don't hug your Nascar driver as soon as the race is over.)

 

Of course not all drivers give a hoot what they eat. People who work

with them, as well as the drivers themselves, estimate that less than

half work with nutritionists.

 

Some younger drivers are simply accustomed to eating a healthy low-fat

diet. Erin Crocker, one of two women racing in Nascar, who drives trucks

at a lower level of competition and is poised to jump to the Nascar

Nextel Cup Series, was a student athlete and has always watched fat in

her diet. She eats a lot of Japanese food and vegetables with chicken.

 

Younger drivers are generally in better shape, she said.

 

" It shows owners how disciplined you are, how much you want it, " she

said. " Being a woman in this sport, I'm at a physical disadvantage

anyway. I don't ever want my physical fitness to affect the race. "

 

Some, like Tony Stewart, take the opposite approach. He shows a little

double chin and makes fun of his paunch. For the Pocono 500 he had a new

seat designed in part to take his heavier frame.

 

And even those who do work with nutritionists don't always follow the

advice. Mr. Vickers, 22, worked with Mr. Ellis to improve his diet but

still likes a breakfast of three scrambled eggs, seven slices of bacon

and white bread with grape jelly. And he loves a frozen pepperoni pizza.

 

After a race, when some drivers get oxygen or intravenous-drip bags full

of fluids just to be able to walk, all bets are off. Then they crave

salt and sugar.

 

Mr. Waltrip, who recalls post-race days filled with head-ringing,

bleary-eyed exhaustion, favored Mexican food. " Or you'd take a head of

lettuce and a bottle of ranch dressing and salt it real good, " he said.

 

Jeff Gordon's diet falls by the wayside, too.

 

" I could eat a whole jar of green olives, " he said. " And pickles, too. "

 

And if he can get away with it, a big bowl of rocky road ice cream.

 

 

Copyright 2006 The New York Times Company