I'd like to thank all who supported me in this effort, both in your encouragement to finish the Death Ride and in your donations to TurningWheels for Kids. With your help, I have exceeded my goal, raising over $4,000 to give bikes to my favorite people - kids.
Timeline of the Death Ride:
Here's where the time of day gets fuzzy.
Heading up Monitor Pass, I set a strict pace to my heart rate monitor, trying at first to keep my heart rate below 150bpm. Since Chris and I had never ridden together while wearing heart rate monitors, it was quickly apparent that my target max would be slow for his 120 bpm. Noted to self that training with a heart rate monitor would have been very beneficial. Ah well.guess it would be slow going for me.
So, slow and steady was the motto. There were riders everywhere, some alone, some with friends, some in teams and matching jerseys. Every rider checking out the bike and the jersey of their neighbor, which was highly encouraging, knowing I had a TurningWheels logo to show off as soon as the cold weather vest was shed. I continued to drink fluids and dived into my first of many Clif Bars.
About 2 hours up the front of Monitor and I had reached the top. PASS NO. 1 COMPLETE and first sticker earned. Quick stop at the food station to fill up on Cytomax (energy drink) and snacks (pretzels and wheat thins) before heading down the back side of Monitor.
(first rest stop, top of Monitor Pass)
Whheeeeeeeeeee - down the back of Monitor. I never looked at my speed, but according to my computer, I had maxed around 45 mph, the fastest I've ever ridden down hill. The views were spectacular, the sun was climbing fast and there were many riders already heading back up my current downhill run, which seemed to last forever. Down, down, down until the bottom turnaround finally came into view.
(gathering of riders at the bottom of Monitor Pass - getting ready to head back up)
Although not earned yet, we were given sticker number 2 at the bottom of Monitor for the eventual hike back up. I then shed my vest and sleeves, added more sunscreen, grabbed a half of banana and some more Wheat Thins and started the reverse of the fun trip down.
Still adhering to my 150 bpm on the heart rate monitor, it continued to be slow and steady. I listened to the conversations of those passing me and had a hello to those I passed. Still feeling solid, although I was just beginning to feel the pangs of my sit bones informing me “we're not used to not having a cushion back here and I don't think we're a fan”.
(the view heading up the back of Monitor Pass)
About a 10 mile climb, not too steep of a grade and in the warming morning light, I was still plugging along. Enjoying the views and watching my heart rate, we reached the top of Monitor for the second time. PASS NO. 2 DONE!
(Chris and I at the top of Monitor Pass, two passes done!)
Round about 11:15am at this point, refueling w/ snacks and drinks and then on down the front side of Monitor. Smooth sailing, nice to rest the legs, knees and sit bones.
Heading up Ebbetts Pass, stopped at one rest station, finally saw one of a couple friends I knew were out there riding. Said hellos and continued on. Half way up the pass the real challenges began to emerge. My sit bones went from whispering to stating to now screaming “we're completely unhappy back here and until we're off this seat, you will know this!” Knees were also feeling the steep grade and now almost 6 hours of riding. No specific pain, just generally aching.
By the time I reached the top of Ebbetts, FINISHING PASS 3 and securing another sticker, the pain had transferred into misery, and a short downhill ensued. I knew I had relief coming though, as I headed down the backside of Ebbetts - my mom and sister were waiting with a stash of food, water, rest, encouragement and my tried and true comfy bike seat! After a chance to rest, eat (PB&J w/ bananas), regroup my thoughts, reaffirm my determination (wouldn't it have been nice to have just jumped in the car with my mom and sister at that point? naaahhhhh), switch bike seats and allowed myself another pain killer. We set off again.
Here I was, just over 60 miles into the ride, 1/3 of the climbing still to come and it was already around 1:30pm - two hours later than what I had originally guessed I'd be at that point. Sticker 4 was given at the bottom of Ebbetts, and it was a short, but stout 5 miles back to the top after a longer rest period.
Another quick stop at the top of Ebbetts, my stomach now tiring of Clif Bars, an abundance of Cytomax and the random assortment of food I was trying to intake to keep my energy up. I had let my heart rate max creep up to 155bps now. Legs and lungs were still very much in the game, it was just the knees and sit bones that needed a bit of a recovery.
(heading down Ebbetts Pass - four down, one to go)
All the way back down Ebbetts, we headed past Markleeville and the last pass - Carson. I had heard from past riders that it was difficult not to stop at your parked car and just call it a day from there, especially since it was now almost 3:00pm (the time I had figured the entire ride would be done), but I paid the car no mind. There was one more pass, the final pass, and there wasn't an 'if' about whether or not I was going for it.
Little did I know, this would be the most challenging physical undertakings I had yet to try an conquer. This part of the course was not closed to cars, so all riders were riding single file, along a narrow shoulder, passing when it was clear. Whereas the other passes had consisted of more turns, and I could not see how far I had yet to climb, this pass was relatively straight, and I could see a great deal ahead to where I was headed and that looked far. It was at this point that all the encouragement from others firmly entered my thoughts. The emails and telephone calls from family, friends, co-workers, the team of TurningWheels and individuals I hadn't even met yet ran through my head. It truly helped pull me up this last pass.
Dark clouds had moved in and at the last rest stop, the sound of thunder hastened our stop. My legs still had strength, lungs were still strong, but I was definitely feeling fatigued and stiff. Up and up and up - 20 miles of up. The last three miles were the most difficult. I could see that far ahead and it was daunting. The thunder continued and the last of the riders could see the rain falling off in the distance. Temperatures dropped due to the time of day, increasing altitude and dark clouds.
(last stretch of Carson Pass - soooooooo close)
Finally, finally, I reached the final photographer, the final crest of the pass, which meant we were there. I had reached the top, ALL FIVE PASSES HAD BEEN COMPLETED and I had earned my pin, my fifth and final sticker and most importantly, the ice cream bar that awaited all 5 pass riders.
(heading back down Carson Pass into the clouds, all five stickers earned)
I'd like to say it was all very exciting, that I was filled with a sense of true accomplishment, but I was more dreading the remaining 20 miles, downhill, to the finish and the car. We started back out and by this time my body temperature had come way down and I was tired. This meant the cold air from the speed of heading downhill brought shivers and my tired arms and tense shoulders had a hard time staying steady. I began to shake and so did my front wheel, somehow appearing half the width that I had remembered, wobbling precariously in front of me. Deep breaths and focusing on relaxing helped for the first part of the descent. The air warmed slightly and I was able to keep up with a string of riders to draft behind for a while, but unfortunately, the shaking required less speed and I was on my own again.
As luck would have it, those rain clouds had indeed moved overhead. Much like a storm in the Midwest at this time of year, it came on with a vengeance. With a heavy downpour, my brakes became at most 1/4 as effective as when they were dry. Cars continued to pass and I was drenched by a wave of water after one car in particular passed through a newly formed river running over the slick road.
I had slowed my speed considerably and watched as groups of riders pulled off the road and took shelter under tall pine trees. Shaking a bit more seriously now that I had become completely soaked and partly numb, my concentration focused on remaining upright, staying calm and getting to the bottom safely.
This was indeed the most difficult part of the entire day and the most physically and mentally challenging circumstance I have yet had the opportunity to talk myself through. With no other rider around, no shelter besides the trees and a wall of rain trying its best to halt my progress, I put my head down and accepted the situation. I would eventually finish, there were only a few more miles, the rain would stop and I would make it.
Exhausted, a bit overwhelmed at the added challenges in getting down the hill and now with only a few miles left, the rain subsided. The road was still slick, but at least I was on flat ground. I would have smiled widely at seeing the car, but my energy had long since gone and I was more focused on the warm, dry clothes waiting inside and the chance to stop my knees from the hundreds of thousands of little circles they had made over the 13.5 hr day. With all the stops and the slow pace, it was now 7pm, 3.5 hrs farther along than was in the original plan.
So that's it. I completed all five passes, all 129 miles, all 15,500+ vertical feet of climbing and I was done! Although I knew the satisfaction from finishing would come later, I had very little emotion to give at that point and spent the next three hours not saying much, being pampered by my mom and sister (a marathon runner who knew exactly how I felt) and watching the Tour de France, swearing up and down that my day was harder than theirs
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