Full pictures here: http://picasaweb.google.com/stanleyho23/DeathRide2008?authkey=Ndx2I8tdlxk
Resilience and perseverance. It's at the core of every endurance athlete.
This is my second year doing the Death Ride. It's a 130 mile bike ride with 15,000 feet of climbing in the Sierras. I was really nervous coming into this. I developed a knee pain during 4th of July weekend and had to see a few sports doctors later in the week. They determined it wasn't a permanent injury, but could not determine what was causing it. I got bike fitted and decided to still do the ride, telling myself I would turn around once the pain started.
The route: http://deathride.com/coursemap.html
The course profile: http://deathride.com/elemap.html
My day started at 4:30AM. After waking up and getting breakfast at the starting area, I officially started rolling at 5:45AM.
Monitor pass was uneventful. I climbed to the summit, went down the other side, and came back up. However I was already feeling tired and fatigued. I knew this wasn't good to have these feelings only 35 miles into the ride. Part of the reason was sleep deprivation. The past week I averaged 6 hours of sleep a night. The night before I slept 4 hours in the car. Surprisingly, the only thing going good was my knee was feeling fine.
I pushed on to Ebbetts pass. Ebbetts is the steepest among all the climbs and also the most dangerous. Parts of it is a single lane road and other parts have sharp corners. As I was going up, I started to really feel the effects of the lack of specific training and sleep. I felt completely drained. My mind said to continue but my body said no. As I got closer to the summit, both were mutually on the same page: I didn't want to continue, and neither did my body. I remember saying to myself: I can turn around now and head back to the car to end this nightmare.
I sat at the summit rest stop for a while longer. My knee was still fine. I knew the back side of Ebbetts was shorter than the rest... only around 6 miles. I've already come 55 miles; another 6 miles won't hurt. With that in mind, I went down the back of Ebbetts.
The climb up the back side of Ebbetts was slow. I developed a slight headache also. I think my mind was punishing me for not heading back to the car the first time around. At the summit of Ebbetts, I took another small break and descended. This is a scary descent because of the sharp turns. Clouds also appeared and light raindrops fell. To make matters worse, my headache flared up. Every little crack or pothole I rode over rattled my bike, which shook my body, which then shook my head. This wasn't safe, I said to myself. I'm going back to the car to call it a day. I'll finish at 90 miles...
At the base of Ebbetts is the lunch stop. Turkey sandwich, pretzels, chips, minestrone soup. With the food, I was feeling better. I could tell I was a bit dehydrated before. Managing your nutrition when traveling is always challenging.
As I was having lunch, a lot of thoughts crossed my mind... I think in this order:
- Do I really want to do 4 passes and call it a day?
- I can drop out now and be disappointed with myself for the next 364 days.
- Or I can suffer the next 3 hours and be happy the next 364 days.
- I'm at mile 80... 50 miles more to go if I choose.
- Of those 50 miles, 25 is uphill. So in theory, it's only 25 more miles of riding.
- If I can't finish a 130 mile ride in a non-race situation, how am I going to finish an Ironman?
- My knee is still feeling good.
- The food was good.
That flowchart funneled to one conclusion: it's go time. I started riding. At this point, there were more raindrops. Clear skies were ahead in the direction I was pedaling. It was rolling downhill back to the car en route to Carson Pass... the final nemesis: a 20 mile uphill.
I rolled by my car at mile 90. This is huge mind game and the moment of truth for most people. There is nothing more demoralizing than being so close to your car, yet knowing there's another 50 miles to go. I looked at my watch and surprisingly, I was doing better than last year. There is a cutoff in the town of Woodsford. Last year I was 10 minutes away from this cutoff. This year, I had an hour to spare.
I started the climb up Carson. The strong headwinds last year was only a whisper this year. A few miles into the 20 mile climb, the clouds thickened. Rain, hail, thunder, snow and sleet appeared. (Ok there was not snow and sleet...) It was a really heavy downpour. Conditions were dangerous. There are no bike lanes on Carson pass, and the road was open to traffic. I was completely drenched. Mind over matter, I told myself. Suck it up, quit whining, and stop looking for excuses to go back to the car.
I took shelter under a tree. This was for safety concerns, and also I didn't have a waterproof bag for my camera. I few other people took my lead and joined me. Someone mentioned there was a small hotel/restaurant half mile up. We trooped on and took shelter when we got there. The owner was nice to give us a towel and garbage bags. I waited about 1/2 hour for the rain to stop. Other riders and I were deciding on the next steps. We had no idea what conditions were like at the summit. In fact we didn't know if the CHIP officers were turning people around. The two things we did know were there was an aid station about 1/2 mile up the road, and the cutoff time for that aid station was coming up.
(Mile ~96: Taking shelter during the hailstorm)
I decided to go for it. It was still pouring but I was wearing a garbage bag as a poncho. I passed the aid station and saw dozens of cyclists huddled under the tent. A volunteer asked if I was stopping or going. I pointed straight and zoomed past her. In the back of my mind was only one thought: If I can't finish a 130 mile ride in the rain, how am I going to finish an Ironman?The next 10 miles were in heavy rain. It felt like a tropical storm. It was warm. 5 miles from the summit, the skies cleared and the rain stopped. I kept chugging along. The knee was fine, and I knew I was almost done with my day. 5 more miles and it was all downhill from there.
(Mile 105: Ice cream at Carson Pass Summit)
I reached the summit. I had done it! I completed 5 passes for the second year in a row. A volunteer gave me a commemorative pin and ice cream. I chatted with a few other cyclists, signed the Death Ride poster, and headed back down. I was concerned the roads were still wet and the descent would be slippery. Luckily the roads had dried up by then. I made it back to my car at 6PM and went to the finish area to get dinner.
I wondered to myself how I ever finished this ride. There were many obstacles I had to overcome: my knee, a headache, sleep deprivation, dehydration, and rain/hail. In the end, it came down to resilience and perseverance.
