Gut wrenching fun at nine thousand feet
Stage one - Everest Challenge
Bishop, CA
Have you ever wondered what it is like to race two consecutive stages of the Tour de France? There is an opportunity in mid-September in the Bishop, CA area. A gut busting total of over two hundred miles and very nearly 30,000 feet of climbing, the Everest Challenge offers riders of all experience levels the chance to test themselves at 8,000 feet.
Rob and I made the drive from the Santa Rosa area yesterday, a very slow six and a half hours through incredible scenery. As we came around the valley to Mono Lake, I looked out into the vast span of rock faces and realized that I was looking at snow tipped peaks. Oh no. Snow was not part of my tactical plans for the two days of racing. Of course I was prepared for cold with long fingered gloves, booties, leg warmers, a wind front base layer and a cap for under my helmet, but cold for me is 60 degrees. As we drove over the final pass into Bishop the car thermometer read 40. I was already cold. The wind buffeted the car and we watched with dread as the rain and snow mix came across the valley and pummeled the windows as we pulled into registration.
When we picked up our numbers I was informed of two things. The first was that there were a substantial amount of women racing (yeah) and the second was that although the course would change due to weather we would still start at 6:45 (yikes). I was uncertain that I could consume enough coffee to actually pedal my bike at 6:45 (yes that is AM).
In any case, a quick dinner of lasagna and salad saw us to bed without a ride. Now, when you race professionally there are frequently pre-race days that you just don’t get a chance to ride, whether due to travel, or the location of the bikes. However, I try to make a point of climbing on my bike prior to racing now because my legs are old and creaky and need a little pre-race opener to be able to perform. I was able to comfort myself only in the fact that with 120 miles and 15,000 feet of climbing, chances were no one would attack before mile 60…
A quick stop at “the man” for coffee and we were at the start. It was still dark and cold. I mean bitter. I was shaking and would not get out of the car. Rob got my bike ready and as they called the riders to the line I crawled out of the heated car and rolled to the line. The first group to head out was all the women, the Master’s men (all categories) and the public racers. With such a big field, I went to the front immediately and set a good tempo in an attempt to get warm. Four different men came up and asked me to slow down. They inquired into my history with the race (none) and told me I would blow up for sure.
I can be kind of stubborn and was not keen on slowing down because I was asked to. So we hit the first climb and the group was quickly whittled down to eight of us; one of members was a woman named Marie from the Simple Green Team. She was climbing really well, and looked like a very good climber (meaning she was little and light).
As the climb wound its way up the mountain we were treated to spectacular views, the light was stunning as the rising sun light glinted of the snow kissed peaks. One of the men in the group put some pressure on, picking up the pace and looking like he was not going to slow down. As he split off from the group, he took another man with him. Marie jumped across to them but I was determined to be patient, sitting at a comfortable tempo.
Soon the small group had 15 seconds on our small group. Anyone who races knows that feeling in their gut when they know it is time to go. It was time, looking up the mountain I was fairly certain that this was going to be one of the few times I could bridge somewhat comfortably, and with a brief amount of suffering I was to the group, bringing one man with me. The five of us never looked back and that was to be the group for the next 40 or so miles.
This race was an interesting format because at the mountain top was a turn-around and then you headed back down from whence you came. I loved this for two reasons. The first was that I passed Rob, who had started an hour behind me. It is always a lift when you see someone you like during the race. The second reason I like this particular format was that I got to know the descent and could really let the bike run on the way down. In fact, I was told twice today I descended like a “demon.”
Thankfully, the training camp we just held in New Mexico really paid off, and the descents were no where near as technical as those we had just been riding on. I easily put two minutes into the group after the first descent and was faced with a decision. I could wait or try a go at being solo for 90 miles. So I sat up and waited, eating some delicious homemade banana bread that Rob’s Mom had made just for the race.
The second climb was a stair step climb – only the set of stairs was from the Empire State Building. No kidding, there must have been thirty “steps.” Just when I was getting frustrated with the slow pavement, the rain, the people I was riding with and my own inability to weigh ten pounds so I could climb better, we reached the top. Blasting down the descent, I once again reached the bottom solo. There was about four miles of flat before the next climb so I rode tempo, and two of the men bridged to me. The three of us made our way to the third climb.
Beautiful but steep, the third climb made its way up through a valley of Aspens. The leaves were blowing across the road, dappling the snow with yellow and gold. The two men I was riding with were in the same category and I tried to hang tough as they attacked each other. Soon it was Dennis going up the road leaving myself and the second, very kind man to suffer it out for 10 more miles. I wished I could do something to help the man I was riding with bridge the gap to his competitor but I was tapped.
We made our way up to the top and at the turn-around Dennis had three minutes on us. As soon as we hit the descent I began the chase, trying to help bridge the gap for the man I was with. He was not as secure a descender as I so I monitored my effort to keep him within his envelope of comfort.
I waved to Rob who looked super strong. He had settled into the front group of six (his category began with 60) and was feeling good enough to make a joke as we passed.
The two of us hit the last flat section of 8 miles before the finish and I began to chase for real. By this point I was alone, but I could see Dennis just in front of me. The wind was ghastly, keeping me on the sidewall of my tires the entire time. I had to get very quiet in my mind and focus on every pedal stroke. Dennis looked back, saw me coming and sat up so he could get on my wheel as I came by. That lasted for about 30 seconds before I was alone. Ah yes, alone again.
Finally I turned out of the wind and onto the last climb – a killer ascent of 22 miles. Everyone had failed to mention that this was a severely difficult climb, one that mocks the riders that try to climb it, and revels in the delight of bringing cyclists to their knees in agony.
I had nothing to do but turn the pedals, one stroke at a time. Looking at my computer I realized that I would be climbing for nearly two hours. I kept telling myself I would get to the top. You always do – don’t you? Isn’t that why you climb? I reminded myself that I had paid for the pleasure of this suffering so I should just quit my whining and get the job done.
Being off the front solo – the lead rider – was difficult. With no information, I had no idea what the time splits were, or even if I was on the right road. Finally I saw a feed station. The volunteers at this race are incredible. They are great feeders, offering encouragement and support to everyone who passes, as well as bottles, bars and gels. I was relieved to see them, but it was a short bit of relief as the road hit the sky, and for miles all I could see was pavement going up. The feeders did inform me that I was the leading rider on the road but that a group of three professional men were approaching.
At the ten kilometer to go mark the first pro caught me and passed with a brief nod. He looked like I felt – slow and kind of desperate. About three minutes later, the second pro came by me on one of the sharpest grades, with a cheery “hello, great job.” He was dancing up the climb and I had a quick evil wish that he would offer to push me the rest of the way.
Another three minutes and the third pro came by, offering up support in the form of “good work – tough climb.” I cannot write the words that came out of my mouth, or my Mom will fly to CA to wash it out with soap, but suffice to say it was nothing but illiterate swearing.
Finally the five kilometer mark showed itself and I was briefly happy, until I realized that I probably still had fifteen minutes of climbing. I had kept the three pros well within sight, and was closing in on the guy who had come by my first. He was definitely faltering, giving me some comfort that I was not alone in my suffering.
The one kilometer mark took brought a smile to my face until I saw how steep the final incline was. It was cruel, I mean just downright unnecessary. The pitches were 17% and came in four separate parts, with the last 200 meters being the most brutal. My finish was a bit anticlimactic; everyone was huddled together trying to avoid the hail that was now pounding the road and the cutting wind that was burning exposed skin.
I quickly headed back down to where the finish bags were and put on every single piece of clothing that I owned. I also grabbed a fresh quesadilla, which was quite possibly the best thing I have ever eaten. I did manage to eat it on the descent, but not without getting some refried beans on my bars. Whatever, I did not much care. All I did care about was eating something warm and seeing Rob coming up the climb.
At about nine kilometers to go I crossed paths with Rob who was sitting about fifth and looking pretty miserable in the hail and rain. A quick wave and I put my mind on getting to the bottom and into the car. By the time I reached the car I was shaking so much I thought I might crash. Throwing the bike in the car, I drove back up the hill to pick up a nearly frozen Rob. I had to help him pry his hands off the bars and nearly carry him to the car he was shaking so badly.
Finally back at the hotel and after a meal and hot shower, life is returning. Well, at least enough to realize that tomorrow is 86 miles with “additional climbing” because we “missed out on some today.” Please, my heart won’t be broken if we miss a few thousand feet – really!
I have not seen GC, but I think I have a bit of a gap over the second place woman. However, the second day at such high altitude and with so much climbing should certainly put both Rob and me to the test. Until then – tailwinds!
Everest challenge –
Women’s Pro 1, 2
1st – Giana Roberge
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