Are we REALLY going up that?
Stage Two of the Everest Challenge
Big Pine, CA
Today’s second stage began with bitterly cold temperatures (38) but bright blue skies. As promised, the second stage had 1500 feet of additional climbing at the cost of 10 added kilometers. Normally, 10 KM would not make a difference but when it is 10 km up hill and comes at mile 50 a rider has a tendency to get a bit bitter about the changes (or at least this rider does).
Once again, the start time was 6:45, very nearly still dark and definitely still frigid. Like yesterday I set a nice tempo on the way out, much to the disgust of the other (male) riders. However, today they did not bother to warn me about starting out too hard, or how difficult the terrain was.
The first climb began at the 3 mile mark, and unfortunately, we had to ride right by the hotel we were staying at. If there ever was a test, that certainly was it. I thought about how the bed was probably still warm, and remembered that I had failed to turn off the coffee pot and that there was still coffee. Somehow I managed to keep going and hit the climb second wheel. I picked Bill’ wheel, the nice guy I was with for a bit yesterday because looking at his GC it was apparent he would need to be on the attack today to win the State Championship. Sure enough, the first pitch he attacked and I was able to follow his wheel.
We hit the first switch back, giving me a chance to see where the chase was at, and we already had nearly two minutes. From there Bill set a good steady pace, promising to pace me up the climb, if I would work for him on the descent and on the flats (of which there was little today.) Technically we could work together despite being in different categories because all the riders were started together.
So we climbed, and climbed and climbed. It was an extremely difficult climb, but what I did not know was that it was lily white in comparison to the final 22 miles of the race. We climbed for about an hour fifteen minutes and finally hit the turn-around. The descent was cold, but as promised I pushed the pace, glancing occasionally at my SRM to see the speed part read 75 km/hour. Now that is real fun!
We passed Rob who was looking great, sitting very comfortably in a small group that was off the front of his large field. I wanted to let him know to save something for the top of the climb, but the wind whipped my words away and all he saw was my mouth move and a smile.
On the flat section, we hit a lovely head/cross wind – finally something I was comfortable with. However, being a little climber guy, Bill was struggling so I had to meter my effort. The second climb was long, nearly 17 miles (with the additional 10 km) but at an average grade of 5%. This is my kind of gradient and I sat in the front happily setting tempo. Bill and I were the leading riders on the road, and again without any information we stayed on a hard pace, neither of us wanting to get caught. After yesterday’s stage I had a 38 minute cushion over second place, but I wanted to be certain that if I blew on the final 22 mile climb, I would not have to panic.
Finally we hit the turn-around and after a short 500 meter, 3 kilometer climb we were descending again. With only a 5% grade it was a pedal climb, and I had my work cut out for me. Again, I willingly did the bulk of the work, keeping the pace at 60 km/hr. We passed Bill’s opponent on the way down, at least five minutes back.
We also passed Rob who was at this point sitting third, with two guys off the front, still within site. I was impressed; for a mountain biker, Rob was doing great on such a challenging course and at altitude.
At the bottom of the descent, we made a right hand turn and everything went to hell. Bill had warned me that the first 10 miles and the final 10 miles were going to be tough. He failed to tell me that the first two miles averaged 6%, the next four miles at 8% and the next two 10%. Ouch.
I was in a bad way. I was cold and every part of my body ached or burned or was complaining in someway. And as most athletes know, it is when you are most tired that you don’t take care of yourself. At this point I had only consumed two gels and a piece of banana bread. The climb was so steep I could barely get my hand off my bars to grab some food, but finally I managed to throw down a mix of Clif Blocks and a Clif Shot.
Bill had ridden away from me at this point, apologizing, but needing to ride his own race. For an hour I rode by myself, going crazier with every pedal stroke. The smallest things bother you at this point, like the way the SRM was no longer straight on my bars, or how I had gotten some dirt on my flash Proman shorts. I was in a foul mood, and as the road continued to get steeper I began to fantasize about getting off my bike and lying down on the side of the road until the sag wagon rescued me.
At the mid-feed station, I caught Bill and things looked up a bit. We made a left hand turn and had a bit of a descent. I ate some more and got myself together. It was a relief to have someone to talk to, although at this point, all we could really manage was grunting.
By this time, five pro men had passed us, taking time to say hi as the passed. For a long time I stared at Bill’s wheel until he warned me that the next three miles would be “extremely difficult.” An average of 17% for three miles is something I hope I never have to suffer through again. When you are averaging four to five miles an hour, three miles takes a VERY long time.
At one point, I looked up only to see the road snaking up, intolerably getting steeper with every switch back. NEVER LOOK UP unless you are ready to deal with the consequences. I was near to tears at this point, fed up with pain, fed up with being cold, and fed up with being slow. I think it was just my stubbornness that got me (finally to the top). I had been climbing for a little over two hours.
After the finish, I huddled under a blanket and had another delicious quesadilla and about three cups of hot chocolate. I was shaking so badly that the volunteer staff had to carry me to a chair. Thankfully there were heaters, electric blankets and loads of warm food.
I was just beginning to get a little warmer when I saw Rob come in. He had a superb finish in third, which will move him up in the overall to either third or fourth. The officials were trying to figure out final results but we could not wait any longer in the cold and the wind.
With my win today, I sealed the overall as well as the State Climbing Championship. I find the Championship a bit ironic as I do not fancy myself a climber, but I can be a bit tenacious, and I think this was the winning ingredient for the Everest Challenge.
Would I come back to this race? I promised myself a million times today that if I finished, I would never come back. I have raced the women’s Tour de France, the Giro, several world cups, the tour of Switzerland, and just about every other major women’s race. I have never seen a climb like the final climb up to the Ancient Bristlecone. Maybe it was climbing at 10,550 feet, or doing 220 miles in two days, or it could be the nearly 30,000 feet we climbed. The combination of all three makes this one of the most difficult races I have ever done. Each of the over 200 riders that completed the race should be incredibly proud of the effort put out. It took pure determination, grit and fortitude to get to the finish line – there was no hiding at a race like this.
The race was really well organized, very safe, ran on time, and the volunteer crew were superb. They made finishing possible for each and every rider. If anyone ever wants to test themselves to see what they are made of – this would be a great arena for it. Next time, I might bring something bigger than a 27.
Thanks for reading!
Stage Two of the Everest Challenge
Big Pine, CA
Today’s second stage began with bitterly cold temperatures (38) but bright blue skies. As promised, the second stage had 1500 feet of additional climbing at the cost of 10 added kilometers. Normally, 10 KM would not make a difference but when it is 10 km up hill and comes at mile 50 a rider has a tendency to get a bit bitter about the changes (or at least this rider does).
Once again, the start time was 6:45, very nearly still dark and definitely still frigid. Like yesterday I set a nice tempo on the way out, much to the disgust of the other (male) riders. However, today they did not bother to warn me about starting out too hard, or how difficult the terrain was.
The first climb began at the 3 mile mark, and unfortunately, we had to ride right by the hotel we were staying at. If there ever was a test, that certainly was it. I thought about how the bed was probably still warm, and remembered that I had failed to turn off the coffee pot and that there was still coffee. Somehow I managed to keep going and hit the climb second wheel. I picked Bill’ wheel, the nice guy I was with for a bit yesterday because looking at his GC it was apparent he would need to be on the attack today to win the State Championship. Sure enough, the first pitch he attacked and I was able to follow his wheel.
We hit the first switch back, giving me a chance to see where the chase was at, and we already had nearly two minutes. From there Bill set a good steady pace, promising to pace me up the climb, if I would work for him on the descent and on the flats (of which there was little today.) Technically we could work together despite being in different categories because all the riders were started together.
So we climbed, and climbed and climbed. It was an extremely difficult climb, but what I did not know was that it was lily white in comparison to the final 22 miles of the race. We climbed for about an hour fifteen minutes and finally hit the turn-around. The descent was cold, but as promised I pushed the pace, glancing occasionally at my SRM to see the speed part read 75 km/hour. Now that is real fun!
We passed Rob who was looking great, sitting very comfortably in a small group that was off the front of his large field. I wanted to let him know to save something for the top of the climb, but the wind whipped my words away and all he saw was my mouth move and a smile.
On the flat section, we hit a lovely head/cross wind – finally something I was comfortable with. However, being a little climber guy, Bill was struggling so I had to meter my effort. The second climb was long, nearly 17 miles (with the additional 10 km) but at an average grade of 5%. This is my kind of gradient and I sat in the front happily setting tempo. Bill and I were the leading riders on the road, and again without any information we stayed on a hard pace, neither of us wanting to get caught. After yesterday’s stage I had a 38 minute cushion over second place, but I wanted to be certain that if I blew on the final 22 mile climb, I would not have to panic.
Finally we hit the turn-around and after a short 500 meter, 3 kilometer climb we were descending again. With only a 5% grade it was a pedal climb, and I had my work cut out for me. Again, I willingly did the bulk of the work, keeping the pace at 60 km/hr. We passed Bill’s opponent on the way down, at least five minutes back.
We also passed Rob who was at this point sitting third, with two guys off the front, still within site. I was impressed; for a mountain biker, Rob was doing great on such a challenging course and at altitude.
At the bottom of the descent, we made a right hand turn and everything went to hell. Bill had warned me that the first 10 miles and the final 10 miles were going to be tough. He failed to tell me that the first two miles averaged 6%, the next four miles at 8% and the next two 10%. Ouch.
I was in a bad way. I was cold and every part of my body ached or burned or was complaining in someway. And as most athletes know, it is when you are most tired that you don’t take care of yourself. At this point I had only consumed two gels and a piece of banana bread. The climb was so steep I could barely get my hand off my bars to grab some food, but finally I managed to throw down a mix of Clif Blocks and a Clif Shot.
Bill had ridden away from me at this point, apologizing, but needing to ride his own race. For an hour I rode by myself, going crazier with every pedal stroke. The smallest things bother you at this point, like the way the SRM was no longer straight on my bars, or how I had gotten some dirt on my flash Proman shorts. I was in a foul mood, and as the road continued to get steeper I began to fantasize about getting off my bike and lying down on the side of the road until the sag wagon rescued me.
At the mid-feed station, I caught Bill and things looked up a bit. We made a left hand turn and had a bit of a descent. I ate some more and got myself together. It was a relief to have someone to talk to, although at this point, all we could really manage was grunting.
By this time, five pro men had passed us, taking time to say hi as the passed. For a long time I stared at Bill’s wheel until he warned me that the next three miles would be “extremely difficult.” An average of 17% for three miles is something I hope I never have to suffer through again. When you are averaging four to five miles an hour, three miles takes a VERY long time.
At one point, I looked up only to see the road snaking up, intolerably getting steeper with every switch back. NEVER LOOK UP unless you are ready to deal with the consequences. I was near to tears at this point, fed up with pain, fed up with being cold, and fed up with being slow. I think it was just my stubbornness that got me (finally to the top). I had been climbing for a little over two hours.
After the finish, I huddled under a blanket and had another delicious quesadilla and about three cups of hot chocolate. I was shaking so badly that the volunteer staff had to carry me to a chair. Thankfully there were heaters, electric blankets and loads of warm food.
I was just beginning to get a little warmer when I saw Rob come in. He had a superb finish in third, which will move him up in the overall to either third or fourth. The officials were trying to figure out final results but we could not wait any longer in the cold and the wind.
With my win today, I sealed the overall as well as the State Climbing Championship. I find the Championship a bit ironic as I do not fancy myself a climber, but I can be a bit tenacious, and I think this was the winning ingredient for the Everest Challenge.
Would I come back to this race? I promised myself a million times today that if I finished, I would never come back. I have raced the women’s Tour de France, the Giro, several world cups, the tour of Switzerland, and just about every other major women’s race. I have never seen a climb like the final climb up to the Ancient Bristlecone. Maybe it was climbing at 10,550 feet, or doing 220 miles in two days, or it could be the nearly 30,000 feet we climbed. The combination of all three makes this one of the most difficult races I have ever done. Each of the over 200 riders that completed the race should be incredibly proud of the effort put out. It took pure determination, grit and fortitude to get to the finish line – there was no hiding at a race like this.
The race was really well organized, very safe, ran on time, and the volunteer crew were superb. They made finishing possible for each and every rider. If anyone ever wants to test themselves to see what they are made of – this would be a great arena for it. Next time, I might bring something bigger than a 27.
Thanks for reading!
2 comments:
Great reports - you captured it really well. I've done it twice now, and it felt the same both times. For some reason, when August rolled around this year my mind started wandering towards it and I was compelled to do it again. Maybe the same will happen to you :-)?
And where do you get to wear the climbing state champions jersey anyway? I mean, if I won one, when I could I show off, you know? Diablo I guess, but it seems like Hamilton and Mt.Tam (despite being RRs) should be game.
Rob did great too - I was a 3, and his time on the second stage (5 minutes faster than me) was enough for him to have beaten me! Great stuff. I'll have to train more I suppose...
I had a 34x25 on, and it was definitely too big. Next year a 34x27 or 34x28 for sure. Anything less and it's 40rpm up the bristlecones...
Keep on truckin'
I was following my son in the 3's and every time I saw the women you
were at the front. Bravo, good job and like I've been saying all year, "Proman rocks!"
Scott
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