After 7 years of racing on Specialized bikes, I am officially racing for them in '08. Many thanks to Bruce Blevins of The Outdoor Store and Matt Shanly, the regional rep, for making this happen. I will still be racing "Pinky" and my carbon epic, but will be adding a Stumpy to my arsenal. Hopefully, with a lot of hard work and a little luck, I will improve upon my '07 performances.
In other news, Ergon, who sponsored me in '07, will continue through '08. I am eagerly awaiting a goody bag from Jeff.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Sweat Threshold
I do believe today was the coldest day of riding for me. I was not sure how long I could go before my toes and fingers lost all feeling. But I finally got it right when dressing for the occasion of 20 degrees. Now to put what I wore in writing so as not to forget for future reference: 5 layers up top, Gavia cycling tights, beanie, neck gaitor, booties, hand and toe warmers. And I also put my Camelbak under my jacket (learned that one the hard way).
Zeke and I rode the singletrack at Chilhowee, figuring we would have more shelter from the wind as opposed to riding fireroads. We ended up getting in a little over 3 hours; it was truly a gorgeous day. Sunshine and blue skies always seems to make it a little warmer than what the thermometer reads. At least with the freezing temps, we had it all to ourselves. I kept my heartrate up enough to stay warm, but low enough not to sweat. That was the trick for me.
We did have a few creek crossings. This caused a small problem for my bike. My lower derailleur pulley froze after I stopped for a pee break. Hmmm! How do I fix that? Zeke comes up behind me and immediately gets down on all fours and starts blowing on it! Not quite enough hot air (although sometimes I think he has enough to power a balloon!) so I get down on the other side of the wheel and start blowing too. That is the closest to a man's lips, other than my husband's, that I have been to in 18 years! Thank goodness for the spokes between us. And thank God no one else came along and saw us. What a sight that would have been! Here we are, on all fours, on either side of the wheel, huffing and puffing, trying not to get spittle on each other, unthawing a pulley. I never laughed so hard! Well, it did work, and we finished up the ride in good spirits.
Zeke and I rode the singletrack at Chilhowee, figuring we would have more shelter from the wind as opposed to riding fireroads. We ended up getting in a little over 3 hours; it was truly a gorgeous day. Sunshine and blue skies always seems to make it a little warmer than what the thermometer reads. At least with the freezing temps, we had it all to ourselves. I kept my heartrate up enough to stay warm, but low enough not to sweat. That was the trick for me.
We did have a few creek crossings. This caused a small problem for my bike. My lower derailleur pulley froze after I stopped for a pee break. Hmmm! How do I fix that? Zeke comes up behind me and immediately gets down on all fours and starts blowing on it! Not quite enough hot air (although sometimes I think he has enough to power a balloon!) so I get down on the other side of the wheel and start blowing too. That is the closest to a man's lips, other than my husband's, that I have been to in 18 years! Thank goodness for the spokes between us. And thank God no one else came along and saw us. What a sight that would have been! Here we are, on all fours, on either side of the wheel, huffing and puffing, trying not to get spittle on each other, unthawing a pulley. I never laughed so hard! Well, it did work, and we finished up the ride in good spirits.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
As Good As It Gets
The first running of the Snake Creek Gap 6 Mountain Time Trial happened this past Saturday. With the weather sunny and in the high 40's/low 50's, a dry trail, and the NWGA Sorba crew working hard, this race could not have gotten any better. Hats off to a wonderful event! If you have February 2 or March 1 free, you need to check this one out!
The biggest excitement occurred not on the course but en route to the start. This is a point-to-point race and the racers ride a school bus to the start. As the bus was coming off the mountain on a two lane, there was a little Subaru just ahead of us that was going WAY TOO SLOW! It forced the driver to use her brakes more than necessary and as a result, the bus lost air pressure. A buzzer went off and then there were no brakes! Thankfully we had a good driver and there was no oncoming traffic. She had to pass this idiot on a blind curve to keep from running the Subaru over. Talk about getting your heartrate up!
I started off feeling sluggish but it was a bit chilly and I did not have an adequate warm-up. My bike also felt a bit funny in the rear and there was this knocking noise when I would hit some rough terrain. I hit the first section of singletrack after a 2 mile fireroad climb and began to feel better. That was short-lived as I was passed by Kristy like I was standing still. She was superstrong. Man, I wish I could ride like that, so early in the season!
The downhills were fast and sweet! I am really beginnning to love the descents. La Ruta definitely helped my confidence and prowess going downhill. My Specialized Captain tires were also hooking up great. Although a bit heavier than the Fast Tracks, they seem to grab better.
I rolled into the midway point and swapped out Camelbaks. My time for the first half was slower than usual, but at least I was feeling better. I set off determined to have a better second half.
I managed to settle into a rhythm and was feeling good. I began passing more people, a lot of those which had passed me in the first half. My climbing legs had finally arrived! However, my bike was "knocking" horribly and beating me to death on the descents. Since it was still rolling in a forward direction, I did not want to get off to check it out.
Arriving at the top of the last major climb, I began to smile. Only 8 miles left and my favorite part: the technical rocky ridges of Hurricane and Dug Mountains. Except for the middle 1/3 of "The Wall" (a steep loamy, rocky, and rooty 150 yard climb) which I walked, I cleaned everything. O.K., I had two toe dabs and one tree grab. But this is the best I have done, especially during the race and when I am in oxygen debt.
During the hike-a-biking of "The Wall," I did stop and look at the rear of my bike. A LOT of oil was running down the shock. I now know what it feels like to ride on a blown shock; probably similar to a mechanical bull.
The last two miles of the race is a curvy paved downhill which is a nice reward to a hard day's ride. I ended up finishing in 3rd place in the money class, only a few minutes down. With proper training and a little good luck perhaps February and March will be even better!
The biggest excitement occurred not on the course but en route to the start. This is a point-to-point race and the racers ride a school bus to the start. As the bus was coming off the mountain on a two lane, there was a little Subaru just ahead of us that was going WAY TOO SLOW! It forced the driver to use her brakes more than necessary and as a result, the bus lost air pressure. A buzzer went off and then there were no brakes! Thankfully we had a good driver and there was no oncoming traffic. She had to pass this idiot on a blind curve to keep from running the Subaru over. Talk about getting your heartrate up!
I started off feeling sluggish but it was a bit chilly and I did not have an adequate warm-up. My bike also felt a bit funny in the rear and there was this knocking noise when I would hit some rough terrain. I hit the first section of singletrack after a 2 mile fireroad climb and began to feel better. That was short-lived as I was passed by Kristy like I was standing still. She was superstrong. Man, I wish I could ride like that, so early in the season!
The downhills were fast and sweet! I am really beginnning to love the descents. La Ruta definitely helped my confidence and prowess going downhill. My Specialized Captain tires were also hooking up great. Although a bit heavier than the Fast Tracks, they seem to grab better.
I rolled into the midway point and swapped out Camelbaks. My time for the first half was slower than usual, but at least I was feeling better. I set off determined to have a better second half.
I managed to settle into a rhythm and was feeling good. I began passing more people, a lot of those which had passed me in the first half. My climbing legs had finally arrived! However, my bike was "knocking" horribly and beating me to death on the descents. Since it was still rolling in a forward direction, I did not want to get off to check it out.
Arriving at the top of the last major climb, I began to smile. Only 8 miles left and my favorite part: the technical rocky ridges of Hurricane and Dug Mountains. Except for the middle 1/3 of "The Wall" (a steep loamy, rocky, and rooty 150 yard climb) which I walked, I cleaned everything. O.K., I had two toe dabs and one tree grab. But this is the best I have done, especially during the race and when I am in oxygen debt.
During the hike-a-biking of "The Wall," I did stop and look at the rear of my bike. A LOT of oil was running down the shock. I now know what it feels like to ride on a blown shock; probably similar to a mechanical bull.
The last two miles of the race is a curvy paved downhill which is a nice reward to a hard day's ride. I ended up finishing in 3rd place in the money class, only a few minutes down. With proper training and a little good luck perhaps February and March will be even better!
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Mr. Wheaties
On Saturday, Zeke, Ursula, and I met up in Dalton, Ga to pre-ride the Snake. The local club provided shuttles to the start. The group ended up being about 30 strong. The weather was in the lower 50's but very windy. I had been looking forward to this ride as it would be the last long one before Santa comes to my house.
Trail conditions were perfect; the wind had blown most of the leaves off. This race is a point-to-point, traversing 6 gaps and goes along several rocky ridges. The sweetest part is at the end; a 7 mile rocky, bouldery (is that at word?) playground. This section is relatively flat as it winds along the top of a ridge. It starts out fairly easy but gets more technical the further you ride. During the race, I am usually in oxygen debt by the time I get to this point and so end up making some silly mistakes and having to dismount several times and carry my bike through some sections. But today I cleaned it all ... save a few toe-dabs!
Besides enjoying the trail, what I had a good laugh about was this one particular rider on a brand new '08 Trek Fuel, with all the bells and whistles. This was apparently his first time and he must of been in a world of hurt. Laurie and Iwere riding together and were only about a mile into the technical section when we came upon this person. Actually, we heard him before we saw him. "G##D### it!" broke the stillness of the wilderness. We both looked up a slight incline and saw him, dismounted and walking a flat, rocky section. He climbed back on his steed before we got to him and rode away.
Five minutes later the same phrase erupted again, along with a few other expletives. This time we closed in on him as he stood standing there, looking up at the sky. When we approached, he bellowed at us, "We ARE on the top of a mountain! When do we f###### descend?" I did not say a word as I was afraid he might just throw his $5000 bike at me, especially if he saw that I was female. Nor did I have the heart to tell him that he had 5 more miles of extremely technical terrain to ride (or walk, in his case).
After we were out of earshot, I giggled to Laurie, "He must not have eaten his Wheaties this morning." We ended our day of wonderful riding with a good laugh!
I know that at some point in our racing/riding, we have felt like Mr. Wheaties. However, I do not direct my anger towards others like he did. And if I ever do disrespect someone on the trail, please let me know, as that would not be my intention.
Trail conditions were perfect; the wind had blown most of the leaves off. This race is a point-to-point, traversing 6 gaps and goes along several rocky ridges. The sweetest part is at the end; a 7 mile rocky, bouldery (is that at word?) playground. This section is relatively flat as it winds along the top of a ridge. It starts out fairly easy but gets more technical the further you ride. During the race, I am usually in oxygen debt by the time I get to this point and so end up making some silly mistakes and having to dismount several times and carry my bike through some sections. But today I cleaned it all ... save a few toe-dabs!
Besides enjoying the trail, what I had a good laugh about was this one particular rider on a brand new '08 Trek Fuel, with all the bells and whistles. This was apparently his first time and he must of been in a world of hurt. Laurie and Iwere riding together and were only about a mile into the technical section when we came upon this person. Actually, we heard him before we saw him. "G##D### it!" broke the stillness of the wilderness. We both looked up a slight incline and saw him, dismounted and walking a flat, rocky section. He climbed back on his steed before we got to him and rode away.
Five minutes later the same phrase erupted again, along with a few other expletives. This time we closed in on him as he stood standing there, looking up at the sky. When we approached, he bellowed at us, "We ARE on the top of a mountain! When do we f###### descend?" I did not say a word as I was afraid he might just throw his $5000 bike at me, especially if he saw that I was female. Nor did I have the heart to tell him that he had 5 more miles of extremely technical terrain to ride (or walk, in his case).
After we were out of earshot, I giggled to Laurie, "He must not have eaten his Wheaties this morning." We ended our day of wonderful riding with a good laugh!
I know that at some point in our racing/riding, we have felt like Mr. Wheaties. However, I do not direct my anger towards others like he did. And if I ever do disrespect someone on the trail, please let me know, as that would not be my intention.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
If you cannot afford 'em, do not have 'em!
Venting is good, right? Get it out in the open and off your chest. Well, here goes.
Christmas is always a slow time at work for us. I can understand to a degree why people do not bring "Fifi" or "Tiny" in for their annual visit at this time of the year. But what absolutely kills me is when the reason for being unable to treat "Fido's" broken leg or "Cassie's" heartworm disease is because "We spent X amount of dollars on Christmas presents, the tree, and decorations and just don't have the money to spend."
What kind of logic is that? You would rather spend money on a toy(s) that your kid/husband is going to forget about in 6 weeks or a tree that becomes mulch in 3 weeks rather than save an animal's life?!? Now sure, some diseases and traumatic injuries are not fixable or may cost thousands of dollars and in that case, euthanasia is an option. But if you are unwilling to spend several hundred dollars on you pet, your companion, then you should not get one in the first place.
I hear this scenario day in day out every year at this time and it is so frustrating. Carly and I have a term for these people. Instead of idiots, MF'ers, or dumba$$, we call them "Jellyfish" or "Jellies" for short. Because, you see, jellyfish have no brain, and it is obvious that these type of people don't either. And "jelly" is a much more pleasant word to say around a 5 year old than the other options.
So if you cannot afford to properly take care of a pet, do NOT have them. That goes for children, too!
Christmas is always a slow time at work for us. I can understand to a degree why people do not bring "Fifi" or "Tiny" in for their annual visit at this time of the year. But what absolutely kills me is when the reason for being unable to treat "Fido's" broken leg or "Cassie's" heartworm disease is because "We spent X amount of dollars on Christmas presents, the tree, and decorations and just don't have the money to spend."
What kind of logic is that? You would rather spend money on a toy(s) that your kid/husband is going to forget about in 6 weeks or a tree that becomes mulch in 3 weeks rather than save an animal's life?!? Now sure, some diseases and traumatic injuries are not fixable or may cost thousands of dollars and in that case, euthanasia is an option. But if you are unwilling to spend several hundred dollars on you pet, your companion, then you should not get one in the first place.
I hear this scenario day in day out every year at this time and it is so frustrating. Carly and I have a term for these people. Instead of idiots, MF'ers, or dumba$$, we call them "Jellyfish" or "Jellies" for short. Because, you see, jellyfish have no brain, and it is obvious that these type of people don't either. And "jelly" is a much more pleasant word to say around a 5 year old than the other options.
So if you cannot afford to properly take care of a pet, do NOT have them. That goes for children, too!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
La Ruta -- Suffering Redefined, Part 4
How difficult could the last day be? Only 4800 feet of climbing, then a sweet downhill/flat finish to Playa bonita. The last day of crawling out of bed at 4am with my legs feeling like concrete pillars and my eyes so puffy I looked as if I had been in a boxing match. We had to wait around at the start for an extra 30 minutes ... in the cold rain. Something about a couple of the shuttles had not arrived. I put on my trashbag and also had a plastic bag over my head.
The start began by climbing back up the coffee plantation we had descended the previous day. What a grunt. Again, I enjoyed the descents, as that seemed the only thing I could do well in this race. Not near as muddy as yesterday, but I had to contend with a lot of support vehicles in my way. Nothing more irritating than not being able to "air it out" on a sweet downhill.
There was one superfast straight descent on ashphalt. 3 miles at 44 mph! I think I actually cracked a smile. At the end we had a sharp left turn. A racer was down in this corner: he looked pretty bad with his face covered in blood, but was being attended to by medics. I took this as a sign: Don't screw up on the last day!
Some rollers. Yeah! I finally encountered a hill I could climb with relative ease. Those were short-lived as I hit another loose, rocky steep climb. Not wanting to do any more hike-a-bikes, I was determined to ride, no matter how slow, this last hill. And I did. At the top, I refueled at the aid station and began another long asphalt descent. The rain was pouring down pretty hard, making it difficult to see. I tucked in behind another racer and hoped that he would lead me safely down the mountain.
The last 55k was flat, but not smooth. In between riding the railroad tracks were very bumpy, rocky, muddy roads filled with pot-holes (that could swallow a tricycle). By this point in the race, my crotch was so sore. Amazingly, no saddle sores, but this feeling in my nether-regions is as close as one can get to child-birth!
Starting on the first section of tracks, I said to myself: This is not so bad. The ties were concrete and U-shaped so that the middle of the tie was level with the gravel/dirt between the ties. At this point I was alone. I did see one rider up ahead about 100 yards. I saw him get off his bike and begin walking and wondered why. Question answered as I approached the spot: the first trestle. Only about 15 feet long, but with the rain pouring down, wet ties, and wet shoes, my sphincter factor was a 10. The ties across gaps were not concrete but normal creosote-impregnated wood. One tie was missing. I was nervous, but made it quickly over.
After another mile, I approached the second trestle. Now this was a different story. This bridge was 50 yards across. (First, let me give you a little background on my fear of heights. Climbing ladders makes me tremble with fear!) I tried not to think and just do. I picked my bike and held on to it so tight that I think there are permanent depressions in the frame. I took deep regular breaths and focused on getting from one tie to the other. The ties are about 18 inches apart. Along some of the trestle were 1" by 8" boards that were nailed down (but still wet and slippery. Time seemed to slow down. At several places there were rotten ties, wobbly ties or ties completey missing! What the trestle was traversing was a raging river 30 to 40 feet below! I could hear the turbulence of the river and tried not to look directly at it as I was crossing. The first missing tie I had to cross, I just about panicked! My inseam is 30" which is just about the width I had to cross. I have never been so scared in my life! What the hell was I doing? All I could think about was Carly and Charlie and wanting desperately to see them again. I hoped that if I did slip, as long as I hung onto my bike I would not fall into the raging river below. I made the first few gaps, but my progress seemed so slow. I was getting tired and as I stepped across the next large gap, my forward foot slipped as it landed on the tie. I felt myself going down. The next few seconds were a blur. What I remember is that I did regain control, but that my left hamstring felt like someone stabbed it with a knife.
Then I heard a voice with a Spanish accent. "Give me your bike." I looked up and the racer that had been so far ahead of me was right there with his bike on one shoulder. I handed my bike to him. He turned around and begain walking the remainder of the trestle carrying two bikes. A hand reached out and grabbed mine. A local had come out on the trestle as well and helped me finish crossing the trestle. I gripped his hand so hard! I made it to the other side, legs quivering with fear/exhaustion. I do not want to think about what might have happened had it not been for my guardian angels.
Jorge was the racer's name. He is a Costa Rican and has done this race several times. Needless to say, I stuck to him like glue for the remainder of the race. There were several more trestle crossings (none near as dangerous), but each time Jorge would carry my bike across. I just focused on getting to the finish. We helped to pace one another.
The longest section of railroad tracks was about 5 miles long. Most was relatively smooth, but there were some sections where there was little gravel. My full suspension soaked up the bumps very well. Some of the hardtails were having difficulty, but let me pass.
I heard the crashing of waves and soon saw the ocean and beach. Not far to go now. At this point we paralled the beach and were on a sandy road ... that was flooded. Most "puddles" came up to the bottom bracket. There were a couple racers just up front so I was able to know when to get off and carry my bike through the water. One "puddle" swallowed a racer whole! One second he was visible, the next he was swimming. I was able to laugh at that.
At one point, we hopped back up on the tracks. I was riding along when I saw a train approaching. How dare this train interfere with my wanting to get to the finish. Reluctantly I stepped off to the side to let him pass. As I climbed back on my bike I realized that my odometer was approaching 120k. The finish should be close. But then I was puzzled. I had not passed by aid station 4 yet ... which was supposed to me at kilometer 105. Hmmm! I could see in the distance what I thought was the finish. But as I approached it was the last aid station. Only 10k off of where it was supposed to be. Why would they put one so close to the finish? And why was my rear tire getting so squishy? I stopped at the aid station and realized I had another flat. Just great!!!!! I thought I could probably ride just the last kilometer or mile with a flat. But the volunteers at the station said I had another 10 k to go. What the hell?!?!?! I was so tired and emotionally drained, I had trouble fixing my flat. Jorge helped me with this as well. (I found out later that a trestle had collapsed and they had to reroute us, so it extended the stage by 10k.)
Jorge and I crossed the finish together. I have never been so happy. Having been through so much today, my eyes welled with tears. I was so thankful to be alive and in one piece. Someone definitely was looking out for me!
La Ruta is definitely the hardest thing I have done in my life. I am glad to have participated in one of the hardest mountain bike races, but I do not think I will do it again.
What did I learn?
1. No matter where we live, what language we speak, or what we look like, we are all the same and have the same desires of life. I met so many interesting people from so many countries. And they are just like me.
2. It is amazing what the human body can do when pushed to its limits.
3. My family means more to me than anything else.
4. I am still deathly afraid of heights!
Thank you, Jorge, for saving my life. And thanks to the tico who helped me across.
The start began by climbing back up the coffee plantation we had descended the previous day. What a grunt. Again, I enjoyed the descents, as that seemed the only thing I could do well in this race. Not near as muddy as yesterday, but I had to contend with a lot of support vehicles in my way. Nothing more irritating than not being able to "air it out" on a sweet downhill.
There was one superfast straight descent on ashphalt. 3 miles at 44 mph! I think I actually cracked a smile. At the end we had a sharp left turn. A racer was down in this corner: he looked pretty bad with his face covered in blood, but was being attended to by medics. I took this as a sign: Don't screw up on the last day!
Some rollers. Yeah! I finally encountered a hill I could climb with relative ease. Those were short-lived as I hit another loose, rocky steep climb. Not wanting to do any more hike-a-bikes, I was determined to ride, no matter how slow, this last hill. And I did. At the top, I refueled at the aid station and began another long asphalt descent. The rain was pouring down pretty hard, making it difficult to see. I tucked in behind another racer and hoped that he would lead me safely down the mountain.
The last 55k was flat, but not smooth. In between riding the railroad tracks were very bumpy, rocky, muddy roads filled with pot-holes (that could swallow a tricycle). By this point in the race, my crotch was so sore. Amazingly, no saddle sores, but this feeling in my nether-regions is as close as one can get to child-birth!
Starting on the first section of tracks, I said to myself: This is not so bad. The ties were concrete and U-shaped so that the middle of the tie was level with the gravel/dirt between the ties. At this point I was alone. I did see one rider up ahead about 100 yards. I saw him get off his bike and begin walking and wondered why. Question answered as I approached the spot: the first trestle. Only about 15 feet long, but with the rain pouring down, wet ties, and wet shoes, my sphincter factor was a 10. The ties across gaps were not concrete but normal creosote-impregnated wood. One tie was missing. I was nervous, but made it quickly over.
After another mile, I approached the second trestle. Now this was a different story. This bridge was 50 yards across. (First, let me give you a little background on my fear of heights. Climbing ladders makes me tremble with fear!) I tried not to think and just do. I picked my bike and held on to it so tight that I think there are permanent depressions in the frame. I took deep regular breaths and focused on getting from one tie to the other. The ties are about 18 inches apart. Along some of the trestle were 1" by 8" boards that were nailed down (but still wet and slippery. Time seemed to slow down. At several places there were rotten ties, wobbly ties or ties completey missing! What the trestle was traversing was a raging river 30 to 40 feet below! I could hear the turbulence of the river and tried not to look directly at it as I was crossing. The first missing tie I had to cross, I just about panicked! My inseam is 30" which is just about the width I had to cross. I have never been so scared in my life! What the hell was I doing? All I could think about was Carly and Charlie and wanting desperately to see them again. I hoped that if I did slip, as long as I hung onto my bike I would not fall into the raging river below. I made the first few gaps, but my progress seemed so slow. I was getting tired and as I stepped across the next large gap, my forward foot slipped as it landed on the tie. I felt myself going down. The next few seconds were a blur. What I remember is that I did regain control, but that my left hamstring felt like someone stabbed it with a knife.
Then I heard a voice with a Spanish accent. "Give me your bike." I looked up and the racer that had been so far ahead of me was right there with his bike on one shoulder. I handed my bike to him. He turned around and begain walking the remainder of the trestle carrying two bikes. A hand reached out and grabbed mine. A local had come out on the trestle as well and helped me finish crossing the trestle. I gripped his hand so hard! I made it to the other side, legs quivering with fear/exhaustion. I do not want to think about what might have happened had it not been for my guardian angels.
Jorge was the racer's name. He is a Costa Rican and has done this race several times. Needless to say, I stuck to him like glue for the remainder of the race. There were several more trestle crossings (none near as dangerous), but each time Jorge would carry my bike across. I just focused on getting to the finish. We helped to pace one another.
The longest section of railroad tracks was about 5 miles long. Most was relatively smooth, but there were some sections where there was little gravel. My full suspension soaked up the bumps very well. Some of the hardtails were having difficulty, but let me pass.
I heard the crashing of waves and soon saw the ocean and beach. Not far to go now. At this point we paralled the beach and were on a sandy road ... that was flooded. Most "puddles" came up to the bottom bracket. There were a couple racers just up front so I was able to know when to get off and carry my bike through the water. One "puddle" swallowed a racer whole! One second he was visible, the next he was swimming. I was able to laugh at that.
At one point, we hopped back up on the tracks. I was riding along when I saw a train approaching. How dare this train interfere with my wanting to get to the finish. Reluctantly I stepped off to the side to let him pass. As I climbed back on my bike I realized that my odometer was approaching 120k. The finish should be close. But then I was puzzled. I had not passed by aid station 4 yet ... which was supposed to me at kilometer 105. Hmmm! I could see in the distance what I thought was the finish. But as I approached it was the last aid station. Only 10k off of where it was supposed to be. Why would they put one so close to the finish? And why was my rear tire getting so squishy? I stopped at the aid station and realized I had another flat. Just great!!!!! I thought I could probably ride just the last kilometer or mile with a flat. But the volunteers at the station said I had another 10 k to go. What the hell?!?!?! I was so tired and emotionally drained, I had trouble fixing my flat. Jorge helped me with this as well. (I found out later that a trestle had collapsed and they had to reroute us, so it extended the stage by 10k.)
Jorge and I crossed the finish together. I have never been so happy. Having been through so much today, my eyes welled with tears. I was so thankful to be alive and in one piece. Someone definitely was looking out for me!
La Ruta is definitely the hardest thing I have done in my life. I am glad to have participated in one of the hardest mountain bike races, but I do not think I will do it again.
What did I learn?
1. No matter where we live, what language we speak, or what we look like, we are all the same and have the same desires of life. I met so many interesting people from so many countries. And they are just like me.
2. It is amazing what the human body can do when pushed to its limits.
3. My family means more to me than anything else.
4. I am still deathly afraid of heights!
Thank you, Jorge, for saving my life. And thanks to the tico who helped me across.
Friday, November 23, 2007
La Ruta -- Suffering Redefined, Part 3
Day 3 was a pretty straight forward day: 35k up Volcano Irazu, 35k down Volcano Irazu. Once again the start was at 6:30 am. I was praying for my legs to come back to life. It was a little cool and misty and since conditions at the top could vary drastically, I had packed a lightweight jacket, arm warmers, and one 13 gallon white trashbag with pre-cut holes for my arms and head.
The climb was a combination of pavement, mud, and gravel. There was much less hike-a-bike today, for which I was grateful. Still, it took about 2 hours for my legs to feel good. Just as I was feeling better, Mr. Altitude raised his ugly head. This was my first time ever at altitude so I did not know what quite to expect. The best way I can describe it is like trying to breathe through a straw. As long as I was seated, I was o.k. It is when I tried to stand and hammer a little that I got light-headed. Oh well, at this point in the race my aspirations of a top 5 were replaced by a desire to just finish the race.
I was looking forward to the downhill as, ironically, this is where I had the advantage over a lot of the women ... and many men. I am usually a strong climber and poor descender, but in this race, it was reversed. Unfortunately, with all the rain the past 5 weeks, I was told that the descent was going to be very muddy. Forget the gravel road descent; think mud and cow manure covering baby-head to cow-head size rocks.
At the top, I put on all my clothing, including the trash bag, ate an oatmeal creme pie and Payday candy bar and prepared myself for a grueling 20 mile descent. The heavens decided to open up with a downpour. I am so thankful I decided to use an SKS mud fender as it kept the cow manure out of my eyes and mouth. I put my glasses away as they were pretty much useless in the downpour.
As far as trying to describe how technical the downhill was, think of West Virginia mud overlaying Mt Snow/Pinhoti rocks ... for 20 miles! Just plain crazy! And these are roads for the locals! I saw two Toyota Landcruisers stuck and abandoned in the muddy mess. I had to stop one time for a herd of cattle moving up the mountain path.
As we came into the coffee plantation, the road improved and I was able to pick up a little more speed. But I was cautious, as this was where Jeremiah Bishop broke his face last year. After I finished I rode over to the bike wash and let the CicloGuilly guys clean my bike with their pressure washers and kerosene/water mixture. Yes, I was rather disturbed at this method of cleaning, especially on Day 1. By now, though, I was too tired to care!
I got to shower with the guys, today. At least there were stall doors! After ensuring that Manfred (my mechanic) was taking good care of my bike, I left on the shuttle for the Geliwa Hotel. Another advantage to having a pink bike. Manfred, one of the senior mechanics, picked me out on Day 1 and took care of my bike all week. Sweet!
Even though this was the earliest I had gotten back to the hotel, it was a miserable night of sleep. Zeke and I had to share a very small rock hard bed. Not much room to stretch out for fear of touching your bed partner in a rather private area. Then the dogs barked most of the night. And when it started raining again, it was like Chinese water torture. Drip ... drip ... drip ... drip. Not to mention my whole body ached after 3 strenuous days.
Just one more day!
The climb was a combination of pavement, mud, and gravel. There was much less hike-a-bike today, for which I was grateful. Still, it took about 2 hours for my legs to feel good. Just as I was feeling better, Mr. Altitude raised his ugly head. This was my first time ever at altitude so I did not know what quite to expect. The best way I can describe it is like trying to breathe through a straw. As long as I was seated, I was o.k. It is when I tried to stand and hammer a little that I got light-headed. Oh well, at this point in the race my aspirations of a top 5 were replaced by a desire to just finish the race.
I was looking forward to the downhill as, ironically, this is where I had the advantage over a lot of the women ... and many men. I am usually a strong climber and poor descender, but in this race, it was reversed. Unfortunately, with all the rain the past 5 weeks, I was told that the descent was going to be very muddy. Forget the gravel road descent; think mud and cow manure covering baby-head to cow-head size rocks.
At the top, I put on all my clothing, including the trash bag, ate an oatmeal creme pie and Payday candy bar and prepared myself for a grueling 20 mile descent. The heavens decided to open up with a downpour. I am so thankful I decided to use an SKS mud fender as it kept the cow manure out of my eyes and mouth. I put my glasses away as they were pretty much useless in the downpour.
As far as trying to describe how technical the downhill was, think of West Virginia mud overlaying Mt Snow/Pinhoti rocks ... for 20 miles! Just plain crazy! And these are roads for the locals! I saw two Toyota Landcruisers stuck and abandoned in the muddy mess. I had to stop one time for a herd of cattle moving up the mountain path.
As we came into the coffee plantation, the road improved and I was able to pick up a little more speed. But I was cautious, as this was where Jeremiah Bishop broke his face last year. After I finished I rode over to the bike wash and let the CicloGuilly guys clean my bike with their pressure washers and kerosene/water mixture. Yes, I was rather disturbed at this method of cleaning, especially on Day 1. By now, though, I was too tired to care!
I got to shower with the guys, today. At least there were stall doors! After ensuring that Manfred (my mechanic) was taking good care of my bike, I left on the shuttle for the Geliwa Hotel. Another advantage to having a pink bike. Manfred, one of the senior mechanics, picked me out on Day 1 and took care of my bike all week. Sweet!
Even though this was the earliest I had gotten back to the hotel, it was a miserable night of sleep. Zeke and I had to share a very small rock hard bed. Not much room to stretch out for fear of touching your bed partner in a rather private area. Then the dogs barked most of the night. And when it started raining again, it was like Chinese water torture. Drip ... drip ... drip ... drip. Not to mention my whole body ached after 3 strenuous days.
Just one more day!
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