I’m flying. I’m invincible. I’m stronger than ever. New personal best on the way, for sure. Possible sub-10 hours on one of the 10 toughest rides in America, Climb to Kaiser. It’s what I’ve worked for in 2009. More than 3,800 miles and a quarter million feet of climbing all paying off now. Preparation meets opportunity. Then suddenly: I’m wilting. I’m cramping. Both legs are turning to stone. The mind is short-circuiting. Soft pedaling is completely out of the question on 15% grade in the high 80s at 7,000 feet. I’m weakened. Humiliated. Gasp. I’m actually walking with head down, trying to stave off demons. Should I call it a day? Chalk it up to bad luck?
No.
Actually, let me re-phrase that. Hell no.
Saturday’s Climb to Kaiser was the most difficult day on a bike for me.
Ever.
The kind of killer day I haven’t even remotely felt since 1984 when I did C2K for the first time with a 42-tooth small chain ring and a 12/23 cassette. Frightened. Isolated. Vulnerable. Shattered physically. Destroyed mentally. Searching for a reason to flag a SAG vehicle. Cursing at the sun. Letting my thoughts nearly drift past the point of no return.
Then a breakthrough moment: Make a new goal and forget the clock. Better yet, string together a set of small goals that added together equal finishing. Avoid the DNF. I’ve never had a DNF in any marathon, century, double century or Climb to Kaiser. If I could endure the unexpected as a well-conditioned cyclist, I could plod up a few thousand more feet to the summit of 9,200 feet, begin serious recovery and thrive again through 103-degree head and 15 mph valley gusts.
It worked. That’s all I can say. I even helped a few tired souls along the final 15 miles of furnace-like conditions. And they returned the favor. We found meaning and purpose. At C2K, most riders are reduced to things they never quite expect. It just happens at different times over the course of 155 miles and nearly 14,000 feet of climb, most of which is diabolically steep and in thin air. When things seem their darkest, it can best be summed up this way: survival.
The minute you invite fear, doubt and uncertainty into your head, you’re done. You may as well quit. Put an end to the misery. Figure out a good excuse. Come back next year. Well, I almost gave in out of pride and frustration, because of the temporary insanity that heat, elevation and a failing body can instantly produce.
I’m glad I didn’t. Short a medical danger, we can find a way to cope. Cramps are real but not the end of the world. Nausea is temporary. Disappointment ultimately fades. You find a way. You finish. Even if it’s ugly. Even if it seemed you couldn’t fall any lower.
Why?
It’s the only way to appreciate the view from the top of the mountain.
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Beautiful post. Whether it’s your first ride, first century, or the toughest climb you’ve ever done, cycling is challenging and requires us to find a way to get up, over, or around the pain. Congrats on not throwing the bike in the back of the SAG wagon!
You don’t have by any chance some SPECOPS training in your background, do you?
Thank you for sharing the low point and how you managed to get through – it translates into INSPIRATION for me.
Well done, Jeff, very well done – here is to many more views form the top of the mountain!
Great post. Very inspirational. I can’t even fathom doing 155 miles with 14K feet of climbing. At least not yet.
Wow and congrats! Your post captures it all. Yes, the only way to push through is too shut the mind off and find tiny goals to keep you going. With that said, I’m not sure I’d have pushed on. It takes a particular brawn both physically and mentally to take on the kind of ride you describe. Fantastic!
Congrats on the finish!
Sounds like a fun ride to work towards.
Gerhard, no SPECOPS in my background, but I suppose that wouldn’t have hurt.
Struggling on the most difficult section of climb of C2K taught me something. The mountain always manages to put things in perfect perspective. I guess that’s why I’m so attracted to it. Ride strong.
Hi Bryan, It all starts with an idea, then a goal, then the training, and pretty soon, you’re there. Hope you’re riding is going well this summer. Thanks for coming on by BikeCrave.
Hi Jeff, you’re so right. Suffering purifies things to the absolute most basic level. There’s definitely a cycling metaphor for life. Thanks for taking time to comment on the post, and Livestrong.
Ok, this is an old post, but what the heck. I’m wondering, what the hell are you doing climbing with a 42/ 12-23. Living here in the ozarks, I use a compact 50/34 with a SRAM 11-28 and I still find spots that totally kick my ass. Your an animal Jeff, pure and simple! As far as recovery, I have hit a wall personally or physically. I will have to take a week off the bike just to evaluate my health and see a DR. Did 56.34 Friday July 31st and then crashed hard Saturday and Sunday completely out of sorts. I always notice the bike mags talking about intervals this and LT anarobic threshold that, but I never here them talk much about where real progress is made, and that is from resting after a hard effort. Love the blog.
Rickie