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myneighborhood-thelake · 4 months

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Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, May 2024

Wednesday, May 22nd , 2024 to Thursday, May 23rd, 2024

45.3 miles

10,710 feet of descent (that be the downhill parts)

10,310 feet of ascent (that be the uphilly parts)

Route: start on South Rim,

down South Kaibab (7.4 miles, 4,700’ descent)

up North Kaibab (13.6 miles, 5,695’ ascent) arriving at North Rim

down North Kaibab (13.6 miles, 5,695’ descent) (wow, you go back and forth on the same trail and the distance and elevation match)

Up Bright Angel (9.5 miles, 4,314’ ascent, arriving back at the South Rim

Don’t @ me that those numbers are a little off… I used Phantom Ranch as my trail start/terminus because that’s where I stopped.

A little background, in 2019 I did Rim-to-River-to-Rim with my good friend. At Phantom Ranch, I seriously asked if we could just keep following the North Kaibab trail and do what we really wanted to do: Rim-to–Rim-to-Rim, but wiser heads prevailed. That was my friend, not me. Ever since, I’ve been thinking about doing the double crossing of the Canyon in a non-stop, or non-camping, manner. Why? Because that’s how I wanted to do it.

Wednesday I caught a flight into Phoenix, grabbed my rental car and shot north to the Canyon, arriving around 5pm at my hotel in Tusayan, the hotel and restaurant town a few minutes outside of the park. Check in was easy. I had stopped on the way to get a couple gallons of water and a Subway sandwich for the trail, so I did not need to grab dinner. After loading, and weighing my pack

(new CamelBak Octane with my old 3 liter reservoir) I ate ½ of the sandwich and made a few calls. Yes, my pack was definitely overdone. There was no need for 13 pounds.

Thanks subway staff! They got the bread wrong, and it tasted terrible. Of course I would still carry the other ½ sandwich into the Canyon with me, but I knew I wouldn’t eat it.

After closing the blinds and setting an alarm, I laid out for a little pre-event sleep. Thankfully I was able to get an hour or so of a nap in before my alarm barked at me at 8:50pm. By 9:15 I was on my way into the Park, and by 9:30 I had parked, walked to Bright Angel Lodge and called the park taxi. I’d recently learned that there was a Park taxi (only one of them), and they can take directly to the South Kaibab trailhead which is not accessible to normal vehicles. After waiting a while to get slotted, I was given a “be ready in 20 minutes” from the dispatcher. Inside the hotel lobby it was warm and not windy (that’s what real authors call “foreshadowing”).

A guy about 10 years older than me was in the lobby waiting for his daughter to drive her car up and get him. They had done Rim-to-Rim that day (North to South), and he was hurting bigtime. He mentioned more than a few times how the footing on the North Kaibab trail was terrible. Yes, backcountry trails on steep terrain are always pretty terrible. It’s ain’t a bike path. They rolled out, and I waited a bit longer until I saw the taxi arrive.

I had turned on and started the GPS tracker that I had borrowed, so the only pause was to take a picture of the trailhead.

Hoping to get out of the wind, or that it might slack off the lower I got I started heading down the trail. SK is pretty steep, but the wind was not quick to abate. During my last trek here, I had shed my rain shell very early. Today I was going to keep it on for protection from the flying dust and debris.

A few switchbacks down I spotted some lights below me. Cool, someone to catch. Yes, I’m externally motivated. It’s not the best way to live, but it’s who I am.

The switchbacks kept coming, as did the log ladders and mixed trail terrain. Some sections were runnable, so I did. The switchbacks that hit at exposed peaks were definitely a sketchy. With massive dropoffs on either side and wind gusts that rocked the body, these points required some thought. Mainly that thought was “crouch down, so that you don’t get blown over the side to your death.” The darkness exacerbated the fear of falling to my demise. It wasn’t that bad, but mentally, and being alone, it was a thought I couldn’t shake.

At some point I caught up to the couple ahead of me, said a few greetings and scooted past. They had trekking poles and were navigating the uneven trail a bit slower than I was. In the darkness I missed Ooh-Ahh point and it’s famous view. Granted, there’s not much to see in the dark anyway. I had picked a full moon for my trek, but it was not illuminating much. I tried turning my headlamp off a few times because I love trekking by moonlight, but the shadows were too dark and hid critical details that could easily lead to a twisted ankle or maybe worse (steep terrain, dropoffs, ….. You get the picture). I wanted to get rid of my jacket, but was getting buffeted still and decided it was not quite the right time even though I was heating up.

I was doing my usual sipping frequently from my camelbak reservoir and it felt like I was stopping to pee every 5 minutes. That was concerining because it was coming out very clear which is a sign that fluids are passing right through.

Finally I was able to shed my jacket, while moving, which felt amazing.

Turning one corner, I noticed even more lights below me that led to believe there were a few more people on trail below me. There was not, as I’d learn later, but it would have been nice had there been.

Soon I hit the junction with the River Trail which felt pretty soon. Then I was really shocked to come up to the tunnel at Phantom Ranch Bridge (or black bridge as some call it). I was really shocked. I’d been on trail for about 2 hours but didn’t think I’d come this far as mainly I’d just been putting one foot in front of the other and and making forward progress. This was a cool boost!

I crossed the bridge and headed with the flow of the river toward Bright Angel Campground and Phantom Ranch. At Phantom, I topped off my water reservoir and hopped back on trail within a few minutes. It was dark, the air was cool, and life was good. Why not make time?

Heading out of Phantom the trail did what it does and started moving upwards again. About the first half (7’ish) miles of North Kaibab trail are more gradual with 4% to 7% grades which is where one can put some miles in. The longest section of the trail without services is between Phantom Ranch and Cottonwood campground which are a little less than 7 miles apart. This is also the hottest part of the trail during the day. Several miles are in between towering cliffs where the heat has nowhere to go, this section is called “The Box.” Of course, at 1am, it wasn’t hot at all. The full moon was providing some super cool illumination on the cliffs, but I still needed my headlamp for trail details. Just above the box, there was a stream in the middle of the trail which I avoided. Wet feet can be the end of a hike. A few hundred feet up, it was clear that it wasn’t a stream but a break in the water line.

Uh-oh. The water line supplied the North side water stops. Would they now be shutoff?

I was still making good time and decided that, even with the waterline break, I would skip refilling at Cottonwood and go the next 1.4 miles up to Manzanita rest stop to refill. Made it to Manzanita and the water was still on, so I quickly refilled my reservoir and got back on trail. Now it was steep again with an 11% grade. I was thinking longingly of the 7 mile stretch between Cottonwood and Phantom Ranch and how nice it would be to jog that section once I returned to it later in the day. I still think it would be nice to jog that section someday.

I was starting to see headlamps above me from the people who had done an early start on their Rim-to-Rim treks staring from the North Rim. I loved the solitude of being alone in a very popular national park, but it’s also good to know that a few people are around.

I have read different numbers, but it is said that out of 4.75 Million people who visit the Grand Canyon every year, only 5% go below the rim (at all) and less than 10% of those folks make it to the river. That would be about 0.5% of visitors make it Rim-to-River-to-Rim or Rim-to-Rim. I can’t find any data on who many people do double that up and do Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim on any given year.

Let’s divert a bit and talk about how this can be done… Yes, there are many options. Some people hike straight through, they leave the North Rim in the dark and traverse to the South Rim over the course of 10-20 hours. Another choice is to overnight camp along the way at one of several campgrounds (reservations REQUIRED). I’m not against the concept, but the thought of carrying a tent and sleeping bag up the other side of the canyon sounds way too hard to me. Yet another choice is to reserve a cabin at Phantom Ranch where you can also get dinner and breakfast. Because it is a cabin, you don’t have to haul camping gear.

Speaking of Phantom Ranch, they do sell a few things to hikers including ice cold lemonade. A lot of people talk about it like it’s an elixir from the gods. Personally I would prefer to keep walking and not waste time stopping, buying and drinking something that needs to have it’s cup recycled at the location.

Back on trail, it was good to see people. Most honored trail etiquette - whoever is going uphill has the right of way, so I got to keep plugging along. It was finally light, and I was able to ditch my headlamp finally which was lovely. Up, up, up, I went. Seeing many folks who had questions, “when did you start?” “how are you doing?” and the obligatory “You’re ALMOST there!”

Note to the trail gods, I was NOT “almost there.” It was nice for folks to say it, but after every group said it, and I could see at least 1,000’ vertical to gain I started thinking “Do they think that I am almost there, or are they being incredibly nice?”

Answer: they were being nice.

At this point, the trail had more and more major step ups and log ladders, and my left knee was really hating me. Over the years, my patella, which does not track correctly, has ground away the cartilage from my femur, so any 90deg bend with force causes a massive stab of pain. OK, step ups would only be with my right leg from now on. Plus, as I was gaining altitude it was getting a bit chilly. Keep moving. My sleeveless t-shirt does not provide a ton of warmth.

I had tried to use one of the long-sleeve sun protecting hoodies, but I really didn’t like it. It just wasn’t for me. Another tangent, so much of this stuff is personal. What gear do you bring, what shoes do you wear, how many layers do you bring, what do you eat? It’s all a matter of trial and error.

At some point, I came across a group of Chinese couples who were descending for their R2. The guy at the lead of their pack asked me a few questions and finally asked “are you doing R3?”

“Uhhhh, yeah. At least I’m hoping to. Need to finish Rim-to-Rim first.”

For years I did not bring people in. I had a “NOBODY CARES. WORK HARDER” sticker in huge letters on my handstand pushup wall. After a lot of work on myself, it turns out that A LOT of people care. Even strangers from another country can care. The lead guy yelled back to the rest of their crew who congratulated me with every person I walked past. It was pretty cool.

The trail though? It didn’t care. It just kept going uphill.

Not too far from what really was the end, there was crew of about 5 guys who took up most of the trail and refused to share. There are always those folks out there. Everyone else was cool as heck.

And then… the final stretch, well, for this section, and I was at the North Rim. It was cold. I didn’t need water, so I took my selfie at the North Rim sign, used the GPS personal locator to send an “I’m OK” message and went back down the trail.

Unfortunately, my legs were more than a bit wrecked. That I could only step up with my right leg meant I could also only lower myself with my right leg when there were rocks and logs to step down from, and the muscles along my left shin were screaming in pain too. I was good and assessed if this meant I should call it a day and try to get a shuttle to the South Rim, but I could still move even if only slowly.

Down we go again… Step downs were not fun. Plant right foot, pivot on it, lower left leg to the ground below, repeat, repeat, repeat. Oh, and blisters were cropping up too. There is a water filling stop at Supai tunnel which I targeted for my refill and blister treatment. Once I covered the 1.7 miles to the tunnel, I took a break, pulled off my pack and dug out my blister kit.

I say “dug out,” but the Octane pack is pretty well organized. I simply located the blister kit in the little internal pouch, pulled out the tiny scissors and started lancing blisters. One circled the back of my heel where the insole ended. 20 miles to go and now my shoes finally show their true colors. After refilling my water and bandaging my blisters, I got back to what needed to be done, losing elevation. Damn I was going slow though. Way too slow but having to walk differently to avoid pain was a slow process.

I’ve done it many times before in many situations. There was no danger, I had food and water and was regularly ingesting salt tablets. It’s a mind-game now. The plans I had roughly sketched out where out of the window, and it would be a day of slow and steady progress.

The trail and terrain look so different coming down than going up and not just because there was now light to see.

As with all alpine type trails, distances are weird. I saw a building below me which I thought was the Manzanita rest stop, and it looked very close. Problem was, it was not the Manzanita rest stop, and to get to it required a lot more switchbacks and uneven terrain. It’s almost sad when you realize it’s a building I couldn’t have seen in the morning on the way up.

Around now, more people were coming up the trail too, doing a South to North version of Rim-to-Rim, with a few doing R3. Also came across a guy lugging a mountain bike across the Grand Canyon, because the Canyon is part of the Arizona Trail. You can’t ride a mountain bike through the canyon, so, if you are doing the AZ trail by mountain bike, you have to carry it across. That’s hardcore.

I passed a few R2 hikers, even in my slow state there are always folks moving slower, and heard some people talking behind me. I have a fragile ego and didn’t want to get passed this close to Manzanita rest stop, so I picked up the pace a bit. By “a bit” I only mean 1-2%. I wasn’t winning any prizes today. Thankfully, Manzanita appeared, and I was able to hop off the trail before getting passed. I said it, and I meant it. I have a fragile ego.

The two guys also hopped in to the rest stop. One taking the seat next to me at the picnic table and immediately pulling his pants off.

OK, he had running shorts underneath, but that did not stop me from remarking “it’s not everyday a guy I don’t know takes his pants off next to me.”

I didn’t need water, but I did use the time to apply a nice layer of sunscreen. The slurry of sunscreen, trail dust, and salt crystals is probably a great sun protection, but it’s kind of gross too. 10 minute break over it was time to get back on trail. I was not happy at this point. I should be able to run some of this, but my legs were not allowing any of that. The 1.4 miles to Cottonwood took just as long going down as they had going up in the morning.

Actually, it was still morning, around 9am or so (?), but I had been going since 10:30pm last night. At Manzanita I used the GPS to message that I was safe (have to say that or people freak out) but struggling and plans have changed. I’d probably be stopping for a while once I got to Phantom Ranch. That lemonade that I had distained earlier was sounding pretty darn good.

It’s pretty wide open at this point with the nothing to block the sun. My boony hat with neck guard was doing a great job of keep my head, neck and face protected, but nothing was protecting me from my slow progress. There were a lot more northbound folks on the traill, and they looked a LOT fresher than I felt. They kept saying “good morning” too which was incredibly surreal. Didn’t they know it was late afternoon already? Except it was not late afternoon.

They guys who had been behind me at Manzanita would leap frog me. They walked faster but took frequent breaks. Soon enough I hit Cottonwood Campground. No need to stop for water, so I kept going. There are a few uphills in this section, and those did not feel fantastic. Again, no danger, no worries, just keep moving the legs.

When I hit the part of the trail with the water line break I knew I was close to the heat of the box. It wasn’t the heat of the day, but it was later than I had hoped to be there. Drink, talk salt tablets, eat as I could, keep plugging.

My only thought when entering the Box was to get through the Box and into Phantom Ranch, which is really close to the end of the Box. The only way to get out of the box is to keep walking, and, at some point, instead of seeing canyon walls, the sky will open up to show the South Rim. Oh hey, the South Rim is 4,000’ vertical above, and will need to be dealt with at some point today. All in it’s time though.

My history of epic events has taught me some very critical lessons: I’m not very smart, and I can dig deep and grind out distance when most people can’t. It’s about turning inward and just making progress when the only thing you can do is make incremental progress.

I was probably down to 1.5 miles per hour now, and that was downhill. Ugh.

Every corner revealed a new section of canyon walls instead of open sky, and the Box was getting warm. Even with the roaring creek beside us this section just held a lot of heat. The trail varied sides of the creek as the 7 bridges criss crossed it. One more bridge down meant a little closer to a long break. More canyon meant another corner to hope to see the South Rim. By now, I was sitting regularly for a break. My legs wanted it, so I gave it to them.

The first deep drink from my camelbak was inevitably hot, and the 2nd and 3rd, which had not been exposed to the sun, were delightfully cool. I was cherishing those 2nd and 3rd sips.

Another corner, and still more canyon walls. In the distance I would see the 2 guys who I’d talked with earlier. They weren’t making that much headway in comparison. At some point, the canyon walls fell away and Phantom Ranch appeared. I really wanted that lemonade.

The steps up to the window counter at Phantom were not nice to me, but I got my lemonade, 2 ice cold apples, and a small bag of peanuts (more salt for the fluid absorption). There was a picnic table, in the shade, so I took it. Sipping lemonade and enjoying a couple of lovely apples.

Given that I had been on trail for 12 or so hours, with no sleep, I decided to set an alarm and take a 30 minute nap. You know you’re tired when you are old and immediately all asleep while laying the bench of an old picnic table.

I woke up when my girlfriend lightly scratched her nails on my shin to get my attention.

Except I was doing this solo, how they hell did she get here? Oh, it was a squirrel trying to climb me to get to my apple core. The mind is an amazing thing.

The Chinese crew was a Phantom too, and they were very interested in my condition. They were expats living in Toronto, and we had a nice chat.

After an hour at Phantom it was time to move on again. I wanted to soak my feet and legs in the cold Colorado river, but the Phantom access was upriver, so I targeted the river access that was across the Silver Bridge and up the trail a ways. As I left Bright Angel campground, the “pants off” guy from the duo asked if I had seen his buddy. They had gotten separated.

“You mean your friend with the blue shirt?”

“ummm, I have no idea what color shirt he has on, I’m color blind”

“oh hey! Me too… the dark shirt?”

“Yeah him. He went back to the store for something and hasn;’t come through”

“No, I haven’t seen him”

Crossing the Silver (OK, the “galvanized”) bridge, a couple of motor rafts drifted below. Maybe they had the better way of seeing the Canyon.

I wasn’t emotional at all, no frustration or anger. I knew that my plans were out the window, but the true nature of all of this was in dealing with what is versus what one wanted things to be. The section between Silver Bridge and the river access (before the trail turns left and heads up again) is pretty mellow. The section where the trail is beach sand is a bit challenging. Mainly it was all just warm. Very warm.

At the river access, a construction crew was working with some type of cable. I assume it was massive power cables, so I chose not to do my soak there. I know there are a few places where a creek crosses the trail up ahead. Thankfully there was one just a few yards up, so gladly stopped and dropped my pack. The cold water felt great on my feet and knee, and I took the time to do some more blister surgery.

Unfortunately, as I put on fresh socks, which I had debated about carrying, I knocked my sunglasses into creek which swiftly took them away. It was getting into later afternoon, still sunny, but I hoped I could get by with lowering my hat.

Back on trail, up I went. If I haven’t said “stead motion” a hundred times by now, just wait, I’ll easly get to 100 by the time this over.

The two guys came through this section and rested for a bit and headed out before me

Bright Angel trail is about 10 miles, and it’s roughly divided up into sections. It’s about 5 miles from Phantom to Havasupai Campground (the only water source turned on today), then it’s 1.5 miles to 3 Mile Resthouse, 1.5 miles to Mile-and-a-Half Resthouse (quick, do the math on that…) and then another 1.5 miles to the South Rim. The section to Havasupai was a slow slog. Somewhere on the Devil’s Corkscrew, which is a series of switchbacks that is really visible from above, a guy flew past me wearing full pants, boots, and a firefighter helmet while also holding a radio. It was impressive and disheartening.

The two guys were ahead of me, and I could see them on occasion, never catching up to them.

During the section where the creek runs in the middle of the trail, another shirtless firefighter blew past me. “How far is he ahead of me?” he asked, “I have to catch him.” You go bro.

Surprisingly I caught up to the two guys. We chatted for a bit wondering how much farther Havasupai was. We estimated at last another mile or mile and a half. This is where there is a creek on the South side, and the greenery and animal sounds were amazing. They kept me company as I moved along at my 1.5 mile per hour pace. Then I hit Havasupai, took a seat, took off my hat and pack, and rested.

The Chinese crew was here too as they had left Phantom well before me. The duo arrived too. I rested, filled my water reservoir, ate a little, and rested some more. By now I was using a stop watch to keep track of my stops. I will look at my watch but never remember the time. Seeing “10 minutes” on a stopwatch is much more effective. At 5:40pm, the duo and I pulled on our packs to leave and discussed how much time we had left.

“It’s about 1 ½ miles between each next stop (3 mile, 1 ½ mile, South Rim), with about 1,000 feet of vertical between each. At my pace of 1.5 mph, that’s roughly 3 hours plus stops, so I’m saying 9pm on the Rim”

Hey, I sounded like I knew what I was talking about. Confidence when speaking is critical.

I pulled on my pack and started up the trail. It was now early evening, it was cooling off, and the sun was not beating down. If you are paying attention, I wasn’t, you’ll notice that I forgot something.

About 20 minutes later I realized I had forgotten my hat. Oops, but there was no way I was going back for it. Somebody can get some use out of it. Instead I started thinking about hat shopping. What kind would I replace it with?

I had forecasted an hour of hard hiking between each waypoint, so I used time as my measurement. I should get to 3 Mile at 6:40pm, and I kept looking at my watch as I walked about. 6:01pm. 6:07pm, 6:20pm. Etc. etc. It was my way to guage progress. I also caught and passed the Canadian Chinese crew. 4 married couples who adventured together and trained together. We chatted for a while, but I need to keep my pace. After leaving them a French guy caught up to me “excuse me, did you leave a hat at the water stop?”

Yes, yes, I did.

“My friend is carrying it…” OK, I waited a minute for the friend who handed me my hat and scooted up the trail. No way I was taking my pack off, so I rolled it up and held it in my hand. I really didn’t pause in hiking, did take a short seat a time or two, and at 6:30 the 3 Mile Resthouse’s beauty appeared before me.

Normally when I hike long, my fingers swell significantly. It’s not sodium, it’s that edema pools in my fingers. I had noticed it for most of the day, but it, very surprisingly, had gone away in my right hand. Holding onto my had cleared the edema from my hand. Maybe I should look at getting some decent trekking poles with large grips in order to force my hands to hold something and reduce the swelling?

OK then, making good time all things considered. I went past the resthouse and took a seat on a rock. A young couple I’d been leap frogging with ended their break at the resthouse and started up ahead of me. There was no way I’d be catching them.

Throughout the day, I had noticed one set of shoe prints with a distinct “Adidas” logo, and I started seeing it again. Was it him or her? The dust of the trail held perfect shoe impressions, but only briefly, so it became a game to track the Adidas logo and guess which one of them it was.

You have to do something to pass the time.

If you have never done it, pushing forward for literally hours on end is a reward unto itself. It takes WORK to gain 1,000’ of vertical in a mile and a half (approximately an 11% grade). This trail section is better than most with several decent sections, but there are alway log ladders and step ups to overcome. My left leg felt a lot better since soaking in the creek, and I was able to judiciously use in on smaller step ups to save my right leg. For the bigger step ups it was “adjust stride to put left foot at the base of the step up, step up with the right leg, then push myself up and over.”

At 7:30 I hit the Mile and a Half Resthouse, right on my adjusted schedule. After a brief sit, it was time for the final push to the Rim.

I had not seen the duo since Havasupai, and I had managed to catch a couple of people. It wasn’t a lot, but it was still a nice mental boost.

The Bright Angle Tunnel came out of nowehere much to my joy, but I forget that it’s further down trail than I want to admit. There was still time left in my day. Right about then I heard strong footsteps behind me. It was a guy I’d seen a time or two during the day in a party of four. One of their team was hurting, so he was charging ahead to get some food for the guy and bring it back down. That’s impressive.

He also told me that Maswik Lodge has a food court. By now, my thoughts had turned to “what am I going to eat when I’m off this trail, and where can I get some LEMONADE?”

Food court you say??? Hmmmmm.

The guy said we were 3 switchbacks away from the end. Granted, the last switchback is a haul from the trailhead, but it was good info. I came across two women, one of whom had pushed it too hard sensing the end, and was heaving at the side of the trail. They assured me that they had what they needed. OK, the woman who was not heaving assured me that they have fluids and clothing and headlamps after I had checked to see if they needed any help, so I kept moving forward.

Then, there it was, the buildings at the edge of the Rim! 20 hours to the minute instead of what should have been about 17, but life is what you make of it.

I didn’t see the big Bright Angel sign and wanted to get to my car, so I took at quick selfie at the trailhead sign and hoofed it to my rental SUV. it felt sooooooooo nice to take off my running shoes, socks and gaiters and put on my Teva’s. Pure bliss.

Of course I was shivering uncontrollably in the wind and from the exertion. After changing shoes, notifying everyone I was OK, and texting Monika and my kids, it was time to roll. My intent was to get out of the park, but, driving past Maswik, which looked open, I had to stop in. After acquiring 4 slices of cheese pizza I was on my way to my hotel. Stopping at the minimart in Tusayan, I scored a lemonade, a coke, and a Double IPA. All sounded delicious.

The parking lot was full, so I did the back lot which required a set of downstairs to get to my room. That was a challenge.

In my hotel I made a few calls. My 89yo mother had been more than a little worried. Monika was incredibly happy for me and also no fan of the GPS tracking software. My kids were cool that I was still breathing. I enjoyed the lemonade and coke, AND the pizza. It wasn’t that great to be honest, but I loved it.

Then I hopped in the showing to erase 20 hours of trail dust and grime. I’m sure the hotel is used to it, but I felt bad that the washcloth was far from white when I was finished. At least I was clean!

And then I slept, and a good sleep it was. So good. 11 hours of bliss.

Then I headed back into the park. The line took a bit, but it wasn’t too bad. Plus, my free veteran park pass meant I didn’t have to pay. The main lots were full, so my goal of getting a picture at Mather Point wasn’t going to happen. I was feeling pretty good but not like walking a mile or two. Nor was I interested in riding the park shuttle. A quick stop at the Market Plaza allowed me to find a replacement pair of sunglasses for the drive to Phoenix. Then I drove over and found a hidden parking spot near Bright Angel. I might not have been able to get to Mather Point, but I wanted a couple of daytime pictures.

After that, I pointed the car south, and then west for a visit with my friend Mark and his wife Beth in Prescott. Based on Beth’s suggestion, I was able to book a short massage the next day also. Seeing their town, laughing about life, and explaining the fun I had had the day before was a fantastic detour. After my massage, Mark and I grabbed lunch, we were able to swing by Beth’s shop for a goodbye, then I was off for the 2 hour drive to Phoenix airport and my flight home.

Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim is now done.

Will I go back again? Probably. I know a couple of people who are interested in doing Rim-to-Rim, and, well, though the experience has been achieved, and in my core I am entirely an experience junky, there’s that little thing about doing Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim with style, and speed, that is brewing at the back of my mind.

It’s just a little thought though.

At least it’s a little thought for now….

45.3 miles

10,710 feet of descent

10,310 feet of ascent

19 hours and 51 minutes

Note: this is nowhere near what the route is, but it gives a general idea of where things run. The trail I started on is about 5 miles to my right and can’t be seen in this picture.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Grand Canyon Rim-River-Rim, October 2019

Grand Canyon

Wednesday, October 23rd

Rim to River and Back details

4,600’ elevation gain

4,900’ elevation loss

18.2 miles

7 hours, 55 minutes clock time

6 hours, 53 minutes travel time

This included a side trip to Phantom Ranch

Route:

down South Kaibab

quick stop to put our fingers in the water

to Phantom Ranch

Back across the river

up Bright Angel

My best ideas are never what anyone would call “smart.”

Mark Markley had the idea a while back to do something really stupid.

OK, I’m listening…..

He proposed running the Grand Canyon. All of it.

From Rim down to the River up to the other Rim, down to the river again and finally back up and out to the South Rim. It’s also called Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, and it’s something like 42 miles. You can probably guess, you are either going uphill or downill. There is no flat ground.

A bunch of us said we would do it. All of us but Mark Markley dropped out, and then Mark got injured.

Then I got laid off and needed to get the hell out of town for a couple of days. Family was up for it. United airlines was up for it (10,000 miles and $40 each way), and it wasn’t like training for distance has ever been that important to me. No, I wasn’t training for this. I think I had maybe 18 running miles since January of this year.

Whatever, I got the gear, I like to suffer. Why the hell not?

After flying with a very early departure out of SFO, I grabbed a rental car. Seriously Phoenix? Your rental car center is bigger than the Mall of America, and I was on the road, finally arriving in the town of Grand Canyon, or whatever the hell they call it, around 3pm where I met Mark and Beth Markley at the Grand Hotel at the Grand Canyon. I also did a phone interview on the way. Unemployed means you do phone screens when they are available.

You may also notice a theme. Total lack of knowledge and thought. It’s pretty simple route - first you go down, then you come back up, so it doesn’t even really need a map. Yes, we forgot the damn map too.

That evening we did a quick recon trip to find the trailheads so we would be ready the next morning. It took us a bit to find South Kaibab trailhead which made it all the more important we did find it BEFORE the morning of. You can’t drive to the South Kaibab trailhead, so Beth waited with the car while Mark and I hoofed it in the ½ to ¾ mile to Yaki Point. When we found the actual trailhead, where the trail clearly drops into the canyon I was giddy like a 3 year old on Christmas. Practically bounced my way to the dirt and I think I said, “holy fuck man, this is it!”

I’m super eloquent like that.

So we cruised back, stopped for a pizza, and headed back to the hotel to pack. Which mainly meant Mark and I stared at our gear scattered around the hotel room and said, “I don’t know. What do you think we need to take?”

We knew the start would be cold with a forecasted low of 29F (that’s -2 for my Canadian peeps). We also knew we’d be heating up quickly on the trail. I opted for my standard coolmax sleeveless T-shirt (which I ALWAYS wear), a long sleeve duofold shirt and my Marmot Precip windbreaker along with my boony hat.

For shoes, I’d glued some velcro on a pair of crossfit shoes so my trail gaiters would stay down. I debated and debated about bringing trekking poles and finally decided to bring them. I hate trekking poles except when I need them, and these poles got a free ride to the bottom of the canyon and back up. But they were there if I needed them I guess.

3am wakeup and caffeine up. 4 am Beth drove us to the trailhead.

Seriously Beth, thank you. That was a serious crap detail to wake up with us and drive us. On the way, Mark and I complained that the temp was too high as we were seeing 32F (0 Canadian) on the Subaru’s thermometer. Beth dropped us off and the hike commenced at 0420. After just a couple of minutes we were at the trailhead and dropping into the canyon.

Within seconds we were already down several hundred feet vertical, and we were getting warm. It was probably only a ½ mile in before we decided to shed our jackets. While shedding our jackets we also decided to shed our long sleeve t-shirts and our hats. I kept my gloves on at this point, but I did stash my trekking poles in my backpack.

Down we went, switchback after switchback. Our headlamps trained on the trail ahead of us which, like all good trails, have completely random steps, and log retainers and granite slabs. Just look down and keep moving.

We didn’t have a map, and I didn’t even have a watch.

Yeah, I know. I’ve laughed at those idiots who had to be rescued because they were stupidly unprepared for reality. Oh well, just keep moving.

Somewhere about an hour in I powered through my first Rip Van Waffle, eg the stroopwaffles that you get on United flights. I think mine was snickerdoodle. I’m definitely bringing those on the next adventure. So good and just the right hit of thin waffle and honey filling.

At Cedar Point, it was still dark, and it took us a couple of minutes to find the trailhead across the clearing from the trail. Note: it’s literally directly across the clearing.

Down, down, down. Pausing occasionally to take a leak (check for urine color) or point out a headlamp either above us or below us on the trail. At some point we hit the halfway point sign. 3.5 miles to the canyon rim and 3.8 miles to Phantom Ranch.

It was cool. It was dark. We were just pushing on.

We ran for maybe 100 yards at one point, but the trail is so random it was best to just move at a steady pace. Honestly, we were pushing it even if we were “just walking.”

I was taking steady pulls off my camelbak and feeling well hydrated.

It was beginning to lighten up a bit with the sun in the west, and at some point we hit one of those amazing vistas and our first sighting of the river. Took my breath away for a few seconds.

We kept moving forward and were caught by some whippet little ultrarunner who prob weighed no more than 135 pounds. We were, of course, very polite as he went by, but after we spent a few minutes comparing him to Sean Prior who also is whippet thin and would have been much faster than us had he not broken his foot.

And then we saw the Phantom Ranch suspension bridge. And then we dropped down further and crossed the Phantom Ranch suspension bridge. Really. It was no easy downhill, but we just kept moving.

We took a brief detour to actually touch the river. You can do this entire route without actually touching the Colorado. C’mon, that would be lame.

Phantom Ranch is about ½ mile of the trail and up a canyon. This trail is the trail we would have to take to get to the North Rim, but we stopped at Phantom Ranch like the good, smart kids we are.

We’d been on trail for 3 ½ hours.

That said, I did ask Mark how pissed off Beth would be if we went ahead and did the North Rim too.

I wasn’t kidding.

I mean, it would have totally sucked, and Beth would have been HELLA pissed off, but I was thinking about it.

On the way up to Phantom Ranch we bumped into a guy who had come down the day before, was taking a rest day at the campground and would be headed up and out the next day. He was amazed that we were doing this in a day. He also mentioned that he fell pretty hard coming down because he was looking around too much. Another benefit of traveling by headlamp is that you can only see a little bit in front of you. No sightseeing.

After a short break at Phantom Ranch, I pulled my long sleeve t-shirt off again (I get cold when we stop), and we headed down towards the river, across the river and over to Bright Angel trail.

There were more people about. Bright Angel is a popular trail. As we motored along we saw a mule train behind us in the distance. One woman jogged by saying she wanted to get ahead of the mule train. Mark and I pondered picking up the pace, but thought it best to stick with our fast hike. Why waste energy now that we’d have to pay for later?

It was full sun by now, and I was wondering just how exposed the trail would be as we hiked up. You see, I had not brought any sunscreen.

There’s really not much to be said. After a mile or so we turned left and up into a notch as the upward portion of Bright Angel trail began.

We came across a couple of little creek crossings and hopped across them. They would have been full on torrents earlier in the year. We also came across a couple who were both seriously overweight, but they had packs and were making it happen. Kudos to them.

Up we went. By this time we could see a person or two ahead of us. I use them as rabbits and try to pick them off by picking up my pace. I’m somewhat externally motivated like that.

More switchbacks, more climbing, the cliff sides blocked the sun from beating down on us.

It’s a bit of a blur. Fast walk, drink, eat (rip van waffle or espresso Gu), pee, keep walking.

Seriously. That’s all it is.

We made it to Indian Camp where we refilled our camelbak bladders.

There’s a mule ride location at Indian Camp, and we saw a couple get delivered to the camp by helicopter. Must be nice.

We also saw a mom and her 9’ish year old daughter who were hiking the canyon.

Mark had his sticks out by now for the uphill. My hands had their usual hiking induced edema and I couldn’t have held trekking poles if I wanted to. It’s really OK, because I didn’t want to.

Lot of people were coming down for the day hike, we were also cathing and passing many folks who were on their way up. Some were from an overnight at Indian Camp or elsewhere with heavy looking backpacking packs and tents and sleeping bags. Oh how I much prefer going light.

More uphill, more water drank from the camelbak, my last waffle. Trail was fairly crowded considering we had seen almost nobody on our downward trek.

We hit the 3 mile rest house (3 miles from the top) and kept going. No need to fill up on water.

By this time I thought we had a chance to finish in under 8 hours if we got to the top by noon. I know, my math was wrong, but I was feeling really good and had a ton of trail rabbits ahead of us to stoke my ego as we caught and passed them.

I’m always so damn barn sour.

Mark was feeling it by now and my ability (on a good day) to completely dissociate from the pain and tiredness in my legs was not aligning with how Mark was feeling, so we backed it down.

Bam! 1.5 mile rest house. Only 1.5 miles to go. Little did we realize, it’s a pretty darn brutal 1.5 miles. We were both surprised at how much that last 1.5 miles sucked in terms of steep trail.

Plus the short hikers were all over the trail. Folks who stay in the middle of the trail or hike 3 abreast. Thanks folks.. but MOVE!!!

And then we could see it, the buildings on the South Rim and the short tunnel through the rock at the end of Bright Angel trail. We hauled ass into the finish, weaving through a very crowded trail.

Sub 8-hours clock time (even if we did not finish at noon, I suck at trail math)

Mark had cell service, so he called Beth to swing by and pick us up - AGAIN, can I say how much Beth contributed to the success of this venture?

While we waited, I, of course, started freezing with my now soaked t-shirt, so I pulled on my long sleeve T and my jacket. Beth grabbed us in no time since she was already in the village and jetted us down to the hotel.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks, so I chose to pack up and head out to Phoenix where I had booked a super luxurious $35/night hotel room in Mesa. Why didn’t anyone tell me Mesa is not exactly close to the Phoenix airport?

It’s not. Lesson Learned.

By 6am the next morning, I was on my flight home.

Yes, I showered before my flight….

What an incredible trip and recon for doing Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim later. We learned that we can pull it off without running. We can make it happen on little to no training (that’s important for me because I don’t have any desire to actually train), and it’s a kickass adventure.

Thanks Mark!

Thanks Beth!

Start time:

4:20am - Beth dropped us off at Yaki Road and 64 (cars are not allowed onto Yaki Road, only park busses are allowed)

Took all of 10 minutes to get from the car to the trailhead

32deg temp at start

Gear

Reebok Speed TR shoes

Joe trailman gaiters

pair of Injinji socks and pair of Under Armor socks

compression shorts

Prana shorts

Nike sleeveless T

duo fold long sleeve shirt

Marmot precip jacket

pulled off jacket

decided to pull off the duolfold long sleeve too! didn’t need it

Food:

Carried 4 Rip Van Waffles, 2 Dutch Vanilla caramel, 2 snickerdoodle

3 Vanilla bean Gu, 2 Espresso Love Gu

2ea 2 3/4oz Lays potato chips

Food that I Ate:

all of the Rip Van Waffles (8) - those things ROCK

the 2ea Espresso Love Gu’s that I had, but not the Vanilla Bean Gu’s

1 bag of Lays potato chips

A couple of Tum’s and 3ea ibuprofen somewhere on Bright Angel, but no thermotabs, I think I did the meds at Indian Camp

Water:

carried 100oz camelbak bladder

refilled at Phantom Ranch (was still about 1/2 full)

refilled at Indian Camp on Bright Angel (was still about 2/3 full)

Was maybe ½ full when we finished the hike

temps were very cool, stayed cool through the day

mostly trail was in the shade which was good

Next time BRING SUNSCREEN!!!

I got lucky and did not need sunscreen today, but if I had needed it I would have been roasted.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Soaked to the Core, MTB Ride, February, 1999

Eric Pederson and I had another Epic MTB ride on Sunday. While it was only two hours long (total duration) we had so much fun that it demands a writeup.

It started raining on Saturday, and continued raining throughout the day. Sunday morning arrived and it was still raining. This was going to be a wet ride.

We hit the trail at 10:00am in a driving rain. It is incredible to feel like we were the only people crazy enough to be out riding on such a nasty day. Normally our first stream crossing is a non-event. I have almost no technical skills and I have always ridden across the stream easily - it's only about 10 feet wide.

Today was a different story. A torrent of brown, turbulent water was rushing past us, and today the stream was at least 25 feet across. We looked at each other, laughed, debated about the sanity of crossing the rain swollen creek and Eric picked up his bike and walked across. This would be the most shallow crossing of the day with the water only hitting just above the knee on me (and just a little higher on Eric). We pedaled to the horse gate and carried our bikes across. Just before mounting up again I tried to avoid walking in a small puddle - I did not want to get wet. OK, it was raining, we had just walked across a stream, and my first thought was - stay away from the puddle!

At the next stream crossing the water was a little bit deeper and faster as the channel was narrower. Oh this was fun. We hit the turnoff for Table Mountain and decided to save the climb for another day. I had dressed too warm and was soaked on the inside from sweating so much. It would not have been a good day to commit to a 4+ hour MTB ride. After the trail instersection there is a small dip which now has a small stream running through it - something about what more than 24 hours of rain can do - hmmmmmm.

I had a little trouble getting through the dip, so I had to clip out. Eric was following a little too close behind me, and had a little more trouble negotiating both the ditch and my stalled carcass. Eric did learn a valuable lesson - it IS possible to clip out when lying upside down in a stream with your bike on top of you..... ;-)

Shortly after our ditch incident Eric uttered some prophetic words, "we should have a bailout plan to climb Black Mountain and descend Montebello just in case it continues to rain really hard, and the creeks come up any higher."

Well, climbing Black Mountain was no longer on my agenda for the day (1200 feet of climbing in less than 1 mile of trail), so I just agreed with Eric and continued riding. At the Black Mountain trail intersection I wanted to turn around and head home, but Eric convinced me to keep heading up the canyon (not Black Mountain) to add another 3 miles to our ride. I am a pretty gullible sort, so we kept slogging forward. Actually I was more than willing to keep riding, I just needed a push to keep me motivated.

The ride to Page Mill Road was more of the same: fun, wet, mud, and more fun. We turned around and headed down the canyon - oh how I love those downhills most of the time. With the rain falling constantly my glasses were coated in slime and water droplets, so I had to ride sans glasses. I wish that I was either near or far-sighted, but I am astygmatic. Therefore I cannot focus well at any distance. I can make out the large features, but my ability to analyze the terrain was severely compromised.

Added to my lack of eyeglasses, my grips were rolling back and forth like motorcycle throttles, so my front end stability was also compromised. It was only my second ride on my new MTB, so I had not worried about my grips until now. The rolling grips made for some interesting braking situations ;-).

Due to the previously mentioned problems and the rain soaked trail the descent down the canyon was much slower than normal, and just as much fun and challenge. Soon Eric and I hit our first return trip stream crossing. Eric had been truly prophetic in his statement. The water was at least 6" higher and running much, much quicker. We forded across carefully as the water sucked at our legs - boy, that was some really cold water...

The last stream crossing was much worse the second time around. My first step into the stream plunged me into hip deep water, and the water was doing its best to try and pull us downstream. We probably should have been roped together at this point, but neither of us had any safety equipment. Ohhh, this was scary and fun.

The next mile to the truck was uneventful as the rain continued to fall. We shed our wet outer layers and jumped into my truck for the ride home.

All in all it was a pretty short ride - less than 2 hours of riding time and 11.5 miles of trail, but it will go down as another epic adventure. Those stream crossing were pretty sketchy.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Soaked to the Core MTB Ride, 1999

Eric Pederson and I had another Epic MTB ride on Sunday. While it was only two hours long (total duration) we had so much fun that it demands a writeup.

It started raining on Saturday, and continued raining throughout the day. Sunday morning arrived and it was still raining. This was going to be a wet ride.

The next mile to the truck was uneventful as the rain continued to fall. We shed our wet outer layers and jumped into my truck for the ride home.

All in all it was a pretty short ride - less than 2 hours of riding time and 11.5 miles of trail, but it will go down as another epic adventure. Those stream crossing were pretty sketchy.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Henry Coe Park Adventure Race Training - January 1999

Another Epic Fun Adventure - today I feel great about the experience, but at the time there was no way in [ahem] that I would use the word "fun" when describing this event..... I tried to cut as much as possible from this report, but since I mainly use these as a way to evaluate my performance I like to remember as much detail as possible. Also I have not proofread this, so be kind to me for any serious grammatical or content problems. I just want to get it done.

Henry Coe State Park - just outside of Morgan Hill, California, and by just outside I mean 10 miles up a winding, one lane, unkept road.

Start time - midnight - which should give us newbies a slight intro into racing with sleep deprivation.

Run/Hike - about 10 miles (we made it 12 miles) with two checkpoints.

Mountain Bike - about 24 miles (we made it 25+ miles) with two checkpoints.

Event Organizer - Rich B. - who will be both feted for putting together an event of this magnitude - just because he wanted to put it together and who will also be burned in effigy - for putting together an event of this magnitude - just because he wanted to put it together - but more on that later.

Our Team - Craig Benson (founder of the BAAR list), Paul Allman and Ron Renwick - Team What the Heck It's Friday at Midnight and We Have Nothing Better To Do With Our Lives (OK, OK, we do not really have a team name).

We caravanned down to the park which is about a little over a one hour drive from our houses. We are just getting started in Adventure Racing, so we were still found it more than a little amusing that we were leaving our warm homes in order to do a workout at midnight.

"Are we really doing this?" "Uhhh, I guess that we are." "Does this make any sense?" "Actually it scares me to say that yes, this makes a lot of sense. We need to practice night navigation." "Ok, let's do it."

Arriving at the Coe Park Headquarters (HQ) was pretty amazing. We had expected maybe 5 or 10 people to show, but here it was pitch dark on a Friday night and there were 20 people ready to go! There was a mixture of experience represented - from our team are just getting started in AR to two Raid Galiouses and Eco-Challenge veterans whom we promptly named "the Raid guy" and "the Eco guy." Everyone was very friendly and seemed to be glad to be out on such a frigid night.

At midnight Rich handed out the park maps and course instructions. We were to plot the checkpoints using UTM coordinates. Our team was very happy that this was a 'training' exercise because we had no idea what a "UTM coordinate" was or how it was used. This would be our first stumbling block. Actually it only took us about a minute to figure out how to plot the coordinates, but at first glance we were a little confused.

As we plotted Rich was nice enough to clue us in on the location of the Checkpoints i.e. - "it's right at the trail intersection" or "it's at the top of the hill you can't miss it." Let me tell you Checkpoint Two was unmistakable. There was an option to use a park trail map as opposed to the normal topographic map, but we chose to stick to the topo version. It made for great training on using a map, compass and altimeter. The course was basically two "Out and Backs." One out-and-back on the hike and one on the run.

****************** THE HIKE *******************

We left Coe HQ at about 12:20 am and started a moderate paced walk up a hill with 3 other teams. Two other teams had already started their hikes. As we crested the first hill the lead team in our pack set off at a run and soon left us behind. We picked up the pace and cruised to the bottom of the hill. CP 1 was at the two mile mark, but a minor navigation error cost us about 15 minutes and a couple hundred extra yards. We were the fourth team into the checkpoint. We had quickly learned that navigation is a crucial factor in AR.

Off to CP 2. Our course kept us directly on a fairly wide fireroad. I shut off my headlamp and we cruised along with the light of Paul's headlamp and the moon. We tried to keep hydrated and fueled as we moved steadily. At a trail intersection we debated. Was this the turn marked on our map? We veered right as it looked on our map (maybe). After about 1/2 mile we came to an intersection that was not on our map. Hmmmmmm. After proceeding forward and checking out the trail we chose to turn around and head back to the road. We were a little confused. Which way is the right way? We chose to proceed along the fire road and we felt that the terrain on the topo map matched our surroundings. At least as best as we could tell with only headlamps to light our way. Sooner than we expected we hit Deer Horn Springs (?) and we realized that we were both: on the right path and much farther along than we had expected. This enlightened us on a couple of points: 1 - try to keep track of distance covered (maybe by pacing), 2 - we need to develop confidence in our navigation skills. The turn that we made along the wrong trail was caused by our lack of skill.

We did notice that we were descending, but we were so happy to be on the right path that we did not notice how rapidly we were descending. Soon we heard the creek cutting through the bottom of the canyon. As we approached the stream the temperature dropped remarkably. It is amazing how in the distance of a few hundred yards the climate can change considerably. We crossed the stream and looked at the trail going up, up, up and up some more. Per Craig's altimeter we were at about 1300 feet (if I remember correctly), and we had to get to 3000 feet in about two miles of hiking. This would be a grind. We started out and just kept moving forward. with the light of the moon we could see the hills and vallies surrounding us. Even at 2:00 am it was a beautiful place to be.

About 2/3 of the way up we saw headlamps approaching us on the way down. Soon a caravan of about 10 people shot by us. We met the other two teams on the way up. It was a little disheartening to know that we had lost ground due to our navigation error. It was even more disheartening when we met Raid-guy and Eco-guy on their way down. They were holding a conversation like it was a simple walk in the park. Hmmmm, maybe there is something to John Howard's philosopy of "start slow and taper."

We made it to the top of Mt. Sizer, gathered our token (a nickel with "Team #2" written on it), and we headed back down. The downhill was far tougher for me than the uphill. My knees have suffered from too much abuse over the years and my patella tendons were screaming as we made our way down the steep slope. I had to stop occasionally and massage my knees to loosen them up. I am not sure what to do, but I need to work on improving my knees if I want to continue on this sport.

Pretty soon we could hear the creek again and it was a very welcome sound - the hill would be over. After we crossed the creek my feelings immediately changed. I no longer wanted to hear the rushing water. I wanted the silence that meant we were far away from the creek and on our way back to HQ. A good warning sign for me is annoyance. If I get annoyed during a workout is usually means that I need to eat, so I started pushing down another Harvest Bar. It was a good choice as I started feeling better immediately.

Amazingly we actually saw some headlamps above us on the trail. We were catching up to another team. We picked up our pace in order to put one team between us and last place. We kept hiking along and soon saw even more headlamps. Unbelievable! Could we actually catch two teams? The answer was yes, but Craig wisely suggested that we slow down a bit and maintain some energy. We slowly crept up on those in front of us while we ate, drank and kept walking. We walked with the other team for a while. It turns out that they had missed the first checkpoint.

Them: "was CP 1 right next to the outhouse?" Us: "ummm, it was next to the red cabin, is that what you mean?" Them: "no, it was one of the fiberglass porta-potties." Us: "I think that you were in the wrong spot." Them: "Hey guys, we were not even close to the CP."

Since it was an out-and-back course we hiked right by CP 1 on the way in. We directed them to the checkpoint and continued heading back to camp. The last downhill section into the HQ was really painful for me, but it was soon over.

The Hike: about 12 miles, a little over 4 hours , the incredible pace of 20 minutes per mile !!!!!

*************************** THE TRANSITION ***********************

Since we are new to this adventure racing game we were totally unorganized for the transition. We all changed clothes, and digging through gear bags at 4:30 am can be time consuming. Craig and Paul dissected the mountain bike course while refueling. I changed clothing, but could not bring myself to eat very much. I really need to work on refueling. After a small rest we grouped up to head out on the bikes. According to Rich the Raid and Eco-guys took only about 3 minutes to head back out on the bikes. We took at least 35 minutes.

The two teams that had come in behind us on the hike were now regrouping to head out on the bike. A couple of guys could not continue, so the teams were adjusted. Paul, Craig and I stayed together, and we were about to set out on the first night mountain bike ride that any of us had ridden.

******************** THE MOUNTAIN BIKE ********************

The first part in 'heading out' is finding the right trail. We grouped up at the park entrance and started speculating as to where to go. It was still dark so we could not clearly make out where the trailheads were. In addition the two teams that had come off of the hike behind

"I think it's up there." "But we need to go South-West not North-East" "Maybe it's over here" "No, maybe it's over there."

At this point I got a little snippy and said something like "let's just look at the da#$ map!" which was a good idea as a quick look at the map clearly showed the trail head. The entire pack set off.

The first hundred yards was uphill, but a gradual downhill soon followed. Since there were about 9 of us in the pack Craig, Paul and I soon were dispersed throughout the paceline. At the first trail junction, Paul and Craig's map skills really played out. The team in front stopped to check their map and BOOM! Paul veered left and we blasted by the other team.

At this point I need to clarify something about equipment. While most people have some type of suspension on their mountain bikes, Paul and I were the only two present who have decade old - rigid frame mountain bikes. To be honest, both of our bikes were not even "Top of the Line" quality when we purchased them, so we are riding rigid frame bikes with low level components.

Back on the trail, the other team caught and passed us - at least until the next trail junction. Once again, they stopped to consult their map as Paul cut left and kept moving. Very soon it was Paul, me, and Craig with the other teams somewhere behind us. With the limited light provided by our headlamps we did not realize exactly how steep of a trail we were descending. On our return trip we would be pushing our bikes up this hill - very slowly - as it was at least a 12% grade.

As the temperature was sitting close to 24 degrees, we had to stop often in order to warm our hands. Craig could barely feel his brake levers which can be very unsettling on such a steep hill - actually it strikes terror in your heart!

Even with our frequent stops we were clearly ahead of the pack. I was more than a little surprised that the two guys with antique mountain bikes were opening a gap on the better equipped pack behind us. There is probably a good explanation for us being faster that relates to someone in the other teams being injured or not having adequate lighting, but it sure made me feel good to open a gap no matter what the reason was. We soon reached and crossed through a nice flat section aptly named Poverty Flats. The clue for CP 3 mentioned "after you pass through Poverty Flats." Little did we know that meant that we had to get out of Poverty Flats and then some before we reached CP 3.

Leaving Poverty Flats was a harbinger of the rest of the ride. The hill started out smoothly and ramped up. We were soon in our smallest gears and the hill kept going up. We had to get off of our bikes and push. This would not be the last time that we would be pushing our bikes today. At the top of the hill we mounted up and rode forward. Of course there would never be a "flat" section. This was an up and down course. My front derailleur was not working properly, so I was not able to shift out of my little chain ring. This was fine for the uphill sections, but it prevented me from picking up much speed on the downhill segments.

We had been riding for over an hour and we had still not made it the 5.4 miles to CP 3. I think that our average speed was about 3 miles per hour... At this point Craig's altimeter watch proved it's usefulness. Per Paul's reckoning if we were not at CP 3 yet then we should be at about 1600 +/- feet of elevation. Per Craig's super watch we were at 1670 feet - which meant that we had even further to go to get to CP 3. We kept riding until we hit the trail intersection with the "new trail marker" and easily found CP 3.

As you can imagine at this point the path away from CP 3 was almost straight downhill. This was a dicey decent that ended in a creek crossing. We had moved quickly away from the checkpoint to keep our lights from being used as a beacon to the following teams. Our strategy was sound, but did not come to much as it was very difficult to find the continuation of the trail after we had crossed the creek. We fanned out to find our path which took us several minutes. As soon as we were back on track the following team came to the creek crossing - which meant that they could use our headlamps as a guide for finding the trail. After a short push uphill we mounted our bike for a very steep decent.

All three of us had brake problems on the way down the decent. I had to bail off of my bike twice before I lost total control. I can only assume that wafter rolling our bikes through the creek some water had frozen on our rims while we looked for the trail. After a few minutes of the downhill (and the bail-offs) my brakes finally started holding. We crossed another creek at the foot of the downhill and started moving upward once again. Soon we were walking our bikes again.

This was a very low point for us. Our average speed was incredibly low, and we had another very large hill directly in front of us. I wondered about the usefulness of this training. Craig mentioned something about eviscerating Rich (the event organizer). Paul and I rapidly agreed with Craig post-event plans - heck I just got a new Spyderco knife for Christmas and I needed to find a use for it. In all honesty we were really hurting, and it showed in our black moods. No matter how dark our mood we kept moving forward either by pushing or riding. Rich had said that the mountain bike portion should take 3 1/2 hours total. We were nearing the 2 1/2 hour mark and we were still a few miles away from the turnaround at CP 4 (Kelly Lake). We kept moving forward. After about another 45 minutes we met Raid-guy and Eco-guy who were heading back. We were on about a 3% uphill, so we were moving steadily but slowly. They were on the corresponding downhill and it looked like they were flying. At least they were exceeding the 3 1/2 hour projected time too ;-).

Some time later we also met the second place team. Again we were on an uphill and they were on a downhill - next time I want to meet somebody when I have gravity on my side!!!

I was feeling very sleepy, and then we made our biggest navigation error. At a T-intersection the trail to the right was marked "Kelly Lake 2.0 miles." Paul took the right and charged forward. I did not remember discussing this trail intersection, but I had not studied the map. After about 1.7 miles Craig checked his odometer, and realized that we should be at the checkpoint by now. I was falling asleep on my handlebars, so I suggested that Craig and Paul go ahead to the checkpoint while I took a nap. As he rolled away Craig yelled, "eat something before you got to sleep." I sucked down a Gu just to get some calories inside me. Some time later I woke up to the sound of Craig and Paul approaching. They had not found the checkpoint. The rested while I woke up, and we turned around to head back to HQ. When we came to the T-intersection we found our mistake.

On the right side of the trail was a marker "Kelly Lake 2.0 miles - to the right," and on the left side of the trail was another marker that we had missed "Kelley Lake 1.7 miles - straight ahead." We did not pay attention and we had paid. Craig and I were ready to head home, but Paul wanted that darn checkpoint. Somehow we convinced Paul that we had done enough, and decided to skip CP 4. As we were resting at the T-intersection I finally got hungry again, and I wolfed down the stack of Fig Newtons that I had been carrying since midnight. Wow, they tasted great. A couple of mountain bikers that I had met in Santa Cruz came by and asked us about the trail. We talked for a bit, but at first they did not believe that we had actually started our workout at midnight on the previous night. It is a good feeling to look at someone who is riding well and know that you have been on the trail since before they even went to bed.

The sun was up now and the ride back was incredible. The hills and vallies provide for some incredible views, and our rest stops were very scenic. The ride back was basically uneventful and we kept to the time schedule that we had projected when we had turned around. The Paul ran out of water. I offered him a drink from my camelback, but it was empty too. Craig was also out of water. I had not brought any water purification supplies, so the last hour was without water.

Crossing Poverty Flats was no problem, but the big downhill that we enjoyed on the way out was now a big uphill obstacle. It was tough enough to push our bikes, but it was even harder to have no fluids to drink. Oh well, this is the home stretch. Finally we were about 1 1/2 miles from HQ and we met Rich. All three of us were surprised that Rich was still around. We were also glad to know that he had chosen to stay until everyone was back in. Rich offered to push our bikes and I gladly accepted. Rich's first comment was priceless "man, your bike is heavy!" Tell me about it - I have been fighting that thing for over seven hours now.

We made it back to HQ. We did not eviscerate Rich. We actually thanked Rich for going through all the trouble of organizing the event. I am sure that it took a lot of work to plot the CP's, pre-run the course, create the clues, and then wait for all of us to return. We really appreciated Rich's effort although we were emphatic about wanting to actually RIDE our mountiain bikes at the next event. Not so much pushing next time please.

Total time on the Bike Leg: about 8 hours which equates to a 3.125 mph average!!!

Paul, Craig and I changed and packed our gear. The drive home was pretty hard because we had all been awake for over 24 hours now. I drove pretty well until the last mile before our exit where it became incredibly difficult to keep my eyes open. We made it safely home.

Looking at the event from today's perspective I am very happy. We learned a lot about 'what we need to learn' in a low-key noncompetitive environment, and best of all it was free!!!!

Thanks for putting this together Rich.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Sausalito AR Training, December 1998

A couple of weeks ago there was a thread about “Epic Training Adventures” on Tri-DRS. A couple of us too Epic training to heart and scheduled an incredible adventure that took place yesterday. This was the most training fun that I have had in a long time.

For those people interested in Adventure Racing, our training was based on a mini-adventure race – kayak, mountain bike and run.

7:30am – Paul Allman shows up at my house, and we pack up my truck with two mountain bikes, two large duffel bags full of gear and a pile of food. It is about 30deg F and raining. We wonder about the sanity of training in such conditions, but as fledgling adventure racers – “we live for adversity.”

7:45am – we are on the road. Looking up at the coastal mountains we are shocked. Snow. Yes, at about 2400’ there is a very clear snow line. Neither of us have seen snow on Skyline Road before. We laugh like mentally deranged children.

8:30am – meet fellow dead Craig Benson at his house in San Francisco. I have a small truck (Chevy S-10) with a standard cab. We put our gear bags inside trash bags to hopefully keep our stuff dry. Then we pack three bikes, three sets of gear and three men into my truck for the drive over to Sausalito – it is a tight fit in the cab of my truck.

EVENT NUMBER ONE – SEA KAKAKING

9:00am – arrive in Sausalito where it is brutally cold and there is at least a 20 mile per hour wind biting through us. The kayak guy wonders about our sanity an mentions that hail is forecasted. This is true adversity.

9:30am – there are five of us in three kayaks – two doubles and one single. I am paired with Rich, who looks like an adventure racer; tall, lean and unshaven. We put in and work on our paddle strokes. The key to paddling a double kayak is teamwork. After a couple of minutes we leave the harbor and enter choppy seas and a tough headwind. We reach an open section that feels like a wind tunnel. Rich and I bear down and paddle across. My wetsuit and spray jacket is keeping me plenty warm now that we are paddling hard and creating body heat. I have never been in such choppy conditions before. Craig is in the single kayak and almost gets blown over a couple of times. We cruise close to shore and ogle the mansions built with more glass than walls – can you say “real estate with a view.” In the sheltered areas Rich and I occasionally push the pace. When we are in synch we can really make that double kayak move. Unfortunately my hands are getting very tired from paddling when we head back to the harbor.

To get back we have to cross Richardson Bay, and we are paddling perpendicular to the current and wind. We get beam on in a couple of swells and the kayak rolls and dips but stays upright. We hit the beach in a few minutes and are greeted with snow flurries. Yes, it was snowing at sea level in San Francisco. Since we are no longer paddling, our bodies cool quickly in the wind, rain and snow, and we are soon bitterly cold. We return our kayaks and the kayak shop immediately closes due to “Adverse Weather Conditions.” I feel like I am taking part in an event that only a few people would even consider attempting.

kayak time – a little over 2 hours

12:00 pm - we change clothes from kayak gear to mountain bike gear. I wonder what to wear on the bike to prepare me for the weather conditions. I am a Californian who is not used to this type of cold. We eat a little, and fill up our water bottles. My Pringles go quickly.

12:30 pm - the start of the mountain bike. I am test riding a dual-suspension Trek that a buddy has for sale. It is my first time ever having suspension on a bike. We will ride a route that Craig uses often for training. The route goes up through the Marin headlands, down almost to the Pacific Ocean and back to Sausalito. Of course, it can never be as simple as "up, down and back home." The ride is more like up, up some more, look at the incredible view of San Francisco, down, up, keep going up, go up some more, go down, go down really fast, take a break, go up, shift down to your lowest gear, try to keep your front wheel from leaving the ground because it is so steep, look at the incredible view of the Pacific, keep going up, go up some more, take a break. Now we get to do a really technical downhill. We zip up and throw on another layer, then we point our bikes down, there are several jumps on the path I launch off of the first jump and scare myself silly, so I decide to keep both tires on the road. I start to get very hungry for solid food. I develop a craving for chicken fajitas. Ummmm, chicken fajitas on a sizzling cast iron skillet, wouldn't that be nice. Back on the mountain bike the trail twists and turns and is almost too much fun. Finally it is time for one long climb, one long downhill, one short climb on a road, and a downhill to our cars. The long climb and downhill go well, but I hit the wall on the short climb. Paul gives me some gorp and a Fig Newton which I inhale. After a short break to let the food work into my system we start paddling again, and about fifteen minutes later we are at our cars.

Verdict on the Trek - suspension is very nice, but this bike needs too many component upgrades in order to make it race worthy.

Ride time - 3 hours of actual riding and 3 1/2 hours of elapsed time.

4:00 pm - we refuel and consider our options for the run. Our fifth member, Jeff, has to leave, so the rest of us decide on a 1 hour run. It is incredibly cold in Sausalito with the wind blowing very hard. I change into my running shoes, but leave my tights, bike jersey, full gloves and arm warmers on. I also chose to wear what I would normally call my winter coat. I have never before done a run wearing an insulated jacket, but on this occasion I was very happy to have my coat.

We start running at a moderate to slow pace - probably about a 9:30 or 10:00min per mile pace. We fall into a paceline and trudge along. My fingers start to hurt as the blood starts to circulate in my finger tips once again. At the 30 minutes mark we turn around and start walking back. We start to run again and settle into a steady pace. My legs are very sore and I would rather walk, but it is only a few miles back to the car. We pick up the pace slightly in order to get the run over with. At best we were running 9:45 min/mile, but I am really pushing to even hold that slow of a pace. A few hundred yards away from the cars we stop running and walk it in.

It's over. In 7 and 1/2 hours we have accomplished a kayak, mountain bike, and run training day. I am very tired and very satisfied. Craig starts talking about hitting a bar to listen to his favorite ska band. I can only think of sleep, and Craig still has the energy to go grab a beer - I am not sure where he stores his reserve power.

We pack up and head home. I drop off Craig and Paul, and drop my gear off at my house. I have only one thought - food, specifically chicken fajitas which I have been craving for several hours now. I am sure that I was the worst dressed man in the restaurant, but those fajitas were delicious........

It was an amazing day. I look forward to training with this group in the near future.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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IronMan Canada 1998

IMC '98 meant a lot to me because it paved the way for some major changes in my life which I really needed to make. There are probably to many tri-related details and too many extraneous issues in this and the subsequent post that I will send out. I apologise in advance if you dislike rambling stories, but the IMC experience was much more than 14 hours 10 minutes and 48 seconds of swimming, biking and running (walking). It was over a year of contemplation and training, and it was 10 years of racing narrowed down into one event.

That said, please enjoy.

I think that my story starts out about 5 years ago. I was putting myself through my final years of college and money was just a little tight. I made a conscious choice to stop racing triathlons for a while to reduce my expenses. I graduated and landed a great job with excellent potential for advancement. Since I was pushing hard in my career tri's were still regulated to the backseat. 2 1/2 years passed in that job and I was experiencing severe burnout. I had focused all of my intensity on my work, and work was not as exciting as it had been when I was fresh out of college.

Labor Day (U.S.) 1997. One of my best friends got married in Philadelphia - which is an incredible town. At an after party I was talking with a couple of people - an associate editor of Triathlete magazine and a guy who occasionally does a few tri's. The tri-geek was trying to get the Triathlete editor to give him a slot for Kona. He would have been better off trying to score a date with her - there was no way that she was going to conjure up a Kona slot. She suggested IMC as a place to qualify.

The wheels in my head started to turn - "I need a challenge" "I have wanted to get back into tri's for several years" "I need a really big challenge to get me out of my workaholic rut" "Maybe I should try IMC"

Back at work I downloaded the IMC '98 application and contemplated the commitment to training for an IM. My wife was 100% behind me signing up for IMC. When we started dating I was racing tri's in Southern California, and she knows how much I enjoyed the scene. I bit the bullet and mailed in my application. I even started training - somewhat. Four plus years of inactivity had taken their toll. I had purchased a new Kestrel KM40 in the fall of 1996, but I only had ridden it for about 100 miles in the year since I bought it. It was pretty embarrassing to be out riding my shiny, new Kestrel as I was getting passed by everyone on the road.

I soon subscribed to Tri-DRS and saw all the traffic about IMC filling up in record time. I wondered, I worried, I fretted, and then the confirmation letter came. It was true - I was going to Canada in 9 months.

To say the least - I was really scared. I was out of shape. I had never done an Ironman. I used to train for Oly distance races using a "feeling" plan - "How do I feel today and what do I want to do?" I knew that I could not train for an Ironman on such an ad hoc training plan.

I wrote down my goals for IMC '98. A

1. Finish my first Ironman. 2. Have fun.

After the race I would: 1. Smile. 2. Hug my wife. 3. Be happy that I went from couch potato to Ironman in 10 months!!!!

I needed some help in training, so I talked with my college teammate and now QR pro Greg Thompson. Greg suggested that I contact Lauren Alexander for coaching advice. The best thing that I did in the months prior to IMC was hire Lauren as my coach. She is a major asset.

The months flew by, I had a hideous race at Wildflower, I DNF'd at San Jose due to a mechanical, I finally had a great race at a local sprint tri and I did pretty well at the 1/2 Vineman. The 1/2 Vineman taught me that I could overcome problems during a race and still continue on to a good finish. I sent out numerous emails to both the Tri-DRS and the IMC lists asking all kinds of stupid questions. Luckily there are a lot of great people on the list who answered my questions and gave me some great guidance. Unbelievably - Taper Time for IMC arrived - my first IM was only 3 weeks away.

During all of this IM training, life continued to march forward. My wife continued her studies and supported my training endeavors. My job structure changed again, and again, and again, and finally I found a new job that started two weeks before IMC - of course I negotiated a one week break for IMC into my offer. As always there was a multitude of issues to deal with that really got in the way with training. As time marched on I forgot about my initial race goals - I started thinking about racing IMC as opposed to surviving it, and that was a big mistake. My initial goals were what I should have focused on, but I wasted a lot time worrying about split times, average speed and run paces.

Tuesday Afternoon,

Flew from San Francisco to Vancouver. A hometown friend drove to Penticton, so I stashed my bike in his mini-van for the trip. I did not have to worry about packing a bike box, or whether my bike would arrive in Penticton on my flight.

While waiting for the puddle jumper from Vancouver to Penticton, some guy sat next to me and asked me if I was doing the race. I am not sure why he would look at me and assume that I was racing IMC - Okay, maybe the shaved legs and Specialized transition bag were pretty good indicators. He introduces himself as Scott Adams (it sounds familiar). I introduce myself as Ron Renwick. Sometimes it is very useful to have your name and email address coincide. Scott recognized my name, and further introduced himself as an infrequent poster to Jason's IMC list - this is a really small world! Another friend of mine, Bill - from my Wildflower debacle, showed up and we waited for the plane to Penticton.

We arrived in Penticton. Scott had a seat next to me on the plane where he tried to avoid listening to me whine about how hungry I was for the duration of the flight. Thanks for the pretzels Scott. In the Penticton airport, Scott started talking to this big guy with bright 'blonde' hair and a smaller guy with very little hair. Jason Mayfield and Bruce Grant had come to pick up Scott. I think that Bruce's wife and Eric Austin may have been there too, but it was a few days ago and my memory is not what it used to be. Scott's bike actually made it into Penticton on our flight. My buddy Bill was not so lucky. His bike did not show (as expected), and Canadian Airlines had lost his suitcase too. His carry-on consisted solely of his race wheels, so he was not a happy camper.

Bill and I made our way to the Rochester Resort - 2 doors from the Sicamous, and "The Best Value On The Beach." It was late so we walked the 10 steps to Salty's restaurant for a bite to eat. FYI, avoid Salty's if possible. Bill was able to buy a toothbrush at the local convenience store - he now had race wheels, the clothes on his back and a toothbrush - Bill was not a happy camper.

Wednesday,

0700 - I made my way to the Sicamous for my first pre-IMC swim. I met so many people that I had emailed with over the last 10 months. I only swam for 20 minutes, but meeting everyone was incredible. My goggles broke during the swim - add one more thing to my "Must Buy" list.

After a shower Bill and I walked downtown to the Hog's Breath. We grabbed a cup of coffee and some breakfast. Bill was impressed that we kept bumping into Tri-DRS'ers. I finally told him that "Everything I know about Penticton I learned on from the List." Which meant that anywhere we went we were sure to bump into some Deads. We walked around town, checked out the construction zone of the Athlete's village and hit the Bike Barn - a really cool bike store. Most bike shops in the SF Bay area are pretty streamlined. They look more like a Blockbuster Video store than a neighborhood bike shop - everything is in its proper spot. The Bike Barn rocks - racks of stuff and a good assortment of bikes. Bins were overflowing with stuff. It was a great place to dig around for bike goodies. The place was humming with tri-bikes. There must have been at least 8 workstands going continuously.

We went to lunch at Front Street Pasta (Jason's choice) a great meal for a very low price. I finally met Dave 'the starving student" Barclay. Jason was quite the entertainment director - as the week progressed he started looking more and more like Julie Tewes, the Cruise Director from the Love Boat ;-).

My bike arrived in the afternoon - reassembly consisted of putting the front wheel back on (no allen wrenches for me). For dinner it was Front Street Pasta again this time with my bike hauling friend Ray, Bill, Dead Chris Nugent and lurking Dead Bob Castaldi. A post-dinner beer with Ray and Greg Pressler was quite relaxing. Greg truly is a poet at heart.

Thursday

Thursday was my glycogen depletion/carbo load day so I did a solo swim and run and 4 of us rode the first 15 miles of the bike course out and back. We meant to ride the run course, but we turned left on McClean by mistake. We then picked up our registration packets and got our wrist bands. It was official - I was signed up for an Ironman.

Friday

I missed the 0700 swim by 10 minutes, so I did not get to meet anyone new from the list. However, after the swim I finally met the person that I have tried to meet for months now. We train in the same locations, we race the same races and we live only a few miles apart, but I had never met this person. Finally, after a 2000 mile trek to Canada, I finally met Tri-Baby, the one the only Tricia Richter. Now I wonder how the hell I missed seeing her in other races! And I thought that Jason had some noticable hair.

My buddy Ray and I went to the Hog's Breath after the swim for a dose of caffeine, and we bumped into some deads (imagine that). Gerry Kuse was talking to Tricia and Skippy. He was wearing a 1993 Mike and Rob's shirt, a race that I had my 1/2 IM PR in way back when (it's a small world). It turns out the Gerry and I have raced at several of the same races over the years.

At the carbo load dinner we learned that there would be 675 IronVirgins racing on Sunday. 40% of the racers were attempting there first IM. Wow!

Saturday

My wife flew into town on Saturday morning. I was really glad to see her. She had been so supportive of my training, and she deserves the title of IronMate. She had originally been scheduled to fly up with me on Tuesday, but her school schedule mandated that she stay at home during the pre-race week and attend classes. I often say that you should always have at least one smart person in the family, and I was lucky enough to marry well.

The day pretty much flew by with the pre-race meeting, the parade, packing Special Needs Bags and bike check-in. My nutrition plan was pretty simple - Gu and Cytomax and salt tabs. I had trained with Gu, Cyto and salt tabs over the past 10 months with great results. At the last minute I decided to toss an Okanagan pear into my Bike Special Needs Bag.

A post parade dinner at the Gunbarrel and a walk home were all that I needed for the evening. It was time to get some sleep. Before I drifted off I thought back to my original goals. Oh yeah, I was here to have fun. I was not here to break 14 or 12 or 10 hours, but I still held out for a good race even though I knew that I just wanted to finish. I wish that I would have looked back on my goals more often.

The actual Race Report follows.

Sunday - RACE DAY

I started the day with a 3:00 am breakfast run to Denny's. Ray and I figured that an early breakfast would be useful for us. I had actually slept for about 5 or 6 hours the night before, and I felt pretty good.

At about 5:00 am I gathered my Special Needs Bags and swim gear bag and marched 3/4 of a mile to the transition. I got body marked, Championchipped and went straight to my bike. Even at 0500 the volunteers were friendly and incredibly helpful. I chose to leave my floor pump at the hotel [good choice] - with my floor pump absent from the transition area there were only 1,699 floor pumps in the TA waiting to be used. In addition there was a crew from the Bike Barn with a compressed air cylinder for filling tires. I pumped up my Conti's to about 160psi, loaded my aerobag, filled my jetstream and walked around the corner to the Swim and Run transition bag racks.

The 2 hours from 0500 to 0700 flew by. I chatted with a few friends, revelled in the fact that I was about to start my first Ironman and donned my wetsuit. I did a warm up swim for about 10 minutes in the clear Lake Okanagan. I chatted with Chris Nugent. I high-fived and chatted with Greg Pressler. In Greg's race report he mentioned that he saw "fire in Ron's eyes." With all due respect, I think that Greg is confusing the "Happy Face" holograms on my goggles with fire.

Meeting the people on this list has been a special thrill, both Greg and I have both been doing tri's for over 10 years, but we had waited until now for our first IM. We both had that "This is finally it" feeling, he went on to an incredible race that he really deserved.

The day before the race, Greg had a great observation about the IMC swim course. "It's an International Distance swim on the way out, a few hundred meters to the right and a 1/2 IM swim on the way home - we have done this before."

Oh Canada was played. I think that I heard some bagpipes somewhere, and the race STARTED!

I was here to have fun so I held back for a few seconds to let the mass of humanity clear out from the start line. I started swimming. I kept thinking to myself "This is so COOL! I am finally doing an IronMan." I passed the first set of marker bouys and thought to myself "WOW, I just passed my first set of IronMan marker bouys. This is AWESOME!"

The swim went very well. It was much less brutal than Wildflower, and the course is very well marked. I was so happy to be racing. I was bumped a few times, I swam over a few folks, I drafted a little and hit some toes and I was drafted off of. I hit the first houseboat (leg 1) in 25 minutes - I was ecstatic. I stopped for a second to adjust the neck of my wetsuit as I was experiencing a little chafe. I made it to the second right turn at 35 minutes - one more leg to go. The swim course is so well marked that I had to do very little sighting - maybe one look every 10 strokes. Basically, the swim was all mine. I focussed completely on how I was doing. If I bumped someone or got kicked it just did not matter. I really enjoyed being out there. I hit the beach and attempted to walk over the annoying rocks.

I looked at my watch - I had completed the swim in 1:06!!!!!!!!

I was expecting to have a 1:20 swim as I have only been in the water 5 or 6 times since Wildflower in May, and two of those times were tri swims. A 1:06 was incredible.

I thought "It cannot get any better than this!"

It did not get any better.

In fact, things got far, far worse.

SWIM TO BIKE TRANSITION

I wore my Speedo and singlet under my wetsuit during the swim, so I only had to don my cycling shoes and helmet. I also stopped to urinate - little did I know that I would not have to worry about that for the next 12 hours. . .

I rolled out of town feeling really good. I had just finished an incredible swim, and I was finally starting on the bike leg of my first Ironman! I took it easy for the first 5 miles - I figured that I had 107 more miles to make up time. I hit the drops as we hit South Main Street. My first priority was to hydrate and the cytomax was not tasting very good. I spun my way up McClean Road and picked off many people on the downhill - when you weigh 195 pounds downhills are a real rush. My stomach was a little tight, but I attributed that to being so early in the race.

At the bottom of McClean someone was nice enough to tell me that I had lost my pump during the rapid descent. The bracket holding my pump on my bike broken off. "Nothing I can do about it now - I hope that I don't flat."

At about mile 10 my JetStream went dry. I had a bottle of highly concentrated Cytomax on my downtube with markings on the bottle to delineate portions. I shot some Cyto concentrate into my JetStream and filled the rest with water to make a 7% solution. I immediately took a drink from my JetStream. The concentrate and the water had not mixed together, so I got about an 80% solution of Cyto in that mouthful.

I should have pulled off the side of the road and tossed my cookies.

I chose to keep the cytomax concentrate down and chase it with water - it's hard to say, but this may have been a big mistake.

My stomach started cramping big time! I could no longer drink. I tried to take a Gu, but I could not get it down. 10 miles into the bike and I could neither hydrate nor feed - OH NO!

I tried some different positions on the bike to alleviate my stomach cramps. The aero position put direct pressure on my abdomen which was not feeling too good. I alternated between sitting upright and going aero.

I was still doing pretty good with respect to speed. At mile 41 I took the right turn to head up Richter.

Can someone please tell me why both Wildflower and IMC have a hill at Mile 41???

At the base of Richter I was still holding a 22.5mph average. Then I started climbing Richter. In the grand scheme of things Richter is not a terrible climb. I ride much worse on my regular training rides. However, Richter is at mile 41 of an IM and I had not eaten much for 3 hours (swim and bike time)

I bonked.

I hurt.

I struggled to the top of Richter,

I cursed the wind.

I quit looking at my heart rate monitor - it just did not matter.

I got passed by most of the people racing at IMC.

I got passed by pedestrians who were walking up Richter.

The downhill after Richter should have been a lot of fun, but I could not hold a good tuck. I only hit 47 mph. The uphill after Richter and the rollers through the Osoyoos were intolerable. I just kept pedaling forward. I stopped at about mile 60 to eat a banana - finally I was able to consume something. I was very happy that it stayed down. I continued to slog forward. The head wind was really causing problems. Even the flat spots were hard to ride. I promised myself that I would take a break when I got my special needs bag. I passed a med tent on the way out the second out and back section. I was very tempted to stop and take a nap.

When I got my special needs bag, I rode to the closest clear spot, dropped my bike and sat down. I opened my bag. The Gu's were completely unappetizing, but the pear looked great. I started eating my Okanagan pear - man that tasted good. Unfortunately that was the only good item in my SNB. [Note to Self: diversify nutrition plans in future long races]. Some saint in one of Jason's IMC-RST jerseys stopped next to me. It was John Welch. He had an extra turkey sandwich that tasted incredible. I could eat! This tall guy with a mustache and a blue Softride stopped next to me. He was not having a good day. My personal saint, Jeff, said "George are you OK." It was George Ball. Since I was sitting on the ground in close proximity I have to say - George has some big, skinny feet. George was not feeling too good, and he crossed the road to sit down in a chair.

I shouted to a teammate, Gerry Morton, but he looked around at eye level and missed me sitting down. I saw Tri-Baby, and pretty soon Steve "Gibbo" Gibson rolled up. Gibbo looked incredibly fresh. He looked more like he had just started his ride than that he had already ridden 75 miles. Gibbo's special needs bag was missing and he was pretty irate about not getting to his vegemite sandwiches. To be honest, I have tried the stuff and I think that he was better off not having access to his vegemite, but then again I am not an Aussie ;-).

I gave myself 20 minutes of rest at the special needs stop. The first couple of miles felt OK, but soon thereafter my quads wanted to quit (again).

The course turned back onto Highway 3A and started the gradual climb to Yellow Lake Hill. It was really hot and really windy. Then we hit Yellow Lake Hill. I kept telling myself to live only in the moment - forget about the rest of the race - things will get better, but I was really hurting. It became a battle of feet. Instead of pushing to get to the next mile marker, I goaled for the next traffic sign or the next rock on the shoulder of the road. Bit by bit, pedal turn by pedal turn.

Finally, I stopped on the climb and sat on my top tube for a while (I chose not to time myself). Most people were really great. Almost all of the athletes asked if I was OK, and the race marshalls stopped to check on me. I seriously thought about dropping out. I looked at my watch just as it hit the 7 hour mark. I was at mile 90. I did a quick calculation - I had 10 hours to ride 22 miles and run a marathon. 22 mile rides are easy spins during training. I could do this.

I chose not to DNF. I started riding again. I passed some guy who was walking his bike and I decided to do the same. Two teammates passed me as I was walking, my buddy Ray and Tana, who always looks like she is just out doing an easy training ride even though she is hammering along. They made sure that I was OK as the cruised on by. I made it to the aid station at the top of the hill. A volunteer offered me cold, de-fizzed Pepsi. Pepsi was not in my pre-race plan, but then again, walking up Yellow Lake was not in my plan - I took the Pepsi.

The caffeine and sugar boost was amazing. I started riding once again. My stomach wanted to get rid of the Pepsi, but I made it stay down. I passed Ray and I caught Tana. Tana and I chatted for a minute until my specialty arrived - the Yellow Lake Downhill. I expected to cruise with the downhill bias back into town, but after the big downhill the headwind took over again. I slogged back to the transition area.

As I crossed paths with the people already on the run course I tried to assess their condition. Some people looked pretty good, but most were looking pretty tired. I got to the transition area, but I forgot to slip out of my shoes before I handed off my bike. My brain was not working too well.

BIKE TO RUN TRANSITION

Since I was going to wear my speedo and singlet for the run I did not need to change. I went into the changing tent just to sit down for a while. I applied some vaseline and stuck some reflective tape on my speedo. Ray had slipped the reflective tape in my Bike-Run bag (thanks Ray). I ate a little watermelon and drank some water. The watermelon tasted great, but I was worried about it staying down during the run. I left the changing tent to start my first ever marathon.

An Amazing IMC tidbit - I fully expected to have to carry my gear bags to a rack and hang them up. For both transitions you simply leave the gear bag on the ground. A volunteer comes along and gathers up the gear bag and hangs it on a rack - so simple - so easy for the athlete.

THE RUN

My original plan had been to start running slowly and see how things turned out. Running slowly was not a problem - everything was going to be slow. Running fast was unthinkable. I walked the aid stations, drank, ate a little bit and drenched myself with sponges. It was really hot!!

My first mile was an 11:30 and I was really happy. I hit mile 2 in 22:30 - amazingly I was actually picking up the pace (if only slightly). I walked mile 4. At mile 6, I was caught by some guy who wanted ibuprofen. After Vineman I made sure that I had Ibu with me, so I handed him a tablet. We chatted for a while until it became obvious that we knew each other. It was Dennis from RST and Greg Pressler's friend. Dennis pulled me to the run turnaround by alternating running and walking. Dennis kept talking about his Run special needs bag that contained a pair of dry socks. I remembered that my SNB only had Gu.

[see Note to Self from Bike Special Needs bag section - vary the contents of the Special Needs Bag]]

My split time for the 13.1 miles to the turnaround was 3 hours even. My friend Bill ran into and out of the turnaround looking great. He had a mechanical on the bike that cost him almost an hour.

Then I remembered that I had also put a pair of dry socks in my special needs bag. In fact I had brought a pair to Canada just for this purpose. The socks were pretty old, so if I chose not to wear them it was no big deal if I lost them. I was so happy that I had remembered to put fresh socks into my Needs Bag. The socks would only provide a momentary relief, but that moment would be enough. I needed something to brighten my day.

Dennis and I sat down to open our special needs bags. We ripped off our shoes and wet socks. We opened our special needs bags. Dennis pulled out a pair of dry socks.

OOPS! I had forgotten to pack the socks. I put my sweaty socks and shoes back on. Putting wet, icky socks back on was not the most pleasant feeling. The delivery truck with the chicken soup stopped at the turnaround.

I originally had hoped to be off the course by the time the chicken soup hit the aid stations. I had never envisioned myself only being halfway through the run when the chicken soup came out. Oh well, here I was and the soup smelled good. I sipped a cup and almost hurled. What is manna from heaven for many triathletes just did not sit well with me - I gagged at the first sip.

We started back down the road toward Penticton. The sun was starting to set which meant that it would finally cool off. Ray was just climbing the hill to the turnaround. He was surprised that the turnaround had come so soon - he looked smooth in his running form - nice and steady.

For Dennis and I it was:

Run some.

Walk more.

I ate what little I could at the aid stations.

Ray caught up to us just as we caught up to Bill. Bill had looked great leaving the turnaround, but he was struggling through a low point now. The four of us marched slowly along - it was good to know that every step was bringing us back into town. After a while Bill perked up again, and he and Ray started jogging back to town. Dennis and I kept shuffling along. A mile or two later, Dennis ducked into a porta-potty and I just stopped by the side of the road - the first time that I had urinated in 12+ hours! Believe it or not it was a major mental boost. I had really been starting to worry about my kidneys.

It became apparent that Dennis had a lot more left in his legs than I did. I wished him luck as he disappeared around a corner. My feet were really starting to hurt. I did not have any blisters or abrasions, but it felt like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to the soles of my feet and my toes. I was almost hoping that a couple of my toes would just fall off so that they would not hurt anymore. I came around a corner and hit another aid station. On the other side of the aid station Ray and Bill were walking slowly. They had dropped their pace in order to wait for me - THANKS GUYS!!!!

At that point we were about 20 miles into the marathon. Two women came running by us like it was a 10K - I wondered where they got the energy from. A few seconds later about 4 guys caught us and they laid out their very detailed plan for breaking 14 hours. It is great to be at a race with sooooo many engineers - almost everyone is incredibly analytical. The plan was pretty simple - hold 11 minute miles and we would break 14 hours, but these guys had even calculated walking zones and rest stops..... To everyone we passed - two of the guys kept on saying - "hop on the 9:00 o'clock express. You can do it."

It turns out that the guys had also shared their plan with the two women who had run by like gazelles. The women had found something inside themselves and they chose to push it hard into town. Unfortunately we passed them about 1/2 mile later as they could not hold that pace that they had charged ahead with.. We left the water line of Skaha Lake and started climbing the rollers. I passed another guy and this time I looked back and saw a Tri-DRS singlet. I introduced myself and finally met Jay Capers.

The group of us was still shuffling along trying to hold 11 minute miles. The detail oriented engineer guys were still calculating our odds of breaking 14. I dropped off as we went through the Skaha rollers, but I was able to catch the group again on the downhills. Ray and Bill were feeling pretty good, so they pulled ahead. This left me with the two human calculators/cheerleaders. The guy on the right introduced himself. I was not hearing or concentrating very well so I thought that he said his name was "Ralph." He corrected me that his name was not "Ralph" but "Rolf" - even my feeble brain was able to decipher that I was running next the "Keeper of the IMC Lodging and Goal Times List" I introduced myself to Rolf Arands.

The guy on my left said "didn't I give you a sandwich at the bike Special Needs Bag?" It was John Welch of RST. He had saved me on the bike and he was trying to pull me in for a sub 14 hour finish.

As before - we were shuffling along - only we had picked up the pace to give ourselves a margin of error. We debated about how fast we were running

"do you think this is a 9 minute mile?" "I think it's more like an 8:30" "Yeah right, like we could run 8:30's right now?" "It sure feels like an 8:30"

We turned onto Main Street and hit the aid station. I had to walk and asked Rolf and John to run on. Rolf tried to talk me into running with them, but I was not up for it. The finish line was getting closer, but I was hurting too much - my feet were lodging a formal protest.

I kept trudging along on Main Street. The fans were incredibly helpful. An ironvet on a bike talked to me for over a block - he was very motivating. I promised him that I wouild run again when there were three stoplights to go. Hurricane Bob Mina passed me and I congratulated him. I started jogging again.

Two blocks from the Hog's Breath I picked up my pace. I ran (actually ran - not jogged) the last few yards of Main Street - high fiving the kids and cheering with the crowd. I could not believe that I was running. The left turn onto Lakeshore Drive was incredible. I ran hard to the finish line and crossed in 14:10:48.

I completed my goal. I had gone from couch to Canada in 10 months. I am an IRONMAN.

POST-RACE:

Two incredible volunteers escorted me from the finish line. Somehow I received my IMC towel, finisher's medal and T-shirt (the correct size - how do they do it?). The ladies escorted my to the line for the massage tent per my request - they stayed with me for several minutes until they were sure that I was OK - they brought me water and some chicken soup. The chicken soup actually tasted great. I had a great massage, and I walked back to the finish line to find my wife who was standing right next to the results tent. It was sooooo good to see her. I got my congratulatory hug (over the snow fence) and I heard how proud she was of my accomplishment. After a very long day that was filled with ups and downs it was very uplifting to hear her words.

I picked up my gear bags, changed into some dry clothes, had my finishers photo taken (remember to wear your finisher's shirt and medal - they look great in the photo), I soaked my legs in a hot tub, and I waited to no avail for some pizza. I then picked up my bike and Winter and I walked back to the Rochester. My eyes felt like they had a salt shaker dumped in them - I had to squint to see anything. Winter was hungry after waiting for me for several hours so we went to the Iguana for a bite - nothing else was open at 11:00pm. Fajitas in Canada are not what I am used to - what is a tomato tortilla anyhow???? My stomach was still in an act of rebellion so I took my meal home to eat the next day. We turned on Channel 11 to watch the 17 hour finishers - there was no way that I was going to make it back to the finish line. The fireworks (like the start cannon) went off a little early. I then realized why my eyes were barely open - I was EXHAUSTED. I passed out almost immediately.

THE DAYS AFTER

I awoke on Monday feeling hungry (finally). My stomach was still a little tender, but I managed to eat.

I was happy to have completed my first IM in such difficult conditions, but I was frustrated that I had fallen apart during the race. 14 hours was much longer than what I had hoped to do.

I contemplated IMC '99. My legs hurt, my stomach still ached and I had not totalled the bills for the cost of IMC '98. I did not want to come back to Penticton again in '99. Then I thought twice - this race has the best organization and volunteers of any race that I have ever done. I want to do better than a 14 hour IM. In a month I would be ready to contemplate IMC '99, but I would not have a month to decide. I chose to submit my application for '99.

The rest of the day was a blur - finisher's merchandise, results book (Vineman and Wildflower's took about 3 months to arrive - IMC's was complete with pictures in about 10 hours), awards ceremony, shopping, packing, meeting friends, handing my bike off to Ray for the drive home. soon it was Tuesday morning and time to fly home.

Back home I evaluated the race. In Penticton, surrounded by IronVets, my finish did not look to stellar. As I reread my goals for the race and talked to non-triathletes I started thinking clearly again:

I have completed every one of my IMC '98 goals.

I am an Ironman.

I am not the same person that I was 10 months ago and I am very, very happy that I did what had to be done in order to finish.

To every IronVirgin out there - good luck training for your goals, and be sure to remember what your goals are!!!!

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Monterey Bay Challenge Triathlon and the Ride Home 1998

I have divided this report into two sections:

Phase one is the triathlon race report. Phase two is the bike ride I did after the race.

PHASE ONE:

Monterey Bay Challenge Triathlon Swim: 1/2 mile 12:07 Bike: 16 miles 45:55 Run: 4 miles 27:10

Overall: 1:30:40

Average HR (est.) 177

I think that the course was a little short, but it was a lot of FUN!!!

Rating: Excellent

After two dismal tri's this year (major blowout at Wildflower and DNF at San Jose), I wanted to do something fun. In a nutshell - the Monterey Bay Challenge Tri was a blast. I have not dedicated much time to sprint courses with IMC looming over the horizon, so I looked at this race as a fun hour and a half. If you choose to read any further please remember that I like smalltown races that are a little disorganized - it reminds me of racing 10 years ago when races where low-key affairs.

I knew nothing about this race, so my goal was to follow the person in front of me and hope for a well marked course.

The wife and I spent the night about 5 miles from the race site. We had a great dinner at a cafe on the beach and a good nights sleep listening to the surf. On waking up I knew it was going to be a foggy swim.

CHECK-IN This race actually had race day registration - which was really good for me. I paid me entry fee and looked around for the TA. After a few minutes I just followed the people walking to a parking garage - Yup, there's the TA.

THE SWIM The fog was pretty thick, so I could not see the first buoy. The waves were at 1-2 feet so they were not big enough to be called surf. I was really stoked to be swimming in the ocean again. "I can't see where I am going and there is a small swell - this is awesome!" The swim reminded me of the daily training swims that I used to do around the pier in Ventura. I hit the beach in 12:07. The run to the TA is up a concrete walkway - my HR was at 187....

THE BIKE I chose my regular glasses because the fog was still pretty thick. Of course my glasses fogged up within minutes so I took them off and rode with my astigmatism. The bike course was great. There were plenty of sweeping downhills to really get the speed up, and there were several uphills to add some challenge. I caught a few people and I was passed by a few people. A couple of guys drafted off me. One of my Master's teammates passed me, but before he passed me he was kind enough to grab one of my wheel suckers by the saddle and yank them backwards. For the last few miles I played 'cat and mouse' with some guy. I really wanted to drop him, but we were pretty evenly matched. I beat him to the TA by about 2 seconds. My HR averaged about 179 for the bike.

THE RUN I hit my lap button as soon as I started running, but the timing for the race was about 200 yds from the TA. The course was well marked. I was passed by a few people, but I also picked off several people. It felt really good to run hard and pass a few people. I pushed pretty hard for the last 2.5 miles in hopes on catching one more person, but I did not catch him. It was a good run.

I was very satisfied with my race. The post race food was excellent, and the RD had a couple of kids walking around asking the racer's for their input about the race. I have filled out race questionnaires in the past, but this made me feel like someone actually cares about the answers. Someone actually had the job of obtaining feedback - I like it!

This was a great race. It was short enough to fit in to any schedule, and it was challenging enough to make it worthwhile. If you get a chance next year, put this one on your schedule.

PHASE TWO:

After the race I ate, drank AllSport and changed into my cycling clothes. I did not know how to get to Santa Cruz from Aptos, so I asked a fireman who had been on medical support for the race. He gave me great directions and said that there would probably be headwinds on Highway One. He was incredibly WRONG!! I have fought headwinds before, but what I was about to encounter were beyond headwinds - they were Super-Mega-Headwinds.

My wife drove home and I commenced to cycling. My legs were a little tired from the race, but I expected to feel a little sore. The 13 miles to Santa Cruz were casual. I relaxed and did some spinning to loosen up my legs. Once in Santa Cruz I stopped by the beach and Steamer's to enjoy the sunshine and fuel up. Then I hit Highway 1........ The first 10 miles of 1 were ok, not too much wind and some good rolling hills. I was not planning on setting any land speed records - I just wanted to get in a good long ride. Except for the crosswind sections I was really glad that I had chosen to keep my race wheels on my bike for the ride home.

Then the headwinds came. The way the terrain of the coast and the highway are laid out, the headwinds just appeared - full aero position at 15 mph. The road rolls and dips and curves, but the winds a pretty constant.

I stopped in some town that starts with a "B" to buy some fluids. I needed some Chapstick, but I chose not to pay the $3.99 per tube asking price (OUCH!). I rested for a few minutes and loaded up my water bottles then I hit the road again. I was starting to feel fatigued. I was eating (Gu's and Powerbars), taking salt tabs and drinking lots of fluids, but it was getting to be a long day. I knew that I had to get to Pescadero Road before I could turn away from the winds and head up over the mountain, but I was not sure how far it was to Pescadero Road.

To give you an idea of the headwinds (actually crosswinds and headwinds). There is a picturesque little spot where the highway dips down almost to sea level in between two small rises. At the bottom there is a really nice looking beach. Unfortunately, the beach is made of sand which can be picked up by the wind and is quite painful. I was sandblasted in the valley and I barely made it up the 2% grade on the other side. The wind was pushing me back so hard that I felt like I was on a mountain bike trail.

I finally reached Pescadero Road and rode two miles to the town of Pescadero. I had been on the bike for about 4 hours after the race and I was beat. I called my wife for a rescue. For the locals on the list, they know that Pescadero is a very curvy and narrow road. I knew that it be at least an hour for my wife to arrive, so we agreed that I would keep riding up the road and we would meet. I made it 8 more miles before I had to stop.

My odometer read 58.9 miles, but I am going to call it 60!!! I averaged 13.6 mph which sounds really slow, and to tell the truth "IT WAS SLOW!!!" It was brutal, but I definitely got my long ride in. If you ever want to ride on PCH, do it from North to South. The ride from South to North is really hard.

It is now Monday, and I feel pretty good. My legs are a little sore, but I am not completely beat. I am really glad that I chose to call my wife. Looking back, it was a really great day.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Half-Vineman Triathlon 1998

The Snapshot:

Swim: 34:37 reasonable time - I have been skipping Master's lately T1: 3:01 it took a little extra time to stash my wetsuit in the gear bag Bike: 2:39:25 Oh Yeah! 10 minutes faster than projected T2: 1:15 very nice, just as planned Run: 1:59:18 things fell apart here - more later

Total: 5:17:38 beat my 5:30 plan, but could have been faster

Important Items:

1. Pacing on the run course is bull@#$% (which I will not delve into). 2. Ibuprofen is a gift directly for [substitute your choice of diety here] (which I will delve into).

Pre-Race Bumped into Kevin Kennedy as he was exiting the 2:00pm pre-race meeting. We both wanted to drive the bike course. Kevin felt that he would get a better idea of the course by navigating, I can understand a course better when I drive, so it worked perfectly. Pre-driving the course was an excellent idea (great navigating Kevin).

Funny note: as we were driving up Chalk Hill Road, we kept asking ourselves - "where is the hill." After hearing so much about Chalk Hill we were expecting something similar to Mile 41 at Wildflower. Chalk is not easy, but it is certainly no Mile 41.

I crashed with Albert Li at the Super 8. Albert really believes in his morning coffee, and he was kind enough to bring me a cup too. Thanks Albert.

THE SWIM:

As expected, I was a little slower than at Wildlfower and I had to work harder than I wanted to, but it is my fault for skipping my Master's workouts. Time: 34:37

Right on target. Because of the two transitions at Vineman, you must pack your gear in a marked bag that is transported to the finish. My wife was unable to make the trip this time, or I would have paid her off to catch my wetsuit at the swim finish. Packing a wet wetsuit into a plastic bag adds a minute to a normal transition.

Funny Note #2: I pulled my helmet on and it felt very odd. Yes, it was on backwards. I rearranged my helmet and looked up to see a photographer snapping my picture from two feet away. I will probably be in next year's program with a caption reading:

"Chin strap violations and wearing your helmet backwards will result in disqualification."

THE BIKE:

I had a very simple plan. Please note that this plan made absolutely no sense to me about two months ago, but I swear that it works

"Hammer that flats and downhills, recuperate on the uphills."

As planned - I hammered every flat and downhill. When I hit an uphill I sat up and spun (spinned, spurned?) my way to the top. I noticed an interesting situation among the people who I was riding near. Some guys would hammer the hills, even getting out of the saddle. They would pass me by about +2mph on the way up. When we hit the top of the hills they would be tired and use the descent to catch their breath. Whereas I would feel pretty fresh at the atop, and on the downhills I would hit my big gears and fly. They would rest and I would easily pass them with about a +10mph delta.

I held my HR at 170 for about 20+ miles. After that I slipped back to a more reasonable HR of 160 for the rest of the ride. I alternated Cytomax (my own) and water (aid stations) in my JetStream, and I ate a Gu every 25-30 minutes. I admit - I let the tops to the Gu packs fly away in the breeze, but I remembered to stash the empty packets until the aid stations where I discarded them properly. I think that I ate and drank very well - I never felt either full or low.

The infamous Chalk Hill was a welcome respite from the flats and rollers. I relaxed, geared down and concentrated on a steady uphill pace. Several people passed me on the climb, BUT surprisingly I also passed a few people on the uphill. At the crest as many people were gasping for air, I shifted into my big chainring and let fly.

After Chalk, it was downhill for several miles. Fortunately I really hammered the downhill and I made up some serious time - catching most of the people who passed me on the climb. Unfortunately the road was rough. I chose to stay aero and the road took its toll. It felt like I was absorbing most of the bumps with my lower back - more about that later.

Finally the road smoothed out and I had a very nice hammer for the last few miles. Although it is a little sadistic, it felt great to be side-by-side with some full-IM'ers as we reached the T-intersection. At the intersection the 1/2 IM'ers go left to the transition area, and the full IM'ers go right for another loop of the bike course. It felt great to know that the people beside me had another 6+ hours to go and I only had about 2...

No big deal. I followed the volunteers directions to my bike rack - I could not remember what landmark I had chosen to remember my spot when I had left my run stuff behind 5 hours ago. I yelled at some guy to get off of my towel, (he was sitting on down on my towel to change his shoes, so I could not get to my stuff until he moved), stuffed some Gu into my singlet and started running. Based on my overall time, I only had to run a 1:43 to break 5 hours. I knew that I could hold 7:45's so I was pretty jazzed.

THE RUN:

I started slow and sipped at a water bottle of Cytomax that I had brought with me. I hit mile 1 at 7:30. Things were looking good - even going slow I had a great first mile.

Then things went to hell!!!

The muscles in my lower back (right side) decided that it was time to pay me back (pun intended) for the hammering they had suffered on the descent from Chalk Hill. The muscles siezed up and were very, very painful. Running on flat ground was painful, the downhill sections were bearable and anything uphill was intolerable. I asked for Ibuprofen at two aid stations, but they had none. I stopped and stretched, but I could not loosen up my back. I gave up on the chance of breaking 5 hours. I kept trudging on.

I saw a teammate leaving the vineyard loop as I entered. He had started 14 minutes prior to me. When I got back to that spot I noted that I was actually ahead of him by two minutes. The relevance of this information will be revealed later.

At another aid station a volunteer offered to run to her car and get me some ibuprofen. I chose to wait because my back was really hurting, even standing to wait for my drugs was uncomfortable. I inhaled 800mg of Vitamin I and hit the road.

I saw my buddy again as he was climbing the largest hill on the run course. A few long miles ago I had been 2 minutes up on him. When I got back to the hill and started climbing it, I realized that I was now 14 minutes down. The walking, stopping and extra energy that it had taken to run while my back was spasming had taken their toll on my run split. Around mile six or seven the ibuprofen started to work, and I was finally able to pick up my pace. Soon after I could run at a reasonable pace I committed a tactical error.

My original race plans called for a steady run with an HR of 165, but no greater than 170. In an effort to make up some of the time that I had lost due to my back I pushed my run pace so that I was bordering on the edge of my AT. On a few of the rises I pushed into anaerobic range. The Vineman course is challenging and it did get warm. The sun and rolling hills got to me. At mile 12 I had to walk to get my HR under control.

I started running again and pushed it to the finish line crossing in the aforementioned 5:17:38 (by my watch).

LESSONS LEARNED

1. Carry ibuprofen on the bike and the run 2. Do not vary from my original race plan (if possible) 3. I really do not like people who have someone pace them on the run.... 4. I will wear socks on the run in Canada - my right instep has no skin at this time.

Cheers all - next stop IMC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Wildflower Triathlon 1998

First of all, I would like to say a very big THANK YOU to fellow Dead Chris Nugent for loaning me his car on Thursday. Thanks Chris, you are a saint. I also want to say thanks to my wife for being so supportive throughout the entire weekend. Another thank you to a tow truck driver named Sergio who really helped us out.

DAY ONE - THURSDAY

We finally hit the road at 12:30 pm. It took us about 3 ½ hours to drive to the lake and find a camping spot. I called Greg Pressler so he could post our location (thanks Greg). My wife, Winter, and I relaxed for a few minutes until - "Do you smell gasoline?" The RV was having a slight problem. Gas was pouring out the front end, and I had no clue how to stop it. We did capture most of the gas and dispose of it. One call to the RV’s owner (my father in law) and one call to the Good Sam Club and a tow truck was on the way. Three hours later the tow truck arrives with a barely competent driver, his wife and their kid. How are my wife, our dog and I going to get into town to get the RV fixed? Luckily we are camped in the same area as fellow Dead Chris Nugent who loans me his Miata (thank you, thank you, thank you). We have to leave the dog in the RV for the ride to town.

After driving a Winnebago for several hours a Mazda Miata really feels low to the ground. We made it into town and checked into a really cheap motel, and drive over to the garage to rescue the puppy from the RV. The RV is parked at the garage, the doors are locked and the tow truck driver is nowhere to be found. This can’t get much worse. I find an open window, climb in and rescue the dog.

DAY TWO - FRIDAY

I wake up and I can barely move. My stomach is in full revolt and I want to vomit, only I can’t so the feeling just lingers. I try some water and an Odwalla strawberry-banana drink. The Odwalla usually does a great job in settling my stomach, but not this time. I hurled throughout the morning, but that ‘after hurl - it’s over feeling’ never comes. Finally in the afternoon everything comes up. I finally feel empty and ready to start feeling well again. My wife is great, after the final projectile hurl she says "is that it? Do you feel better now?" About 1:00 pm, I am seriously doubting my ability to race the long course. I have not eaten or drank anything for 18+ hours and I still feel nauseous. I manage to eat a very small bowl of cereal. I sleep for several hours.

The mechanics report in - the part we needed has arrived, BUT it has to be purged with compressed air. The part exploded so they have to drive somewhere and get another part. Finally at around 3:30 we are back on the road.

We get to the lake (entering the park again was a real hassle) and we park and level the Winnebago. I am feeling a little better. I debate about doing the long course and Winter comes through again as she says "If you don’t you will hate yourself, but you shouldn’t." Point taken. She understands why I would still want to race, and why I may want to not race so she gives me the opportunity to decide without any pressure. No pressure. I decide to race - errrrr attempt, the long course. My wife needs some personal space after taking care of me all day, so I head off to the expo with Deads Kiersten Pauling and Albert Li. I register (am I really going to do the long course?). We cruise the expo. I purchase a new wetsuit, and Kiersten is carrying her Visa card in her hand ready to buy some triathlon goodies. I will let her race report speak for itself.

Back at the RV, Winter prepared a very nice spaghetti dinner which I am able to eat. We sat around for a few hours listening to Kevin describe his Big Sur marathon and talking tri babble.

DAY THREE RACE DAY SATURDAY:

It is still raining and very nasty. I ride to the TA and debate about what to wear on the race. I have never worn bike shorts in a tri. Today my goals are very light, so I decide to wear the bike shorts and a jersey for the ride. I change out of my padded speedo to avoid the ‘full diaper’ feeling that would come with both a padded speedo and bike shorts. I pile my stuff near my bike and cover it with a trash bag to stay dry. Usually I plan my transitions down to the second, and I organize my spot for easy access to all of my gear. Today it’s all in a pile - I do not really care because I am going to be very slow today.

THE SWIM

The water feels great in my new fullsuit. 260 men in the 30-34 age group is a little unnerving. I chat with someone who is wearing an IMC-RST jersey under his wetsuit. I introduce myself as the paranoid one who will not wear the jersey until after the race. He remembers my comments and laughs. I walk to the water to get ready for my wave start, get wet again, and we are off.

I swim waterpolo style for the first 200 yds. It is too crowded to go fast, so I do what I can. The water opens up after the first boat and I start swimming. As I exit the water I chant to myself "do not hit the left button, do not hit the left button." I often hit the wrong button on my watch which means that I cannot get my splits for the total race. As soon as I hit the boat dock I look at my watch and hit the left button. Damn! Oh well, my swim was 33:xx or about 3 minutes slower than I wanted.

SWIM TO BIKE TRANSITION

It is a really long run to my bike. I strip my wetsuit and pull on my bike jersey. I stuff several Gu’s (vanilla) in my jersey pocket. I decide against the bike shorts. I hope that QR seat pad is comfortable as I start the 56 mile bike ride with an unpadded speedo ;-).

THE BIKE

I cruise along the lakefront until we get to beach hill. My heart rate monitor is not working. Secondary equipment failures seem to be my theme for the weekend. On the way up Beach Hill I get passed by too many people to count, but I keep my pace slow. Since I was not able to eat much on Friday, I am really worried about hydration and eating on the bike. Mile 0-13 are rolling to hard hills and I felt really week. After the rollers is a pretty nice semi flat stretch from mile 13 to 34 where I was able to push myself a little bit. I am drinking like a fish and sucking down a Gu every 30 minutes. I chat with a couple of the riders. Some guy on a Softride with no aerobars passes me. We play tag until mile 34. His aerobars fell off at mile 16, so he gets to ride like a real cyclist ;-).

The rolling hills start again at mile 34 and I can feel my strength fading. I know that Mile 41 Hill is coming. I must be well hydrated because I have to stop and get rid of some water at mile 38. I start riding again and I finally get to Mile 41. I am not a good climber and this hill really hurts. I get passed by at least 100 people, but I am still moving forward. The downhill after mile 46 is awesome, but my bike computer is broken so I do not know what my max speed is.

I ride back to the TA on cruise to slightly harder mode. I am feeling pretty tired, but I can make it. At mile 48 I pass a guy with his bike on his shoulder and a mangled rear wheel. He is shoeless and jogging back to the TA.

Bike time - about 3:20 or so

BIKE TO RUN TRANSITION.

I get to the TA and start on the world’s longest transition. I have decided to wear my trainers which would cause blisters on bare feet, so I put on my socks, dig through my pile to find my singlet and visor, lace up my shoes because I chose not to put the elastic laces on, stuff some Gu’s into my singlet pocket and FINALLY I am off.

THE RUN

As I start moving it doesn’t feel so bad. I cruise out of the TA and start on the course. I walk through the first aid station and my hamstrings are getting tired - just no energy to run at a decent pace. We hit the dirt trail and it feels good to get off the pavement (at least for now). By mile 4 I am barely holding 10 minute miles, which really sucks, and I am walking all of the uphills. Then I hit the big uphill at mile 4.x. That one really hurt. I kept telling myself that if I walk now I will have some strength later on to run the last few miles - yeah, right. Mile 5 runs along the entrance road to the park. The guy from the bike course who was running with his bike is almost to the front gate of the park. He wrapped his tubes around his feet and he is running the the Transition Area. I heard later that he finished the race - he was pretty amazing.

Mile 7 or 8 ran right by my RV. I did not even notice. If I had noticed I probably would have bailed out right then and there. The out and back portion from miles 10 through 12 is incredibly cruel. You have to run up a grade, down the grade, turn around and attack the same grade again. I shuffle through. I am not cramping or in pain, but I have absolutely no strength in my hamstrings and I just cannot run. Just before the crest of the big hill I catch up with a guy who is also hurting. He asks if I want to race to the finish line. Now that is a funny joke. We start to run down the big hill to the finish. Somehow I am able to leave him behind and run through the finish line.

Final time - about 6:20 or so.

This race really hurt. Even though I promised myself just to have fun, I had a secret goal time that I missed by a very wide margin. I think that my training was adequate, but being sick the day before the race really hurt. I am already thinking about Wildflower 1999. With such a dismal race this year I think that I can only finish faster next year ;-).

DAY FOUR - SUNDAY

We had decided to get on the road early, before the Oly course, so we could get home. After a cup of coffee and some packing I decided to start the RV and let it warm up. First try the motor does not catch. No problem, it usually takes a few tries. Second try it does not start - still no problem. Third try I loose all 12v power to the front end. I cannot start the RV. I start the auxiliary generator, I try all of the internal lights and they work fine. The thing still has no power to the engine. I try all of the emergency starting procedures. I short both auxiliary and the main battery - they spark just fine - What the Hell is wrong here?????

I call my father in law and he has no idea what to do. I call Good Sam for a tow truck –

Good Sam "Didn’t you just call yesterday" Me ”Yes, but I am having a different problem today" Good Sam "You are not the registered owner, so you are not covered under the roadside assistance policy" Me "Funny, but you did not have a problem with that two days ago, just find me a tow truck" Good Sam "I am sorry sir, but there are no towing companies in your area." Me "I was just towed yesterday - what do you mean there are no towing companies?"

At this point I loose it and hang up. Winter and I decide to do what we can and wait until Monday. I go down to watch the International race, and Winter stays behind to study. The International race is fun to watch. I am watching with Bill who camped next to us. Bill pulled a hamstring on the Mile 41 Hill and finished the long course in a lot of pain. We both look at the International Course racers and get stoked about training for Canada.

The collegiate women’s winner is a real hammer! I heard that she was second off of the bike and I saw that she won by several minutes.

On the way up the hill Bill and I cheer the finishers on. We see Kiersten Pauling hammering the run. I walked back to the campsite and there is a tow truck in front of the RV. Now I am really confused. He was at a campsite next to ours, and Winter asked him to come over and look at our problem. This guy is great. He will run the service call through either Good Sam or AAA, and he is a mechanic too. He starts charging the batteries, but nothing happens. He checks out the engine and jumps across the solenoid to get us started. Life is good - we are on the road. Thanks Sergio.

We drive home, unload, and the weekend is now officially over. Wildflower was by far the very worst triathlon that I have ever raced. Now I need to get back in the saddle and resume training. I am already thinking about Wildflower 1999. With such a dismal race this year I think that I can only finish faster next year ;-).

Canada here I come.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Half Dome Trail Run/Walk, May 18th, 2002 (incomplete)

I am not really sure how we got the idea to run the trail up Half Dome in Yosemite National Park. I would like to blame Eric Pederson, but he swears that it was not his idea. If my memory serves me correctly we came up with the plan while attempting to find ways to train at altitude in order to prepare for the various summertime adventures that we had planned several months ago.

The trail that starts at the Happy Isles Nature Center and runs up the backside of Half Dome is textbook perfect training. It starts at 4,000’, gains 4,800’ and covers 8 or 9 miles depending on the route that you take. We knew that we could not run 100% of the trail, but we wanted to push the pace wherever we could.

Eric Pederson, Jeff Soares and I left my house at 7:00pm on Friday night bound for Yosemite. After 3+ hours of driving and a dinner stop in Merced we met up with Craig Benson at the Cedar Lodge where we had reserved a room. My dream was to wake up at 4:30 am and be on the trail by 5:30 am, but that was indeed a dream. We wound up pushing those times back by 2 hours. We entered the park at roughly 6:45am, parked, walked to the trailhead and started running at 7:30am exactly.

We were all traveling light, and I had already pulled off my long sleeve t-shirt in favor of wearing my sleeveless. It was fairly warm when we started, and I knew that I would heat up quickly once I started running.

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Davis Double Century, May 2001

The short of it:

Two hundred miles is a really, really long way to ride a bike.

Ride: Davis Double Century (http://www.davisbikeclub.org/ddc/2001/index.htm)

When: Saturday, May 19, 2001.

Route: Loop course from Davis, through Napa, Solano, Lake and Colusa counties, back to Davis

Distance: 197.6 miles (by my computer)

Time: 16 hours 34 minutes total clock time, 12 hours 35 minutes bike time

Average Speed: 15.7 MPH

Max Speed: 46.5 MPH

Weight Loss: 14 pounds (195 pre ride, 181 post ride)

This was my first double century, and it was a great and incredibly tough experience. The Davis Bike Club puts on a great ride. It’s very well supported and well marked. Compared to other California doubles, the Davis Double has less climbing and more frequent rest stops which makes it a great first time double, so they say.

That said, it was still 200 miles in the saddle on a very hot day.

Lesson Lived: Slow and steady.

Lesson ‘I would like to’ Learn: I need to train for these things. With only 157 road miles under my belt in 2001 and about 50 in 2000, this was a big jump in miles.

I started in the dark at 4:50am and finished in the dark at 9:34pm. I always knew that ultra-cyclists were a tough breed, but this gave me some new respect. There is a series in California called the Triple Crown where you have to finish three double centuries in one year. Per the Triple Crown website Davis is listed as a good beginners double century “with only three moderate hills.” If those hills are moderate, then I don’t want to see anything tougher! I salute anyone who has accomplished the Triple Crown. One 200 miler was tough enough for me. Three or more in one year is amazing.

About the course: the first 45 miles are flat, the next 90 are hilly with three tough climbs and the last 65 are supposedly downhill. By the time I hit mile 135 I needed much more than a 1% downgrade to help me along. My cadence had slowed dramatically, and everything was focused on staying hydrated and fueled in order to have the energy to finish. At that point it all felt like an uphill to me. I was very glad that it was downhill, but it just didn’t feel like it.

For the most part I only thought about 2 minutes ahead at all times. I focused on the here and now, and that really helped. The hills were going to come no matter what, so why worry about them?

I only got worried once, around mile 167, when I saw a line of hills in the distance. I could only think, “please, don’t make me try and climb those hills. I won’t make it.” Luckily I was able to forget about the hills because at mile 167 I had the attention span of a gnat. By the time I started worrying I forgot about what was causing me grief. And the road turned before we had to do any severe climbing

The day was very, very hot. The forecast high was for 90deg, but there had to be a couple of sections on the course that got close to triple digits. By the end of the ride both my jersey and shorts had a coating of white on them from all of the salt that I had sweated out. The fluids on the course were Gatorade and water, and I took one Thermotab per hour. I don’t know if the salt tablets actually help or not, but I tend to do much better when I use them.

I did my best to stay within myself and hold a pace that I knew I could handle. I rode the first 100 miles in about 7 hours and 10 minutes and the second 100 in 9 hours and 24 minutes. I took naps at rest stops 5, Lunch (6.5) and 9, and I pulled of the road and took a break several times during the ride.

The only “low” point came at mile 170 when I wanted to keep riding but my legs had absolutely nothing left in them. I took a break by the side of the road, watched a bunch of people go by, ate some Gu, drank a bunch of water and recovered for a while. Other than that I just kept plugging along. It wasn’t pretty, but it was fairly steady, and I got the job done.

The weirdest part of the ride came at Rest Stop #7, mile 133, the top of Resurrection which is the toughest hill on the course. I was sitting on the ground and I noticed that my calves were moving. Both calf muscles were pulsing and twitching all by themselves. They almost looked like a heart pumping away. I have no idea what it meant as I never cramped and they pulsated for the next 4 rest stops and 67 miles, but I made damn sure to keep my fluids and electrolytes intake up. If anyone knows why muscles just start pulsating at will, I would love to hear the answer. It was very disturbing to watch.

After Rest Stop #10, mile 178, I got a bit barn sour and pushed pretty hard to get to the finish line. I just wanted to get it over with. This is probably where I did the most damage to myself as I forgot to drink for almost an hour. For most of the ride I could eat and drink, but at the end I could not even stomach solid food which for me is a major sign of dehydration. The post-ride shower felt incredible even if it was hard to stand up for more than 5 minutes at a time.

I knew that I couldn’t make it home that night, so I found a hotel and passed out cold. I think that the waitress at IHOP was a little shocked when I asked for extra sour cream with my omelet, but I deserved it!! What’s a few grams of fat when you have just lost 14 pounds……..

The long of it:

Goals: - complete as much of the ride as possible - stay within a manageable pace - don’t bonk, or at least don’t bonk hard

I have thought about the Davis Double Century (DDC) for several years now. For some reason it sounded like a good challenge, and after last weekends incredible century, the I Care Classic, I chose to take the plunge. My road miles over the last two years totaled 157 pre-DDC, and my MTB miles probably ran about 100 or so. I had to reset my computer, so I lost count of my annual total. Basically, by completing the DDC I almost doubled my total mileage for the year.

NOTE: undertraining for a double century is not cool.

I left work at about 4:30pm on Friday to drive up to Davis. I figured that it would take me about 2 hours, but with SF Bay Area traffic I was on the road for 3 solid hours arriving at the check-in at 7:30pm. I had planned well for the drive and did my best to eat and hydrate. The forecasted high for Saturday was 92deg F, and I knew that I would need to be well hydrated.

Check-in took all of about 15 seconds. The Davis Bike Club is extremely well organized. After picking up my registration envelope I drove out to my hotel, checked in, unloaded my gear and turned on the room air-conditioner. It was about 8:15pm and even though the sun was setting it was still very warm. Tomorrow was going to be a challenge.

Time for dinner, and where else to eat but Denny’s? For some reason I was looking forward to the processed hamburger that they call chicken fried steak. My pre-race meal was deep fried battered chicken fried steak and instant mashed potatoes smothered in gravy and a side of peas (soaking in butter). It may not sound like the best choice, but I was going to need the salt and calories in the morning. Plus it tasted pretty darn good.

Saturday morning.

The alarm went off at 3:30am. According to the literature the ride starts from 5:15am to 5:45am, and I want to be there right when we can start. I knew that it was going to be a long, hot day, so I wanted to get a few miles in before the sun comes up. I grabbed a cup of coffee at Denny’s, ate a banana and a Gu, packed up the car and drove the 9 miles to the starting line.

I arrived at the ride HQ, Davis Senior High School, at about 4:35am, and there were people already heading out. It turns that ride morning registration is open from 5:15am to 5:45am, but if you check in the night before you can head out anytime you want. On the course I met a tandem couple who had started out at 4:15am, and after the ride I talked to a volunteer who said that people were riding as early as 3:00am. You can start anytime that you want just make sure to bring lights and remember that the first rest stop (22.9 miles) opens at 5:30am.

Clothing had been a big concern for me. What should I wear? How much extra should I bring? The sun was not even up yet, and I was very comfortable in my sleeveless bike jersey (read: already warm).

Oh man, it’s gonna be hot today, so I chose to go with my sleeveless jersey. I put a pair of arm warmers into a jersey pocket just in case. That would be “just in case” I wanted to carry some extra weight around the course because I wasn’t going to need any cool weather gear today. I hustled to pump up my tires and clip on my lights, and I was rolling at 4:50am.

4:50am – the beginning:

Miles 0 to 2

The first mile or two is through town, and I was grouped up with about 5 other riders. This was OK because they were holding a decent pace, and they had better lights than my cheap Cateye. I don’t like riding in pacelines with people I don’t know, but I relaxed my rule for a little while. Soon we were out into the farmlands.

Miles 2 to 23

The first few turns are well marked and there are volunteers out (even at 5:00am) to waive you in the right direction. I carried a course map with me, but that was more for general info and knowledge of upcoming terrain because I never looked at it for directions.

After about 8 miles I chose to peel off of the paceline, and they dropped me in short order. The sky was getting lighter and the course is really well marked, with volunteers at most of the morning intersections, so I was fine alone.

I did hear talk on the course that there was a major crash (possibly a fatality) in the early morning before rest stop #1. It’s very dark, the pacelines are moving fast and there are some heavily trafficked roads. If you do choose to do this ride, please exercise some caution.

I soon learned the ‘secret’ of the DDC. After several pacelines screamed by me, I started noticing a trend. Very few of the pacelines were led by single riders. At the DDC if you want to make time – get behind a tandem. Over the course of the morning I must have seen 10 or 15 tandems pulling about 30 riders each. By the afternoon, the course hits the hills and the pack break up.

Right at about mile 20 I was cruising along peacefully and it dawned on me that the hardcore folks doing IM California hadn’t even hit the water yet. I made a mental note to watch the time and when 7:00am hit, send out a mental “Good Luck” to everybody pulling a full IronMan today.

Other than that little epiphany, I was content to motor along in my little chainring until rest stop #1.

Rest Stop #1 (which also doubles as Rest Stop #10, but we’ll get to that later…)

I stopped only long enough to pull on my sunglasses. As soon as I started rolling again a semi-truck blew by me. Actually it was a paceline being led out by 4 tandems. Speaking with some riders later it turns out that the lead tandem was hoping to break 9 1/2 hours on the course. I cannot even imagine averaging over 20 MPH on a double century. Wow!

Miles 26 to 40

Rest stop #2 was 19 miles of gradual downhill and 3 miles of climbing ahead. A nice portion of the first 19 miles was on a newly paved farm road with wide shoulders. I was riding South and the sun was just coming up which made for some great roadside shadows. I was able to use the shadows to critique my bike positioning, and I have to say that I didn’t look too bad with a flat back and extended legs. I was looking quite good!

Then again, it was only mile 30…… and speaking of mile 30, it was right around here that the clock hit 7:00am. I sent out my mental “Good Luck” and hoped that it would reach down to San Diego. As silly as it sounds I was more concerned about the people doing IM Cali, especially the Iron-Virgins, than I was about myself. Granted I only had 157 road miles under me in the last two years, but my mental state was already dialed in.

- I had 200 miles to ride (now only 170). - It was going to get very, very hot. - I was totally under-trained.

And, most importantly, there was NOTHING that I could do to change any of those facts!!!

Just ride baby, ‘cause there’s nothing else to do today.

Cruising along a creek just before the climb into rest stop #2 brought a nice chill to the air and more than a few pickups pulling boats out to Lake Berryessa. The road was packed with cyclists, but there didn’t seem to be much of that “pickup versus cyclist” animosity, and that was nice to observe.

The climb into rest stop #2 was a good wakeup. I geared down and pedaled on up mainly because there wasn’t much else to do. It was really early in the ride, and I had no desire to push my pace.

Rest Stop #2, Mile 40

Rest stop #2 was packed. I find it amusing that where the riders are grouped up the most (early morning) there are the fewest porta-potties. The line was easily 50 riders long for the one or two units that were available. I didn’t need the facilities, so I filled my water bottles, grabbed a couple slices of nut bread and headed out. I had a handlebar bag full of Gu which I was planning on eating at least hourly, but for an event of this length I needed some solid food too. I also took a Thermotab (salt tablet).

It may have been early in the day, but I was already sweating profusely.

Miles 40 to 58

The ride from rest stop 2 to rest stop 3 has a big climb called Cardiac Hill. As I pedaled my way to the top I was passed by a couple of guys who wanted to know what my race schedule is for the year. I wish that they had asked that question because I was going so darned fast but it was because my Km40 tri-bike stood out like a sore thumb in the 99.95% roadie crowd. The 0.05% was me…. ;-)

My unscientific study showed only one 650c wheeled bike doing the DDC – mine!

Overall I think that I did fine on my steep-angle frame, but I can’t help but wonder if it would be better to take on distance rides with a more traditional geometry. One of these days perhaps.

Other than that there isn’t much to report for this 18 mile stretch. I just kept those pedals turnin’, drank a bunch of water and ate a Gu. Slow and steady.

Of course I couldn’t miss the fact that the sun was now up, and the temps were rising fast!

Rest stop #3, Mile 58

It’s already getting warm.

Scratch that. It was warm at 5:00am.

It is now starting to get hot!

I grab a couple more slices of nut bread and fill my water bottles. I am feeling a bit tired, but I don’t have any desire to hang out in the rest stop so I move on.

Miles 58 to 75

As I rolled along I looked at my watch and saw that is was about 8:50am. I’ve been riding for about 4 hours now, but more importantly the swim leg of Ironman California is reaching its cutoff time. I again sent out a silent “good luck” to everybody who I hoped would be well onto the bike leg by now.

The ride from rest stop 3 to rest stop 4 is actually pretty fun. There are no major obstacles, and we are rolling along through some great foothills. The only major problem for now is my hands. With my TT bars, there are not too many hand positions to switch around to. I hadn’t felt the fingers on my left hand for most of the morning, so I road right-handed for a while and shook my left hand vigorously. After several minutes I finally get some blood flow back into my left hand.

Fingers are good to have, and I would like to keep mine.

Rest Stop #4, Mile 75

Can you say “hot”?

Can you say “no shade”?

Rest Stop #4 is at the Pope Valley Grange Hall, and it’s rural California at it’s finest – a dirt parking lot with very few trees around. At this point riders are starting to get serious about the heat. Almost everybody is filling water bottles and soaking their heads with the hoses. The water will evaporate quickly, but it sure feels nice for a couple of minutes.

Again I fill up my water bottles, but I don’t grab any solid food at this stop. It’s Gu from rest stop 3 to rest stop 5. I don’t feel like hanging out in the rest stop for long with the lack of shade, so after a minute or two I start riding again.

Miles 75 to 95

There is one hill between rest stop 4 and 5. I make it up OK, but it takes a bit out of me. Somewhere near the 90 mile mark, just past the Guenoc winery, I pull off and down a Gu. I am breathing way too hard to eat, and I am starting to feel weak, so I take a break on the side of the road. I drink, eat the Gu, catch my breath and start rolling again.

It does dawn on me that I have ridden over 90 miles, and I’m still not even to the halfway point of the ride.

Slow and steady. Slow and steady. I just keep making sure that my pedals keep going round and round.

Rest stop #5, Mile 95, Middletown High School

It is almost amusing how different rides can be so completely opposite. On my century last weekend I was hammering at mile 95. Today I can barely feel my legs, and I still have another 100+ to go.

In addition, I am craving solid food, but I know that I cannot eat and ride immediately afterwards. The temperature is way up there, so I decide to make this a long stop.

I eat one and a half peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and three Oreo cookies. I usually try to avoid cookies because of the sugar high, but they looked really good. They tasted good too. After I ate I laid out on a concrete bench for a power nap. I give myself 15 minutes to relax, digest the food and just rest my legs.

It was a bit of an odd scene at the rest stop/high school. There was an “invasion” of multi-colored, lycra clad cyclists eating, drinking and sleeping, and in the school’s gym there was some sort of dance rehearsal going on. There was a constant stream of girls running back and forth from the gym to the coke machine and payphone and back to the gym. All of the young ladies were wearing dancing dresses, complete with sequins, tiaras, etc. I am not sure who looked weirder to whom.

My 15 minute power-nap was most refreshing, but getting my legs back would be tough.

Miles 95 to 105

Although it is only 10 miles between Rest Stop 5 and 6, it is a very tough 10 miles.

OK, in all honesty, it was tough for the first mile as my legs got used to riding again. Then it was fun for the next 6 miles, and then it was Hell for the next 3 miles.

No wind. No shade and a monster climb up through Big Canyon. By now it was full-blown hot! This section was easily pushing the 100degF mark.

The 10 miles still took me about an hour to cover.

For some odd reason, I could not guess the average speed at which I was traveling, but I could precisely estimate the time at which I would arrive at the next rest stop. From rest stop 3 all the way through the end of the ride I would roll out of a rest stop knowing how far I had to ride before my next break. I would then say, “I’ll be there at 2:40pm” and I would arrive exactly on the mark. For some I rode straight through, and for some I stopped several times on the way, but I would always arrive exactly at the mark that I had set.

Big Canyon is the second hardest hill on the course. It would probably be the hardest hill on the course as it is the longest climb, but the hill at mile 125 is much tougher – mainly because nobody wants to climb a hill at mile 125.

….. and now back to Big Canyon.

The entrance into Big Canyon is a deceptive downhill. As I coasted along, getting my cycling legs back, one of my water bottles fell out, or so someone told me later. I had started off with three bottles, and I thought that I could get by with two given the frequency of the rest stops. Also, that bottle had fallen out about three times by now. I was tired of turning around to pick it up, so I let it be.

Had I been aware of the bottle falling I would have stopped. This was my favorite water bottle, a big blue QR bottle that I picked up at the ½ Vineman in 1998, but I was already down the road a ways. There was no way that I was going to backtrack in this heat.

Somewhere along the way I crossed the halfway point. 100 miles down and 100 more to go.

Up I climb into the canyon. It’s hot, and I am moving slowly. I do have my climbing cassette, a 13x26, installed today, but I did not swap out my chainrings. I am riding with a 56/42 front end, and at 7MPH I am grinding out at a cadence of less than 60 RPM’s.

Slow and steady. Slow and steady. Normally, that would have been my mantra, but on a hill like this with my current gearing it’s more like “Grind baby, Grind.”

Did I mention that it is really hot?

Actually it is getting to the “brutally hot” stage as “hot” and “very hot” are no longer adequate adjectives for this temperature.

Surprisingly I was able to catch and pass several people on the climb up Big Canyon. No matter how slow you are there is usually someone who is even slower.

By this time, full strength Gatorade is almost unpalatable, so I stick with water. I drink as the road curves left, and I drink as the road curves right. It’s incredibly hot, and I do not want to get dehydrated. I wish that I could bring in some drama to make this story more interesting, but, in truth, it was a grind, a long grind, a really long and really hot grind.

Almost at the top of Big Canyon I started feeling dizzy, and I had a hard time collecting my thoughts. Luckily there are a few trees around, so I pulled of to the left to take a break, slam a Thermotab and drink some more. An older couple pulls up on a Seven tandem to enjoy a bit of shade. Wow, what a sweet bike! A custom made titanium tandem. We chat for a couple of seconds then I mount up and head off to rest stop #6.

Rest Stop #6

It turns out that #6 was only about 1/4 mile away, just around a blind right corner. I could have been resting where there was fresh water instead of just on the side of the road, but it didn’t really matter. I really needed that roadside break.

It had only been 10 miles since the last rest stop and I was feeling hammered. Luckily this rest stop had a new food item – watermelon. Sweet and juicy watermelon is as good as it gets. I wolfed down 3 slices, filled up my water bottles, sucked down a Gu and started riding again.

Miles 105 to 114

Did I mention that Rest Stop 6 is NOT at the top of Big Canyon?

Nooooo, there’s still another 2+ miles of uphill to go! Luckily I feel better with my new found love of watermelon and I actually have cool water in my water bottles, so I am content to sit and grind my way to the top.

The next rest stop is the lunch stop, and it is only 9 miles away. On the way up I chat with a guy who is a nursing student and a father and he also rides the Davis Bike Club Brevet series. I am not too sure where he finds the time to get all of that done. A couple of years back he qualified for Paris-Brest-Paris which is way out of my league. My first 200-miler is the only goal for the day. The 750 miles of PBP is not even on my horizon. It is more than a little amusing that he feels compelled to tell me how little he has been able to train this year, only 100 miles per week on average. I chose not to clue him in that having just ONE 100 mile week would have been great for me.

We chatted about components and life until we hit the downhill that comes just after the Top of the DC right at mile 110 or so. I picked up some well earned speed and left him behind.

The downhills in the Davis Double Century are really nice. Good, non-technical turns that you can carry some nice speed through. My Km40 handles like a pig, but I am not even on my brakes once.

The last time that I rode this far was at Ironman Canada in 1998. It’s been three years since I have ridden 112 miles, and I cruise through mile 112 today with a smile on my face!

Rest stop #7, Mile 114 LUNCH!!!!

As I wait in line to make myself a sandwich I start talking with the guy in front of me. It is almost comforting to know that no matter how insane your non-athlete friends may think you are you can always bump into someone who is far more mentally unbalanced than yourself at an event like this.

Last weekend I rode a century – 100 miles. Last weekend the guy in front of me road a double century, and today he is riding another double century. That’s two double centuries in two weekends. Compared to him I feel relatively normal.

Sandwich and Sprite in hand I find some shade underneath a big tree, pull off my shoes and take on whole bite. My stomach rebels at the solid food.

I manage to pack in a couple of bites, but there will be very little solid food for me at this stop. I just can’t eat, so I sip my Sprite and lie down for a little while. The conversations drone on around me:

“How many Death Ride’s have you done?” “This will be my third Triple Crown” (at least 3 200-milers in one year). “Where are riding at next weekend?”

It’s mile 114, and there are people contemplating their next ride. I’m just contemplating some sleep. I pop up at my appointed time, gear up and start riding again. It has not cooled off any over the last 30 minutes or so that I was at the lunch stop.

In fact it has probably gotten just a bit hotter.

86 miles to go.

Miles 114 to 133

The course turns left and crosses over a stream leading into clear lake. Normally one can hope for some cool air near a stream.

Yes, one can hope, but it is not going to happen today.

Mile 115.4, take a left at the entrance to Wal-Mart. How nice, Wal-Mart has invaded the rural town of Clear Lake too.

The hill called Resurrection starts at mile 126, and I wind up pulling a paceline halfway there.

This is ludicrous! I am probably the least trained rider on the course, and people are stupid enough to suck my wheel. Do these guys know anything about me? Why do they trust me so much? No offense intended, but I think that it is pretty stupid to get that close to someone you don’t know. It’s almost worse than tailgating in a car.

I swerve left to let them by and they won’t budge. I swerve right and they follow blindly. Finally I give up and ignore their existence. If they take me down due to stupid riding I am going to be really pissed off. At the base of a short uphill they finally pull away.

POINT OF ETIQUETTE: If you draft off of someone for 5 miles, at least say “Thank You.” It’s not that hard to do considering that someone else has just helped you along – not that I’m bitter…..

And now back to the ride……

This is a monumental point for me. I have never ridden more than 120 miles.

At the base of another exposed, treeless hill I switch my computer from speed to distance to see when I break my personal distance record.

120 MILES !!!!

Ladies and gentlemen, we are now entering uncharted waters. Only these waters are hot and steep not dark and deep. I slowly make my way to the top of the hill. The downhill onto Resurrection is a blast. I max out at 46.3 MPH without even trying, but that all comes to an end at the base of Resurrection.

From the elevation chart it looks like Resurrection climbs about 1000 feet in about 4 miles which only averages out to a 5% grade. In spots it is probably steeper, but let’s take a little quiz.

What is more fun than climbing a 5% grade? Climbing a 5% grade that comes at mile 125!

What’s better than that? Throw in temps that are well above 95degF and probably pushing 100degF.

What’s even better than that? Why yes, a headwind is just the thing!

I would like to say that I felt miserable, but I wasn’t feeling very much at all. I couldn’t feel my left hand, and my legs were just plain tired. I keep promising myself that if I saw a shade tree then I was going to stop and rest. After I pass a couple of trees I finally stop where another guy has taken refuge.

Soon a sag wagon comes along. It turns out that the other guy is toast – he’s heading in. I get some cold water from the sag and sit down for a break. A couple more riders pull in too. Soon I am back on the road, going uphill. After a few minutes my water bottles have been sun baked and I’m drinking warm water again.

Has anyone noticed that “uphill” is a common theme here?

I stop again a few miles down the road. Only this time I stop next to the guy who is riding the beach cruiser. That’s not too good for the ego – here I am on my multi-thousand dollar ultra light racing bike, and lo and behold, some guy on a beach cruiser is keeping pace with me. Ouch.

In all honesty, it didn’t really bother me at all. We were both out here for our own reasons, and it was incredibly impressive to see this guy hammering along on a 35+ pound 5-speed.

Rest Stop #7, Mile 133, almost the top of Resurrection

I dropped my bike, grabbed my water bottles and lined up for a refill. The line was at least 25 riders deep, and I was not looking forward to the wait. One of the young volunteers is asking each person if they would like her to fill their bottles for them and most declined.

I may be insane, but I am not stupid.

“Yes please, one bottle with water and one with ½ Gatorade, ½ water.”

If she is willing to let me sit down while she fills my bottles then I am more than willing to let her. I grab some watermelon and a coke while my water bottles are filled for me. That’s really nice!!!

There are no trees at this highway pullout, so I find a spot underneath an umbrella and sit my butt down. At this point I took a look at my legs. My calves had taken on a life of their own. I was not moving, but my calves were. They were pulsing and twitching almost like a heart muscle. I wasn’t cramping and they were not in pain, but that was the first time that I have ever seen any of my muscles moving of their own accord.

After a few short minutes I realized that it was too hot to get much relief, so I saddled up and hit the road, pulsating calf muscles and all.

Miles 133 to 147

After a miniscule rise to the top of Resurrection, it’s all downhill to Rest Stop #8.

That’s not totally true.

From the profile map, it looks like it’s completely downhill, but there are a couple of flat sections thrown in. After climbing Resurrection and Big Canyon it’s really nice to get in a gravity assisted ride.

I was basically alone for this 14 miles, and it was awesome. I was actually able to catch one other rider, but other than that it was just me on a two-lane country road. I was able to hit my big chainring for a few miles of what one could almost call “hammering” (if you wish to be charitable). I wasn’t riding fast, but I felt pretty good. And it is awfully nice to feel just a little good when one is over 130 miles into a ride.

Unfortunately this feeling didn’t last too long. About a mile away from Rest Stop #8 I could feel the energy draining from my legs. I hadn’t overtaxed myself in the last few miles even though I had been riding a bit faster than before. Then again, this was mile 147, and I had been out here for over 12 hours by now. Loosing a little bit of steam was just to be expected. I often find it amazing that the highs and lows during a long event came occur almost simultaneously. One second I was feeling like a million bucks, and the next second I was struggling to keep the pedals turning.

Mile 147 Rest Stop #8

By this time I was sitting down at every rest stop, if only for a few minutes. This one even had chairs and the shade of a big old oak tree.

I loaded up on Gatorade and water and a few cookies, took a few minutes rest and got back on the road. My mental state was incredible. I was tired, I had over 50 miles to go, it was still very hot and I could have easily sagged it home, but that wasn’t even a consideration. There was riding to do, and I needed to get it done.

Miles 147 to 165

Fatigue was really pushing me down in this section. While it is slightly downhill it still took some pushing on the pedals to keep the wheels turning. Mentally I was feeling really good. I knew that I was tired and my legs had almost no energy left in them, but I also knew what I had to do.

I kept to my plan which was to drink as much as possible, eat often, take a salt tab or ibuprofen as needed and keep those pedals turning round and round.

By my standards this was a beautiful section of the course, and that helped a lot. I grew up in a rural section of California in the foothills, and this section was exactly that. True, the few trees that were around were oaks and not pine, but the effect was similar – a two lane country road cruising through the foothills under a wide open sky. I was in a good frame of mind.

Also the sun had reached its zenith some time ago and was heading down. It was still hot, but relief was in site. I was hoping to be back at the start/finish by the time it got dark, but I wasn’t too sure that was going to happen. In the past the knowledge that I had would not meet a goal – being done before dark – would have frustrated me to no end. But not today. There was nothing I could change about where I was, how far I still had to ride and how much energy I had to get it all done, so why waste energy on negative thoughts?

Although it wasn’t as hot, the air was incredibly dry. I had to drink constantly to keep my mouth from feeling like a dust storm. This was a good thing as it forced me to hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

Rest Stop #9, Mile 165, what used to be a one room schoolhouse

Since I was fatigued I knew that this was going to be a long stop.

I laid my bike down and walked over to the food line. Yet again the spread was amazing. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, salted potatoes, cookies of all sorts and a new treat – Cup o’ Noodles soup!!! Normally I would avoid Cup o’ Noodles because the sodium content is high enough to kill a Clydesdale (the horse, not the triathlete), but today was definitely NOT normal. Noodles submerged in salt broth sounded like just the ticket.

I gathered up my food just as the perfect resting spot came open, one of those folding beach lounge chairs. I plopped my butt down and started to feast.

I had been holding pretty much to myself for most of the ride, but the crowd here was very engaging. One rider was a double century junky with the Terrible Two (16,000 feet of climbing) and the Devil Mountain Double (18,000 feet of climbing) to his credit. After chatting for a bit I nodded off for some needed rest.

Have I mentioned that doing a double without training is very taxing on the body????

I woke up later and one rider was making his decision to pull out of the ride. He’d had enough. I found it most comical to listen to him.

“Two years ago, I spent 45 minutes in this very rest stop and then continued on. I ain’t going to do that again.”

Cool, I had only been here for 35 minutes – I had another 10 minutes to go…. ;-)

Soon those 10 minutes were up, and it was time to hit the road again.

Miles165 to 178

It took me a couple of miles before my legs felt like pedaling again, and shortly thereafter they didn’t want to pedal at all. I did what I had to do. I stopped, pulled off the side of the road and sat down for a few minutes. Two sag wagons came by, but I waived them off. This was just a tough spell. I knew that I could finish. I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t make it home before dark, so I just listened to my body and took a needed break.

One water bottle and one Gu later and it was back to the bike.

At one point the two lane country road widened and improved considerably. There was now a real bike lane and the pavement was great. A couple of miles later the local casino came into view. If you want people to gamble I would guess that you better have some good roads for them to drive on. Yes, the casino’s parking lot was full.

There was one little rise in this section, and it really hurt to ascend what could only have been about one hundred feet. Mentally I was doing great. I was setting the appropriate expectations, but they were very, very low expectations. What at one time in my life might have been “let’s try to break 20MPH” became “let’s try to pedal this bike.”

Slow and steady. Just get the job done.

Finally we were back in the farmlands and it was time to make some right and left turns. After being on essentially the same road for about 60 miles it was great to have to pay attention to the course markings again.

Rest Stop #10, Mile 178

I know this place!!!

Well, OK Rest Stop #1 doubles as Rest Stop #10, and I had been there once before in my life some 15 hours ago.

By now you probably know the drill – fill water bottles, grab a bit of food (this time a banana), sit for a spell and then get back on the road. Yet again the volunteers were awesome, arranging chairs, delivering food, checking on general well-being. This ride is a class act.

I only had 22 miles to go, and I knew that I would make it. It gave my ego a bit of a boost to see someone who had dropped out drive out to the rest stop to meet some friends who were still riding. I was sitting near them, and I listened to him describe how tough it had been for him with today’s conditions. This was not a competition by any means, but it felt good to know that I had done a great job of listening to my body and pacing myself. Coming into this event undertrained could have been a disaster, but I was doing great and only had 22 miles to go.

22 dark miles as the sun was now gone, but at least it was cooling off.

Miles 178 to 193

Since we were now back into the farmlands we had the added benefit of evaporative cooling from the irrigation canals. It was starting to feel quite pleasant other than the fact that I couldn’t feel the fingers in my left hand and my legs were hoping to jump ship to a new body.

Through the fields.

Earlier in the day I had enjoyed my shadow as it revealed a very nice aero-position. Now, the sun was down, so I didn’t have to see my shadow in what had to be a less than stellar hunchback impersonation.

Surprisingly I made a pretty big mistake once the weather cooled off. With the cooler temps and moisture in the air from the irrigation canals I forgot about drinking. In the last 20 miles of a 200 mile ride, I let myself get dehydrated because I quit thinking about one of the most important aspects of ultra-events – Hydration. The air was cool. I felt OK. Why drink?

Luckily it was no big deal this time, but I cannot forget this lesson in the future (especially when I try to ride more than 200 miles).

Rest Stop #11, Mile 193 or Where I Really Didn’t Want to Stop but Had no Choice

The Davis Double is well supported, well marked and has very few rules. One of those rules is, in my opinion, a good idea.

- After dark, riders must leave rest stops in groups of 5.

This increases the cyclists chance of being seen by motorists on the unlit two-lane farm roads that surround Davis. OK, this sounds like a great rule, at least logically, until you are the one who just wants to get the hell back to town and get off of your bike!!!

At the Plainfield Fire Station I was waived in by a volunteer and told to wait for 4 more riders. Two came in shortly after me, and they were raring to get back on the road, but since we had to wait for two more one of them decided to use the rest room. Soon two more riders came in and we had our five-some. As is usual in any cat-herding situation the second two-some decided to use the rest room because we had to wait for the first guy. After they left, the woman from the first two-some decided that it was finally a good time to hit the facilities.

During this interlude the volunteer in charge of headlight enforcement took a break to deal with some medical issues that were occurring on the course, and a tandem and a lone cyclist were able to cruise by without stopping.

Aaaaaargh, can we just get going now?

Miles 193 to 200

Not being a good team player I dropped the hammer when we hit the road again. It wasn’t much of a hammer, but I could see the lights of Davis and I was ready to be done.

I have no idea how fast I was riding because it was pitch black by now, and I could not see my computer except when the occasional big truck went by and shared his bright headlights with me. Who cares how fast I was going? To me it felt like I was flying!

I caught the tandem and the lone cyclist and left them in my wake, or so I thought. As usual they jumped onto my wheel for a free ride. I gotta look back more often.

I backed off the pace about 2 miles outside of town. Soon I started seeing streetlights. Civilization and the end of the ride coming up! A few left and right turns and there stood the Davis Senior High School.

SWEET!!!!

Home Sweet Home.

I parked my bike, checked in and rode the two blocks down to my car where I called my wife to let her know that I had finished the ride safe and sound. I love cell phones for calls like that.

After packing up my bike I drove back to the high school for a well-deserved shower. I just wanted to go to sleep, but I held myself up long enough to wash off a serious layer of salt deposits. Both my jersey and my shorts were well coated with a white layer of sweated salts.

I tried to eat some of the post-ride Mexican food, but due to dehydration my stomach could not tolerate any of it.

So I drove off into the night……. only to call my wife minutes later to tell her that I was going to find a hotel room for the night. There was no way that I could make it the two hours back to home without falling asleep at the wheel.

I drove around a bit and found a Budget Inn or Comfort Inn or Beside the Freeway Here’s a Bed Inn that had a vacancy. I further validated my choice to find a place the crash when I fell asleep while resting my head on the counter at the check-in desk. I was one tired puppy.

I was also one very satisfied puppy!

200 miles in one day. That feels pretty good.

On a down note, it took me about 5 weeks to recover. Losing 14 pounds in 16 hours is not a recommended diet for anyone. While I usually never get sick, I caught the flu a couple of weeks later that had me laid out for several days.

I’m pretty sure that better preparation (read: training) would have resulted in a much shorter recovery period, but then again……

that was one of the coolest things that I have ever done!

A double century without training.

Epic! Truly epic!

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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When you live near a lake. Quack quack

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myneighborhood-thelake · 3 years

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Mt. Whitney, May 2021

Sometimes a sufferfest is exactly what the doctor ordered, and, thankfully, permits to hike Mt. Whitney (14,508′) are online. It takes a little searching on recreation.gov for the permits to come available, but they can be booked immediately. On Monday, May 24th, a day hike permit for Wednesday, May 26th became available, so I grabbed it.

OK, I had scored a permit the week before, but I’d strained my right calf during a 3 mile run and wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to hike 21+ miles in the backcountry with a bad calf. In the meantime, I had strained my calf more on a 5 mile run, but I really wanted to get back onto Whitney.

I left town about 11:30am on Tuesday. Unlike previous trips to the Eastern Sierras, I was in no hurry. This time I decided to set cruise control at 70 MPH (the speed limit), and see what gas mileage I could get up to. It also took the edge completely off of driving. A few podcasts later and mileage was showing a solid 44 miles per gallon. Considering it’s an SUV (a compact SUV, but an SUV all the same), I was pretty happy to see 44 MPG.

Around Bakersfield, I cut east and crossed over the mountains to Tehachapi. Hitting the 14 North, I let the hypermileage goal go and bumped cruise up to 75. Fuel mileage dropped, but that was OK. Cruising along without much traffic I rolled into Lone Pine around 5:30 or 6:00pm.

Also unlike previous trips, I had no need to stop in Lone Pine, so I turned left on Whitney Portal Road and proceeded up the hill to the Portal.

It’s somewhat early in the season, so I wasn’t sure if the parking areas would be filled with hikers’ cars or if there would be spaces available. I had decided to literally car camp for the night and just needed a parking spot and not a campsite. Thankfully, hiker parking was only about 50% full, and I backed into a nice spot really close to the trailhead.

Camping - a Honda CR-V is the definition of “compact SUV” which may make a few folks wonder how my 6′1″ frame can fit to car camp. If you slide both front seats all the way forward and put down the back seats there’s enough room for a twin mattress in the back which is just long enough for me to sleep on.

I spent some time organizing my pack for the hike, laying out my sleeping bag, and boiling water for some freeze dried beef stew.

I was so close to the trailhead that I had to check pack weight and was OK with my pack coming in at 15 pounds.

(that’s 8.81# of water (4l), 1# first aid kit (I could reduce that), 0.83# H2O filter, and about 1 1/2#’s for my pack (1.62# to be precise). That means there was 2 3/4# of food, sunscreen, trail meds and such. I’m not in shape to hike 20+ miles at altitude, so cutting down on pack weight helps a LOT!

Freeze dried beef stew? 10/10, perfection. Maybe one of the best freeze dried meals I’ve ever had even though it had been in my camping box for probably 5 years (or more).

After cleaning up a bit and popping up the sunroof for ventilation it was time to crawl in and try to get some rest.

Suprise, surprise, it was super comfy. I read for a bit and finally got tired enough to try and sleep. I was planning on a 2:30am wakeup and 3:00am start on the trail. Usually sleep is elusive and sounds from other campers and cars inhibits good rest but not this time. I was quite comfy and drifted off easily.

At about 1:45am I woke up feeling quite rested. Sure, I tried to go back to sleep for my 2:30am alarm, but I felt perfectly rested and decided after a few minutes to get on with the day.

The previous night I had setup my morning caffeine (mandatory) in the form of a mountain mocha. 2 starbucks Via instant coffees and a packet of hot chocolate (that had probably been in the camping box for 5+ years). After drinking that and consuming a banana it was time to hit the trail. At about 2:15am or 2:20am, under the light of a full moon, I hit the trail.

Even with the full moon I still needed my headlamp due to treecover and cliffs blocking the moonlight. At this point I kicked on the high beam for my headlamp and realized I’d made a mistake... When the high beam starts flashing it means batteries are low. Ooops. Looks like this hike will be under the weak light of low beam. Oh well. I usually carry extra batteries and never use them, so this was OK in my book. I just needed to be sure to be off the mountain before darkness fell at the end of the day.

Passing a few folks with fuller packs and trekking poles I was glad of two things - low pack weight and being able to focus solely on my pace. I was just cruising along knowing that I wasn’t in shape or trained for distance. I’m just stoopid enough to know how to suffer well.

I totally missed when I passed Lone Pine lake, just focusing on the trail ahead and taking frequent small sips of water from my Camelbak. For water I had my 3 liter reservoir and an additional 1 liter water bottle for a little more than a gallon on board. I like the additional 1 liter because I can use it if my reservoir hits empty between water stops.

The trail started dropping down which was a bit disconcerting. I know that the trail drops a couple hundred feet right before Outpost Camp, but I couldn’t be there yet. Turns out I was there! 2 easy hours on trail and the sign “Outpost Camp” was right in front of me. 3 1/2 miles in 2 hours is pretty pedestrian, but for me, at altitude, it’s a good pace.

I had the option to refill my water at Outpost Camp but did not need to and cruised straight through. Note to anyone thinking of doing an overnight trip on Whitney - don’t stay at Outpost Camp. It’s too low down the mountain and leaves way too much for day 2. Shoot for Trail Camp instead which is at 12,000′ and 2 1/2 miles further up the trail meaning 2 1/2 miles less to cover on summit day.

Leaving Outpost Camp I did my usual and got lost trying to find the trail. The moon was well past the mountain, providing no light, and my headlamp was pretty pathetic by then. I inadvertently looped in a big circle before stopping and using available clues - water sounds. Being color blind does not help when the trail is just a different shade of grey than surrounding dirt. No worries, after homing in on the waterfall sounds I picked up the trail again and started my relentless progress toward Trail Camp.

A word about the trail - it is a trail, but it’s also pretty difficult. Lots of rocks to step up on or over, all of different sizes and at random distances, so you have to really pay attention to foot placement and balance. You can’t get into a rhythm and just cruise along. It also saps a lot of energy.

At this point I realized that my balance was really bad. Normally above 10,000′ the altitude really hits me hard. This trip I didn’t have any problems with altitude sickness, but my equilibrium was TOAST! It was not fun stumbling around at points, and my right shin took the hit on an unforgiving granite rock. My right calf was also aching pretty steadily.

Before Trail Camp I passed a party of 3 guys, one of whom asked “are these the 99 switchbacks?” No, man. We need to get to Trail Camp first and THEN we get to do the switchbacks.

I think it took about an hour to get from Outpost Camp to Trail Camp at 12,039′. My water reservoir felt good plus I still had the 1 liter backup bottle, so instead of stopping to refill I cruised through Trail Camp and on to the 99 switchbacks.

The switchbacks run up the face of a cliff and are pretty tough. Lots of granite steps requiring good foot placement and working the legs with their random sizes from only a few inches tall to big steps at 2+’ tall. Plus they are above 12,000′ and the air definitely feels much less dense. It was about 1/3 of the way up the switchbacks that I took my first break just to catch my breath. I think it may have been the first time I ate. Stroopwafels are amazing...

Oh yeah, I never count the switchbacks. You’re either done with them or have more to go, so just keep moving.

About 2/3 of the way up I had been trudging along, head down, eyes on my feet placement for each step, with my boony hat blocking any view of the trail ahead. I stopped to get a Gu Chew out of my left hip belt pocket, which is much less accessible than my right hip belt pocket. It took some contortion, but I finally got them out and popped one into my mouth.

Sure, there are better packs for endurance activities that make it easy to access pockets, but I’ve had my Salomon pack for 23 years now, and it still works.

After chewing for a bit I looked up and jumped back in surprise! About 2 feet in front of me, sitting on a boulder just off the trail was and extremely pretty, very blonde, woman in her early 20′s. Where the hell had she come from????

She apologized for scaring me.

I apologized for stopping in her personal space.

I’ll be honest, it took me a few moments to decide she was real. It was really weird.

Oh well, onward and upward.

The water in my reservoir ran out just before Trail Crest (13,777′, 8.5 miles), so I stopped to put the water from my 1l bottle into the reservoir. I also looked down the trail to see if the mountain sprite was real, and she seemed to be.

After downing another stroopwafel and some Gu Chews (expensive gummi bears), I shouldered my pack and headed towards the summit. Thankfully I was still not feeling any signs of altitude sickness.

After Trail Crest there is some exposure to potentially long falls off of a cliff face, but the danger is pretty minimal. Well, except when a corner is exposed and still packed with snow. THAT got the pulse to spike a little, but soon the summit house was visible in the distance. Still a long way off but visible. Just keep moving.

At this point I was really feeling the effort and it’s about 14,000 feet in elevation making for slow hiking. I was able to catch a couple and then turn right up the summit dome. There’s not really much else to say other than - just keep walking, and then there’s the summit. 14,508′ (10.7 miles)

I think it took about 6 hours and 15 minutes to get to the summit which is a pretty good time for me, and maybe one of my fastest. Add in I’m doing no endurance training and feeling no altitude sickness and I was super stoked.

As usual. Take summit picture, eat, drink, relax, shoulder pack and start going back down. Yup, that’s about as exciting as it gets. I left the summit at 9:00am

The trip back down was uneventful. Saw a bunch of people heading up, so I stepped to the side and let them pass which gave me a few breaks. I do not appreciate the elevation lost just after Trail Crest on the way up because it’s elevation that needs to be gained on the way back and on a difficult section of trail, but it is what it is.

I cruised down the switchbacks and stopped in Trail Camp to filter water and refill my reservoir. It was nice to take a solid 15 minute break. Of course I ate another stroopwafel. Damn, those things are AMAZING!

My hands were so swollen with edema that it was a bit challening to pump the filter, but that’s why I don’t use trekking poles. My hands always puff up like cooked sausages and make it impossible to handle trekking polls. Plus, it’s one less thing to worry about. - the trekking poles, not my hands.

Back down the trail. Now I was tired, my legs were feeling the effort from the trail and constantly changing terrain. Just keep moving.

Down through Outpost Camp, by now it was 1pm, but it felt like it was 6 or 7pm due to my early start. Somehow, along the way, I got completely off trail and wound up on the shores of Lone Pine Lake which I had not even seen on my way up. I’m pretty sure this was another case of missing the trail due to blending colors and sunglasses, but I wasn’t worried. I could retrace steps or do a little bushwhacking which is what I did. After crossing a couple of creeks and doing some minimal bouldering I was back on trail and heading down.

After loosening up my watch a few times due to swelling, I saw that I had an outside chance of being done in 12 hours or so. Normally the trip down is a breeze compared to the trip up, but the trail conditions always limit my ability to make time on the descent.

About 1/2 mile from the end I saw a family, with young kids, having a picnic by the side of the trail. I took my eyes off the trail in order to say something nice to them about getting their kids out. Unfortunately, right then the trail dropped off by several feet which meant I landed solidly on my right foot and sent a serious jolt directly up my calf that hurt like HELL!

I limped the last 1/2 mile to the trailhead being very happy that it had occured so close to the end of the trail.

Something like 12 1/2 hours had elapsed, and a lot of those hours were exactly what I needed, time utterly devoid of anything other than focussing on the trail directly in front of me and where I needed to place my feet. Suffering has a way of distilling life down to its essence, and I’m very happy that I get to experience this when I choose to.

After that it was a 7 hour drive home. After a quick stop in Lone Pine for a full tank of gas, a coke, and a package of Oreo’s, I was on the road back to San Jose, arriving home at about 10:30pm.

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