I knew this would be hard, but...
October 21, 2006 -- 6:45 a.m. at Furnace Creek Ranch. Here we all are, primed and ready to go. Everyone's had their carb-heavy breakfast and we're ready to hit the road. They let us go in waves of 50, and since the race wasn't official, this was more or less unorganized. We left in the second wave of 50, me and the 9 other JDRF Northwest folks. We adopted a lone Minnesota chapter lady named Mary so she wouldn't have to ride alone. But someone else would have, I'm sure. Everyone was really nice, and there was a huge support and team atmosphere.
The course was a direct out-and-back route. So basically there were two right turns, (one out of the ranch) one u-turn, and two lefts. And the first turn was at mile 1.
Mile 0 -- Uphill for roughly one mile. Everyone is feeling great and this hill seems like nothing. We've just started!
Mile 1 -- A right turn and a sign that says "Badwater, 17 miles". This conjures up images of the Badwater Ultramarathon that is a 135 mile run in July. What we are doing now is a piece of cake compared to that.
Miles 2-17 were some of the easiest I've ever ridden. Absolutely no wind, (remember this later) the sun was not up yet, but it was still warmish, about 70. You just can't dream up better riding weather than this. The sun was just starting to hit the tops of some of the mountains, and I was tempted to not hit the first rest stop:
Checkpoint 1, mile 17.7 -- Badwater. I was feeling great but decided to stop anyway. Grabbed a quick refill of gatorade and water, grabbed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in a sandwich bag, some clif gummy things of some sort, and hit the road. I was now in front of the rest of my team. I should have needed to use the bathroom here, as they tell you, your water intake should be enough that you need to go at every checkpoint. This site doubled as a viewpoint for tourists, but no time for that.
Miles 18 - 33 were still pretty easy. The sun poked it's head out and would not leave for the rest of the day. I fell in with a group from Ohio and drafted a bit. Some wind blowing sideways but not much trouble. When we got to checkpoint 2, I began to think this was going to be too easy. I hadn't even eaten my sandwich yet, so I wolfed it down quick before stopping at the second checkpoint. I figured I'd better eat some.
Checkpoint 2, mile 33.5 -- Mormon Point. This place was more desolate, and the weather was becoming less forgiving. The wind that I hadn't noticed while riding was picking up while here at the checkpoint. I grabbed some more food, water, and gatorade, (it was actually half gatorade and half water.) The only thing the volunteers had for protection was a tent, which was in danger of blowing away. I ran into the rest of our crowd again and everyone was in good spirits.
Miles 34 - 44 I was starting to notice that I was on a ride. I definitely started feeling my legs and my butt. But compared to my Seattle training rides, this was still feeling pretty easy, even pulling into the checkpoint at 44.5. The road quality started to dwindle, as did the crowd of bikes, and also the scenery started looking pretty much the same.
Checkpoint 3, mile 44.5 -- Ashford Mill. At this checkpoint you definitely got the feeling you were out in the middle of nowhere. There was one road that ran at a right angle to us, and went absolutely nowhere. The riders faces were starting to show a little pain but mine probably did too. Even though I had ridden a lot further than 44, that's still a decent ride. And the heat was starting to pick up. I checked my agenda and noted that the next checkpoint was the turnaround point at Jubilee Pass, just 8 miles away. I knew this was an uphill ride but then I would be turning around and it was the same easy ride from there. This century thing was starting to look a little to easy.
Miles 45 - 52.5, my illusions of an easy ride were shattered. My camera shows that I stopped taking pictures around mile 47 or 48. So, it was explained to me that Jubilee pass was a pretty big hill. Roughly 1500 feet in elevation gain in around 5 or 6 miles, or so. (Badwater was below sea level. Jubilee was 1,285 feet above.) But I really didn't know what this meant. Well, I do now. What it means is straight up with no let-up in the increase. I had thought that training in Seattle would prepare me for this, but even Seattle doesn't have 5 mile hills. I granny-geared it the whole way up. I thought that I was going only fast enough to keep the bike up, but I did pass a group of folks going up. I kept passing and getting passed by this guy from Chicago. I joked with him that there were no hills in Chicago. He stated that there was one hill in his suburb that he would ride up and down all the time. At first I thought he was joking. I also ran into a couple from Wisconsin, and I could tell by the guy's socks. I talked football with them for a while to take my mind off things. I was seriously thinking I was going to have to walk. Finally, after much sun-baked cursing and wanting to stop, I saw the tent for checkpoint 4 and it was a welcome sight. There was much jubilation at Jubilee Pass. Everyone was cheering like they had made it to the end of the ride. The girl of the couple from Wisconsin started crying. I stopped and got my water and food again, this time taking a little too long. I was loathe to get back on the bike, even though it was downhill. David, our coach, actually went back down the hill and helped his sister up. It was pretty cool to see him riding up the hill with his hand on Karen's back, pushing her up. I saw most of the rest of the team there too.
Miles 52.5 - 61 were mostly easy. I coasted down the hill taking in the scenery and a couple of pictures. At the bottom, checkpoint 3 doubled as checkpoint 5 for those on their way back. Even though I didn't need it, I stopped. On my way there, I noted that I felt like I was pedalling in mud. I chalked it up to being accustomed to going downhill.
Checkpoint 5 -- Ashford Mill, mile 60.5 - Despite having to pedal rather hard for a downhill ride, I wasn't ready for a stop yet. So soon after a huge downhill, it really seemed kind of stupid to stop at this point. However, I thought that I shouldn't pass up the chance. Filled up on water and gatorade again and hit the road. I hit the road with Karen, Jude, John, Fred, and Mary, our adopted teammate from Minnesota.
Miles 60.5 - 71.5 -- Despite the rush I got from meeting up with teammates and riding with them, I still felt like I was pedalling in mud. Remember the lack of wind on the way out? Well, I found out that is called a "tailwind." And, when the wind is blowing right into your face, that is called a "headwind. " It was a little like having to tow a car right behind you, tied up to the bike, except worse, because at least going downhill that would be easy. There were times on level ground when we were held back to 6 miles per hour. And sometimes going downhill, we would be doing 9. And this was drafting behind Jude. Note to readers, Jude kicked ass throughout this point. Jude has type 1 diabetes, and basically pulled us through these miles, barely taking a break from drafting. At one point, I found myself falling behind even my slow team, and couldn't keep up. I became a total loner, probably around mile 65 or thereabouts. But even then, as slow as I was going, (sometimes 4 and 5) I was not being passed. Whatever was holding me back, was holding everyone else back.
I noted a funny noise in front of me, whenever the wind would briefly let up. I looked down and noticed that my front tire was nearly flat! I stopped to pump it up and take a break. It was desolate. Nobody behind me, nobody in front, middle of the desert. Nothing but me, my bike, and the road. A little freaky. Finally I got passed by a team of 3 who asked if I was OK, and I lied and said yes.
I felt a little better after pumping up the tire but it was still a struggle to make it to the next stop at checkpoint 6.
Checkpoint 6 -- Mormon Point, 71.5 miles -- Met up with the rest of the gang here, where I was pleased to find Subway sandwiches and potato chips and soda. The volunteers scrambled to find me a regular coke. (Who drinks diet on a century ride? They should outlaw diet, seriously. It tastes like crap and isn't even better for you.) There was one way at the bottom of the cooler. I saw a guy that was in the Ohio group, the gang that I rode with between checkpoints 2 and 3. He told his buddy he was dropping out because he was dizzy and had a brief period where he didn't know where he was. I looked over at my team and was crestfallen to see Karen crying. She didn't think she was going to make it. This was probably tough for her because her brother David has type 1 and she didn't want to let him down. Fred reassured her that she had already ridden a metric century. Myself, I had a little headache from a stiff neck, very sore butt, very sore feet, and a general feeling of fatigue that was just all over. But I was resolved to keep going. I debated whether or not to change my front tube but decided it would be easier just to keep pumping it up from time to time. When we left the checkpoint, it was just me, John, and Jude. I asked what happened to Karen and Fred and John said "they left." I said, "you mean they..." and he said "yes" very quickly. I was asking if they had dropped out. I figured he didn't want to give the details because he felt bad. I kept quiet from that point on. I assumed Karen and Fred caught a van and I didn't see.
Miles 71.5 - 87 -- I tried to keep up with the guys, and succeeded for a while. We caught up with Karen and Fred and I realized how confused I had been. I thought that they had given up, but there they were, pedalling along. Good for them! We rode together as a big group for a while and after a few miles, around about 75, I felt myself falling back again. I stopped to pump up my tire again and decided that keeping up was a lost cause. Again, I was not passed at all. I really wasn't sure where everyone was. A lot of people were supposed to be behind me. Where was everyone?
Around about 79 or 80, I caught up with my group again. They had decided on an impromptu break. I took advantage of the time to pump up my front tire again and swill some water and gatorade. I had lost my sense of humor, and much of my will to go on was gone also. But I wasn't going to let down those who supported me, and I also thought that my trials were nothing compared to what diabetes sufferers go through. This was temporary, and I did not sign on because I wanted it to be easy. My group started up again and I followed through sheer force of habit, not out of desire. The thing that was so tough about this stretch was the distance between stops. Normally, 16 miles is a walk in the park. But not with this heat, wind, bad tire, and fatigue already built on.
I managed to keep up with my team all the way to checkpoint 7, Badwater again.
Checkpoint 7 -- Mile 87.3, Badwater. I decided I should change my tube this time. This was complicated because there was no tire pump, and no mechanic to help. Thankfully, Jude had the presence of mind to help. My brain at this point was not functioning, nor were my hands. Due to keeping the same position for so long, my hands were shaking and a little numb, (not to mention my feet, butt, and legs). Jude, however, looked like he had just ridden 10 miles, not nearly 90. They ran out of water at this stop too, a little ironic being as how we were in Death Valley, mile 87 of a century ride, at a stop called "Badwater." They told us not to leave until reinforcements arrived with more water, but hell and high water, (no pun intended) couldn't keep me there. If I lingered too long, my low spirits would get the best of me and I would not leave. Best to just keep plugging along, especially with only 18 miles to go. I can do 18 in my sleep.
Miles 87.3 -- 95.3 -- I again could not keep up with my group and they pulled ahead. However, this time, I had company. I noted that Fred could not keep up either. Fred is 58 and works at Smith Barney as a financial advisor. We stuck together, and around mile 90, I oddly got a boost of energy and pulled ahead of Fred to draft him for a while. I was only going about 9 but he said I was going too fast, so I slowed down a bit more. Fred and I limped into the water stop (no longer a checkpoint, I have no idea what the difference is) at mile 95.3. This water stop was to close at 4:30. It was 4:15.
Water Stop -- Artist's Drive Start, Mile 95.3 -- Fred and I met up with John at the water stop. Karen, Jude, and everyone else had already left. I doused myself with water and the volunteers looked at me like I was crazy. I probably did look pretty weird at that point. The water running down into my face tasted like salt. This stop had a very desolate feel to it. No cheering volunteers, very few people. Just a pickup truck, a tent, and a little water jug. Not much help at all. What's more, is they were about to close and we all knew there were tons of folks behind us. What were they going to do?
Miles 95.3 - 105 -- Normally, 10 miles is a short ride. But this was the longest ten miles ever. John stayed with Fred and I, drafting us most of the way. We took a break at the top of a hill, around mile 100 or 101, and we felt like we were nowhere near finishing. I just keep telling myself that even if my speedometer was off, we'd get there. I felt a huge relief upon seeing the Furnace Creek Inn, (not Ranch) at mile 104. It took us a while, but we got there, to that stop sign, and that left turn felt better than any part of any ride I've ever done. The last mile was all downhill. Just before pulling in, a coyote darted in front of us. I don't know if that was symbolic at all, but it sure was nice to pull in to see the cheering crowd. We got beers and medals, and high-fived each other. My wife was there with my son, who was asleep. I found out later that a lot of folks didn't finish. We arrived at 5:15 and the course closed at 5:30, but I think they let people keep coming in if they wanted. I'm not sure who was last, but I think it was around 6 or so. The people that I had been wondering about, the people behind me, many had been conquered by the wind.
We enjoyed a dinner that night of barbecue chicken and other assorted treats. I ate 3 desserts and still wasn't full. Later, we all had a beer and walked out onto the adjoining golf course and looked up at the stars.
posted by Kevin Kincade at 7:39 PM
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