Category: Ride reports

After RAAM’s cancelation announcement last week, I joined the throngs of athletes out there who have had their “A” races for the year canceled or postponed. I know some of my fellow ultracyclists are talking about participating in an indoor virtual RAW or RAAM, while others are adjusting their plans to start preparing for the race in 2021. Either way, it’s in our nature to ride our bikes. While training may have been modified for some of us, it certainly hasn’t come to a stop.

I was hoping to squeeze another Everesting into my RAAM training at some point, and had also been wanting to put in a virtual (indoor) Everest as well. I saw on Monday morning that Hells 500, the founders of the Everesting concept, were hosting a “World Lycra Party” this weekend, encouraging cyclists to participate in a global Everesting on Zwift. For those unfamiliar with the concept, an Everesting in cycling is a single ride consisting of repeats of the same climb until the accumulated elevation reaches the height of Mount Everest (29,029 feet). I immediately jumped at the opportunity to join in on this party.

There were two suggested climbs available for Everesting in Zwift, with most people opting for the biggest climb in the game, Alpe du Zwift, which is modeled after the iconic Alpe d’Huez climb in the French Alps. I’d never completed the entire Alpe du Zwift (ADZ) climb, so I did a recon of both climbs and decided to go with ADZ. I opted to do a Friday evening start and ride through the night, just to get a little more practice doing overnight rides.

I repeated the preparation process for my 24 hour indoor ride two weeks ago, with a few modifications after learning some things I could have done differently during that ride. The big advantage I had on this ride compared to the last one is that I knew I would be able to get off the bike while my rider was descending from the top of the climb, which took a full 10 minutes. This was typically plenty of time to move around off the bike, stretch, refill water bottles, grab some coffee and any food I needed, take a potty break, change kits, etc.

I would need to complete 8.5 climbs of ADZ to hit 29,029 feet. The first few climbs felt okay but not great. I was trying to pace myself by taking it pretty easy and was 8-10 minutes slower than when I’d done my recon of the climb on Thursday. It may have been that recalibrating the trainer affected my climbing speed, but either way I just tried not to let it bother me and kept a comfortable pace. After three climbs, I was starting to experience some knee pain, which has been my latest malady that I can’t seem to solve. I was regretting not making more of an effort to give myself easier gearing. I was using my easiest gear for almost the entire climb and was “pedaling squares”. In order to survive, I would have to stop worrying about my power output or pace and just make sure I stayed on the bike. My times on the climbs were getting ridiculously slow and it was getting frustrating as more and more people were hopping on-line and passing me like I was standing still.

After six laps, I believe I took a break that was a bit longer than the 10 minute descent. When I got back on the bike and started pedaling, my avatar didn’t move. The Zwift app had dropped its connection to my trainer. I tried several times to reconnect and plugged/unplugged the trainer to no avail. I finally restarted the app and kept my fingers crossed. It did save my ride but it respawned me in a completely different location than where I’d stopped. Knowing I would waste too much time and effort trying to get back to the bottom of the climb, I ended the ride and restarted at the bottom of the climb. I would have to submit my Everest as two ride files, which I know they have allowed. I just wouldn’t have the satisfaction of watching the elevation hit 29,029 feet.

I completed my seventh time up the climb and was nearly in tears because of the pain as I reached the top. I was demoralized by how long it was taking me and knew it would still take me a few more hours at the pace I was keeping. Rachel was staying in contact with me over text at this point and told me to extend my break by at least a few minutes. I’ve probably never been closer to quitting a ride as I was at this point. If Rachel had told me to stop riding, I would have. Fortunately, she did not.

My eighth climb was painful and painfully slow, and I had to stop mid-climb for the first time for an extra break. It took a full half hour longer than the previous climb, which was already 20 minutes slower than my first climb. But I took some satisfaction in knowing it would be my last time across the arch at the top. I took another long break before climbing back on the bike to finish off the final 1,700 feet.

Being as close as I was brought me some focus and determination. I suddenly found the ability to push through the pain and increase my power output. I’m not sure I could have maintained that effort if I’d been pushing that hard for the previous 2-3 climbs, but it did make me wonder if I’d been holding back.

The nice thing about these indoor rides is that I don’t have to pack anything up or drive home once I’m done riding. Once I was done, I tidied up the garage a bit then took a shower, had some breakfast, and took a nap.

While I’m definitely happy to have been able to finish my third Everest and first virtual Everest, and have received plenty of encouragement for doing so, I can’t help but take a critical look at the effort, as well as my effort on the 24 hour ride two weeks ago. One of my biggest strengths is my ability to pace myself so well. On my most recent Everest last year, I did 57 repeats of a much shorter climb. The variance in my climbing time and effort was minimal from the first climb to the last. It did become difficult, but I never felt the need to go into “survival mode” like I did on this ride. It was embarrassing to see my time go from 88 minutes, 43 seconds on the first climb to 141 minutes, 22 seconds on the eight climb. And my power output dropped drastically after the third climb. It makes me want to redeem myself by doing another Everest, but I know I need to figure out the problem before I attempt something like this again. Which means the chances of me participating in a virtual RAW or RAAM are slim to none at this time.

But back to staying positive – I finished my third Everest and I’m staying otherwise fit and healthy. I have the time and resources to work on the knee pain, especially now that RAAM isn’t going to start in two months. Other than some mild soreness and stiffness in the knees and quads, I’m feeling no worse for wear today.

After spending most of the week struggling to recover from last weekend’s training, I was a little nervous heading out for my training ride this weekend. I had planned what will likely be one of the critical training rides leading into the 6-12-24 Hour World Time Trial Championships in Borrego Springs, taking place in 5 weeks on November 1-2. The plan was to drive to Borrego on Friday after work and ride the actual race course as a 12 hour time trial. It would be an opportunity to spend some time on the actual course, practice my pacing and nutrition, and get more practice riding at night. I know the course quite well by now, this being my third straight year of racing the 24 hour time trial, but it was still nice to have a chance to refresh my memory.

By Thursday of this week, I still wasn’t feeling quite recovered from last weekend. I was also looking at the weather forecast for Friday into Saturday and couldn’t help but be a little concerned with the forecast of increasing winds. I figured some wind would make for good training, but too much could become unsafe and cut my ride short.

I picked up Randy Horton after work on Friday and he drove my bike, gear, and me out to Borrego. We made great time and I was able to jump on my bike exactly at 9:00 pm and the clock was running for 12 hours. I was already noticing a hint of wind as I got started, but it didn’t seem to be affecting me too much as I made my way around the 18 mile loop the first time. I wasn’t feeling super as I started out so I settled into a very conservative effort for the first 2-3 hours.

Randy hung out at the race pit location with my car all night and had fresh water and nutrition bottles waiting for me when I rolled through each lap, which really helped to limit my time off the bike. After about six hours, I was holding a pretty steady pace with only a minute or so spread between my lap splits. I was getting a little uncomfortable so I spent a few minutes off the bike taking care of a few things, and started rolling again feeling significantly better.

It was at about this point that the winds started to pick up. It was still fairly calm on the first half of the loop, but a crosswind started up a mile or so south of Palm Canyon, then I’d get sucked into a vortex as the road curved left, pick up the crosswind as the road curved right again, then the dreaded headwind for a couple miles on the one “climb” of the loop. It’s a couple miles of about 1% gradient, but after doing it half a dozen times you do start to notice it. And if you’re lucky enough to be facing a headwind, which is often the case, it can feel exactly the same as climbing a 4-5% grade.

By the time the sun came up, the wind had become so fierce that I could no longer take my hands off the bike to answer Randy’s calls or reach for bottles, so I had to try to get my nutrition and hydration in on the first half of the course. On the plus side, I was feeling stronger and stronger as time went on and was able to slowly increase my effort so that the wind wasn’t slowing my pace by too much.

My plan had been to stick to the race format for the 12 hours, and switch to the smaller 5 mile course with 90 minutes to go. Because the smaller course was all north of Palm Canyon, wind was basically a non-issue so I was very much looking forward to that change. I rolled through Christmas Circle at about 7:10 am, too early to start the small course. Randy tried to convince me to just go ahead and shorten the course to cut the wind out anyway. I adamantly refused, knowing that this was training the mental fortitude that I will need on that course in a few weeks. I actually smiled to myself as I approached the windy section and attacked it, knowing it would be the last time I’d have to face it. My split time for that last lap was the only time I made it under an hour since the winds had picked up.

As I approached Christmas Circle to start my short loops, I was running numbers in my head. Each loop was about 5 miles, and I had less than an hour on the clock. I had to shoot for three loops. I continued attacking the course and got the three loops in with 10 minutes to spare. Total mileage: 212. Nowhere near record pace, but it felt good to finish strong and know I should have no problem ticking off well over 400 miles in 24 hours in decent conditions.

I’m thankful to have another key training ride completed according to plan. Rachel and I are working on dialing in my race effort. My nutrition and hydration has been consistently working for me. After logging 14,000 miles this year, I’ve definitely learned a lot about how to listen to my body and know what needs to happen to keep myself on the bike. Hopefully I can stay healthy for the next month and keep adding a little more to the base I’ve built up. I’m definitely feeling more confident about this race than I was a few weeks ago.

I had a nice recovery ride this morning with a fun group. Then I met with some of my Borrego support crew to discuss some details. Since I’ve mostly left crew meetings until race week in the past, I’m feeling good about having more preparation on that front as well.

It’s been a relatively relaxing week, just getting in a few easy rides to recover from Hoodoo 500 before ramping back up to train for the 6-12-24 Hour WTTC in Borrego Springs on November 1-2. As has become the tradition on Labor Day each year, I led the 3rd Annual Paul Cornish Memorial Ride this morning. I figured this is as good a time as any to share the story behind this ride for those who haven’t heard it, as it is very closely connected to my finding my niche in ultracycling.

Paul Cornish was a beloved member of our local cycling community. He tended to just appear in the middle of whatever group or shop ride sounded fun on any given day and he loved sharing his passion for cycling with riders of all levels. He could keep up with just about any group of riders, and more often than not, the pace was easy enough for him to start whistling a tune or tell a story or start quizzing someone on cycling trivia. When we were done riding, he would often find someone to listen to him regurgitate his encyclopedic knowledge of quantum physics, home audio, vacuum cleaners, or whatever other topic appealed to him at the moment. Paul’s claim to fame in the larger cycling world was his transcontinental world record set in 1973 in 13 days, 5 hours, 20 minutes. John Marino came across Paul’s record a few years later, sought Paul’s advice on how to break it himself, and was later inspired to start the Great American Bike Race, later known as Race Across America (RAAM).

In 2017, I decided to take a break from doing triathlons and just have fun riding my bike. A group of five other local cyclists and I had all signed up for the Markleeville Death Ride in July and I started putting together some epic training rides for us on the weekends. With 15,000 feet of climbing over five mountain passes in 129 miles, it would be the biggest challenge I’d taken on to date and I was determined to put in some solid training to ensure that I could finish. We hit just about all of the local mountains, and I was having fun putting together diabolical routes for us to ride almost every Sunday. I usually opened up the rides to any other cyclists who wanted to join us. Paul loved big epic rides, and he came along so frequently that he became an honorary member of what became known as the Death Ride Crew.

All six of us had strong finishes in the Death Ride. We all continued to ride together many weekends and Paul would continue to join us most Saturday’s for our rides with The Bike Shop. All of us on “the Crew” became close to Paul in those few months, but Paul and I had formed a special bond over the past year and apparently most of the cycling community had recognized that. It’s tough to explain, but I know he saw this potential in me and was trying to help me recognize what I had the ability to accomplish.

The events of August 31, 2017 could make for another long story that I keep mostly to myself, but the short version is that I learned just before going to sleep that Paul had been killed while riding his bike along Highway 76 in Oceanside earlier that day. The driver who killed him was high and driving a stolen vehicle. He is currently serving a 10 year prison sentence. The following morning was the Friday before Labor Day weekend. I joined a local coffee ride and realized that I was clearly one of only a few people who had learned about Paul’s death. I couldn’t bring myself to break the news or even say out loud to anyone what had happened. Besides, I knew the first people I needed to speak to were the other members of the Death Ride Crew. I hesitated to reach out to them because I knew that as soon as I told them, everything would change. I finally started making the phone calls and had to wait for each of them to call back. Once I broke the news, it spread like a wildfire. Within a few hours, Facebook was littered with posts about Paul and my phone was blowing up with calls and texts from local cyclists.

Later that evening, a few of the local ride leaders started a group message talking about putting together a memorial ride. We wanted to get it set up sooner rather than later, and decided that we could probably get a decent turnout on the Labor Day holiday, even with only a few days’ notice. I was asked to put the ride together and get the word out, so on Saturday I created an event and started sending out invites. I imagined a small group getting together and riding to the site where Paul was killed, then continuing on to Oceanside Pier before turning around to ride back to Temecula. Within hours, the guest list was spiraling out of control. I laid awake that night thinking of all the things that could go wrong with such a big group and realized we would need some support. Amazingly, dozens of people stepped up and volunteered to help with all the various logistics. By Monday morning, we had a ghost bike memorial at the site, several rest stops planned along the route, at least one or two SAG vehicles, local news covering the ride, and an endless supply of water and food. Over 200 cyclists showed up to pay tribute. One of the first things I said when we arrived at the ghost bike memorial was that Paul would have been so PISSED to see us making such a big fuss. I wasn’t sure how or why I had been thrust into the role of leadership I’d found myself in, but it was the impetus for some big things to come.

A few weeks later, my friend Randy suggested that I enter the 24 Hour World Time Trial Championships in Borrego Springs. I’d spent very little time on my time trial bike since my last triathlon over a year before, but flat and fast has always been my forte. It sounded like a fun challenge and a fitting tribute to Paul. I had no idea when I signed up for the event that it was a qualifier for solo RAAM. When I found out it was, I decided the qualification standard of 400 miles would be a cool goal, even though I had no desire to ever do RAAM. I started putting in some miles on my TT bike, but not many. I was mostly relying on the endurance base I’d built throughout the year climbing mountains and just riding for fun.

I went to the 24 hour time trial and started out way too fast. I got REALLY uncomfortable on the TT bike after about 6 hours and was switching out to my road bike every 5-6 laps. I thought about Paul most of the ride, completely faded over the last few hours, but still finished with a very respectable 392.8 miles, just short of my goal. BUT I later found out that I actually had exceeded the RAAM qualifying mark for females of 375 miles (as I recall). It took me a few weeks to come around to the possibility of racing across the country, but I eventually started to find the concept appealing and figured Paul would probably be telling me the same thing as everyone else – “go for it”. So I did. And the journey is still going…

Two years later, we are still getting a great turnout for the Paul Cornish Memorial Ride. Despite heat and humidity putting the temperature in the triple digits today, I counted over 70 cyclists on today’s ride. I still don’t have to stress too much over the logistics of the ride. I just put the event together, send out the invites, and there are always a few people who step up to help out with support and rest stops. Thanks so much to everyone who came out today to keep Paul’s memory and legacy alive!

As I was driving to one of my rides a couple of days ago, on the anniversary of Paul’s death, I was trying to recall my favorite memory of Paul. On any given day I might select a different memory, as I literally have enough to write a book (it might happen if I ever have the time and motivation). On that particular day, I was thinking about Paul’s 70th birthday ride, just a few weeks before he was killed. Paul’s birthday was July 15, the Saturday after we got back from the Death Ride. We decided to turn the Bike Shop ride that day into Paul’s birthday ride, and I put together a 70 mile route that would take us past multiple AM/PM’s where Paul could get one of his favorite treats – the AM/PM cinnamon roll. Even on his birthday, he refused to eat the entire cinnamon roll and insisted on splitting it with me. Paul had told us several times that he didn’t want to have a birthday ride or celebrate his birthday. I sent him a message a few days before with the route and let him know we’d be doing his birthday ride with or without him, but I hoped he would be there. Susan had put together a birthday card for Paul that we all signed along with some prints of pictures from one of our epic rides. We left the shop on Saturday morning without Paul, hoping that he would show up along the route in his usual fashion. He met up with us about 15 miles into the ride, where he looked extremely uncomfortable as we sang “Happy Birthday” to him. A little while later, he dropped to the back of group and was riding next to me. I asked him if he was glad he came. He smiled and said “Yeah, I am. Even though I hate this shit.” Paul went back to the shop with us to collect his card and pictures and we had lunch with him before he rode back home to finish off his 70 miles.

The next morning, I made a rare appearance to have coffee with another group called the Cycle Relics on their Sunday ride. I don’t remember why, but I’m pretty sure I drove to meet them rather than ride my bike. When I arrived and walked towards the group, I realized that Paul had made an equally rare appearance and was looking at me as I made my way to their table. He waved, then stood up and reached out to give me a hug, possibly for the first time in the years we’d known one another. I saw that he’d brought his birthday card and pictures with him to show off to the other guys. He thanked me for putting the ride together and told me it was the best birthday celebration he’d ever had. I knew that Paul had had a traumatic childhood, and later learned that some of this contributed to an aversion to celebrating birthdays. He had a very difficult time dragging himself out of the house to do that ride.

After Paul died, I was able to visit his home. He was a minimalist in furnishings and decorations and there were maybe three things sitting on his mantlepiece in the living room. One of them was the birthday card we’d given him. I love that we were able to put together such a special day for him on his last birthday, and to help him reverse some of his painful memories before he died.

For those of you still reading who knew Paul, I would love it if you would share your favorite memory in the comments.

Two weeks until Hoodoo 500 and I was hoping for a great weekend of big training rides. My friends Robert and Dee got a few people together to do repeats on Glendora Mountain Road (GMR) so my plan was to ride up and down as many times as I could to put in 7.5 hours of riding.

My work situation for the last few weeks has not been ideal or conducive to my training. I was asked by my company to temporarily run our clinic in San Jacinto, which has more than tripled my commute time and more than doubled my case load, while supervising two part-time assistants. During the time I’m not scrambling around the clinic trying to get to all my patients, I’m either sitting at a desk in the clinic or at home trying to catch up on paperwork, or sitting in a car. Fortunately I’ve still had time to train and generally get enough sleep, but the stress has definitely taken its toll. I started experiencing some back pain again this week, though it hasn’t been as bad as the flare-up I had earlier this year and already seems to be improving (thanks to Jimmi V at Murrieta Advanced Chiropractic for squeezing me in after work last night).

I drove up to the base of GMR early this morning, got there before there was any sign of the rest of the group, so I started up the mountain on my own. I took advantage of the cooler weather early on and got to my turn-around point at the shack 8 miles up the road in personal record time (not as impressive as it sounds since I think I’ve only done the climb a couple times before today). On the way down I got to see Dee and Robert and a few other friends out riding. I tried to keep the stops at my car to refill bottles short. I even started the stopwatch on my phone when I got off the bike and tried to get back on the bike within 5 minutes.

A few miles into the second climb, I started to realize I would probably need to start dialing back my effort as it became more difficult to keep my heart rate under control. A few miles into the third climb, my heart rate was still too high, my right leg cramped up, and I was forced to start taking it easy. As I started up for the fourth time, I just focused on keeping my heart rate down and mostly ignored my power output. It took me nearly seven minutes longer to get to the top as it did the first time and I hate to see that much of a spread on my intervals, but I felt much better. I was able to get my power back up without the heart rate spiking on the fifth climb, then the left leg started cramping up.

Despite those difficulties, I found myself finishing five repeats with a good 45 minutes left to ride so I started up for the sixth time. I hit 12,000 feet of total climbing at 7 hours, 26 minutes of ride time, so I turned around and headed back to the car. Not quite the ride I expected to have, but still a good ride by just about anyone’s standards.

My friend Rob is training for the Hoodoo 309 miles stage race on a fixed gear bike. He spent eight hours riding today and did six repeats on a fixie! Only one gear and no coasting or recovering on the downhills! He took a break before his sixth climb just after I finished up, so I got to hang out with him and Dee and their friend Curtis for a few minutes before driving home.

Race Across the West (RAW) is now NINE days away! Yes, we’re down to a single digit countdown now! Yesterday I went out for my last long ride which consisted primarily of my third practice run from Oceanside to Borrego Springs (the first 89 miles of RAW) with most of my support crew. My friend Terry was able to step in as a last minute crew member replacement so I now have what I feel is a complete six member crew consisting of my crew chief Bob, Donna, Pat, Forest, Nathan, and Terry. All but the latter two were able to participate in yesterday’s practice run.

As I mentioned, this was my third run of the entire first segment of the race. I’ve also covered the first 45-50 miles of the course on numerous other occasions, so I feel like I’ve adequately prepared for those first few hours of the race to go off without any hiccups. I should be in auto pilot as far as navigation and pacing and hopefully be able to resist the temptation to get caught up in the excitement and push myself beyond what I now know to be my race pace. The race organizers often remind us that no one wins this race in the first 100 miles, but it’s very easy to lose the race by pushing too hard across the coastal range and desert.

Most of my crew members have now had a chance to work with me on the road and practice communicating with me and handing off water bottles and food. I’m sure there will still be some learning as we go in the race, but everyone seems to be committed to the goal of getting me to Durango as fast as possible without incurring any time penalties.

The Bike Shop is taking care of last minute tune-ups, making sure my bikes are race ready and that I have any replacement parts and supplies that might be needed on the road. There will be a few errands and organizational tasks to get done this week, but hopefully the decreased volume of training will give me the time and energy to take care of those things.

So…after months of mentally and physically preparing myself for this race more intensely than I’ve prepared for anything in my entire life, it is now just a few days away. The next week should be interesting.

This month’s key training rides have been on my schedule probably since the beginning of the year. I had been planning to complete my second Everesting as this weekend’s long ride. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, an “Everest” is a single ride in which a single climb is repeated until the total elevation gain reaches 29,029 feet, or the height of Mt. Everest. There are several rules that must be followed for the ride to qualify for the official Everest Hall of Fame, which can be found on the Everesting web-site at https://everesting.cc/.

After completing a few repeats of Highway 76 and Palomar South Grade in early March, I had decided that would be the climb I would use. After watching the weather forecast all week, by Thursday I had to switch to a backup plan as it looked like a good chance of rain and thunderstorms for Saturday. While I figured I could tolerate riding in the rain, I did not want to take a chance crashing on the technical South Grade descent. Fortunately, I had been scoping out the shorter climb up Rancho California Road into De Luz for the last couple of years so it became an easy backup. Even if I got rained on, the descent would be safer than Palomar.

With the original forecast looking like rain was more likely Saturday afternoon, I decided to go home after work on Friday to sleep a few hours then wake up for a start time of around 1:00 am hoping to be done before the bulk of the rain might hit. At the advice of my friend George Vargas, I parked my car at the top of the climb, which turned out to be a great location in this case as there was a relatively secluded dirt lot at the top of the climb.

The several hours I spent riding in the dark were mostly uneventful. I had one brief but potentially dangerous encounter with a motorist who pulled alongside and started harassing me. Fortunately, he stopped and turned around as soon as I told him to move along. By 7:00 am I had completed my first 10,000 feet of climbing at a steady pace and was still feeling pretty decent.

Over the next couple of hours, a couple of groups doing the ride out of the Bike Shop came through, but they were heading up as I was heading down so I only had a chance to wave quickly as I flew by. My friend Melanie was with the second group and became my first visitor when she stopped and kept me company while I took a break at my halfway point.

From that time on, I had company for most of the remainder of my ride. As I headed back down for my next climb, my friend Lisa intercepted me on her way up and ended up doing 10 repeats! My friend and RAW support crew member Pat showed up shortly thereafter to do a couple laps. Just before Lisa took off, Rick and Cori met me at the bottom of the climb to cheer me on. Susan, Rachel, and Nate all showed up a few minutes later to join me for a few laps. Then George Vargas came out to finish the last 9 or 10 climbs with me. Ric and Anne Van Der Linden got there a little while later as well and Ric joined George and me for the last several climbs.

Overall, the ride went extremely well. With all the hours I’ve put in training and analyzing my data over the last several months, I had a good idea of the pace I should be able to maintain. I paced myself accordingly during the earlier hours of the ride, but still half expected that I would hit a wall at some point and have to shift into “survival mode”. Lisa was riding with me when I hit 20,000 feet and I remember telling her I thought it might start to get ugly, but it really never did. I climbed from bottom to top 57 times and my average climb was 13 1/2 minutes. My slowest and fastest climbs were both within about a minute of that. A few of the slower climbs towards the end were probably due to the winds picking up rather than due to fatigue. The wind made the descent pretty sketchy the last few reps, which was another reason I was glad I got started so early. I remember thinking as I turned around at the bottom before starting the final climb that I was more excited to be done with that descent than the fact that I only had one more climb.

I think I did a fairly decent job of keeping my time off the bike to a minimum. I had a cumulative one hour and 45 minutes of rest time spread out over seven breaks. It would have been nice to be a little more efficient, but I always felt just a little better after spending a few minutes off the bike. My longest break was at the halfway point when I needed to mix more nutrition bottles. As George pointed out, I probably should have had all the bottles I knew I would need prepared in advance. Because the afternoon thunderstorms never materialized, it just got humid and a lot warmer than I was anticipating so I had to take a couple more breaks than anticipated to refill my water bottles.

Some of you might recall that after my first Everest of Yaqui Pass in Borrego Springs, I mentioned that I was “one and done” and saw no need to ever attempt another Everest. I’m not sure why I changed my mind, but I felt so much better and stronger for the second one that I am having no such thoughts this time around. I still want to go back and do the Palomar Everest that I was originally planning, but I already know that one will be a doozy.

It seemed to take most of the week to recover from the big ride last weekend, but by around Thursday I was feeling pretty good and ready for yet another big ride this weekend. I opted to head out to Borrego Springs on Friday after work so I could get an early start to the double century on Saturday morning. With 15,000 feet of elevation gain, I knew it would take me longer than the usual double, so I didn’t want to start too late.

As the ride organizer Anny Beck mentioned after the ride, the Borrego Double Century really does offer a unique but very challenging route. You get a little bit of everything – desert, mountains, and coast, on a route with relatively few stoplights on nicely paved roads. Unfortunately, the ride did not draw a large crowd as I found out a few hours in that there were only about 20 of us riding. But kudos to Anny and the ride volunteers for putting together a great ride with some awesome rest stops for us. Anny just sent out an email announcing that for the first time on one of her rides, there was a 100% finish rate, which is pretty amazing for that route, even with the smaller number of riders!

The route starts with a long climb up Montezuma Valley Road (also known as the Glass Elevator due to its unique view of the desert floor as you descend the windy road from Ranchita into Borrego Springs). It was the toughest climb of the day, so it was nice to get it over with early. This road is known for its often brutal winds, usually later in the day, but they started to pick up by the time I was a few miles from the top of the climb around 6:00 am.

After a very cold descent and a few miles of riding on flat roads, it was time to start the next long climb up Palomar’s East Grade Road. It was a gentler climb than Montezuma, but the fatigue from so much climbing early on was definitely building up. I managed to keep a decent pace up the climb anyway, and started catching several of the riders who had started the ride before me. Fortunately it was starting to warm up a bit and I was able to make the descent down South Grade without putting on extra layers.

I continued making my way out to the coast via Valley Center Road, a shorter climb that I’d never ridden in that direction. As I had imagined in my head beforehand, it was a little sketchy riding on the narrow windy road with cars flying by in a rush to get to the casinos. Fortunately, it was over quickly and I was back on some familiar roads.

I’m not sure if it’s due to accumulated fatigue, but I made a mental note while riding yesterday that I’ve gotten in the habit of lingering a bit during the rest stops on long rides the last two weekends. I know that during Race Across the West (RAW), I’ll need to stay on the bike as much as possible, so hopefully it’s a habit I can break when needed. In the meantime, it was a nice opportunity to spend a few minutes hanging out with the great volunteers who put in some time and effort to have some nice rest stops ready for the handful of riders who came passing through. It would have been very easy to spend an hour or so with the fun group that had a nice lunch stop waiting for us on the beach in Oceanside. Unfortunately, spending a little time at the rest stops meant I also had time to start grabbing the food that looked so appetizing at the moment but that didn’t sit so well in my stomach later in the ride. It’s tough to process that much solid food while riding all day long.

After lunch it was time to start heading back to Borrego Springs via Highway 78 through Ramona and Julian. I had never been on most of the roads climbing up to Santa Ysabel. I knew I would be climbing for awhile, but had no idea what I was in for. Aside from the fact that it was getting pretty warm, the climbing wasn’t terribly difficult. Like East Grade, it just went on for quite awhile. Once I got to Santa Ysabel I knew the roads back to Borrego Springs, so I felt a bit of relief and enjoyed some apple pie at the final rest stop. Even more relief when I finally made it to Julian and had the long descent down Banner Grade to Yaqui Pass to get back to Borrego Springs. There was one final sucker punch on the way back to town when I had to wrestle with the fierce winds of Borrego Springs. The final few miles were on the 24 Hour Time Trial course that I know so well now, and the winds brought back vivid memories of the 2017 race. I pulled into the motel at about 7:30 pm, right around the time I had anticipated finishing, while it was still light outside. Finishing any double century ride in the daylight always feels like a victory. Finishing a double with 15,000 feet of climbing in the daylight is even better. A year or two ago, I would have balked at attempting this ride at all, so it felt great to be able to finish it so strong. Official results: 1st place female, 4th place overall.

It was a lighter week of training with “only” about 350 miles, but my weekend rides have been so intense lately that I’ve been having to take it easier during the week to recover in between big rides. But fortunately, I am recovering and feeling strong for the big rides so far. I’m hoping to have yet another epic ride report to post next weekend.

On another note, I couldn’t help but point out that there is still not a year that goes by when I don’t recall the memory of my DNF at Ironman St. George on May 5, 2012. Obviously, so much has changed in the last seven years and the sting is just a little easier with every year that goes by. Many of you have probably heard me say that if they ever bring the full Ironman back to St. George (2012 was the last year before it switched to a 70.3), I will be one of the first to sign up to redeem myself. It was announced this week that beginning in 2020, Ironman will start offering a full Ironman in St. George every 3 years. Obviously, if my current plans to do Race Across America in 2020 pan out, it will not be feasible to do an Ironman in May of next year (I could do it, I just don’t think that I could train for and perform optimally in both events). So watch out St. George, because I’m coming for you in 2023!!!