September 02, 2014
Death Ride Grandma Rides Again!
Guest post by Death Ride Grandma
Those of you who are Cranky Fitness regulars already know and admire the awesome "Death Ride Grandma." She has blogged before about getting a late start on her health and fitness journey, and about her desire to conquer the Death Ride, a fearsome athletic feat that Crabby couldn't contemplate taking on no matter HOW many cups of coffee she consumed in order to fuel her fantasies.
So, the Death Ride has again come and gone, and it seemed like a good time for a check in! How did it go, and are there any lessons to be learned?
Please welcome Death Ride Grandma!--Crabby
Wouldn’t it be great?
Well, this has already appeared in a comment. I have even mentioned one of my ways of trying to keep some perspective on frustrating moments. You know, wouldn’t it be wonderful if that was the worst thing that happened in the world today? Yeah. It would.
But I have to admit. I am pretty annoyed. Okay, I am angry, sad, second-guessing myself, all sorts of stuff I try so hard to avoid by having a good attitude. Right.
Last year Crabby very kindly allowed me to vent here about my almost-complete attempt at the Death Ride. You know, that one I swore I would never do. I’d planned and trained and done everything I could think of, only I didn’t think of just how many calories I would need to finish, so I bonked just eight miles short of the fifth and final summit. Oh, well. Frustrating, sure, but I’d tried, and really, I’d enjoyed a lot of the ride. It is a beautiful setting, and in spite of its name, it is a very friendly crowd. Only a few of the riders are those crazy idiots who yell at you for occupying the lane they want – even if, technically, the law suggests that it is your lane.
Then a friend asked if I would train with her for 2014. Honestly, that was not such a tough decision. I don’t like to acknowledge this, but something in me really wanted, uh, wants, to finish that ride!
So here’s where we headed. We rode the more challenging route on a shorter organized ride in early April. We did our first century ride of the season the next weekend. 100 miles, 7500’ of climbing, a good start to our serious schedule.
Then I headed to Tucson, and made two attempts at Mount Lemmon. The first day a thunder storm headed in and threatened us, and it was actually pretty chilly. Who’d have thought Tucson would require that many layers? So I rode 13 miles uphill that day, then went back the next day & started over & ride the whole 26 miles up to the top. And coasted happily the whole 26 miles down. That is, by the way, one spectacular road. If you are ever in Tucson and you like to ride, I’d go for it. If not, I’d drive it. You move through several very different ecosystems and the views are amazing. So – 26 miles, 6000’, but the climb is not interrupted, so that was a bit more challenging.
On to May. We rode the Grizzly Peak Century, 109 miles, 8600’. I am pretty sure we were the last ones to get back to the start. A long day, but it felt so much better than the previous year that we were pretty happy. Six days later, the Motherlode Century, another spectacular but very challenging ride up in the California foothills. I tried it alone last year, and gave up part way through. That was the first time I had ever taken a SAG vehicle at an organized ride, so I was pretty happy to give it another chance. The most challenging climb on that ride is on a road called Mosquito, and you do hear a lot of whining on it (from the riders, not the bugs). You plunge down to a very picturesque canyon with a cute little suspension bridge (and oh, am I glad I have never been one of the tourists attempting to cross it with a big RV. Yikes!). Then, you have to get back up. It’s silly-steep at first, than backs off just enough to keep you in the saddle. It goes up, and up, and up, and finally, you pass a guy sitting at the side of the road smiling and playing the banjo. That’s only about half way through the miles. The final loop takes you down another remote canyon with a little stream running along the bottom. No bridge here. Instead, there’s a guy who offers to carry your bike across while you wade. Let me just say that the California drought is not all bad. I can’t begin to imagine what that stream would have been like to cross had it been a bit fuller. My friend chose to ride across, and that pretty much ended her pleasure in the ride. Her feet got wet, then she had to climb back up the other side of the canyon. She’s a very soft spoken lady. Most of the time. I was pretty impressed when I heard her venting at the top of the climb.
Then my family went off to Maui for a nice vacation and a peaceful setting, and, for me, two days dedicated to rides up Haleakala. 10,000’ from the beach to the top, 36 miles that climb steadily. Yup, incredible views, and yup, it’s quite a challenge. But I did it and was very pleased. Then the Mendocino Monster (100 miles, a mere 9200’ of climbing, but it was 102 degrees by the time we finished).
Then a training camp on the actual course.
Then, the big day.
I got up at 3:30. Ugh. Well, I didn’t expect to like that part. At 4AM, my friend showed up & we headed out. I remembered the sense of peace I felt last year. Riding in pitch dark conditions in a remote area could have been pretty creepy, but it wasn’t. It was beautiful. Full moon, the sound of tires, very little other noise. Then, about five minutes out, my stomach started to send very, very unhappy messages. I figured I had just eaten too fast & was pushing a bit too hard, so I slowed down. It didn’t get better. I kept hoping. It kept not getting better. Maybe I’d be able to eat at the top of the first pass? No, not really. Well, then, I’d just need to rush in and swallow a bunch of calories at the bottom after a nice descent had given my intestines a chance to rest a bit. Rushed over, grabbed a half a banana, ate it, and spent the next half hour or so wondering why I’d done that. Grr. Part way up the next climb, I thought I was finally hungry. Wrong. I couldn’t swallow anything even though I pulled over and chose something I thought would be especially easy. I was beginning to see the calorie deficit pile up, far worse than it had been last year.
By the top of the second pass, I told my companion that she needed to head out without me. Another friend was there & she very reluctantly headed out with that group. I sat for a while, and headed off on the second descent. At the bottom, I made a few more attempts to find some calories I could handle. There are plenty of little details, but what it boils down to is that I had, by this time, managed to swallow about 300 calories, but had burned about 1800.
I rode 60 miles, and climbed about 7000’. Not bad for a sick day, but not at all what I’d dreamed of.
Next year? Well, I’d been going around assuring everyone it was not going to happen. I have an old friend whose daughter is getting married in London, and I was quite certain the wedding date would be right at the time of the Death Ride. I recently learned it’s actually a few weeks later.
And then…I learned that my niece has scheduled her wedding the day before the Death Ride, about 40 miles from the start of the ride. If I believed in a force called fate, I’d be seeing quite a clear message here.
It seems I won’t have to think of a new name for myself in Crabby’s comments just yet.
19 comments:
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Oh, no - so sorry you were sick the day of the ride!!! smart choice to call it a day when you did!
ReplyDeleteAnd, hooray for next year and the timing of your niece's wedding!!!
Thanks, Kim. I think I agree with hooray for the timing...but I am NOT going to give quite as much of my life to training this time - want my grandchildren to recognize me!
DeleteGood for you for trying again, and for knowing when enough was enough! Good luck next year, and i'm glad you are planning to try again.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Messymimi! It is a lovely area & I am mostly looking forward to getting back there next year.
DeleteDRG, just reading this frightens me to death…I mean to death!!! I am so sorry you were sick on the big day, but now I have something to look forward to reading about next year. Wheeeeeeee!!!
ReplyDeleteAgain, I just can't believe the stuff you do. I am in awe!!!
Hmm. Not sure what button I missed - I sent a reply and it vanished. The gist of it was that this stuff creeps up on you - only 11 years ago I thought I'd never finish my first-ever 40 mile ride, and before I knew it, the Death Ride, which I studiously (fearfully) avoided for some time suddenly sounded like a good idea. No awe deserved here - these things come one step at a time. And I trust that the Death Ride is only a few more steps away...
DeleteI am sorry your stomach refused to cooperate! You always make me want to get a bicycle, even though walking is my absolute favorite exercise ever. (One of the vets where I work has a bumper sticker, along with her 26.2 oval, that says "Why run slow when you can walk fast?" Totally my attitude.) And I really will, someday. I will probably even ride a century or two. But no Death Rides for me.
ReplyDeleteMary Anne in Kentucky
Thank you, Mary Anne. Love the bumper sticker. I love to walk, too. Even before I started being so active, I could walk all day. It's one of the two best ways to see stuff (cycling is the other, obviously). I can't wait to hear about the centuries when the time comes!
DeleteWow. Just wow. I can't imagine even thinking about trying this! You're one of my heroes DRG!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Genie. I couldn't imagine trying it either, but you never know what's ahead!
DeleteMy thighs went into convulsions at the thought of even attempting this. Despite you being sick, you were/are badass.
ReplyDeleteYum Yucky, I can't imagine doing half the stuff you do! Sorry that I sent you into those convulsions. I know they hurt, 'cause that's exactly what mine did the first time up Haleakala.
DeleteDRG - don't dump that moniker just yet, ok? First off - the TRAINING ALONE earned that for you! Seriously - the training you did woulda killed me off very quickly!! Secondly - this was a fluke. And it's this kind of thing that makes athletes like us (yeah - we are!) get a little wonky before an event (avoiding public places, becoming germaphobes, going through all manner of superstitious rites and rituals) and sometimes even all that just doesn't do it and comes bad luck :(. That's all that happened here. YOU are an amazing, awesome athlete and I am impressed by all you do!!!
ReplyDeletePS - I forgot to mention that you accomplished an amazing feat what with getting in as much as you did under those circumstances. Again - I'd have been a whimpering, whiny little heap WAAAYY earlier on.
DeleteOk, so I didn't get around to mentioning what a whiny little heap I was. Yeah, I know it's just a fluke - and have reminded myself that people miss out on far more important things because of fluky accidents. And now, a couple of months later, I have definitely moved past it. Thanks for your comment - I can't imagine doing the ultra-stuff you do!!!
DeleteI’m sure there must be an extra high for you riding in pitch dark. Me? Im the good old-fashioned Joe who’s happy with plain exercise walking. But that’s just me. If riding does it for you,… ride on!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Theresa. Yes, riding in the dark in such a special place is quite an experience. It's sort of like walking in a very still place.
ReplyDeleteHi DRG, sorry to be late in comments. I'm so impressed with what you have done, and sorry you felt unwell on the day. But all the training you put in, and all the climbs, are amazing. Best wishes for the next event,
ReplyDeleteThanks, Fliss. I really appreciate the wishes! If the kind wishes I get here can push me up those hills, next year is in the bag.
Delete