Summer of Climbing: Climb "8,800 feet" in 9 days

The summer of climbing has gone a little differently than anticipated. By now, I expected to have conquered ridiculous mountains and to suddenly be proclaiming myself a lover of all things slanted upward. That has not happened. Not even close. The more I try to convince myself that the only way climbing is going to improve is to actually do the work, the less I want to get on a bike and go in an upward direction. It's almost as though my proclamation has been working against me. Blasted proclamations!

Then, as if Strava could somehow read my mind, a nine-day challenge appeared before me. This 9-day challenge was simple: climb at least 8,800 feet in that slightly over a week time frame. It's a lot - or at least a good chunk of - climbing in just over a week, at least I thought, but if I focused and actually did what I keep saying I'm going to do, it shouldn't be too painful...

I should say more accurately that it wouldn't have been horribly painful if the 8,800 feet was actually the challenge.

*Image from Strava

No, no, dearest pals, that was not the challenge at all. Apparently my feeble mind cannot tell the difference between the word "feet" and the word "meters," and so, I would soon come to realize that in fact I had signed myself up for a challenge that in no way could I ever accomplish. The 8,800 "feet" I thought the challenge would be, was actually 8,800 meters (so, for the record, just shy of 29,000 feet - though all of you non-metric-challenged and able-to-read-English-words readers already knew that).

How a human being that doesn't ride 10 hours a day is supposed to climb 8,800 meters in 9 days is beyond me... but, there are many who (as I would learn) are quite capable, and even far surpassed the challenge. As in, some did 5-7 times that amount. Seriously, what are these people? Mountain goats? In all reality, I have to question when Strava will have a challenge for us mere mortals and/or that doesn't rank us based on what pro or elite riders are out doing.

So, anyway, I was plotting out how I was going to get my 8,800 feet (or so I presumed) in 9 days. I had some routes planned, but when I realized the challenge was more than three times that distance, I immediately started mentally - which led to physical - slacking. The first day of the challenge, I didn't ride at all. Nor did I ride the second, third or fourth days of the challenge. I think I rode to the store during that first four days at some point, but that was about the extent of my time on a bike. What fun would it be if I didn't make it completely impossible to even come anywhere close to meeting the challenge? By day 5, I realized that I needed to do something or I wouldn't even get in 100 feet of climbing.

I can see how some would think, "Why would you even bother if you know there's no chance of completing the required climbing meters?" and I would answer them by saying that, in its simplest, I truly have a screw loose. Obviously, by day five, I knew there was no chance of getting 8,800 meters of climbing on a bike. I mean, who am I kidding? There's no way I'm going to climb close to 6k feet a day for five days straight.

Instead, I plotted ways in which I could torture myself needlessly. At the base of our old town area, there are several streets running north and south with hills that climb (or that descend if going in the opposite direction... which, I highly recommend for some down hill fun). Each is only one block and I wondered how many times I could circle one of these blocks without becoming both completely sick of the track-like path I'd be making and if my legs would make it up these hills more than twice.

Typically, I avoid these hills like the plague. If I have to go up any of them even once on a ride I am cranky, breathing hard, and whining that I should just walk up the stupid hill instead of trying to ride it. Of course, that's generally at the end of a ride when I'm tired. So, what if I just made the one-block climb the ride?


Ah, brilliant! I was pretty sure it would be a short ride, but I tried to tell myself that I could do it at least 5 times. Five rounds didn't seem so bad if it was all I would have to do.

I should say, these aren't long hills. Just a typical, neighborhood block. The grade runs between 4-13% (depending on the spot on the hill and which street one chooses to climb), but the total feet climbed is somewhere around 45-60 feet (again, depending on the street). So, if I could complete 5 laps, that would give me somewhere around 225 feet. Okay, I realize this isn't even kind of close to what I would need for the climbing challenge, but still, 225 feet for something that's probably a total of about a mile or two at most is pretty good, I think.

My first round didn't go quite as expected. I was on the Hillborne (which has a triple crank and mountain gearing - see, I did use my noggin' a little bit) and I couldn't get it to shift from the middle ring to the bottom. As I struggled to fight my way to the top for round one, I just.... couldn't...... quite......... get there. So, I stopped, got off the bike, picked up the rear end, turned the pedals a few times, and it shifted. The next lap went better and I had no trouble shifting when needed. By the time I was on my 5th round, I decided I would attempt to do 10 laps and then call it done.

A funny thing happens on a short loop like this though. It's really, really easy to lose count - especially for someone like me who's easily distracted by shiny things... or furry things... or old things.... or rusty things... or, well, you get the gist. I'd start to question myself... was that lap 6 or 7... 7 or 8... 8 or 9? So, I'd end up doing another one because I wasn't sure.

Now, a smarter person would keep better track, particularly knowing how much she despises climbing - and specifically these short hills. But, I didn't. I was trading off between two different streets for the uphill portions and coming down the third street, but my mind would become easily muddled. Additionally, I'm fairly certain anyone who was home on the streets during this experiment was pretty sure I am completely insane. I have to admit, it did look (and feel) a bit wacky.

Then, I started noticing something with my GPS. As soon as I'd get about half way up one of the hills, the incline percentage would change to 0%. The problem with this reading is that at no point on these hills is it flat. The reading struck me as odd the first time, but I figured there may have been a temporary malfunction. Soon, I realized it was happening every time I'd ride up. Whether this affects the final results, I'm not entirely sure. I know GPS' cannot be 100% accurate, but at the same time, I still haven't found an answer regarding whether the unit's reading is what is used, or something else entirely (like satellite information, etc).

By the time I'd finished what I believed to be 10 laps, I thought I could complete a couple more, so I went for it. Why not? My legs were definitely starting to quiver, however, so I knew I was close to the end whether I liked it or not.

Ultimately, I ended up doing 17 laps (so much for accurate counting), which (according to the reading I got at home), put me at just over 850 feet (approx. 260 meters) climbed over 8 miles. I'm still not entirely sure if the GPS picked up everything, but regardless, it was a decent amount for such a short distance. Obviously, nowhere near the amount I needed for this type of challenge, but I think it was an interesting - if not slightly moronic - means of getting in some climbing without "wasting" the mileage on flatter terrain. Because, you know, heaven forbid I actually put in more mileage.

As the challenge wrapped up, I came shy of hitting 1,000 meters (it was about 3,000 feet) of climbing. Of course, I also hadn't given myself a very good chance at coming close given that I waited until half way through to even start and didn't even ride each of the last five days. A lesson learned, certainly. Considering I only went on three challenge-specific rides, I didn't think it was so bad, but it certainly didn't come close to being the climbing challenge I'd wanted. Of course, the participant (aka me) has to do the work for the challenge in order to make it beneficial. There are also better ways of getting in climbing, such as simply heading directly for the mountains; but I learned that if time is of concern, there are ways to practice climbing close to home and without spending hours out on the road. I also understand that while not the weakest participant (read: not last place) in the Rapha Rising challenge, I should be thoroughly ashamed of myself - mostly for lack of effort. I live at the base of some of the greatest places to climb on a bike in the world, and I didn't take advantage of it at all.

Even though the challenge is over, I will likely continue to use these in-town hills as training once in awhile. Although slightly nauseating to use in a track format, it's an easy (well, easier) way to get in climbing when I don't have a lot of time to spare.  Additionally, the mountains are at my disposal and the summer is still fairly young, so there's hope for me yet. I may not have met the specific challenge goals, but perhaps I just needed a bit of failure to realize that I can do it (maybe not this specific challenge - but my own version of it) if I set my mind and body in appropriate motion.

Half Way through a 30-day Cycling Challenge

As of today, I am more than half way through my January cycling challenge. If only I were more than half way (or even half way) through the mileage I was supposed to have covered by this time! I got off to a rough start with weather (mostly the ice that wouldn't melt after snow and some super-cold temperatures), but I'm hoping that the rest of the month will be kind to me and even if I have to endure cold weather, I'm hoping to not have to deal with ice on the roads. I've completed just under 75 miles (or about 120 km) to this very moment, so I have been riding, but just not nearly as much as I had hoped. It comes out to about 5 miles a day if I average it all out, so I definitely need to make up some distance - and soon. Honestly though, I am okay with whatever happens; even if I don't quite hit the half way mark before the end of the month.

Stopped for a moment to check out our destroyed trail system (if you look closely, you can see remnants of the trail in pieces next to the water). The estimated time for repair is somewhere in the vicinity of 1-2 years, unfortunately.

Despite my lack of mileage, I have to say I've enjoyed the challenge. Particularly, I find it enjoyable because I know that my "challenge" is to see if I can do the mileage without making any of the rides training rides. Knowing that the miles need to come specifically from errands or joy rides makes the goal that much sweeter. I have to admit though, it's been a bit strange to always have my GPS device on the bike because, at least generally speaking, I tend not to clock every bike ride I go on throughout the day or week. I truly want to see what's possible though in the midst of winter, the cold, and the iffy street conditions when a person is just going about life and not looking to train for an event.

It's also nice to be able to stop and take in a view when I choose. So often I find that I am very purposeful in my cycling and I am focused on the end result, rather than just enjoying the ride. I think this challenge is allowing me to take a step back and remember what I have loved about riding a bike - which has absolutely nothing to do with how fast I can go, how far I can travel, or how many hills I can (or can't) climb. Plus, call me crazy, but I think cars are nicer to me when I'm riding a bike with a basket.

How is winter cycling where you live? Have you stayed indoors, or ventured out into the elements?

One Week Down...

The first week of my non-training rides hasn't gone very well. Right after I signed up for the Strava challenge, we had a huge shift in weather. Not only were we blessed with several inches of snow, but the temperatures were struggling for several days to rise just above zero. Generally, after we have a big snowfall, the sun follows and, even if it stays cold, having the sunlight seems to quickly melt most of the snow on the ground. That hasn't exactly happened with this round. In addition, I fell ill with a wretched stomach flu which has left me house-bound for a few days. The combination hasn't made for the most ideal situation in regard to getting in January saddle time.

As of this morning, it doesn't look too bad as far as depth, but the snow's still not melting as quickly as I'd prefer.

I miss being outside! I miss doing things that aren't in the confines of a small house. I am so in awe of folks who manage to get in their time, despite the frigid temperatures, ice on the ground, and so on.
My total mileage thus far is a mere 47 km (that's not even 30 miles), which isn't much, considering I have just over three weeks left of the challenge. I'm trying to cut myself a bit of slack, knowing that I haven't been able to sit up for more than a few minutes, let alone actually get out on a bicycle, but it's not easy when I desperately want to be active.

Despite the setbacks, I have enjoyed the time I have found myself riding this month. I have been pleased to find myself lost in thought, as I ramble toward my destination on two wheels. I am reminded that motorists seem (at least on the whole) to be a bit more tolerant and patient with me on a bike this time of year, and sadly, cyclists seem to be a bit more grumpy (unfortunately) - or at least those I seem to encounter. It has been cold, but I am slowly learning to perfect the layers so that I don't need to constantly remove pieces, or find myself freezing because I wasn't prepared. Now, if I can just get through this flu, I think I'll be ready to get back to it! If you set a goal or challenge for early 2014, how are things going for you?

{Guest Post} Start to Finish: The 2012 Alpine Odyssey 100k

Although it's taken me what seems like an eternity to get this up, I wanted Sam to have the opportunity to share his day at the Alpine Odyssey for those who may have interest. If you happen to be considering participating in this event, I think it's a wonderful opportunity to be able to hear/read about others' experiences. If you don't happen to have any desire to do this sort of mountain bike race, well, let's just view it as another bicycle story. :O)  Without further delay...

Friday

As usual, I needed to be early to the September 15th race day.  I left around 9am from our home in Longmont, and headed to Crested Butte.  I chose the more scenic, but shorter route through Golden, Conifer, Fairplay, and Gunnison.  It was a great, relaxing 4 hour drive.

Upon arrival in Crested Butte, I found myself mildly lost while attempting to find the B&B I had reserved (surprise!). Yes, I get lost everywhere.  Kat (the owner), was there to greet me.  She had to be the most agreeable person in Crested Butte, and within 20 minutes I knew nearly everything about her home, the last 2 days of her life, and it seemed like we knew each other for 20 years.

Kat's house AKA the B&B

The house was both charming and rustic - and had been ransacked by a bear the previous night to include a large bear poop on the kitchen dining table.  This part of the trip was both interesting, and exhausting.  I was able to see Kat’s art studio down the street, and the co-op where she worked.

After the arrival festivities and the rider “meeting” up at the mountain, I came back down, ate dinner, and wound down.

Saturday- Race day 

I was unusually organized for this day.  I got up about 2.5 hours before the race, had all my stuff ready to go, and cooked some scrambled eggs in Kat’s cabin kitchen (cast iron skillet: check).  Afterwards, I cleaned and put everything away. Apparently, I did this so well that she called me at 8:15am to ask where I was, and if I had had any breakfast.

Kat's kitchen at the B&B

At about 7am, I rolled up the hill to the parking area for the Alpine Odyssey 100k.  I took my time, attached my race number, checked out the bike, my gear, and applied a 3 inch thick layer of poisonous SPF 50 sunscreen {G.E.'s note: Sam enjoys mocking me because I tell him the sunscreen he uses has cancer causing agents, and while we have sunscreen in the house that would be better to use, he refuses to use it (sigh)}.

The grey goose, ready.  I received a ton of comments on the number "69."

So this was it; I was ready to go.  I drifted over to the start area just after 8:15am for the 9am start in the hopes of not being at the back (it turns out, this did not matter, but it was cool to be there first).  I also was set to meet up with Chris and Mandy of From the Pavement's Edge, as we missed each other on Friday night due to locations of our stay over.

Base of the ski mountain and starting line

The Climbing Begins

 At 9am, we started, and meandered through the town to the breakaway point, where everyone exploded at approximately 25mph.  This is the point at which I knew I just wanted to finish!

Shortly thereafter, we began the climb that would pull us up 4200 feet in elevation, taking us about 15 miles up to the first aid station, and cause me the most sit bone pain I have ever experienced in my life.  This part of the ride was all fire road, and very steep most of the way.  No matter what I did, it seemed I could not roll over 3-5mph for the entire climb.  It took close to 1.5 hours to reach the pseudo summit at just over 11,000 feet. (Sidebar:  You don’t know what that elevation will do until you get there, I felt “ok”, but not great, I was short of breath, and was feeling a bit woozy when I arrived  - even beyond the rear pain).  To my surprise, I was about 5 minutes behind Chris at that point, so it was cool to see a familiar face "up there."  I proceeded to get off the bike, eat, drink, use the facilities, and get back on the bike within 5 minutes. Chris had taken off at about the same time we had greeted each other, which was a wise move - always ride your own race). At that point, I was thinking that I have never climbed this far or long - ever - and then I thought, "I’m going downhill now, right?"

Sorta Downhill

There was some decent downhill after the first summit.  Not killer, but some rolling hills in-between.  This area, along with the rest of the ride had the most beautiful views I have ever seen, particularly during September in the Rockies.  The leaves were turning, and my body was dying - one pedal stroke at a time.

After the sorta downhill, the ride took me to the opposite side of the town of Crested Butte where we would climb partially through a residential area, back to another up-down fire road route that led to the next area, which would be the “single track” mountain bike trails leading around Mt Crested Butte itself and the start/finish area. This was the halfway mark.

Single track for every appetite

The single track spanned the gamut of what I had ridden:  rocky loose gravel, tree roots with little climbs, and mossy areas that crossed streams and woods.  This was a 7-mile or so jaunt that criss-crossed up and across Mt Crested Butte, and spanned 3 MTB trails.  The absolute worst part of this section was the very end, right before the start/finish line.  At about 1 mile out the route takes riders to a section where we could SEE the start/finish line, but we aren’t there yet!

Midway

I rolled to the base area at approximately 3hrs 28mins; 32 minutes under the 4 hour cutoff time.  I ate everything I touched, had my camelback refilled, and took about 10 minutes to regain my composure.  Luckily, by this point my butt felt normal, and I was generally doing okay.  I thought there was a chance I could finish in around 7 hours total.  Why wouldn’t the 2nd half be faster?  I had already done it once….

The Second Half: my death was high exaggerated

I did not realize how difficult it would be to do the exact same route again.  I started the climb to the summit, AGAIN!  Another 4200 feet of elevation gain, but this time my body was playing the “I want to sleep now” game.  I had been doing a physical activity for more than 4 hours, and I was moving at a snail’s pace up the hill - even slower than lap one.  It seemed like it took forever, and I was alone most of the time, but managed to push on.  There was only one point during the ride where I walked, and it was a very steep section of the climb of about 30 yards.  I reached the summit at approximately 3:15pm.  

Once again, I fed myself, drank, and paid a visit to the little boys room.  I spoke to a couple of the volunteers, and another rider who was contemplating our timing, and where we were.  One of the volunteers suggested that we were about 1:45 away from the finish (this is at 3:15), and I knew the cutoff was 5pm for the 8 hour limit.  I was somewhat panicked that I could not make this time, so I split, and headed down the hill for my second descent to the single track.

Race to the finish

I’m in trouble.  I perceived that I had no time at this point.  On the downhill sections, I do as much as my beat body would allow.  I arrived at the single track just after 4pm with another racer.  We lamented that it was going to be very close, and we may not even make it.  Something triggered in my mind at that point, and I knew I needed to kick it as hard as I could for the next 7 miles.  So there it was. I began the race to the end, and rode through (quickly as I could) the various terrain, criss-crossing, tearing through trees, climbing, descending, hopping, and finally arriving to see that single track view of the start/finish line.

The Finish

During the last couple of miles were mostly descending on the single track.  I had tasted the start/finish and I could hear music and people.  It was approximately 15 minutes to 5pm according to my Droid bike computer (more about this later), and I’m frantic. I hit the turns fast; the dirt is soft, and WHAM!  I went down for the first time that day.  It hurt. I was a mess, but I didn’t waste more than 5 seconds hopping back up, and continuing.  I finally rounded the corner that brought me to the base, and spun to the finish.  I could hear the announcer saying that another rider was coming in (me), but I could not see the time.  I painfully crossed at 7hrs, 31mins (all approximates).  I was dead, but I was greeted by Chris and Mandy, and the support crew that anointed me with my finisher’s medal!

Sam crossing the finish at the Alpine Odyssey

Post Race, and Musings

I won’t bore you with too many detail, as I’m a terrible writer, and I’m sure there are a metric ton of details I have left out or remember incorrectly.  What is only a short musing here seemed like a 7.5 hour lifetime to me.

Post race, we cooled down, I called G.E., spoke to other riders, and hung out with Mandy and Chris.  We all ate whatever was there (believe me, we ate all that was available), enjoyed the awards ceremony, and the lottery for Leadville that followed.

Chris made the lottery, and I was so happy for him. He honestly really deserved it!  Mandy said he’s just lucky that way, and unfortunately for me, I know that I am not.  Luck wasn't on my side that day, as I didn’t get one of the slots in the lottery.  I know Chris must've felt like he couldn’t really celebrate, but the non-lottery for me didn’t hurt my feelings.  I was just so happy for him.  Personally, I could not help but think I didn’t deserve to get in that easily.  I may still get in for 2013, with a little help from my friends, or by shooting for the next couple of qualifying races. Only time will tell.

My bike computer obviously had some things wrong with it, as I thought I was pushing the 5pm/8 hour cutoff, but I managed to come in 30 minutes ahead of it.  I’ll have to figure that sucker out before my next ride, and I'll probably include the use of Strava as well. 

This was, without question, the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life.  For reference, I have run a marathon, I’m an Army vet, I was a high school football player, and I have dislocated both my left elbow, and my left shoulder in the past (among many other difficult things).  I feel like I just keep saying that over and over, but it’s been many days since the race, and I still feel it’s true.  I cannot believe that I finished something so tough.

Seriously, I have to thank some special people in my life.  First and foremost my seriously better half G.E., who has pushed me this year. We have both improved ourselves, and I would suggest that she has worked at least 30% harder than I have.  Without her, I would not have been able to do something like this, or have even bothered.  My friend Will, who was simply around, but provided encouragement in his own way, other friends from kickboxing, and especially my new friends Chris and Mandy!

What's Next?
The Cougar Slayer.  I won't describe it further, but suffice it to say it's a nasty, unsupported endurance mountain bike ride, and I'll be riding it with Chris in less than one week. The bike is improved, and has a new fork (thanks, Craigslist!), my right hand is still a bit of a claw, but my rear is definitely doing better. Will I make it to Leadville? We will see, but if not, I will volunteer and will probably ride the Alpine again.

Crested Butte was awesome.

Sam, thanks so much for taking the time to detail out your day at the Alpine Odyssey. While I am still feeling guilty for not being able to physically be present during the ride, I am beyond impressed with all you've accomplished in what is truly a very short amount of time. Your strength and endurance never cease to amaze me. I know you'll achieve all of your goals. :O)