Mileage: 46.2 and 41
April mileage: 147.3
Temperature: 42 and 45
Just about every time I go out riding these days, I imagine what life will be like for Geoff during the Great Divide Race. Sometimes I feel jealous. But most of the time, I just feel a pained, pre-emptive sort of empathy.
I think a lot of casual fans imagine the challenge of the Great Divide Race is its length. And it is long - 2,500 miles long. But I think the most important route statistic, the one that is overlooked all too often, is the sheer amount of climbing - more than 200,000 feet along the way. And if you have a goal to ride this route in say, 24 days, you are going to be spending a lot of time in your granny gear slumped over your handlebars. 100 miles per day on a mountain bike? That sounds tough. 10,000 feet of climbing per day? That sounds like something that already has been outlawed in most developed nations.
I swallowed a lot of goo and gravel running 40 mph downhill without a front fender over my fat mountain bike tires, but I made the U-turn feeling awesome and thinking "this hill thing isn't so hard after all." Then, about halfway up the second climb, I started to unravel. I began to feel ill from all the acid gushing through my legs. I started hallucinating big sparkly snowflakes near the top, though I'm not sure it was even raining. I made the run back down and returned for a third and final climb, locked into the small ring before the end of the first mile, my quads transformed into tenderized meat mash by the top. I felt cooked, toasted ... which is good. It's what I was going for. But when I looked at my GPS for the day's totals, it told me I had climbed 4,183 feet. And all I could think about was multiplying that by 50.
Anyway, I did ride my bicycle out to the race to act as a roving spectator, and I had a lot of fun. I pedaled along the course and took pictures of Geoff and shouted encouragement to other racers and friends. I pedaled back to the finish line and watched Geoff finish in second place. As he cooled down, I returned for one final run to the turnaround. I passed the last runner, who was being shadowed by a couple of race sweeps on bicycles. I shot her my biggest grin and a thumbs up. "You're doing awesome," I said. She just lowered her eyes and shook her head. I got the feeling that she was burrowed deep in her pain cave, and didn't want some random chick on a bicycle shining any artificial light through her tunnel. I started to worry that I hadn't sounded genuine in my encouragement. It's tough to be in last place, especially when you have race sweeps hanging right off your rear. I wished there was a way I could turn around and tell her how much I admired her. I wanted to say "Look at you! You're running 10 kilometers and you're succeeding, which is a lot more than I lined up for this morning." But of course I didn't do that. I left her alone on my final pass. But I cheered really loud when she reached the finish line.
It inspired me to think about taking up running.
But first I need to master my distance climbing.
I thought the hill intervals were supposed to help get away from the saber-toothed beast's
ReplyDeleteI just wrote a post yesterday about how I am finally starting to like running. I am trying to work towards a 5k but I have yet to get off the treadmill: pavement still stings. So, I will stick to hiking for now.
ReplyDeleteGreat post!
Cheering for someone who is already miserable is a no-win for both parties.
ReplyDeleteI like to say I only run when something big and scary is chasing me. I don't remember the last time that happened. I once ran the 13 mile 7,000 foot vertical race up Pikes Peak.
ReplyDeleteI hadn't run in a very long time but everybody said running uphill was like riding a bike. Maybe on the steep parts but the flatter sections killed me. The last mile I walked a 100 yards and then would stretch. I got to the top and put my warm clothes on. That was long enough for me to get so stiff I really thought I'd have to get somebody to carry me to the bus to take me down. I did finally painfully made it to the bus.
I wanted to run this, but having just found out about it a week earlier, there just wasnt the time for myself to perpare. I ran one last summer though, very rewarding (and sore) afterward.
ReplyDeleteHi! I saw you and Geoff yesterday, probably coming back from the race. I told my husband “Look! There’s Jill. She writes that blog I read everyday! I’m going to wave” and my husband reminded me that although I might recognize you, you have no idea who this strange woman is waving at her. So I said “Well, I’ll roll down the window and yell ‘I love your blog’ and wave. Then she’ll know I’m a fan of her site!” He put on the child lock so I couldn’t roll down the window. Oh well, if you ever see a middle aged woman waving at you from her car, it’s probably me, without my husband, just waving to say I love your blog!
ReplyDelete:o)
Always interesting. I visited your blog about a year ago, and it is very amazing to see the life you live in Alaska!
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDeleteAHH. You've come over to the dark side, seething with lactic acid, hydrogen ions and oxygen debt. Excellent.
ReplyDeleteYou don't want to run(he says waving his hand mystically).
TG http://tuesdaygrimpeur.blogspot.com/
I have the same problem as Elizabeth, I refer to you as "my friend Jill" then I remember I've never actually met you, I just know you through your blog!!
ReplyDeleteGreat blog, I love the passion and commitment you show. Great photos with the bike.. great idea. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteElizabeth,
ReplyDeleteIf you see me on the street again, you should say hi. I'm pretty reserved in real life and I wish I could meet more people. So don't hesitate :-)
My motto is "run only when your being chased".
ReplyDelete