The Death Ride. I had never heard of it until about 18 months ago when Jeff and Jonathan said they were training for it. I had started more than casual cycling in preparation for the triathlon, and I had thought that the idea of 129 miles of cycling in the mountains was absurd. Simply absurd. Who the hell would want to do that?
Long story short, they did the ride last year and finished the five passes, all 129 miles. At first, it was simply a curiosity for me, but after I finished the Escape From Alcatraz triathlon, I realized two things: 1) I'm not a good swimmer and triathlons will always be a drag for me, and 2) my twice-surgically repaired knee did not have a lot of miles of running left on it. If I want to stay fit, I'll need to do the one sport of the three that I really liked, cycling.
And I do like it; it's rare when you find a sport that you can do to your physical limits, and barely notice that you are working out (I get the same feeling from skiing). Nothing beats the rush of coasting down a hill, or spinning as fast as you can on Canada while watching the clouds spill over the mountain. I've always wondered if the joy you get was from endorphins being released as you move faster than you could ever run using only your muscular power and gravity. I was also quite proud that I could usually ascend Crestview to Brittan with only a stop or so...in my eyes, I was quite a climber.
Or so I thought. I joined them on a ride to Skyline taking Redwood Gulch to 9, and the climb to the top of Gulch was simply brutal. It's only two miles, but it's so steep that I had to stop at least twice on the way up, and I barely averaged 4 miles an hour going up. The continued climb up Skyline, while not quite as steep, was endless. Alas, the skills and power I thought I had were non-existent, I was passed by cyclist after cyclist on the way up, and I could tell Jeff and Jonathan were a bit bored waiting on me.
To summarize a lot of training, I started riding up to and down from Skyline (in the San Francisco Bay Area) on the usual roads; Old La Honda, King's Mountain, Page Mill, and Highway 9. I had a brutal travel schedule at work, and while in May I was able to do 65 miles in the hills and only be tired, my final training rides in June were not as good, I had to stop more often than before, and I was probably a little heavier than I had planned (those damned cookies at meetings are too good). However, race day is race day, and I was signed up for it.
Race Start
Elevation 5501
Time: 5:15 am
Faint glimpses of the rising sun were visible over the mountain summit, but it was still too dark to ride without a light. A loose peloton of riders made the gradual descent from Turtle Rock Park to Markleeville, and the cool breeze provided the necessary stimulation to override the sleeplessness of the night before. The casual mountain town bustled with early morning energy; the locals volunteer efforts required preparations unknown to the riders.
My colleagues and I talked about little in particular, brief exchanges about the high winds the night before in the campsite and idle chatter about work. I glance at the other riders, noting the variety of cycling jerseys that touted the experiences of other Death Rides or similar events that boast the distance, elevation change, and temperature. It’s surprising how many of these events include skeletons or skulls in bicycle equipment; apparently the Death Ride does not have a monopoly on intimidation.
After a few miles, we approach the sign announcing a left turn for Highway 89, Monitor Pass. With the approach of false dawn, all of the riders turn left, and with sounds reminiscent of ‘The Carol of the Bells’, the derailleurs of a hundred bicycles click to the lower gears simultaneously. The Death Ride has begun.
Pass 1: West Monitor Ascent
Elevation: 5400 to 8314 feet
Time: 5:40 am
Distance: 7.6 miles
Max Heart Rate: 171 bpm
Avg Heart Rate: 158 bpm
Lap time: 1 hour, 15 minutes
Average speed: 6 mph
An eerie calm replaces the gentle breeze blowing in my ears and only the creaking of my pedals and the slightly labored breathing of a dozen riders can be heard. The ascent is a relatively gentle grade for the first mile, but as the road carves its way out of the valley up the side of the mountain, the grade approaches 7% and the last clicks of changing gears is heard. Everyone is in their lowest gear now.
The stratification of the riders begins, and similar to the marathons and triathlons I’ve done, the results of who will climb that hill fastest can hardly be predicted by age, gender, body type or equipment. I passed remarkably fit young men while being overtaken by gray-haired ladies. Halfway up the pass, a man riding a fixed gear beach cruiser passes me, furiously pumping his pedals while standing out of his saddle. Riders on recombinant bikes and even an elliptical trainer hybrid all attack the mountain in various speeds. My colleagues pull away, not because they are leaving me behind, but because their bodies need to keep their pace that my body can’t follow. But a rhythm sets in, and the steady pushing and pulling of the pedals with my legs gets me to the first water stop within 30 minutes of the beginning of the climb.
I must take a moment of your time to applaud the friendliness and service of the Death Ride volunteers. These people wake up at 4:00 am, carry hundreds of 5 gallon water bottles and snacks to the stops, set up tables, and do whatever is asked of them by the hundreds of hopefully grateful riders. Throughout the day, they are there pouring water, adjusting derailleurs, and offering encouragement to the riders who wonder if they can make it up the rest of the way.
A quick five minute break and I start the second half of the climb. Monitor Pass is almost always ascending, there are few if any flat spots or rollers, and that challenges the riders simply because of the monotony. But a couple of turns after the water stop, the general boredom of the climb with no breaks is soon forgotten because the views require all of your attention. At higher elevations, the less dense air has less refraction and the clarity of the mountain view is magnified. Miles of desert mountain rock formations and valley are visible, and when you add the shadows of the rising sun to the crevices and cliffs, it causes one to remember just how small we really are, and how lucky we can be to experience moments like this.
Another half hour of pedaling and we approach the end of the first pass. Surprisingly, my breathing is not that labored. Volunteers are there to put stickers on your number showing that you finished the Monitor Ascent. With legs feeling strong, I stop for a quick snack and water refill, and ride across the ridge to the east side of Monitor. One down, four to go.
Topaz (East Monitor) Descent
Elevation: 8314 to 5200 feet
Time: 7:00 am
Distance: 10 miles
Lap time: 30 minutes
Max speed: 42 mph
Avg speed: 19.6 mph
I know that I’m not even an average climber, I’m strong enough to make it to the top, but my speed would be considered slow by most cycling clubs. However, I like to think that my descent skills are at least average, if not a little better than that.
Maybe it was because I rode motorcycles when I was young, or maybe it’s because I’m stupid, but when I have gravity helping me down the hill, this elation tempered by fear enters my mind and I pick my line down the road and count on my wits to carry me safely. I wouldn’t say that I bonsai the hill, but I’m definitely very trusting in my equipment and handling skills. As I passed the crest of the pass, my bike picked up speed, and the riders that passed me were soon seeing the back of my jersey as I loosely held the hoods on my handlebars and braked only when I needed to, only as much as needed. Brake before the turn, release, shift your weight and let gravity carry you through while you feel the traction of the tires on the road. On the straights, bring pedals level, tuck the knees, watch out for bumps, lift your bum off the saddle before you hit them, and remember to keep your arms relaxed. All of that while drinking in the sights of Topaz Lake and the surrounding desert valley as the sun crested the horizon. Ah yes, indeed I’m a skilled descent artist.
Or so I thought. Normally I’m riding alone or with a few friends, but during the race there were hundreds of cyclists coming up and hundreds coming down on a two lane road with no guardrails and turns leading to cliffs. I passed my share of cyclists, but I was also being passed as if I were walking my bike. I heard aggressive shouts of ‘LEFT!’ from riders behind me, impatiently waiting on me to get out of their way while I was waiting for the slow poke in front of me to get out of my way, while there were four riders abreast going uphill. I wouldn’t quite use the word ‘madhouse’, but one thing is for certain, the descents are where death could occur at the Death Ride. For some reason, that was when realized that the hill that catapulted me to speeds of 40 miles per hour was the same hill I would need to climb in a few minutes.
I approached the bottom of the pass I saw my colleagues only a quarter mile ahead of me. Maybe they waited at the water stop longer than I expected, but I was glad to see I wasn’t too far behind. I stopped briefly at the water stop while pondering that a couple hundred miles south on Highway 395 was Area 51.
Pass 2: Topaz (East Monitor) Ascent
Elevation: 5200 to 8314 feet
Time: 8:00 am
Distance: 9.76 miles
Max Heart Rate: 168 bpm
Avg Heart Rate: 140 bpm
Lap time: 1 hour, 45 minutes
Avg speed: 5.6 mph
The sun is out, and riders take their time to apply sunscreen, drink water, and wipe the dried sweat from the sunglasses. I still felt good from the previous pass: sure, it was almost twice as long as my training climbs, but my legs were still able to spin to my six miles an hour in the lowest gear and the altitude didn’t seem to be a problem.
The east side of Monitor is different from the west in that the first few miles are a gentle, yet constant, grade of about 5%, and my fellow riders were wanting to talk to pass the time (as others note, misery loves company). People exchanged origins, training regimens, what heart rate they consider to be too much, and in the drone of voices there is always a whisper of the word ‘Lance.’ “Lance did this…”, “Lance uses this…”, “Lance goes into the mountains today…” It was a pleasurable way to pass the time, and I was surprised by the number of positive comments I received on my “Nuclear, clean air energy” jersey. Even more surprising was that I didn’t hear one negative comment.
Much of that chatter goes away after the mid-pass water stop, where the grade turns into a nasty 7-8% around those same turns leading to cliffs. At this point I discovered the utility of the Clif Shots, a strange gelatin energy food that literally adds a burst of energy within minutes of eating it. It’s a strange sensation, you lose rhythm and have to stop for a minute to get the heart rate down, and a few minutes after you eat the Shot, you have energy to climb two miles without stopping at a pace that you couldn’t do earlier that morning. I was wondering if this counted as doping, and I realized that I didn’t care…whatever it was it was keeping me moving. This also made me understand why doping happens so much in cycling, such sustained effort over hours of riding is almost impossible for the body to maintain.
But Clif Shots have their limits, as I rounded the third false summit (while being paralyzed by the view of Topaz Lake), I began to realize that I’ve already exceeded my maximum elevation gain during my training climbs. I started taking breaks to let my heart rate slow down. Almost twenty miles uphill over one mile of elevation change, and I had another 35 to go.
If only the second pass would end. After the steep gradient, there is close to two or three miles of gradual grade that still wear on you, throughout the whole ascent, I don’t think there was one flat section. In addition, my feet were killing me, so much that I couldn’t press the pedal without an excruciating pain in the middle of the ball of my foot. I began to worry, and gasped a sigh of relief when I returned to the summit water stop.
Two down, three to go, but I didn’t know how I would handle it with my foot in agony.
West Monitor Descent
Elevation: 8314 to 5504 feet
Time: 5:40 am
Lap time: 15 minutes
Distance: 7.7 miles
Max speed: 51.7 mph
Avg speed: 30 mph
First line of business was to get some more water. As I hobbled my way to the water tanks, I saw a lady with her shoes off massaging the ball of her feet. Heh, whatever was wrong wasn't unique to me. I grabbed some water, sat my tired butt down, pulled my shoes off and started massaging my feet. I then put my shoes on looser than before, and the agony changed to severe discomfort.
Fine then, I can take discomfort. I hopped back (or should I say 'gingerly rested my bottom') on the saddle, and pedaled up a minor hill before the descent. The crowd had definitely started to thin out, it wasn't quite the ruckus that the first descent would be. Gravity did it's magic and I started to move.
I had seen this side of the hill three times now, and I was starting to get a feel for the road. A guy passed by me and using him as a focal point, I was able to cut loose even more than before. Using the fundamentals of before (relax arms, tuck knees, shift weight), I began to hit speeds that I hadn't seen before on the straights.
We approached one of the old cattle grates (which have concrete on them, but are a indented and painted where the pipes were), and instead of slowing down, he bunny-hopped it at forty miles an hour.
Nice.
At one point, the wind noise approached a pitch, volume, and violence that I hadn't heard since I was riding 160 miles per hour on the Autobahn and opened a window. A brief glance at my speedometer showed that I was at 51 miles an hour. Faster than I have ever been before. I knew then that this would be a day to remember.
The descent ended all too quickly, but the smile stayed on my face until well into Ebbett's Pass.
Pass 3: Ebbett's Pass Ascent
Elevation: 5709 to 8749 feet
Time: 9:52 am
Lap time: 1 hour, 45 minutes
Distance: 12 miles
Max speed: 21 mph
Avg speed: 6.5 mph
Max Heart Rate: 167 bpm
Avg Heart Rate: 140 bpm
This was the pass I was dreading. I hadn't seen it, but I had heard Beware Ebbett's Pass, it's the hardest. After my ordeal on the backside of Monitor, I didn't know if I could handle hard or harder, much less hardest. But I felt reasonably good, it wasn't even 10:00 am, and I was done with two of the five passes. I turned on to Highway 4 and pedaled away. I stopped for food at the lunch area to refill my Cytomax and get some more ShotBlocks, and wound up talking with an older guy. He had done the Death Ride several times, so I asked him, "Just how hard is this next one anyways." He was calming, he said, "You know, many people think the backside of Monitor is the hardest because it never stops going up" (my thoughts exactly) "where Ebbett's has places where it's flat. But, I have to agree that the last couple of miles is a bitch."
For some reason, I started feeling a little cocky. I could handle two miles of Hell.
I trucked along, casual banter going around, and somehow wound up in a group of three women. Two were riding together and asking the other some questions. The grade had not been too bad, just a few bumps here and there, but nothing to get worked up about. The one I remember was , "Are we on Ebbett's Pass yet?" and the lady replied, "Well, technically yes, but it doesn't really start until the cattle grate." Some more hills came up, and the separations began again, the two interrogators fell behind me while the interrogatee continued ahead.
I stopped again for some food and drink (last call for water they said) and almost fell off the saddle laughing at the women, clearly drunk, standing on the makeshift platform wearing superhero outfits (I remember seeing Wonder Woman, Batman and Robin, and maybe the Green Lantern). They were hootin' and hollerin' as we used to say in Oklahoma, and I was thinking that were I in college and they were around, I would have had a fun time with those ladies.
The pedals kept a cranking for a few miles and the scenery was completely opposite of Monitor. Trees carpeted the ground except for the occasional cliff face. I saw warnings for the cattle guard that preceded a curve. I crossed the cattle guard and instantly the grade went from 4% to 7-8%.
The switchbacks were horrid, I learned well enough to actually go down a gear and get out of the saddle to pound them out. Afterwards my heartbeat would go above 160 bpm and I would need to stop.
Wait, 160 bpm? I usually coast around 170 without too much exertion, and I'm dead tired at 160? Jonathan mentioned this, but I had never witnessed it with my own body. And I had to stop often, eight times total by my count.
It. Seemed. To. Never. Stop. Switchback after switchback, downhill riders screaming 'LEFT', uphill riders saying 'SHIT'. I remember somebody saying, 'When you get to the lake, you only have one mile left.' One one particularly treacherous hill, I stopped and this Happy-Go-Lucky Lady rides by with a smile on her face saying, 'It's only two more miles guys, come on!' For a split second, I wanted to hit her, then I remembered she was being nice. I saw a guy in front of me walking his bike up. Not that. I can't do that. I have stopped dozens of times, but I swore to myself that I would not, could not, push that bike up. The terrain started to get flat, even a little downhill, then it went back up. Some guy said, 'Could it be? Rollers all the way to the top?' Another guy chuckled and said, 'Yeah, something like that.'
The Lake. It's beautiful, it really is, as are the occasional mountain views you see, especially when you realize that you were at the base of that summit only an hour and a half ago. I wanted desparately to join the few people with their feet in the water, but I knew there was only one more mile and I had to finish this hill. It became a mission.
The last mile was Hell. Looking back, I agree with the man at the base where he said the back side of Monitor was worse, it is, but the one difference is that Ebbett's was after Monitor, and I was beat. All I remember was riding, gasping, stopping, starting, riding, gasping, stopping, starting. All of a sudden, an Asian man said in strongly accented English, 'The summit is after this hill.' I told myself, I will finish this hill without stopping. I didn't. I felt like I was done. But I only stopped once, and after I got my sticker, I put my bike on the ground and the water stop at the top was like Heaven.
Hermit Pass Descent
Elevation: 8729 to 7120 feet
Time: 12:43 pm
Lap time: 13 minutes, 25 seconds
Distance: 5.1 miles
Max speed: 31.3 mph
Avg speed: 22.8 mph
I spent way too much time at the water stop. Part of it was that I ran into a colleague who had attended our conferences, never knew he was a cyclist. We chatted for a bit and he asked, 'Are you going for all Five passes today, Dennis?" He had an expectant smile, but I was seriously considering skipping the fourth pass and calling it a day. Remembering how hard Ebbett's was, I said, "That's my intention. I know I'll finish four, and we'll see if they let me on the fifth." He gave me an understanding look, and he told me good luck.
I ate and drank my fill, and before I could chicken out, I got on the bike and pedaled the tenth of a mile and started the Hermit Pass descent.
This, by far, was the most unpleasant descent because the road is narrow, there were a ton of people coming up, and it was steep and tortuous. I couldn't relax, I couldn't let go, I was constantly vigilant trying not to hit other riders going down and coming up. A total pain, and while it's only five miles, the average grade is 7%. I realized that this ascent, while short, was going to be a nasty little bugger. Real nasty.
The one positive was that I saw Wayne coming up the hill when I was halfway down. I knew at least one person in our group was having as much fun as I was. If he was halfway up, then I wasn't too far behind. So I thought.
Pass 4: Hermit Pass Ascent
Elevation: 7149 to 8749 feet
Time: 12:56 pm
Lap time: 59 minutes
Distance: 5.1 miles
Max speed: 17.9 mph
Avg speed: 5.9 mph
Max Heart Rate: 159 bpm
Avg Heart Rate: 141 bpm
I didn't stop for but a minute at the downhill water stop, there was no need because the descent was so short. I got my sticker, turned around, and started up the hill.
I could go on and on about how I couldn't go on and on. By my count, I had stopped twelve times throughout this lap. All I knew was that I would wait for my heartbeat to slow down (and hopefully not stop) and then start up again. I was exhausted, completely. I didn't even remember my foot pain anymore.
And then I made an interesting realization that I still struggle with trying to remember. Whenever I took deep breaths, my heart rate would go down faster. I understood something else, my breathing was terrible. This has probably been my downfall in almost every event I've done, when I get tired, I take very shallow breaths. Any chemical engineer knows that you need to maximize the flow rate of the primary reactant to the reactor in order to improve your mass transfer, where I was barely replacing a quarter of the air in my lungs with every breath.
I started a deep breathing regimen, while coincidentally using a lady in front of me as a pacer. She must have thought I was a freaky stalker with my deep breathing, but I didn't care, I was making progress because of her and my breathing. Until I stopped again, it only worked for about three quarters of a mile.
I knew I was approaching the hilltop, but it was useless. I was moving from tree to tree, and stopping in the shade of each one. Leg cramps were the norm right now. I came to one more really steep hill, and I did something I never thought I could do.
I walked the bike. Against everything I believed in my core tenaciousness, toughness, and strength, I walked the bike. It was only for fifty yards, but I still walked the bike.
At that point, I didn't think I could do the fifth pass.
Ebbett's Pass Descent
Elevation: 8729 to 5954 feet
Time: 2:31 pm
Lap time: 23 minutes, 37 seconds
Distance: 10.7 miles
Max speed: 43.3 mph
Avg speed: 27.2 mph
Clearly I was wise to allow the other riders to pass me as often as I did because when I reached the summit, I was nearly alone and the descent down Ebbett's pass would be completely open. Feeling somewhat defeated by Hermit's Pass, I decided that it would be appropriate, no wait, I mean, necessary to redeem myself with a decent descent. And that's what I did.
Those rollers I mentioned earlier weren't really rollers, they were just minor bumps in the road. Gravity worked it's magic and I basically had the whole road to myself as I cruised up to 30-40 mph. Sure, I had to pass one or two people, but there was nobody coming up so it wasn't too hard to blow right by them. I didn't even have to scream LEFT!
What was hard was braking for the switchbacks that had killed me the couple of hours before. One in particular didn't have much of a warning sign, and before entering the curve, the grade increased such that I had to squeeze with all of my might in order to keep from flying off the literal cliff. My heart rate broke 160 in anticipation of my certain death, but after the screeching of the tires and brakes stopped, I cut loose again. On the remaining challenging spots, the course organizers were kind enough to put up signs that said SLOW, SLOWER, SLOWEST, in order to prevent similar catastrophes.
At the cattle guard, two other guys and I somehow met up and we matched speeds all the way down the second half of the pass, and we had a good time cruising about 25 mph towards the lunch tent. Before reaching the tent, coming up the road was a police car going about 60 mph, followed by a fire truck and and an ambulance. I had no doubt what happened, someone's hands weren't quite strong enough on the brakes. I found out later that a rider did indeed take a nosedive off the cliff, and according to the cop, he only had minor injuries. I'm guessing minor injuries involved a cast, but hey, at least he's not dead.
I pedaled into the lunch tent and grabbed a turkey wrap and some pretzels. Some people were hanging out, clearly as bushed as I was. One guy was getting mad at himself for not finishing, he apparently flew in from Georgia, and we realized that it was still possible to make the cut-off for the fifth and final pass. We hopped on the bikes and somehow got the legs spinning in a circular motion.
Return to Turtle Rock
Total Distance: 9.6 miles
Elevation Change: 5435' to 6038'
Time: 40 minutes
Avg Speeed: 14.6 mph
I seemed less tired than I had thought, my cramps were gone, and I was able to maintain a good pace even on the flats. I looked at my clock and thought it would be quite possible to make the 4:00 pm cutoff to get up the fifth pass. I felt good, I could do it.
Then the mild ascent started and I had to drop gears, my heart rate went up to 155, and I felt that exact exhaustion I had felt on Hermit's Pass. The grade was gentle, roughly 5-6%, but I was still getting beaten down. The labors continued for a couple of miles and then I came to my car parked at Turtle Rock.
I looked at my watch and saw that I had 10 minutes to make it to the cutoff checkpoint, I asked myself could I make the second cutoff at 5:00 pm, and I thought about my training for this race. The website said you should have at least a seven hour ride before starting the Death Ride, and I only had a six hour ride. And I only had two rides in June (brutal travel schedule).
I did something I never did in a race, I gave up. I always finished them before. I told myself going 90 miles in the mountains is still an achievement, and it is, but I signed up for more and didn't get it done. With a mixture of anger and exhaustion, I put my bike on the rack and went home.
Looking back, I did the right thing. I wasn't ready for that fifth climb, I could make excuses all day but the real reason was that I didn't train enough. What I do know is that I won't let that happen again. If I'm able to get in the race next year, I'll be looking down Carson saying to myself, "Not this time buddy, not this time."
