Death March

The Lizard suggested this title, referring to the Julian Death March he competed in a few years ago in California.

I missed the Glen Cove cutoff by five minutes. I had an hour less to get there. But I was stronger. I beat my split from last year by 13 minutes, and I averaged 4.7 mph.

The Lizard made the summit in three hours and 31 minutes!!!

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Stairway to Thin Air

Being on the mountain bike with a heavy pack all week was the perfect tool for today. The road bike feels light as a feather this morning, and my pack, with only extra layers and two chocolate hazelnut butter sandwiches on multigrain whole wheat bread, feels like air. I feel as if I'm floating!

Let's hope that feeling lasts for the next 24 miles.

Check out another woman riding this event today!

We probably won't have signal for the next eight hours or so, but we'll post when we can. The forecast isn't looking good right now. But I feel invisible arms preparing to push me onward!

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this is it

Do or die. I'm going up Pikes Peak again this weekend, and I intend to make it to the top this time. Here's a video from last year, and they actually caught me at the start, right at the front. Gray jersey with the RtR 25th anniversary logo. Within about 10 seconds, I am 16th or so, and 15 minutes later, everyone had passed me. I don't think this camera ever saw me again. But this video does show exactly where I'll be and exactly what I'll be trying to do this weekend.

All the way to the top.

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75 owies

The nerves had already kicked in; now they're on extreme alert.

I knew last year I'd need to be 15 minutes faster to make it to the summit of Pikes Peak this year.

Now comes the rider packet, with the announcement of one less hour of riding time this year.

I have to be an hour and 15 minutes faster this year.

My "I think I can" chant isn't too audible at the moment, and these blasted water droplets won't stop dribbling down my cheeks.

But I've worked hard this year. I'm fighting to stay positive.

I will not be swept.

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Six Weeks and Counting

-------- Original Message --------
From: Summit Cycling Productions, llc
To: Snowcatcher
Subject: 2010 Assault Results - We Need Yours

July 14, 2011

Dear Snowcatcher,

We have had many requests to put up the "entire" list of times from the 2010 Assault. And we need your help because we do not have your final time!

We are quite sorry our results were incomplete last year, and we have done a number of things to ensure that doesn't happen in 2011. If you happen to know your time at the summit please email that info along with your name. If you don't remember, maybe you can tell me who you may have finished with or near. Any info will help us rebuild the COMPLETE list. We understand some of you may have not finished, but if you can send me an email letting us know where you may have turned around, we can verify the information we do have. We will do this on the honor system.

All the best and hope to see you on the road!

Pat McDonough
Event Director - Assault on the Peak

-------- Original Message --------
Subject: Re: 2010 Assault Results - We Need Yours!!
From: Snowcatcher
Date: Fri, July 15, 2011 9:07 am
To: Pat McDonough

Good morning! You picked me up half a mile from the summit, perhaps three minutes after the cutoff. I was the Last Rider on the Road. :(

It was very exciting to see the ride listed in Bicycle Colorado News this month!

Snowcatcher

-------- Original Message --------
From: Pat McDonough
Subject: RE: 2010 Assault Results - We Need Yours!!
To: Snowcatcher
Date: Friday, July 15, 2011, 10:52 AM

I remember well. I hope your cycling season has gone well this year. Look forward to seeing you again this year....at the summit. (I won't be driving support. I will be at the top all day!)

Good Luck!

Pat McDonough

Summit Cycling Productions
www.ridepikespeak.com

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Determination

Last weekend, The Lizard accomplished something he wasn't sure he could do. He hasn't been able to train much this year, so he wasn't sure he'd be able to pedal all 246 miles of the inaugural Double Triple Bypass and climb all 20,000+ feet.

I kept asking him what words he has been using to coach me up Pikes Peak next month. He tells me I can't say, "I'm not sure I can do it." He tells me I MUST believe and say, "I CAN do it. I WILL do it."

He finished the Double Triple Bypass. He was the 19th person to cross the finish line Saturday, and even though he was tired Sunday, flatted on Loveland Pass and forced to take cover during a lightning-riddled storm near Mount Evans, he still managed to finish in the top 20%. (He said he was so hungry all day Monday!)

He is pure inspiration.

Now here's yet another source of inspiration. This is the very same guy who told me on Pikes Peak last year when I stopped for a minute to breathe (for about the 70th time), "Don't you dare give up! Don't you dare turn back! You get back on that bike, and you keep going!"

He made it all the way up Pikes Peak, in spite of being paralyzed from the waist down. His injury was the same year as mine. He can't walk. I can.

This year, I will make it all the way up Pikes Peak, too. I WILL.

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First Climb of 2011

The ice and snow are mostly gone, and my new derailleur is in place! Only I guess it's not "new" anymore. It has a tough 45 miles on it after Saturday!

We went up Deer Creek Canyon. I also did Deer Creek Park because it's steep; I thought a primer climb of that little road might make the canyon seem easier. (These photos are from Independence Pass a couple of years ago, not Deer Creek Canyon last weekend.)

I hadn't done the Park in several years. Last time I did it, I wasn't as strong as I am now. I had to stop twice on the way up back then. I remembered it being about 5 miles longer back then than it was Saturday! (It's about .2 of a mile. It seemed so, so much longer and harder back in about 2007 or 2008, when my back hurt much more all the time than it does now.)

The Lizard told me the new derailleur would really make a difference. I thought it would just shift smoother. I am stunned by how much the silky shifting improves my ride! I don't have to lean into squeezing the shifters with all my weight and then hold the lever to make sure things clicks into place anymore. Just one little flick of two fingers, and keep pedaling. I had forgotten how good a brand new road bike feels, and that's exactly how my bike feels! I bought this bike in 2004. The derailleur I lost last summer was original equipment. I got a lot of miles and years out of that thing!

The Lizard also said I had more stretch in my old chain than he's ever seen. That's why the chain was skipping, not so much because of the mountain bike derailleur that was installed last summer so I could finish Ride the Rockies. I have no idea what causes a chain to stretch out, other than use and age, but apparently a stretched-out chain affects performance as much as an inappropriate derailleur. I also have a shiny new chain and cassette now, and boy, do they ever purr!

I had not been up Deer Creek Canyon since August. I have not climbed at all since September. I thought I'd lost all my climbing ability because I haven't done the stairs much since August either, and the last time I did them, in February, I couldn't go all the way up without stopping. I had to stop every 20 floors to breathe, and even 20 flights at a time seemed an airless vacuum.

I had never been all the way to the top of Deer Creek Canyon on my bike. Last year, up until my friend Shonna went Code Blue in August, I was trying to increase my climbs by at least a mile each ride. I got to within a couple of miles of the summit on my last ride, but I couldn't make it to the top. I spent as much time as possible with Shonna instead of my bike after we nearly lost her in August. No regrets.

Now I can't say I've never made it to the top of Deer Creek Canyon on my bike anymore! I made it to the top on my first climb of the year! I had to stop only three times on the way up, and one of those was to shed my ear warmers and fleece gloves. I'd realized about three miles up the canyon I'd accidentally forgotten my pack, which contained extra layers for the descent, which I was certain would be frigid. Climbing makes me sweat, even in 40 degrees, so removing some of my protective barriers was warranted, but the main reason I did it was to get used to the temperature and wind chill. I knew the descent would be downright cold without my extra layers, which were in the backpack hanging on the doorknob back at home. Thank heavens I had food in my jersey pockets and water and a no-sugar-added mixture of orange juice and cranberry juice in my bottles, which I had remembered to put on the bike.

As I reached the switchbacks, the steepest part of the climb, I realized I could make it to the top because I was having a phenomenal day. I felt good. I'd set a goal last September to make it up Pikes Peak this August in the allotted amount of time, and that means I need to train more precisely than ever. I need to keep going an extra mile or two on every training ride this year to condition myself to keep going when I want to quit.

The Deer Creek Canyon switchbacks did get to me Saturday. That's where my second two stops came in. Even worse, The Lizard came into view on his descent, and I thought he'd be climbing up a second time with me, which always kicks my adrenaline up a few extra notches. Unfortunately, he wasn't having a good day. His legs were cramping. He said he would go down and wait for me. My heart sank. Deep down inside, I knew I could make it, even if I was alone, so onward I pressed.

When I reached the highest point where I'd turned back last year, I looked at my odometer. I had climbed almost 22 miles. I didn't know how much further I had to go, but I knew there was one more steep section because The Lizard warns me each time we go up. The Pikes Peak climb is 24.5 miles. The 100-mile Deer Creek Challenge is rated as one of the three most difficult climbs in the country. I will never be able to do that 100-mile course, but Saturday's climb is still significant.

Pikes Peak has nearly double the amount of climbing of a single ride up Deer Creek Canyon, and the highest elevation of Pikes Peak is nearly 6,000 feet higher than Pleasant Park. Nevertheless, Deer Creek Canyon is excellent training ground. If I can master climbing 23 miles, I thought, I CAN do Pikes Peak. I'll be practicing on Mount Evans quite a few times this year, and that DOES reach 14,000 feet. Deer Creek Canyon is perfect training until Mount Evans is rideable later this spring or early summer.

After I finished the next steep section, I hoped it was the one The Lizard had warned me about. If it was, I had it. I knew I had it. I would make it to the top, and nothing would stop me.

Sure enough, after a long section of easy climbing, Pleasant Park came into view. I'd made it. I'd made it!!!

I was wearing three layers on top, two layers on the bottom, and two pairs of socks. The layers closest to my skin were wet, so I couldn't stop for long because I needed to maintain what warmth I still had for the descent. The wind had picked up, and cloud cover had moved in. It was going to be a chilly 3,310-foot descent.

I quickly put my ear warmers back onto my helmet straps and then pulled my fleece gloves back on. Oh, how I wished I had my mountaineering gloves and balaclava that were in my pack back home. I used the music-playing iPhone (with mini speakers, never on headphones on the bike, ever) to snap a photo of my bike at Pleasant Park, swallowed two small mouthfuls of Hammer gel and two sips of water, then quickly began the descent.

I'd stopped three times on the way up. I stopped nine times on the way down to warm my hands!

The Lizard met me at the switchbacks. He was feeling better and had climbed back up again. Every time I stopped all the rest of the way down, he rubbed my gloved hands to warm them up. He also let me have his light Triple Bypass jacket because I was really cold.

Back at home, I downed two cups of sugar-free hot chocolate before laying down in bed. The Lizard pulled me back up and told me I had to eat. What you put into your body in the first 30 minutes after a tough workout determines whether you will have a two-hour recovery or a two-day recovery. I knew The Lizard was right. I knew I needed to eat. But I was tired. I wasn't hungry. Just cold and tired. Oh, and stiff.

After a bowl of hot, cheese-drenched pasta with chicken, I did feel better. If I hadn't eaten, I probably wouldn't have felt like doing much of anything the next day. I would have been run down, and I probably would feel tired and achy, possibly even for a couple of days.

Every success I have builds my confidence. That's half the Pikes Peak battle. I can't go into the ride scared and worried I might not make it. I have to go into it knowing I CAN do it.

I am not fast. I am not powerful.

But I CAN make it to the top.

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Friday Funny

You may know I tried to climb Pikes Peak on my bike last year. You may know I came up short. You may know I did not like being Lanterne Rouge one bit. You may know I designed a 3D snowflake pattern to commemorate that day (and make the best of an embarrassingly painful finish). You may know I'm registered to give it a go again this year.

But did you know I now have my official Pikes Peak honor in lights?!? (scroll to the bottom of linked page...)

As if I wanted this lovely achievement bronzed and broadcast to the world!

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Trade-offs

Ride the Rockies was so kind to us this year. I didn't have to get up at 2 a.m. to check the route. They had it posted before midnight.

Unfortunately, though, it wasn't what I thought and hoped.


I play this little game every year. I check hotels a couple of weeks before the route is announced, trying to determine where it will be. Sometimes I get a few towns right. Sometimes I totally blow it.

This was a "blew it" year.

We were SO wanting the ride to start in Cortez, scale Lizard Head Pass to Telluride, then circle back around to Durango via Silverton, and I got kind of lost after that. We were hoping for Pagosa Springs to Lake City to Gunnison, which would have given us seven mountain passes, and RtR had already announced it would be six. So Pagosa to Monte Vista to anywhere they want to go after that would have been just as good. Especially after the awesome potato bar Monte Vista provided last year, even though we weren't staying the night there, just passing through. In my mind, we owed an overnight to the land of the best stuffed baked potatoes ever!

Instead, the ride this year starts in Crested Butte, the birthplace of mountain biking. Excellent! Cottonwood Pass was featured on my first Ride the Rockies, and it was a blast. I got wet in Buena Vista, but that was okay. Great ride, great location, great memories.

After Leadville in this year's route, the visual appeal sort of fades away for us. Ride the Rockies will be overnighting in Edwards, then two nights in Steamboat, which is a nice location, but getting there is not exactly scenic, especially on a bike. The route also doesn't include the elevation I need to seriously work on in order to make it to the top of Pikes Peak in August, which is my biggest goal of the year. The route doesn't feature the mileage, elevation and endurance The Lizard needs to prepare for the Double Triple.

Steamboat to Grandby used to be scenic, and Rabbit Ears Pass is one I've always wanted to ride. The area beyond Rabbit Ears has changed dramatically in the last few years. Beetlekill has turned many of the trees brownish red.

Then on to Georgetown. Berthoud Pass is good training. But it also tends to be a very busy road.

No Day Seven. Just like the groceries that stay the same price but keep getting smaller and smaller. Ride the Rockies shrunk. They cut off a day. I'm sure this move was made to prevent a price jump, but the cutback feels like an arm or leg being amputated.

The Lizard and I talked about the route for a few minutes. We had vowed a couple of months ago to register, regardless of route, to maintain "power ranking" or whatever it's called when you participate two years in a row. We knew we'd sacrifice any advantage we have if we don't register. But only two of the six days are rides we want to do, while the price of admission would get us through at least three long weekends to go somewhere we want to go and do whatever we want to do.

Good thing we had the Triple Bypass scare last month. We made a Plan B, just in case we don't get drawn for Ride the Rockies. Now we're not registering, so we won't get drawn, and we have a Plan B. We have a backup plan. And it sounds better than the actual Ride the Rockies route.

Still, it feels very odd to be not planning for Ride the Rockies this early, and it feels even stranger to say, without a lump in my throat, we're not doing RtR this year. It will feel like I've stepped into someone else's life to go through February without the anticipation of RtR drawing results in March. And looking through all these old RtR photos really hits home...

Then, in the blink of an eye, Plan C burst onto my computer screen first thing Monday morning, and taking all the queasiness away!

Registration for the second annual Assault on the Peak doesn't open until next week, but I did it last year, fell half a mile short, cried a lot, set a goal to set two skinny tires upon that summit this year, no matter what, and I got to register early because I am a repeat rider!

So, I'm in. The Lizard is in, because as a special perk, I get to register a friend early. We're not doing RtR. But we get to do the MS-150 together. He gets to do the Triple Double, and I'm going to get up Pikes Peak this year. This time, with the Lizard. Sort of. (He likely will set a record pace reaching the summit, and I expect to be among the last riders to reach the summit in the allotted time.) No excuses. Nothing will stop me this year. I will make it to the top.

We'll miss watching, or, well... photographing the final stage of the first Tour of Colorado.

But hey, the pros will be riding into Denver, and we'll be riding to the top of the world in Nature's Playground. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who's got the better route that day!

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Apples and Oranges

This is one of several videos shot during the first ever Pikes Peak hill climb by a rider who goes by the moniker of 99SevenTi. He pointed out on YouTube that this video is NOT in slow motion, and I can attest to that! The grade was steep, and that's a muted voice of the wind you hear pounding on the camera.

I thought riding Mount Evans would be the best training to prepare for my ride up Pikes Peak. In retrospect, it would have been better if I had gone up Mount Evans four or five times the week before Pikes Peak, but working stiffs don't always get as much time to play — I mean train — as they need. Fresh off my Pikes Peak ride, I've begun to contemplate some significant differences between Colorado's two 14ers with paved roads. Because Pikes Peak isn’t familiar cycling territory for more than about 300 (legal) cyclists, I'll share my thoughts. First, allow me to clarify "legal" cyclists. The paved road on Pikes Peak has been closed to cyclists for next to forever. The 2000 Pikes Peak Mountain Bike Challenge was a sanctioned race — not a ride open to the general public — on only the top 12 miles of the mountain, not the 24.5-mile climb undertaken by a few brave souls last weekend.



However, word has it a few even braver souls have climbed the mountain on the road on road bikes and even — choke, choke — fixed gear bikes. At night. With headlights. After the gates have closed. Extreme poaching. So there are people out there who know what the Pikes Peak highway is like, but they certainly aren’t publishing any details in public places. The biggest difference between Mount Evans and Pikes Peak, having done both now, is Pikes Peak feels much more difficult. Starting from Manitou Springs, you gain 7,800 vertical feet in 24.5 miles to the top of Pikes Peak. Starting from Idaho Springs, you gain 6,575 vertical feet in 27.4 miles to the top of Mount Evans.

To me, Pikes Peak truly was more difficult. It seemed much steeper than Mount Evans. The second-biggest difference, of course, is road condition. Mount Evans is literally littered with treacherous freeze cracks, sink holes and pavement buckles from the Mount Goliath Nature Center to the top. If you're lucky, you might see a marmot popping his head out of one of the many holes in the pavement as you make your way up the mountain. Just don't hit the hole with your front wheel.

Pikes Peak, on the other hand, is paved and beautifully maintained. There is a 2.5-mile dirt section, but only a short part of that, approximately 30 feet, right before Glen Cove, compares to the bumpy ride you get on Mount Evans.

On a windless day, descending Pikes Peak on a road bike would be a total hoot for roadies. 24.5 miles of screaming downhill. One mile of the dirt section is scheduled to be paved in 2011, and the rest is to be completed in 2012.

Riding down Mount Evans will rattle your brains and your bike, and if you're not careful, you’re going to need new rims before the day is done.

Road cyclists can train on Mount Evans. That's not allowed on Pikes Peak.

A commercial shuttle service will take you and a rental mountain bike to the summit of Pikes Peak, and you can ride down the Barr Trail. Or you can take your own bike up on the cog train and bike down the Barr Trail. But you cannot ride a road bike on Pikes Peak. Unless you sign up for the Assault on the Peak. (August 28, 2011 for those interested.) It's $10 for a three-day vehicle pass on Mount Evans; $3 for a bike. Pikes Peak is $25 per car.

Personally, I buy an Eagle Pass to the tune of $75 every year because I'm a National Park buff, and that gets me (and a guest if we’re cycling) up Mount Evans all year long. (Also works for the Maroon Bells road, in case you need to know.)

You can take a commercial mountain bike tour down Pikes Peak, but not on Evans, which is a wilderness area. No mountain bikes allowed.



Aesthetically, Mount Evans kicks butt and takes prisoners. It has wildflowers, waterfalls, marmots, picas, ptarmigans, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, deer, elk, coyotes, foxes, rabbits... and cyclists. Pikes Peak has pink rock. Lots of pink rock. And then more pink rock. There are tufts of grass here and there during summer, and the summit views may rival Evans just because it feels like you can see further. Basically, though, above treeline on Pikes Peak looks like the moon. Or maybe Mars. It's a harsh environment.

Pikes Peak wins hands down in the insect category. Thirty-mile-per-hour winds last weekend kept the biting flies at bay. Typically, though, the summit is a haven for the annoying critters. Mount Evans proudly has no such infestation.

Best of all, of course, is Pikes Peak is closed to traffic during the Assault on the Peak. Mount Evans is closed during the annual Bob Cook Memorial Hill Climb, but when you're training on it, you MUST be wary of tourists who may or may not be suffering from varying degrees of altitude sickness. As well as the visitors who’ve never seen a mountain goat and unpredictably stop or turn with no regard to anyone else on the road because they just have to get a photo.

Of course, all of this is compounded if you are having altitude sickness, too.

There are two gift shops on Pikes Peak where you can buy food or drink. You may be able to fill water bottles there, too. During the Assault on the Peak, there are four rest stops where you can fill up.

On Mount Evans, you’re on your own. There is no water unless you bring a purifier. Or unless you trust a kind tourist. Sometimes rangers at the top have water to give anyone who makes it that far, whether by vehicle, by foot or by bike, but you cannot count on that. You MUST carry enough to get you up and down.

Oh, I’ve seen a guy trying to go up Mount Evans on a skateboard. I doubt that’s ever going to happen on Pikes Peak.



I've compared apples and oranges; let's throw in a peach or two.

Up until last weekend, my most difficult ride ever was Day 4 of the 2010 Ride the Rockies. Ouray to Durango. 75 miles. 7,250 or so feet in elevation gain. Headwinds as bad as what I encountered last weekend on Pikes Peak. And all on a zooming but unfamiliar demo women-specific Trek Madone. Pikes Peak was MUCH more difficult, to me. It felt longer than RtR Day 4, probably in part because you get very few breaks during all that elevation gain, and the total elevation gain is not only more significant, but 2,000 feet higher.

From Ouray to Durango, you cross three mountain passes, which means you get three fun descents. Unless, of course, you're pedaling into a headwind. The road is very narrow, sometimes mortifyingly, and it won't be closed to vehicles while you're riding it. Well, unless you're trying to ski it during a winter avalanche closure, and then you have to contend with all that snow.

I've never done the Triple Bypass, but I'm married to someone who does it every year and will tell you with a glimmer in his eye it's the best Ride That is Not a Race ever. With Swan Mountain now in the mix, you get the equivalent of four mountain passes, none of which tops much more than 12,000 feet, but it takes 120 miles and 10,310 feet in elevation gain to do them all, and you have some really sweet downhills. If you aren’t battling a headwind.

Many will tell you the short portion that rides right along I-70 is the most hair-raising experience they've ever encountered in their life. The route from Evergreen to Avon is in fairly good condition, but the road portions can be extremely vehicle congested. The bike paths near Breckenridge, Frisco and Vail are the saving grace, but watch out for recreational riders and hikers. You also have plenty of places along the way to replenish food and beverage.

Doing the route in reverse, however, will give you a rough landing as you descend into Evergreen. The road from Juniper Pass into Evergreen is another one I don’t like to do on a road bike. I like my rims in their current circular shape; descending via Bergen Park is likely to reshape them if I take my eyes off the road for even a split second.

All this fruity talk of biking mountains and passes has made me hungry. How about you?

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Lanterne Rouge

I was swept half a mile from the summit of Pikes Peak. This was the first time I've ever been the Lanterne Rouge. I didn't make the summit cutoff. I'm the only rider who got swept without reaching the summit.

The literal silver lining is that because I went down in the broom wagon, I didn't have to pay for the commercial summit shuttle. And yes, I'd planned to. I had absolutely no interest in contending with that wind on a descent.

We were told the tundra temperature was 40 degrees and the wind was 30 mph.

I had the right clothing. My legs got a little chilled twice, but I stayed pretty comfy most of the ride.

But that wind! That brutal enemy did me in.

On the bright side, we had no thunderstorms. The day was beautiful. Except for the wind. We also had no biting flies, which is what I remember best about the day I drove to the summit some 12 or so years ago. I guess flies can't stomach that kind of wind.

Riders had to reach Glen Cove by 12:30 to attempt the summit. So I set my goal for 11:30. I reached Glen Cove at 11:18. Making the summit wasn't a guarantee yet. I had only until 2:30. I calculated how many miles per hour I had to ride all the rest of the way to make it to the top by cutoff. I couldn't hold that speed in the headwind.

On one of our favorite movies, "Race Across the Sky," which tells the story of Lance Armstrong beating David Weins in the 2009 Leadville 100, narrator Bob Roll comments about riders pushing too hard in a really big ride. "When you blow to the moon," he says, "you never come back."

I pushed. I wanted this moon-like summit. Pikes Peak by bike was a ten-year goal, but bikes had not been allowed, and I wasn't sure I'd get another chance. I wasn't sure the ride would ever be offered again. Plus, there was this alluring nostalgic tickle. I climbed my first and most difficult 14er when I was 40. Now I'm 50. I was one of 48 women in the first Pikes Peak hill climb ever, and I wanted this special 14er to commemorate 10 years of peakbagging and half a century of keeping on keeping on. Even if I was the 48th woman to the top. Pikes Peak by bike would be the hardest ride I'd ever done in my life. If I could make it to the top.

I blew, in Bob Roll's terminology, about four miles from the summit. I had nothing left. But I kept going. I didn't turn back. I kept pushing, even though the clock was ticking and my chances were growing slimmer by the pedal stroke. Or by the gust. Gusts powerful enough to knock riders off their bikes.

At 2:20, I could see the end. One more switchback. About two and a half stories. I had it. I knew I could make it. I wondered if they would sweep me if I was that close.

Yes.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg. The broom wagon driver said he'd already sent all the rest of the volunteers home. There were no more SAG wagons. There was no medical staff. There was no more food, oxygen or bike maintenance on the summit if I had a problem.

I've done enough volunteer work in my life that I know how it feels when you plan on giving a whole day and someone asks you to give more. Ride sweepers have the longest day of all ride volunteers, and this sweeper just happened to be the ride director. He'd done his time. He'd already had a long day. I was so close, but I couldn't ask him to give more than he'd already given. Later I learned he and his co-organizer invested their own funds in pulling off this ride because registration wasn't as successful as they had hoped. Closing Pikes Peak to automobiles on a summer weekend day is very, very expensive. Insuring an event like this is a bill I'd never want to have to cover.

He asked if I would call it a day. I briefly hesitated, then wordlessly surrendered my bike to put on the roof of the broom wagon. I could have melted right there on the road. I almost didn't have the strength to get into the vehicle. My emotions were absolutely shot.

I always cry during the cutoff scene in Race Across the Sky. Three men who gave it their best shot are shown getting their event armbands cut because they didn't make the first checkpoint in the allotted time. Their race was over. I've always been intimidated by races with time limits because it seemed like it would hurt so much to be cut off after training so hard. And coming so close.

And now I've lived it in real life.

I'd known from the day I signed up for this ride I might not make it to the top. I wasn't sure I could make the checkpoints in time.

A lot of riders turned back when they hit the two-mile dirt section of the road. A lot of riders turned back at Glen Cove. I made the choice to keep going at Glen Cove because I believed I could make it. I even designed a snowflake in my head when I learned I was the Lanterne Rouge, or the last rider. Everyone behind me had turned back. They don't give badges for being last, but I could certainly make something special to show I'd made it up the mountain in my most difficult ride ever.

Even though the wind was battering me, I still kept hoping I would make it. I never stopped believing. I kept pushing, even when everything in my body was spent.

The blow was tremendously crushing. It's the only time I've ever been swept. And yet, I know I've done something Lance, Levi, Contador and the Schleck brothers have never done. I'm trying really hard to be proud. Or at least satisfied.

Even though I didn't make it all the way to the top, I did my best. I gave it my all. I didn't give up, and I didn't turn back.

I guess it's somewhat like raising troubled adoptive kids who run away before you finish trying to teach them the things they need to know. You spend a while feeling like a failure, and then one day, suddenly it feels good. You know from the deepest caverns within your heart you did your best. And you smile at the memories.

Here's to hoping my Pikes Peak memories will one day bring smiles.

PS: I was 50-60 vertical feet shy of Pikes Peak's 14,110 altitude. The following day, I climbed 60 flights of stairs (44 flights non-stop) for an altitude gain of approximately 730 feet. So I've climbed my 14er. I just didn't do it in 7.5 hours.

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Oops, I did it again...

I must be crazy.

I signed up for yet one more bike ride this year.

This one's less than 50 miles, but it involves 7,000 feet of climbing. In a day. And a short section of dirt road. Oh, well, my road bike is part mountain bike now, right? I can do this, right?

Ever since I found out there are 14ers (mountains reaching 14,000 feet or higher), I've wanted to ride up Pikes Peak instead of hike it -- because there's a road. But bicycles have been forbidden.

Until now.

So here I go again. I must be nuts.

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