The morning after the finish, Team Capybara enjoyed an enormous breakfast at Crossroads Tavern in Joshua Tree, piled back into the van, and drove to Los Angeles to drop Mindy off.  After giving us a tour of their beautiful new home, Mindy and James introduced us to a fantastic Vietnamese restaurant around the corner.  We got some sandwiches to go, said our good-byes, and climbed into the van for the trip home to San Francisco.

I've spent some time during the last week thinking about the experience, its meaning, and lessons learned.

First, it was an honor and privilege to be part of Team Capybara.  TomC was my first Team in Training coach when I was getting started in cycling (winter season 2004-2005) and I've learned much from him.  Mindy was a teammate then too; it was also her first season.  I met Elizabeth (TomC's sister-in-law) a couple of weeks before the race.  I can't put into words how terrific these three people are without sounding like an emotional blithering idiot, so I'll be concise- they're wonderful.

What follows are some thoughts and recollections for the stages I rode.  I hope TomC will write something about his.  I was pretty much unconscious for his last two.  What I'll remember most about TomC's ride is the good humor and determination he displayed going up Towne's Pass.  I've never seen someone get that physically sick on a bike, but he kept getting back on the saddle and grinding up the hardest mountain pass in the race.  The guy is a gladiator in bike shoes.

Stage 2 - California City to Trona

There's nothing like a 25mph tailwind to make you feel powerful on a bike.  It's wonderfully deceiving.  Once I got over the embarrassment of leaving the time station without a helmet (and having to turn back into the parking lot to retrieve it) I had a great time.  70 miles without stopping- in 3 hours and 21 minutes.  The race guide says the stage has 4,200 feet of climbing, but the barometric sensor on my Garmin only recorded  3,022 of them.  I think the difference can be chalked up to the weather front blowing through.

Stage 4 - Furnace Creek to Shoshone

Started at 1:30am.  I felt pretty good during the first 40 miles through Death Valley.  Looking at the Garmin data it's clear I wasn't going as quite fast as I thought I was- speeds are tricky to judge at night.  I passed a bunch of riders- but they were all soloists.  There's no satisfaction gained in passing a soloist.  Only feelings of admiration and respect.  Seriously.  Then the climbs started.  Jubilee Pass followed by Salsberry Pass.

The sun came up on Salsberry Pass.  This would be a fun climb with strong legs.  With spongy legs it drags on and on.  And on.  Where's the damn summit?  My stomach issues were starting.  My slow progress was discouraging.  I climbed for nearly 13 miles (with a one mile descent between Jubilee and Salsberry) before the battery on my Garmin died.  It didn't record the last three miles of climbing or the 10 mile descent into Shoshone.  I was glad to get off the bike at the time station and phone Francesca to tell her I was ok.  Passed out in the van.  Couldn't eat much.  Ugly.  And it was gonna get uglier.

Stage 6 - Baker to Kelso

In the van on the way to Baker, while TomC was grinding through heat and headwind, I had to request an urgent van stop so I could stagger into the desert for an emergency evacuation.   About eight miles before we reached Baker I started getting ready to ride again.  I wanted to throw up.  Felt disgusting and disgusted.  I put on sunscreen on one arm and had to rest for a minute before putting it on the other.  Stage 6 is only 34 miles.  The first 23 miles are a relentless climb of 2,600 feet.  I had to stop several times (at least) to collect myself.  Elizabeth and Mindy poured ice water on the back of my head (we called it a 'treatment') and gave me popsicles to eat- this helped considerably.  Everyone was very encouraging which also helped a great deal.  I felt like I was disappointing the rest of the team with my slow progress.  If that was true, they weren't showing it.  The descent into Kelso is on some of the worst pavement (it's a stretch to call it that) I've ever ridden on.  To make things worse, I blacked out for a second or two a couple of times.  I stopped and drank a Coke or a Red Bull (don't remember which) to get my blood sugar back up enough finish the descent.  I knew I was in trouble.  Tom, Mindy and Elizabeth did too.  I was really mad at myself.  Back in the van, I ate as much as I could force down and passed out.

Stage 8 - Almost Amboy to Twenty Nine Palms

This stage almost didn't happen.  We decided in the van that we'd have a team discussion at the time station to figure out what to do.  Mindy said she didn't think I should do the stage for safety reasons- for both mine and the crew's.  I think TomC said he thought there was a 50/50 chance of my being able to make it  to the finish.  There was some discussion about whether the race officials would allow TomC to ride the stage in my stead.  I'm not sure there was a clear answer.  I said I wanted to ride the stage.  We'd invested too much to stop now.  I paced around while the rest of Team Capybara talked it over.  I wanted to sit down and cry.

And for a minute or two, that's what I did.  Completely drained.  Disappointed.  Frustrated.  Embarrassed.  Angry.

I tried to tell the rest of Team Capybara that I respected and valued their opinions and judgment- but I'm not sure I was able to do so adequately.  My head wasn't very clear.  I would have understood and accepted without any ill feelings their decision if they had chosen to abandon the race.  Team first.  I was angry at myself, not at anyone else.  In the not-too-distant past I probably would have directed the anger at the people around me- I'm glad I've learned how to not do that.

Eventually, we reached a consensus that I'd ride the stage, with the understanding that the team could pull the plug whenever they deemed it necessary.  I suited up and, at Mindy's insistence, ate three ounces of Raspberry Hammer Gel.  This triggered a huge gag reflex (my stomach wanted none of it), but I managed to force it down.  Just.  The sun had just set; darkness came quickly.

If I'd known how awful the last twenty miles of this fifty-eight mile stage would feel, I might have just stayed in the van.

The climb up to Sheephole Summit (10 miles) went ok.  Slowly, but ok.  I stopped several times to eat more Hammer Gel.  I could tell I was starting to fade at the summit and asked the crew for a Coke, which got me alert enough to safely navigate the subsequent descent.  That's when the real fun started.

The last twenty miles into Twenty Nine Palms were nearly dead straight with a slight uphill grade (about %1) into a headwind.  I took almost two hours to complete them, averaging 11 miles per hour.  My average speed would have been faster, except I had to stop every few miles to stretch and rest.  And watch the occasional solo rider go by.  How do they do it?  I really wanted to be done, and I'm sure so did the rest of Team Capybara.  They'd been sitting in the van an awfully long time.  I started swearing at roadsigns, the moon, and almost anything else in front of me that reflected light.  What business do I have being out here in an ultra-endurance race?  It took me four hours and forty minutes to ride 58 miles.  TomC got out of the van and got on his bike to join me for the last quarter mile so that we could cross the finish line together.  Mindy and Elizabeth pulled in behind us.  We did it.  The team did it.

Chris Kostman, the race director, handed us our medals and finishing jerseys, took pictures, and shook our hands.  It was difficult to do anything but stare off into the middle distance.

Lessons Learned

• Eat more.  Eat more.  Eat more.  And then eat some more.


• Trying to capture media (still and motion) during an event like this is a lot harder than I thought it would be.  There are too many other things that need attention.  I completely blew the shot of TomC going by at mile 24, even after spending 10 minutes to set it up.


• A good crew is everything.  We were extremely fortunate to have Mindy and Elizabeth.  Even when things were grim, they stayed positive, cheerful, and supportive.  And funny.  That made a huge difference.


• I'm sure are others, but I'm tired of typing.

Some more pictures will follow...

TomB

:)