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I returned to the Sierra Nevada peaks this year to tackle the 2010 Death Ride with a group of my favorite riders. This 129-mile ride climbs over 15,000 feet as you grunt it up and over 5 peaks through the gorgeous valleys near Markleeville, CA. It's a great adventure, and hands down some of the best shwag around.

We started super early this year (a lesson from last year where a late start, heat, and lollygagging had us sprinting to make the cut-offs), making PB&J's at 3:30am and getting on the road by 4:30am. My teammates (Brian Drue, Chris Devine, Mark Dabell, and first-timer Justin Hildebrandt) cranked up the Rush and slurped down coffee to get the juices flowing. I went to hand out S!Caps and bandanas, two essential pieces of gear for this ride, only to find out they had plenty. Last year's ride had converted them all to S!Caps disciples! (hint to those who haven't tried them yet - you end up taking 1/4 as many pills as Endurolytes, it's 1/10th the cost, and they absolutely hit the spot) I love Nuun in the bottle and S!Caps on these long, hot days.

(Night start, photo courtesy of lilika.net)

By the time we hit the base of the first climb, the night had slipped away and the sounds and smells of a high desert morning filled the air. I was surprised to see so many riders ahead of us - despite the early start, we were still halfway through the pack! We set a comfortable pace and had a chance to catch up with each other. Since I hadn't seen Chris or Mark since the last ride, we plenty to talk about - kids, jobs, dreams, and other adventures. Centuries, like ultras, are great for getting dudes to chat.

We saw the first victim of the day on the climb up, a man who was having an allergic reaction to one of the late Spring plants lining the roads. The climb up Monitor went quickly, and we pushed on to the descent on the backside. We knew it would be fast as Chris hollared out "see you in 12 minutes!". Indeed, my speedometer quickly climbed into the high 40's. I found myself riding the brakes a bit more than last year...although my tailbone is phyically healed from my crash in April, the psyche is still a bit scarred!

We took a quick break at the bottom for Oreo's and refills, then started the return climb. I don't know why Oreos taste great on rides, but I put them away by the sleeve! This canyon wasn't nearly the sweatfest of 2009, another sign that starting early was a good idea. We rode along with Shauna, who shared her experience at the Alta Alpina Challenge, an 8-peak ride over these same hills that finishes with Monitor. Yowza! Chris and Brian started scheming on how to fit that in for next year.

(Descenders on the left as climb back up)

(Looking good on climb #2)

Mark's friend Kent joined us, and we took advantage of the cooler-than-usual morning to make good time to the top. We stopped at the peak just long enough to get our stickers, and then kept our momentum rolling into the next descent. Brian led the pack, but slowed near the bottom after hitting a light that had fallen off another bike...luckily his flat didn't kick in for another few miles when we were on a slower section. Phew! Brian's face said it all - that would have been reeeaally bad to flat at 45 mph.

(Amazing views at every turn)

We stopped at the Scossa's aid station, which had been taken over by pirates! They let us know we had to "hydrate or walk the plank", and they were doing a fantastic job keeping everyone in good spirits. As we started up Ebbet's (climb #3), we saw the first rider coming back down. Is that possible? The mechanic let us know that this was last year's fastest finisher, and he was looking to break 7 hours, stopping just once at Scossa's for fresh water bottles. That is crazy fast! We blew kisses to the Wild Women of Scossa's (dressed as geisha girls this year) and headed up Ebbett's, the steepest climb of the day.

(Aaaargh...you hungry?)

(The Pirates of Scossa's hold me at knife point until I hydrate)

Speaking of crazy fast, we were hours ahead of the cutoffs this year. The temperature, although hot, didn't seem as bad as previous years. Plus we were riding strong and not waiting for each other as much, which allowed to keep building that buffer. I guess the third time is the charm!

My camera battery ran out, much in thanks to accidentally putting it in my pocket while "on" in the "video" mode and taking a 33 minute HD video of the inside of my pocket. Whoops. Introspective for sure, but not exactly Academy Award winning material. Nonetheless, a perfect excuse to chat with many of the other riders. I asked anyone with an Ironman Hawaii jersey to share their tips (the most common - "be prepared for a slow swim and don't try and make up for it on the bike, or you will be walking the run"), and learned a lot about other centuries by asking about jerseys. I had no idea there were so many double centuries too - the die hards had "triple crown" jerseys from doing 3 or more doubles in a single year. There were a number of Team in Training riders here too, which was a first, so I asked one of them what they were training for. "THIS, DAMMIT!", he said, grunting out the steep parts. Of course!

(The sign says it all...Ebbett's is a killer)

Ebbett's seemed easier this year...perhaps a sign of lower temps, or perhaps being better prepared from cranking out the Pacific Crest Half Ironman last weekend. I found myself alone at the top, so I cruised down the backside and took a short break at the bottom to air out my feet. It only took a few minutes for the gang to catch up, and we had a few ice cold Cokes before climbing back up.

The gang told me they thought this climb, #4, was the toughest since it was always hot and relentlessly climbed with little shade. It was definitely a lot of time out of the saddle, but within 40 minutes we were over the top and descending again. I saw a couple of gnarly crash vicitims on the way down, including one guy lying in a ditch, and you could hear the ambulance sirens coming from all directions. One of the riders with me said her friend DIED at the Death Ride a few years back after a severe neck injury. Make no mistake, these descents are serious business. I kept thinking of Lance Armstrong crashing in nearly every stage of the Tour de France this year...that is so bad ass!

We eased down to the lunch break, where we took 30 minutes to have some dusty turkey wraps, ramen, and fruit before heading back out. We were treated with a tail wind to Markleeville, and Brian and I took turns pulling a long line of riders all the way into town. We caught up with Justin, who was also having a great ride, and skipped stopping at the cars to tackle the last climb.

The Woodfords aid station, where last years drama unfolded, was a great stop. We hit the horse shower and got a high five from the grim reaper before settling in for the long climb.

(The grim reaper at Woodfords, photo courtesy of lilika.net)

(Hitting the shower before the climb, photo courtesy of Chris Devine)

Chris and Brian set a fast pace off the front, and I hung back a bit to stay in my aerobic zone. Most of the riders were focused on the climb as evidenced by the lack of conversation. I passed the aid station and was pleased to NOT find a freak thunderstorm like previous years. Anyone who had a triple ring had shifted down, so I got out of the saddle and swung around them. Despite encouraging others, I couldn't get anyone on my tail to draft. Alas!

Carson Pass had fallen or bonked riders every half mile. The EMT's were busy this year! The last pitch in particular seemed to be claiming a lot of riders on the descent. As fast as one guy was picked up (speed wobbles, fell and broke his hip), another woman was down (pothole, airlift called), and another crashing while getting around the fallen rider (face plant, going to need a new chin). One guy climbing in front of me just fell over, bonked and dizzy, and some spectators rushed him into the shade and got him some water. Even cars and RV's were conking out in the middle of the road! This was a tough climb.

I got to the top first (Chris and Brian must have stopped) and enjoyed some ice cream while meeting other riders. I handed out a lot of Aleve, S!Caps, and Nuun to cramping riders (fastest way to get rid of a cramp - one Aleve, one S!Cap, water, and 10 minutes of rest), and was glad I had carried a small pharmacy with me. About 10 minutes later, all of our pack showed up, and we signed the 5-pass poster before heading back down the hill. I was three ice creams in at that point, and shook my head knowing I had given the "too much ice cream = stomach ache" speech to Sophie, my four year old, just the weekend before. Chris laughed out loud, clutching his stomach as well, saying he had given his three girls that speech so many times he lost count. Do as I say, sweetie, not as I do!


(Signing the poster at the top, photo courtesy of Chris Devine)

We decided to forgo the party at the end, and instead had some beers in the shade near our cars and enjoyed the topics of middle age dudes (how to fit three child car seats in a performance car, what to do when your wife finds your porn collection, comparing watch tan lines, etc.). We had finished all five passes a solid two hours earlier than last year, and felt much better. Time for the double century next year? Perhaps! On my drive home, I saw more than my fair share of cyclists asleep in their cars (including one group at a Taco Bell with their food bags still in their laps). No matter how you slice it, this was a tough day. What a way to sieze the day!

Thanks to the organizers and great volunteers at the Death Ride for another great year!

- SD

Last Saturday, I geared up with five friends to tackle The Death Ride, a 130-mile cycling adventure through the Sierra Mountains near Markleeville, CA. We got a bit of everything on this ride – sun, wind, rainstorms, 15,000’ of climbing over five peaks, and the exciting adventure of nearly missing a cut off and having to put down the hammer at mile 100. But at the end we were all smiles and already thinking about next year.

I had a great team for the ride, including Brian and Dan (who crewed for me at States), my brother Mike Dunlap (out from Maryland where there aren’t many hills), and our good friends Chris Devine and Mark Dabell. They were all tackling this hilly monster for the first time (I had done it in 2007), and eager to finish all five peaks to get that coveted pin and jersey. I was playing “domestique” for the day to return the favor to Brian and Dan for their awesome job of crewing at States. At 5:40am, I filled my backpack for any emergency I could think of, and we coasted through Markleeville and headed into the first climb.

We took it easy at first, noting that despite our early start we were probably in the back 1/3 of the 3000 riders already. After asking around, it was clear that most people had shown up in the dark and took off once there was enough light, whereas we had targeted 5:30am and left 20-30 minutes after the pack. The hills were dotted with colorful jerseys that snaked their way to the summit, and the only sounds were of the chatter riders and local wildlife. No cars sure is great!



Brian and Dan were the most dedicated cyclists in our group, and both had already logged five centuries this year. Chris, Mike, and Mark were leaning more on their natural athletic ability (running, hockey, and mountain climbing respectively), only recently clocking some time on the bike. I was mostly recovered from States – just a few missing toenails and a body that still wants to sleep 12 hours a night. We all had kids between the age of 8 months and 11 years too, and that definitely counts as cross-training. We made some rough plans to work as a team in the longer sections and stop at some aid stations, but for the most part, the course would dictate how we would ride.



The first climb up Monitor Pass was steep and sobering, and we had a few moments of quiet as everyone humped through the more difficult sections. Chris, Mike, and Mark were unconcerned with the climbs, but shared some worries about the fast descents. Their hesitation quickly subsided once we reached the peak and plummeted down the smooth back side. Each of them found their groove on these long, flawless roads, and surprised themselves with 45+ mph descents. We arrived at the bottom of the hill with our hair streaked back, full of adrenaline and ready for the climb. All three of them had clocked PR fastest speeds and hadn’t even known it!


As we filled our water bottles (and I forced S! Caps on everyone) I chatted with Mark Gilligan, whom I had ridden with last year. He was out having some fun and acclimating for the Tahoe Rim Trail 50m the following weekend, a plan that worked well for him in 2007 (he got 2nd at the TRT100). He grabbed a Vespa from me, hoping it would alleviate his lack of sleep (he was the only guy yawning at the bottom). I handed the sunscreen around, and we charged up the next climb.


The sun warmed the canyons, and soon sweat was dripping from our noses. Sparse sections of shade were quickly claimed by groups of cyclists stopping to catch their breath. That long descent had some payback comin’! Brian and Chris went ahead, while Mike and I paced together, and Mark and Dan were just a few minutes behind. We climbed slowly, passing riders here and there, taking in the scenery and catching up on life. Century rides are a good way to get men talking and sharing…anything but focusing on the climb. ;-)


We took a longer break at the top to hit the restrooms and get some food. Brian noted that riding in a pack was going to add some time, so once most of the group was together, they took off down the hill.

Just when I thought I had lost Mike, I pulled up alongside of him (he had been ahead of me…oops). We worked together to catch up to the others, and refueled before tackling Ebbetts Pass, the longest and hardest of the day. I offered some domestique advice and pulled out five bandanas for us to soak and put on the back of our necks. Brian added a step of filling it with ice, which was nice. The S! Caps were going down quickly, so I handed out little baggies of supplies and got everyone to apply sunscreen again. Then we were off!

Ebbetts had us out of the saddle immediately, charging short sections of 20 degree grades. Back and forth we switched up the mountain, and the views grew more epic the more we climbed. It seemed to take forever to see the “4 miles to go” signs chalked into the road, but then again, we were only going about 5 mph. I reached the top first, and as agreed, we all skipped this aid station and charged down the 5 mile descent.



My first request at the aid station proved that we were definitely in the back of the race – no Coke left! They also ran out of bread for sandwiches, but the inventive volunteers made a special banana/peanut butter/oatmeal cookie treat to replace it. It took about 10 minutes for the gang to all rally together, and everyone was hoping for a rest. The provided chairs did just that, but noting the time, we cut our break short and headed back up Ebbetts for climb #4.
I warned the gang that climb #4 was the most underrated. It didn’t have the long or steep of previous passes, but it had no flat spots and very little shade. We soaked our bandanas, handed out some snacks, and stuck close as we made our way up. We saw the sweep coming down the other side…it was much closer than we expected!



We reached the peak, and charged down the other side. Brian quickly broke out on his own, with me in pursuit. The speedometer crept into the 50’s as we bunny-hopped the cowguards and made our way through the steep sections. When I came off the steepest section at full speed, I let a group slingshot me around and hit 65 mph! Well, that’s what the speedometer said anyway. My guess is I was around 60 mph. Still, very exciting!

We stopped for lunch, chowing down on ham and turkey wraps before hitting the road again. I’m not sure if it was our pace, the waiting, or what, but suddenly we were dangerously within one hour of the cutoff. We worked with “Team Beer” (awesome jerseys) to make quick time to Markleeville and climb back up to our cars. Brian flatted, so we stopped to fix it. Mike and I dropped our gear at the car, and caught up with the group to see them fixing ANOTHER flat for Brian (this time the whole tire). Mike and I looked at our watches, and we were barely going to make it. Mike kept charging and I turned around to make sure they had all the right gear. They did, but there was no time to wait. Everyone took off as fast as they could.

Mike made the cut off, and I got there second, just as they were setting up the cones to turn people away from the aid station. They said “you’re done”, but waived me in to the aid station to refill. I saw others skipping the aid station and heading up the last pass, and one of the volunteers told me why it was important to stop – if you couldn’t make the next aid station by 5:15pm, it was very likely you wouldn’t get off the hill by nightfall. I asked “how far?” and they said six miles. I said I could easily make that cutoff, and they just shrugged their shoulders and one said “then you better get going…they won’t be lenient at the next one”. I clicked down a few gears and started climbing up Carson Pass.

Mark had snuck in right behind me, and I explained the math. We had about an hour to go six miles, so best to put the hammer down. I got out of the saddle and charged like a madman, catching Mike a few minutes later. He knew the math too – better average at least 6 mph. But he was clocking about 8 mph, so he was right on track. We wondered about the others, and whether they got turned around. Knowing Brian and Dan, I doubt they would stop, and would reach that fifth peak officially or unofficially. For the next hour, it was every rider for themselves.

I pegged my heart rate just under my anaerobic threshold and started passing as many people as I could. The traffic was heavy, so I had to wait for the breaks and then surge out into the lane. Each time I would focus on the next group of riders and how to get around them. I passed 50, 90, 140 riders before seeing the final cutoff aid station and I charged in…4:30pm, still 45 minutes ahead! That was good for a couple of reasons. First, I was in the clear. Second, there was plenty of time for the others if they kept the pace. Lastly, a faster pace like this would get us up to the peak by 6:15pm or so, with plenty of light for the descent.

I got off my bike and watched for the others. At first, I saw nothing. I paced. I fretted. What kind of domestique surges first to the cutoff? I looked again. Then they came! Brian and Chris first, both looking strong. The official cutoff was still 300 yards up the road, so I refilled some bottles for them and they took off. Mark and Mike weren’t too far behind, so we did the same. I got a glimpse of Dan, who had 10 minutes to spare, so I jumped on the bike and took off with Mark and Mike. We were all going to make it!

Not so fast, said Mother Nature, and the rain and wind began. What started as a light drizzle quickly became a sideways wind that blew riders all over the road. Chris and Mike tucked in behind me, and we caught ourselves laughing out loud at how instantly the weather became so crazy. The rain was pouring off my visor, and I leaned 20 degrees to the right to stay upright. This made it tough for drafting, since Chris and Mike would have to ride in traffic to take full advantage. A few miles later the rain broke, but the wind kept howling. Chris latched onto a faster rider to go catch Brian and Mark, while Mike and I kept our pace.


Mike said “sorry I’m yo-yoing”, saying his energy was borderline bonk. But honestly, I was pretty impressed that his pace was still enough to be consistently passing people. We made a few new friends as we went into the last climb (brothers in arms, for sure), as I assured people over and over that this was truly the last climb. Every time I got out of the saddle, I looked back and saw Mike do the same, his face the epitome of focus. He only broke a smile when we coasted into the last aid station and got our stickers for the fifth pass. Fudgesicles never tasted so good!


Brian, Chris, and Mark were on their way out, noting that it was going to be a cold and wet descent. Mike and I slammed down our ice cream, grabbed a couple of plastic bags for makeshift vests, and headed out. Just as we started the descent, Dan came in. Sure enough, all five made all five!

Mike cruised the descent tucked in behind a tandem bike, while I used a BMW to pull me through the flat spots and keep my speed in the 40-50 mph range. I pulled up to our cars, where the boys were already changed and into their first beer. As Mike and Dan came in, there were high fives all around. We piled into the truck and headed to Turtle Rock for some food and “3 for $10” Sierra Nevada Pale Ales. I looked in my backpack, and we had gone through all the bandanas, all the sunscreen, over 40 S! Caps, and a ton of snacks. But what I saw was five happy five-pass finishers, all hydrated, and no sunburns. A domestique couldn’t ask for much more!


Although stressful at the time, we all shared how fun it was to have to go hard at mile 100. The five pass jersey felt a bit more “earned”, you know? Certainly nothing like the Tour de France, where you would race this stage hard, then add 20-odd more just like it over the next three weeks. But still, it was good to be forced to find something in ourselves to push hard. Brian had missed the cut off and was told he wouldn’t get a fifth sticker even if he did summit; that turned out to be enough rage for him to make one of the fastest splits all day (and yes, he did get the sticker).


Now off for a few days backpacking on the John Muir Trail to get “off the grid”. Hope you all are having a great July!

- SD

Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of joining 2,800 cycling enthusiasts for the 27th anniversary of The Death Ride in Markleeville, CA. This "Tour of the California Alps" climbs over 15,000 feet as you work your way over five passes on the 129-mile course. The epic views, wonderful people, and white-knuckle descents made for a fantastic day, and I certainly hope to come back again.

It probably seems a little crazy to be doing a 129-mile ride just a week before the Tahoe Rim Trail 100-mile run, but I thought it would be good to spend a day exercising in the high desert to acclimatize, gauge my hydration, check the sunscreen strategy, etc. Plus I'm not ashamed to admit what drew me to the event years ago - the killer shwag! Emblazoned with Grateful Dead-like skeletons on bikes, I have been craving one of these jerseys for years. But you can't sport the threads if you haven't done the ride, no? I wasn't too worried that this would risk my first 100-mile run next week since The Death Ride gives plenty of chances to opt out at 2, 3, or 4 passes if you don't feel like going the distance. Plus the self-pacing nature of a "ride" meant there was no need to push your VO2Max to catch the guy in front of you. I figured I would take it easy, enjoy the day, and let my body dictate the distance.

I quickly found out I wasn't the only one crazy enough to try the Death Ride/TRT100 double, as Mark Gilligan pulled up beside me in the first mile out of Turtle Rock Park. Mark and two of his ultrarunning training partners, Jasper Helekas (TRT100 defending champion) and Rob Evans, were up in Tahoe to acclimate for the TRT100. Much like me, Mark was thrilled to find he had won a lottery entry to The Death Ride and couldn't pass it up despite the taunting from his pals. We both found comfort in knowing that riding with each other meant we wouldn't be tempted to go too hard.


We rode a few miles down the chilly river corridor and then started the first climb up Monitor Pass around 6:30am. The morning sun came to great us about half way up, quickly warming the still mountain range to 70 degrees. We grabbed some fig newtons at the first aid station and shed a few layers of clothes. I enjoyed chatting with Mark as we climbed - much like ultras, you can really get to know someone over a few hours! Mark has been getting very fast in his ultras the last few years, and I was shocked to learn his secret - he has lost nearly 50 lbs in the last four years! Amazing.


We crested the first peak (mile 15), where a raging party was already taking place at aid station #2. Each rider got a sticker to prove they got to the top (collect all five!). The majority of cyclists at this event seem to fit the "enthusiast" category - regular riders who put in their weekly miles, but not quite the shave your legs/monster quads variety (although some of those folks were here too). I had learned from riders on the first climb that most were hoping to finish all five peaks to get the coveted "five peaks pin" at the top of the last hill. All this for a pin? I guess it's not much crazier than "all this for a belt buckle". ;-)


The descent on the back side of Monitor was WICKED fast. Mark is a phenomenal descender, and my speedometer hit 51 mph as I followed his lead down the winding road. Whew! Normally I don't get anywhere close to these speeds, but the road was smooth and the first four passes were blocked from traffic. Some folks took it slow, and they had plenty of room. By the time we hit the bottom, my body was pumped with enough adrenaline to sprint right back to the top! One thing for sure, any psychological impact from witnessing Debby's accident was no longer affecting my confidence on the bike. I bet she would be happy about that.


Mark and I stopped at aid station #3 at the bottom of the hill to refill the water bottles. The aid station volunteers were amazing at processing hundreds of us, and we back on the road in no time. We noted that there were at least 1,000 riders in front of us - this is an early rising crew!


The climb back up affirmed that our descent had been long and steep. The canyon walls shot up on either side, providing little relief from the sun. Mark was eager to put his adrenaline to work, and snaked his way through the pack, dancing on his pedals. I held back to chat with some of the other cyclists. Many were doing this ride for the first time (many had attended the cleverly-named training camp, The Near Death Experience), but I also met one guy doing his 21st! There were mountain bikes, tandems, even a bike/scooter hybrid. About half way up, we saw the last rider coming down - a 13-year-old having no trouble at all with the descent.


Road kill can tell you a lot about the country you are in, and this ride was no exception. Rattlesnakes, horny toads, ground squirrels the size of small kangaroos - this was the high desert for sure! Most of the wildlife was already retreating into the shade, as the temperature was bordering a very dry 90 degrees. I noticed I was easily drinking 50 oz/hour, even at a moderate pace. My Sugoi Impact jersey and shorts (which Christi calls the "super hero suit") were doing a great job of keeping me cool.


I crested Monitor Pass for the second time (35 miles) and pulled into the party aid station for some breakfast. Bagels with peanut butter hit the spot, as did taking a seat to stretch out. The self-pacing nature of these rides are great!

Topped up on food, water, and sunscreen, I took another fast descent (47 mph!) and hooked up with five riders who had a good pace going to the base of Ebbetts Pass, our next towering challenge. Since I do a lot of solo riding, I often forget how much easier it is to ride in a pack. This group had matching outfits (complete with "assvertising" of their company on their bike shorts) and clearly trained together. I wasn't sure about the protocol, so I asked if I could join in and warned them I'm a bit of a rookie at group riding. He summed it up in two breaths - "Stay on the wheel in front of you, 'cause that wheel is your lifeline. Always be behind, don't let your wheel get parallel. When you find yourself at the front, go a little harder for as long as you can, and the guy behind you will naturally pull in front as you slow." That's it? I think I can handle that! With little effort, our mini-peleton made mincemeat of the next six miles, picking up additional riders along the way. We approached the next aid station and I said my thanks as they continued their speedy pace.


Mark was at the aid station, and after we both had some Coke and snacks, we tackled the 8-12 degree inclines of Ebbetts Pass. There was definitely a lot of out-of-the-saddle work here, particularly on a few switchbacks that reduced some riders to walking. Those wise enough to bring bikes with triple rings on the front pedaled softly on the right, while those of us pushing bigger gears rode up on the left. Riders were already descending down, meaning a few folks were already done with four peaks! I felt completely dried out despite my aggressive water intake, and my nose started to bleed as it cracked from the inside. Another rider gave me a great tip - squirt water on your fingertips and occasionally snort a few drops to stay lubed. I'm learning so much on this ride!


The last hike to the peak of Ebbetts was the steepest, eliciting groans all around. Mark had made it up fast enough to take a quick break in the shade, and got back on his bike as he saw me go through. We hit the top (mile 55) to find another lively aid station, but I knew the bottom was only 20 minutes away. We plunged down the backside of Ebbetts (37 mph), being cautious of the cracked and bumpy roads that were hard to read in the shadows.

At the bottom, I dismounted to have a Coke (and a smile) and sit in the shade just outside the aid station. I laid out my jacket and rested my back, and before I knew it, I was asleep! When I awoke a few minutes later, a cyclist next to me said "no problem, I'll be your snooze alarm...just tell me how long you want to rest". Ha! Mark and I talked with the group and found all kinds of tips and tricks people used to make it through the day - jumping in hotel swimming pools, taking a shower before the last pass, massages that were available at some of the aid stations, planned naps, etc. Mark and I jealously dreamed of shower stalls at mile 75 of the TRT100...


As we remounted to make climb #4, Mark and I began assessing our fatigue. This climb definitely felt like work, and we each had a few nagging chafe spots. Mark wanted to be cautious and said he was "going easy and only doing four passes". Mark, that's an 80-mile ride with 13,000 feet of vertical...I wouldn't call that going easy! I figured I would get up and over Ebbetts one more time and see how I felt. But so far, I was hanging in there.

Mark chuckled to himself when he saw the "1km to the top" chalked into the road. In an ultra, that means another 10 minutes, but on a bike, it means right around the corner! We paced with some riders from Davis, CA, Seattle, WA, Las Vegas, NV, and Manchester, England, then wished them well as we descended down the other side. We knew to hold back on the speed a bit (36 mph), since this road twisted quite a bit more.


The aid station at the bottom of Ebbetts (mile 80) had transformed into a small city to feed all the cyclists a full lunch. It was 1:30pm, so Mark and I stopped for sandwiches, chips, and soft drinks in the shade. But the heat was too much for a long stay (my bike gauge read 92 degrees), so we quickly mounted up and headed back to Turtle Rock Park. Mark was still going strong - I have no doubt he could have done five passes - but decided to call it quits to save up for next weekend. I dropped my gear off at my car and did the quick self-assessment. I was tired, but I still felt good. The only issue I had was a creeping sunburn that somehow defied the half gallon of SPF 45 I had been applying all day. Then another cyclist told me what awaits at the top of Carson Pass - ice cream! OMG, that's all I needed to hear. I grabbed some bandanas out of the car to cover my neck and ears (high dork factor, but it sure works!), and waited for a group of riders to come by that I could join. A pack picked me up shortly, and I was on my way!


One of the first challenges you notice about tackling the fifth peak at Carson Pass is that you have to get there first! It was 3:30pm, and the winds were picking up. If you weren't with a group, even the downhills felt like work. I hit one last aid station before the climb (complete with near-shower at the hose), and found challenge #2 - the only traffic on the course. It wasn't too bad though - most of the cars slowed to 35 mph, and yelled out support. I loved that they called us "Death Riders" - I felt like I was in a motorcycle gang. Death Riders, saddle up!


The higher we got on Carson Pass, the more the wind picked up. It was clear this wasn't going to come easy for anyone. Perhaps Mark had it right! I stopped at the aid station half way to the top, and slammed a Coke in one pull. It looks like my nutrition crutch in the same in ultra runs and rides!

As the caffeine and sugar mainlined into me, I felt like going hard to get through the wind ASAP. Despite the climbs so far, I had stayed cautiously around 60-70% of my max heart rate. I thought it might be a good simulation for next week to take a couple of hard pulls on tired legs and see how my body responded. With one last mouthful of Jelly Belly's, I kicked it up a gear.

As I passed a large group of 15 riders about 6 miles from the top, the headwind really picked up. It was tough, but I liked the fact that it cooled us down. The lead rider in the group asked if he could "get on my wheel", and I said "absolutely". I think it's the same amount of work for me either way, no? As if a telegraph had been sent down the line of cyclists, they all immediately got out of the saddle and surged to my speed. How cool!

About five minutes in, one rider came up and gave me a minute of relief so I could chug some water. Then he said "Mayday! Mayday! I'm going down!", and I pulled up in front of him again. I looked back and the snake of riders had grown! It really did look like a snake too - if I went left, they all went left. I wish I could have taken a video! I tucked in and pushed for another two minutes, and the guy behind me said "I'm sorry, I'm doing everything I can just to stay on your wheel...but your form is great!". I hollered back "no worries...I've been riding somebody's wheel all day, and that's the reason I have fuel left". Team spirit was alive and well on Carson Pass.


I tackled the wind best I could. The guys behind me promised me beer, ice cream, high fives - anything to keep the tempo going. When I finally redlined about a mile from the top, I slowed and pulled to the back of the pack. Everyone was super-nice as they went by, patting me on the shoulders and saying "awesome pull". I tagged on to the back of the pack and sucked that wheel until we reached the top.


There indeed was ice cream at the top of Carson Pass (mile 102), as well as seats in the shade, food, and a bunch of volunteers handing out the "five pass pin" to the smiling faces coming up the road. One volunteer asked I wanted a quick inspection of my bike, and I said sure. He pumped up my tires, taped down a wire that was loose, wiped down the bike and handed it back. Wow! Two Heath bars later, I mounted up to make the last descent.

Right away I noticed that my wheels were spinning much faster with the tire pressure up. Even without streamlining, my speedometer was in the mid 40's. Before too long, the five guy team I met earlier came by and one yelled "come with us!". I pulled in behind them and their drafting sucked me in like a tornado. The speedometer jacked up...45mph, 50mph, 55mph, 58mph! Yet behind this group, I could barely feel the wind at all. After a couple of minutes, I accidentally braked too much in a corner and they got about 10 yards ahead. I quickly learned that was the end of that - no way I could catch up. I now have a new respect for those Tour de France riders who get dropped from a peleton and somehow make their way back. It's nothing short of impossible!

At the bottom of the hill, I picked up another pack and we rode the 4 miles back to Turtle Creek Park. I got some food, signed my name on the big "five pass" poster, and listened to fellow cyclists talk about their journeys. It took me 11 hours, but I didn't feel exhausted. There's no doubt that's because I had so much help along the way, lots of water, and plenty of rest at the aid stations. Cycling doesn't have to be a team sport, but it's amazing what you can do if you ride as a team.


I bought my "five pass finisher" jersey (Yeah! It was all about the shwag, after all), and headed back to Lake Tahoe into the sunset. I'm glad I fit in this ride and had a chance to see the gorgeous country out here. I think the time in the sun, dry air, and altitude will also be helpful in gauging next week. My thanks to all the organizers and volunteers who made this ride so much fun!

- SD