Worst Day Ever: Recollections of the Death Valley Double Century Spring Edition Ride 2011
Filed under: General Information
" Embrace the wind and flow with it...Mother Nature is a worthy adversary but persist and persevere and she relents in time." George Vargas, 1st finisher, DV Double Century, 2011
"The first 60 miles took me 7 hours!"
.JPG)
An experienced cyclist might read my first statement and think, "what's up with that?" They might speculate that I'm a novice, out-of-shape cyclist and rode a behemoth, fat-tire, steel-framed mountain bike. Without any additional information this might have been my initial opinion as well. However, to the contrary, I've been riding a bike for over 30 years and showed up with my slick, carbon fiber Pinnerelo F4-13 equipped with Campy Record components and Zipp 303 aero wheels. I was fit for the task at hand even though I had the flu for 2 weeks prior to the event. I was at my lightest weight in several years. Death Valley was my goal that kept me off the couch and on the bike during the winter. I was ready for the day, but I did not expect this kind of day.
I turned to endurance cycling following my total knee replacement in 2008. It's in my nature to be competitive, so I needed another outlet to fulfill my competitory needs. I found out about AdventureCORPS and the Death Valley Double Century series by searching online for cycling endurance events. I was intrigued by cycling in Death Valley, aka "Mother Nature's Greatest Sports Arena." I never rode 200 miles and just wanted to finish. I completed the DV Fall edition in 2009 in a conservative 16 hours and 30 minutes and felt great at the end. I enjoyed my experience and wanted to come back and do the spring edition, southern route. I planned on being more aggressive and improving my 2009 time. I thought knocking 2 hours off my previous time was attainable. My goal was to break 14 hours for the double century.
My ride was almost over before it even started. I flew in from Florida and had my bike partially disassembled in a bike case. When I was reassembling my bike on Friday evening, I noticed I lost the small cylinder nut on my seat clamp and couldn't tighten my seat post. Great! I went to the the bike shop at Furnace Creek, but trying to replace this obscure part would be almost impossible unless I found another Italian seat clamp. Panic began to set in. Next stop, I interrupted the race volunteers assembled in room 516 at the Furnace Creek Ranch, as they organizied race packets for the evening's distribution. One of the volunteers jumped into action and unselfishly responded to my dilemma. In the back of his van, he had several boxes of assorted bicycle parts. We sorted through and found a bag with seat clamp, mostly Cannondale, and Trek stuff. But, then I saw an Italian Bianchi seat clamp with a similar bolt and cylinder nut configuration. Whew! That was very close. Thanks Fuzzy.
I woke up early on Saturday morning with anticipation of the day's ride. The first thing I did was to check the weather. I opened the door to my room and it was extremely windy and cold. Not what I had hoped for but let's see what happens. I started in the second wave of riders that departed Furnace Creek at 6:20. As I looked around at all the cyclists, little did I know that almost 70% of them would not finish today's ride. We were told at the start that in addition to the high winds, we might encounter snow in the higher elevations. If it snowed, they would turn us around and we would have to do loops to accumulate the necessary miles.
The first 1/2 mile is a subtle climb out of Furnace Creek, then a quick right-hand turn heading south toward Badwater, the lowest point in North America, with an elevation of 282 ft below sea.jpg)
level. The winds whipped everyone around. There was a lot of slowing and surging going on which proved to be a dangerous situation. I sat in the middle of the pack and just took it all in. I thought to myself, "well, here you are.... back in Death Valley." Suddenly, at mile 2, a gust of wind pushed a rider back into me and my front wheel touched his back wheel. I have always wondered what the dynamics were when wheels touched in this manner. I saw it happen before, but never experienced it. I now have first-hand experience. My front wheel veered sharply to the left. A girl behind me screamed, "Ahhhhhh," and I thought I was going to take other riders with me to the ground. I came as close to going down as possible without actually going down but somehow saved myself. My recovery got me a "great save man!" from another rider.
The first 50 miles had incredible strong and persistant 20-30 mph headwinds with frequent gust of 40+ mph winds. The temperature was in the 40's. Riders were in groups to shield themselves from the swirling winds, but still, it was very difficult to ride. The pelotons began to break up and slowly riders where kicked off the back. Most riders eventually would be forced to abandon the support of others for a day of solitary riding. Eventually, it was my turn.
I had to find my own pace and seek my comfort zone. I ride alone and I ride in the wind a lot to prepare myself for these types of conditions. I always tell my clients to embrace the wind. I thought I was in my element. "It's all about pace," I said to myself. My power meter provided me with valuable information. Just stay within your appropriate power zone and you'll be alright. After 50 miles, I struggled to maintain 10-12 mph. At Ashford Mills, the second rest stop, the road turned towards the east. I stopped briefly to replenish my fluids and take in some nutrition. I began to overhear discussions amongst the riders about the plausibility of completing the double century. That planted the seed of doubt in many of the rider's mind. I thought once I turned around, I would be alright.
As I left the rest stop at Ashford Mills and began the first of my 2 big climb of the day, I still entertained the thought of completing the double century. The climb was very long with more cross and headwinds to endure. I started at 8-9 mph and eventually slowed to 5-6 mph with an occasional 4 mph. That's very close to "tipping-over" speed. I haven't experienced winds like this since the 1998 Hawaii Ironman. The steady crosswinds would pitch you at an angle to the road and the occasional gust would move you laterally.
I eventually made it to the summit of Salsberry Pass, elevation 3315 feet. That's when the reality of the day set in. I paused for a brief rest and straddled my bike. Another rider was close by and I asked him what time it was. He said, "1:30." I thought to myself, "1:30...... I just rode 60 miles in 7 hours.....that's rediculous." I knew then that completing the double century would be impossible. I finally resigned myself to doing the 150 mile version. A downgrade, but still a formidable task. I started the big descent and still had to deal with the winds. The heavy layers of clouds began to roll in and block the warmth from the sun. The temperature dropped some more. "Please don't rain," I said. I got a chill from the accumilated wetness of my sweat from the long climb. I zipped up my 3 layers of clothing and cover my face to protect myself from the wind and dropping temperature. I shifted into a bigger gear and kept the pedals spinning to keep my legs moving and my body warm. I labored to maintain 25 mph. I should have been going 35-40 mph. I mused, "give me a break, enough already with this headwind." I couldn't wait to turn around and finally have a tailwind. I began to question myself and really had the urge to quit. This was one of the many low points I would encounter during the day. I felt once I got a tailwind, I would feel better and makeup the time I was losing due to the strong headwinds.
At the turn around in Shoshone, 75 miles into the ride, I was whipped. I rested for awhile and sat in a chair just to relax, recover, and get myself together. I must have been there 10-15minutes. I was in no hurry to get back on my bike but I forced myself to get going again. As I departed Shoshone, there was a brief tailwind. Alright! This is what I've been waiting for. I turned west onto Route 178 and headed back to Salsberry Pass. There were more winds, but they were not as bad. With the last big climb ahead, I kept reassuring myself, "keep the pedals moving, one pedal stoke at a time, and time will take care of the distance." I couldn't wait to finally get to the top and start my final descent back into Death Valley. I'll be flying by then. I know there's more tailwinds up ahead. On the descent, I noticed something very strange. The spring flowers and shrubs on the side of the rode were bending from the wind in the wrong direction. I thought to myself, "NO, it can't be, the winds have shifted?" I must be hallucinating! I finally reached Ashford Mill and turned north onto the valley basin and my worst fears were confirmed. YES, the winds had changed direction. Now they were coming out of the north. Fifty more miles of strong headwinds. I struggled and made a strong effort to hold 10 mph. I was cracking. This was the lowest part of the day for me. The visions of endless roads were disheartening. They seemed to go on forever. Many riders were abondoning the ride. Vans would pass me loaded with bikes and dejected riders whose goals were crushed by Mother Nature. I was so close to retiring for the day but the former Marine voice inside my head kept over-ruling my negative self-talk, "Quitting is not an option!" the voice kept dictating. Quiting was just an unrelenting contemplation I had to contend with. Ride On!
I tried to ride with a group of 8-10 riders riders. coming out of Ashford Mills but I got dropped at 12 mph. I couldn't hang on. There semed to be no advantage riding in a group. It took me out of my zone and the pace was too fast. My fatique was escalating and if I didn't slow down, it was about to get ugly. The winds were so strong and they were coming in all directions. I had so many negative thoughts going through my head. I imagined myself passing out on the side of the road. I had to force myself to keep up with my nutrition. Being a coach, I knew this was the key for survival. I began to develop an aversion to the taste of Hammer Nutrition's Perpetuem. It was so hard to get down. "Just drink it," I said to myself. I use it all the time on my long endurance rides. "It's great stuff, you need the calories'" I said. I also fumbled around in my bike jacket pockets for my Endurolyte and Anti-Fatigue capsules. It's a great combination and it really works for me. I've been using these 3 products for years and it never fails me. To complicate matters, dusk was approaching and I didn't have a headlight on my bike. My lights were in my "drop bag" in Badwater. There was no way I could get there before sunset. I watched as the sun began to set behind Telescope Peak in the west to my left. It was getting dark fast and I was worried about getting stranded. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to deliver the lights before it got too dark to the riders left on the course. When I received my light, I was so exhausted, it took me what seemed like 10-15 minutes to put the light on my bike. I fumbled and lacked mental clarity to complete a simple task that usually takes me 1-2 minutes. A SAG vehicle pulled next to me and asked me if I was OK. Thanks, I was hoping for some assistance. I told the driver my predicament and he told me to get off the road and to move more onto the shoulder. Thanks, dude! #$%&$#@!!!!!!
.jpg)
My secondary goal now was to complete the Ultra Century 150 mile version and just cross the finish line in Furnace Creek. It was the ultimate struggle. There were now mile markers on the side of the road and I counted them down, 35, 34, 33, 32..... It seemed like it took forever between the markers. Darkness set in as I got closer to Badwater and the salt-covered basin of Death Valley appeared to glow in the dark from the reflection of the bright stars above. Finally, at mile marker 17, I reached the last rest stop in Badwater. I had my first taste of real food for the day, a Subway turkey sandwich and a Coca-Cola. I never drink Coke when I ride but it tasted so good dispite any potential GI distress it might cause. I rested and savored each bite and sip. Only 17 miles to go. Barring any unforeseen incident, I was going to make it! I left Badwater and headed for Furnace Creek. I shifted into my large chain ring an gave it everything I had. My speed increase and I felt invigortated. Something kicked in. I was experiencing "the horse smelling the barn" syndrome. More mile markers to count, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5. Stand up, sit down. Finally, 5 miles out, I caught a glimpse of the lights in Furnace Creek. The finish line was in sight.
I finished around 9:10 pm. I was totally exhausted, yet exhilarated from my accomplishment. I always tell my clients when I try to relate pain and exhaustion from physical effort, "it's like banging your head against a wall, it feels good when you stop." It felt really good! At the finish line, I had to ask Chris how today's ride compared to other race days? His response was, "worst day ever!" I then asked him for a ride back to my hotel up on the hill.
The highlight of the day was actually the night. It was a celestial sensation. The stars were incredible. I would try to ride and catch a peek of the evening light show that was going on overhead. I would glance cautiously to the sky by looking over my left shoulder and try not to crash. I remember seeing these 3 brightly, aligned, stars and later learned that it was the Belt of Orion. I would also mentally occupy myself by placing my hand over my headlight. The sky would light up like I was flipping on a light switch. I have never seen anything like it before. It was amazing!"
Data from my power meter:
Total Time: 14:38:44 Work: 6991 kJ TSS: 645.6 IF: .698 Norm Power: 168 watts Ave Cadence: 70 rpms Ave. Speed: 11.2 mph
Thank you to Chris Kostman, AdventureCORPS, and to all the volunteers for a great job. Special thanks to Fuzzy for all his help and dedication. He bailed me out not once, but twice.
John Josephs, MS, CSCS
USA Cycling Level 1 Certified Coach
www.konahumanperformance.com
.JPG)