Discipline, my sensei once told me, was not necessarily about when (or how hard) to practice, but when not to. Those words of wisdom do ring true, even more so today as I backslide to 60, yet heeding them is sometimes a challenge.
Wax on, wax off can also be interpreted to mean “practice on,” “practice off,” or “ride bike,” “don’t ride bike,” and even “lift that,” “don’t lift that.”
BECAUSE, three (3) weeks + since the “big ‘blation” (TURP by aquablation) I haven’t been able to lift much (no more than 10 pounds for the first 10 days) nor get any serious cardio (no strenuous activities, including sex, for 3 weeks). Strenuous sex? Really? Ah, the old days…
NO bike riding either, inside or out, until cleared by the doctor (that happens today, hopefully).
SO I’ve truly put into practice Mr. Arioto’s words of all of those years ago. For the first 7-10 days or so it wasn’t that hard. Now though, 3 1/2 weeks out, it’s getting harder. As I told Mrs. California Alps Cycling yesterday, I’m getting fatter and my fitness is getting worse. My CTL is dropping like a rock and my scale indicates those rocks are hiding somewhere within my expanding self.
I’M trying to eat less, and I did a good job of that as well for those first couple of weeks, and I’ve been walking, which can be agonizingly slow for a fervent rider, and make’s my bum right knee unhappy, but it has helped, and it’s especially enjoyable due to some good tunes and the snowy scenery.
ADMITTEDLY, I’m not real good at this type of discipline. Thankfully I won’t have to practice it much longer and I’m so ready to get back on the bike.
Dealing with the recovery (esp. since I had some complications) hasn’t been pleasant. I’m on the mend now, though, and feeling good. The plumbing is getting back to normal and that not-so-fun part is aways behind me. I’m thankful, too, for good health insurance, good robotics 😉 , good doctors and good drugs.
Let this horse out of the gate!
Deathride Planning
BASKING in the glory of this year’s successful ride, monkey now off our (the Alpine County Chamber of Commerce) back, has been wonderful. We gave ourselves sometime to celebrate. Short-lived that time was, though, as we’ve already begun planning for the 2023 ride.
THAT “big schnozzola photo,” by the way, was taken during this year’s ride – I’m just below Raymond Meadow Creek on Hwy. 4 (Ebbett’s Pass).
WE’VE got to finalize our expo. location and are trying to find one other than Turtle Rock Park. We received a lot of feedback from riders after this year’s ride that hanging out there for the expo wasn’t the best experience. From vendors to volunteers we all agree and so we’re brainstorming ideas and doing a bit of outreach. If we have to go back to “TRP” again we’ll do our best to make it look less like a burnt-moonscape. Things are looking better post-Tamarack Fire. Greening up, more dead trees removed and snow on the ground.
Spring could be glorious with the grasses and flowers!
WE’RE hoping to work out a deal with a local cycling club to take on our warehouse and aid station logistic coordinating responsibilities. We’ve had volunteers take on this role in the past (and they’ve all done an outstanding job), yet we realize that to kick things up a notch we need to find professionals to fill this role, and pay accordingly. Fingers crossed we’ll be able to work out a partnership soon with this great group. Stay tuned!
PERMITS are another behind the scenes process that must be handled. Every year, we and other ride organizers, need to gain the necessary permits from various agencies (e.g., Alpine Co.; Caltrans; CHP; USFS, etc.) and that process too, has started. The great feedback we received this year from these agencies, and the support they’ve (and the riders) voiced for this years course, especially how safe it was, means we’ll be DOING THE SAME CLIMBS IN 2023. Monitor x2, Ebbett’s x2 and Pacific Grade x2. I’ll be riding it in 2023 and am looking forward to getting back to some serious training. I think we’ll have a few other CAC riders out on the course next year too.
VOLUNTEERS are a huge part of the Deathride and 2023 is no different. We’ve got the usual amazing folks already raising their hands, and at the suggestion of one of our captains, are going to expand the roles of the group captains to be more involved in the planning stages of the ride. Another “up our game” plan.
RIDE or course director is another “T” that must be crossed and admittedly that search has been a bit “interesting.” Our beloved Curtis Fong, while agreeing to continue to be our mentor and advisor, wouldn’t let us brow beat him into the role, and another gentleman we had hoped to hire declined due to his crazy, busy schedule. So, the search goes on. We’ve got some other very talented people to talk to, though, and we’ve talked to some local project management talent as well so we’re confident the right person or persons will come along.
WE are aware of some merchandise delays from this year’s Deathride, including jerseys, and are actively working with the merchant to resolve the problem. We’ve been short-staffed, but our new office manager started yesterday. It will, however, take her some time to get up to speed. In the meantime feel free to reach out to me. My contact info. is on our “About Us” page.
WE’VE got lots of balls in the air right now, as you can see. Par for the course this time of year. It’s an exciting, scary and nervewracking time, and IT’S WONDERFUL!
IT’S going to be another great ride! Registration open’s New Year’s Eve! Mark those calendars, k?
HAVE a happy, happy, Thanksgiving!
TWO of our local feathered friends, Wavy Beard on the left and Stumpy on the right, suggest that perhaps you enjoy beef, pork or a vegan/vegetarian option.
AS we told them though, while the suggestion is understood we’ll be eating turkey. Just not you!
TEN days has passed since the 41st Annual (kinda) Deathride (aka The Tour of the California Alps). We’re starting to relax a bit here in Alpine County, yet at the same time we’ve begun preparing for next year’s ride. Not kidding.
THAT, however, is a story for another day.
TODAY we have a guest blogger! Amador County resident, and Deathrider Bill Condrashoff. I’m pleased to put forth, for your reading pleasure, Bill’s story about his “day of death.” Editors notes: First, let’s be clear. No one has ever died on the Deathride. Second, the following words are all Bill’s and they WERE NOT edited for clarity or whatever else some news programs might say. That wouldn’t be fair to Bill. It’s his story, and a good one at that. I did take the liberty of throwing in a few photos, though.
IT’S been 3 years since I rode the Death Ride and I missed it. I was in my 50s last time. So I thought I’d see if could still do it in my 60s. I wasn’t planning to better my best or even go for a fast time. I was just going to try to finish. I mentally prepared myself for being passed by the young riders and to just let it go. I’d be happy enough just being out there enjoying what I like to do. Then I got a call from my riding friend Kevin, who was going to come out and enjoy the festivities for old times’ sake. He wanted to know when I would be riding through Markleeville. I told him I would come through between 3 and 4PM. He couldn’t accept that for an answer and convinced me I would be there by 3PM for sure. So he was going to look for me between 2:30 and 3:30PM.
I didn’t know anyone else riding it this year. It was going to be a hot one. I was ready to ride at 5AM but ended up starting at 5:04 or so. Close enough. With the hot weather predicted for later, I knew I had to get in and out of the back side of Monitor Pass as quickly as possible so as not to get fried in the desert. Each side is about 3,000 ft of climbing.
Riders coming up the Eastern side of Monitor pass. Near the Mono/Alpine Co. county line.
When I started, it was about 65 degrees and my legs felt good. I was pedaling up Monitor in a matter of minutes. Most people knew it would be hot and started when I did. I was in a sea of riders just before sunrise. It was calm and all you could hear was the sound of heavy breathing, tires rolling over the pavement and an occasional conversation. Then the grade got steep and the sound of hundreds of bikes downshifting filled the rocky canyon. I was in my lowest gear but not too bad off. As we went up, I could see the sunshine start to cover the mountains around Ebbetts Pass. It looked a long way off and later the ride was going 15 miles beyond Ebbetts before riders would turn around. Of course, at this moment, I was headed AWAY from that pass. Then I realized I needed to get my head in a good place to be able to succeed. That meant having some fun along the way and paying attention to how my legs were feeling.
Before I knew it, I was over the first pass and it was time to have some fun. I gulped some salt tabs and chased them with fluid then started to pass some riders before the unthinkable happened. Some dude passed me going downhill! It was still shallow near the top for a while, but I decided it was time to have some of that “fun along the way”. So, I chased. I might seem like a thin man, but for a cyclist on the Death Ride, I’m a big boy (gravity is my friend on descents). I was up to him pretty quick and I got by him just before the grade got steeper and the spectacular view of the desert appeared. I could see his shadow racing mine on the pavement. He wasn’t just going to let me go ahead. I focused on my line and how to avoid the hundreds of bikes around us. He stayed with me in the twisties and that impressed me because I know the road very well. A couple of times I saw what looked like his shadow riding off the road over the cliff. But, it would always come back where I could see it. Left, right, left, right, pass 12 riders at a time, left, right, left, right, pass 12 more. Then after we came around a righty, and just before a lefty I saw something that scared me. It was guy with a camera standing on the double yellow center line taking photos at the apex of the turn! I could go left or right of him. Both options seemed bad at the speed I was going. So, I braked and went right of him (on the slower line) and the rider making the shadow passed me. I thought “Ok, it’s still a long way down and I have gravity on my side.” After a slower turn, I got back up to him and made a slingshot pass using his draft. It was pretty straight after that so the bigger boy wins, and that was me. At the bottom he was as jacked as I was. We averaged 42 for 7.5 miles with a max of 50mph. We talked about it halfway back up the climb out of the desert before he went ahead of me.
IT was quite a bit warmer on Monitor Pass the second time over. But, it wasn’t too bad. I still had a good attitude. I pretty much had the second descent to myself and it is less fun to go fast without traffic. So, I decided not to push my luck and conserve energy (and blood). As I started up Ebbetts Pass, Shadow Rider passed me and we discussed how he got behind me. He had taken a nature break. We rode a little while then we both stopped at Wolf Creek for my first water stop. 5 miles up the road he passed me again on the steep stuff. By then the bike traffic was thinning a lot. This told me that I was doing well. It was like the good old days of the 2010s. I kept trying to extrapolate the time I would get to Markleeville because I knew I would be slowing down as I rode. It seemed like I would get there before Kevin left.
I got to the top of Ebbetts feeling pretty worked over. I thought “If I ride over the top, will I be able to climb out of there?” Editor’s note: Even though he was pretty worked over that skeleton is not Bill. This photo, in fact, was taken during the 2018 Deathride. It is, though, at Ebbetts Pass.
AND that’s not the worst of it. Pacific Grade Pass is new to the Death Ride this year. After you go down the back of Ebbetts, you go up Pacific Grade’s 24% slopes. This was sure to lessen my chances of getting back out of the hole I was about to ride into. Against my better judgement, I went for it and Pacific Grade felt steeper than ever. That road tests you at the start with some short 20% grades followed by shallower grades. Then back to steep, then not so steep. Just when you think you’re past the worst of it, the road seems to disappear in front of you. The first right hand switchback is so steep and sharp that it looks like the end of the road. But, it just turns so sharp that it looks like a dead end. Too bad it wasn’t. I would have been happy to turn around at that point. Standing in my lowest gear, wishing I had three more, I could feel the last of my legs slowly being left on the road. On the steep grade, each time I thought I would need to stop, the slope would ease off just enough to keep me from quitting. Before I knew it, it was over and I was at Mosquito Lake on Pacific Grade Pass.
THIS was my chance to rest on the easy pedal to the turnaround at Lake Alpine. Shadow Rider passed me here again and when he did he asked me how long I thought my ride was going to take. I said “If all goes well, 10 hours. If all goes not so good, 11 hours.” I saw him again at the turnaround and spent too much time talking and not enough time drinking. Rolling out of the rest stop, I could tell I was starting to lose power. But I told myself “just get over Ebbetts one more time and you can coast for 30 minutes.”
IT wasn’t much of a ride back to Mosquito Lake. But boy I felt it. After the lake, the drop down Pacific Grade is so steep that you have to get your weight behind your saddle, like on a mountain bike, or you can easily go over your bars when you try to slow for the hairpin turns. I needed to stall because I was so fried. So, I just went slow this time and kept all my blood on the inside by not falling.
The mountains and trees reflected in Kinney Reservoir (about a mile north of the pass). This photo was taken on my first ascent up to Ebbetts Pass (from Markleeville) in 2016.
THE last pass was Ebbetts and I was ready for a struggle and that’s exactly what I got. The pass isn’t that long or steep. What makes it so difficult is all the other climbs before it. Shadow Rider passed me for the last time and I never saw him again. I was crawling (at best) up the hill and just looking for a reason to stop when a guy on the side of the road asked me if I had a CO2 tire filler and if he could use it. That was my excuse! So I stopped with enthusiasm to help him. We got him going quicker than I wanted. Once I started rolling again I felt better. It was only about 500 ft of vertical up to the top from there. When I rolled over the top it was like standing on Everest to me. I was going to make it. My stomach was upset and, due to dehydration I wasn’t sweating anymore. But now it was all downhill for a long time. I filled all bottles for weight and for makeshift perspiration. I drank all I could and poured the rest over my head, front and back as I mostly coasted down towards where I started the day. The cooling plan was working pretty well for a while. But then the temperature started really going up when I dropped below about 7000ft elevation. All the gains I made the first 10 minutes of coasting were getting erased by the heat.
THE 5 miles of road along the canyon that leads to Markleeville were so hot and dry that I would get cotton mouth just 30 seconds after a swig of water. And now, my legs were starting to cramp. Through all of this, I realized I had a shot of finishing the ride in under 9 hours. Remember, 10 hours was my best case scenario. Imagine my surprise! The only obstacle between me and a 9 hour time was the last 20 to 30 minute climb, in nearly 100 degree heat with cramping legs and only about a pint of warm water.
I rolled into Markleeville and looked for Kevin (hopefully with tons of cold water). But, I was an hour ahead of my best predicted time and he wasn’t there yet. In order to beat 9 hours, I had 25 minutes to get up the last hill and figured I’d just see what happened. A woman standing in the street offered me a cold Gatorade. I stupidly said “no thanks” and rode by her. Just past her, I reconsidered and turned around and stopped next to her. She had just ridden both Monitor Passes and had a sense of how I felt. I poured the cold Gatorade into my bike bottle, thanked her and rode off. 50 feet from there, I saw Kevin just as he yelled my name. He had just gotten there and he was prepared. He had ice, cold water, and pantyhose to put ice into and hang around my neck as I rode. He knew all the tricks to beat the heat. Now it’s only 20 minutes to my 9 hour goal! I asked him if he thought I could get up that last hill in 20 minutes and he said “NO”. I still wanted to try, and told him I didn’t want to bother with the panty hose trick. He decided I could use a splash of cold water and poured what felt like an Ice Bucket Challenge cooler full of water over my head. I was yelling “heart attack, heart attack” without breathing out. It was so cold. I was freezing now. I thanked him and took off with 17 minutes to get up the hill. At first I still felt pretty drained so I just went at a pace I thought I could do and drank the Gatorade as fast as I could before it got warm. About halfway up the hill I could see the top. I still had 9 minutes. Then a guy about 50 feet ahead of me turned around and said “tailwind”. There was a tailwind, and it was a good one too. I still had goose bumps on my legs from the icing incident. I thought “I’m going for it.” I picked it up a notch, and seeing how the road got steeper at the end, I timed a last ditch effort to the finish. I watched the time get closer and closer to 9:00:00 on my Garmin. For the last 15 minutes I’d been telling myself not to ride for 9 hours and pull up a couple minutes over 9. So I grabbed a gear and really made sure. 8:58:05!
THIS was about my 12th Death Ride. I’ve been trying to beat 9 hours and have never been able to do it before this ride. The new route is about an hour shorter than the old one. But still, I can now say that I did the Death Ride in under 9 hours! My rolling time was 8:38:XX. So I spent about 20 minutes not moving. The ride was 103.3 miles with 13,999 ft of climb. I averaged 11.9 MPH, maxed 51.3 MPH, averaged 156 watts for a total 1.4 kWHr of energy output. Now your electric bill of $0.60/kWHr doesn’t seem like such a high price, does it? My average heart rate was 133 BPM and max was 150 BPM. According to Strava, I was about the 50th finisher of all six passes.
I signed my name on the big Death Ride poster over the forehead of the skull, as usual. I burned about 5,000 calories, and I got it all back in the breakfast Benita made for me on Sunday morning. One last editor’s note: Only finishers get to sign the poster. Will you add your name next year?
CONGRATS, Bill! I think I can see your signature somewhere in there. 😉
WHAT a ride you had and what a great story. And a PR to boot. Sweet!
THANKS so much for sharing and we’ll see you next year for lucky 13!
AFTER a two-year hiatus we finally pulled it off. Deathride 2022, with the new course into the Lake Alpine area, with Pacific Grade x2 added, was a MASSIVE success!
YOURS truly was not fit enough to attempt what Peter Stetina says is one of the hardest century-rides in the country, but I did spend this morning doing a bit of “ambassador-ing” on part of the course. I hit Hwy. 4 about the time the fastest riders were coming down from Monitor Pass and heading up to Ebbett’s Pass.
EVEN though those two HC climbs are challenging, and the sunshine and blue sky was brilliant, the smiles of the riders still lit up the road. After days of smoke-filled skies we were blessed by Ma Nature with clear air yesterday and today. Yeah, it’s hot (over 90 degrees fahrenheit today) but it wouldn’t be the Deathride without some sort of weather “event,” right?
THE riders I talked to while on the road today, and yesterday during the Expo., were so appreciative of the opportunity to attempt the ride yet again.
THAT included my friend John K. from Chula Vista.
SO far the rider from London takes the cake for distance. All the way across the pond! Seriously? As I write this post from the Expo I’m waiting for him to stop by the booth so he can pick up his free California Alps Cycling cap. He’s definitely earned it. I also talked to riders from Colorado Springs, Maryland and Idaho. So many more came from so many places…How cool is that?
AND the volunteers…What a truly amazing and inspiring bunch of folks. From rest-stops to water-stops; from radio comms. to medical; from litter picker-uppers to booth staffers and registration signer-uppers…everyone was on their game and so welcoming of the ride and riders.
THANK YOU VOLUNTEERS!
THE first finishers started coming in around 11:30 a.m. or so and the first woman rider came in about 12:30. That’s FAST! Way faster than anything I’ve ever done, or will do, that’s for certain. It’s now 3:30 or so and riders are still coming in. Sweat-stained jerseys and bibs, white coated from sunscreen in some cases, many of them a bit disheveled for sure, and yet such a sense of pride. As it should be.
Deathriders making their way up Hwy. 4 towards Ebbetts Pass. After they’ve done Monitor x 2. Video taken at Scossa Cow Camp. If you look closely you can see the “Scossa ladies” setting up a viking skit for the rider’s entertainment.
HUGE thanks to the sponsors of the Deathride, too. Talk about resilience! About twenty (20) came out, including us of course. We had coffee, schwag, beer and more thanks to their efforts.
A special tip ‘o the hat to Tamo and Nikki, founders/owners of ATAQ fuel, and one of our marquee sponsors. If you haven’t tried ATAQ’s products, by the way, you should. I’ve been using it since last year and I really like it. No gut issues and a plant-based product to boot!
SIERRA Nevada deserves special mention, too. They have supported the ride for years and continue to do so. And their beer is the best! Ahhh…
DID I mention that it’s hot? I guess I did but I’ll say it again. It’s toasty today. I can’t help but marvel at the attitudes of the riders. Yeah, you have to be fit but in the end, as my brother-from-another-mother would say, the Deathride is really a state of mind. We are truly blessed to have such support from riders all over the world.
THERE are still some riders on the course so those final data points are still TBD.
IF you were one of the many, whether you be a rider, volunteer, spouse or partner of a rider, you name it, a heartfelt thanks from the Alpine County community. We couldn’t have done it without you and we are so very grateful for the support.
HAPPILY there’s much more of the “what’s here” than the “what’s not” but based on what we’ve heard anecdotally, there are some who think there’s more of “the not” and that’s just not the case. Sure, parts of Alpine Co., especially those hit hardest by the Tamarack Fire, are still grieving, but there’s NO WALLOWING here in the heart of the California Alps.
CERTAINLY, we lost many trees, that’s true. Many of them have been removed, mulched; or repositioned to mitigate erosion. Some of them still stand.
IT’S important to note though, that in terms of what’s visible from the highways, the damage is primarily isolated to areas of Hwy. 88, east of Hope Valley, and the section of Hwy. 4 between Woodfords and Monitor Junction. And as Mrs. CA Alps has so optimistically noted, in some places the views are indeed better.
Markleeville is still here! So is Bear Valley and so is Kirkwood. Blue Lakes Road was spared and Luther Pass took minimal damage (on the El Dorado Co. side). We are not a blackened county!
BUT, you can get some of that at the Cutthroat Brewing Company. Fish, that is. And beer, and the best burgers for miles. One of today’s specials (salivating) was stuffed poblanos, and I’m talking with elk sausage and jalapeno cheddar.
OUR friends at Outwest Cafe have opened a weekend (all summer long) pop-up taco stand (Tres Amiga Locas) next to the Toll Station – which is again open on weekends (for beverages only) and soon will be for meals I’ve heard – so you can grind on some outrageous tacos and wash them down with some uber-cold cerveza. Ahhh.
WHAT about Kirkwood, you ask. Good to go there, too. Discwood is open and the stargazing has been amazing.
AND Wylder (formerly Sorensen’s) in Hope Valley? No worries. Still throwing some good hash out of the cafe and hosting live music regularly. Did I mention their cabins? They’re cool, keen, phat and plush.
Ed. Note: For a comprehensive list of upcoming Alpine County events, look no further than the Chamber’s events pageand click here to download a copy of our Visitor’s Guide.
West Fork of the Carson near Blue Lakes Road on the western side of Hope Valley.
WILDFLOWERS and grasses are beginning to carpet the forest floors that were once just ash; and the rivers, creeks and lakes are flowing and there’s some good fishing to be had. Catch ’em if you can! 🤓
Why Am I Telling You All of This?
WELL, last week several of my colleagues at the Alpine County Chamber of Commerce and I were theorizing (“commiserating” works, too) as to why the registration numbers for the Deathride – The Tour of the California Alps were lower than expected, especially compared to the usual count just under two months out from the big day.
PANDEMIC related “recurring-cancelations-of-events-fatigue” perhaps? Yeah, there’s some of that. Many of us can personally speak to that dynamic: postponing registration, or not registering at all, for events that we would have in the past, for fear of them being cancelled yet again.
CONCERN over riding in potentially smoke-filled air, with yet another fire season looming? Another valid reason. And you’re right, climate change has made it so there’s almost no fire season anymore.
‘TWAS you, oh adventurer that caused me to tell this tale.
YOU let it slip that you thought we were a burned-out shell of our former self so I thought I’d try and set the record straight.
There is still a great atmosphere here – day and night.
Ed. Note: Captured this sunbow yesterday afternoon.
Safety note: I used selfie mode; the sun was the subject and I cropped out the part of my forehead that tried to photobomb Ol’ Sol.
The Challenge, And The Plea
SO, register for the Deathride. Don’t waffle. Tick that bad boy off your list. You know you have it in you.
OUR community needs you now more than ever (the ride provides the majority of our operating expenses by far). We’ve earned the good karma (we all have, right?) and as I wrote last fall, and as we all know so well, THE THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM.
WE’RE not as big as Emporia and our ride doesn’t get quite as many riders as that big ol’ gravel race they just had, but we’re just as friendly and welcoming and we have a little something extra.
Blue skies like you don’t often see, riding on some of the most iconic routes in the country; and mountains. Lots and lots of mountains.
COME on up and Be Alpine with us. Drown some powerbait. Get your paddleboard groove going on one of our many alpine lakes. Do some birding.
LIKE the image at the top of this post suggests…PARK IT (the car) AND RIDE IT (le’ bike)!
CLIMB! And, climb some more. And when you think you’ve done enough climbing, do even more. Here in the California Alps climbing is pretty much par for the course; head out the door and you’re on some sort of incline (or decline).
Yesterday, I had the pleasure (and pain) of riding up the west side of Monitor Pass (this view is from just above Heenan Lake) and was reminded that there is no subsitute for climbing if you’re training for a ride with lots of elevation gain.
SURE, I’ve been training hard, with lots of paincave sessions, including HIIT, V02 max, and more, and some of those sessions focus on things such as building endurance, “rocking the rollers” and sweet-spot training (SST); yet I realized while “out on course” that even though my strain is up significantly from the previous week, I’m just not climbing enough.
THIS past week, including yesterday’s adventure, I rode about 116 miles with almost 11,000 feet of elevation gain.
THE Deathride – Tour of the California Alps does that in one day, though, and while yesterday’s ride was 36 miles with over 4000 of climbing, I asked myself could I do that three or four more times.
The short answer = NO. At least not yesterday. 🙁
As you can see by my happy, yet very sweaty mug, that first big pitch was hard.
MONITOR east, Ebbetts north and south (or west and east depending on your preference), and Pacific Grade (twice) would still be yet to come on July 17th. Yowza, there is work to be done!
All smiles in front of the Monitor Pass marker after my 10th ascent up the west side.Roscoe was happy to be getting some sun! Was a chilly ascent.
THANKFULLY, we’ve all got more time. IMHO, and based on previous experience, right about now (3-4 mos. out) is when you should start ramping 😉 up your training. And it’s not just about the climbing… Your secondary focus should be on time spent in the saddle.
IF you are going to tackle the entire ride, you’re looking at a full day on your steed.
BACK in 2017, when I finished all of the climbs, I was on the bike for about ten (10) hours and my elapsed time was twelve (12) hours!
VENTURING on a velocipede for that amount of time takes a serious toll on the bod., and takes some getting used to, so don’t skimp. And, if you’re not already thinking about it, be sure to address your future nutrition needs by practicing what, and how much, you eat and drink.
EXPERIMENTING with new bars, gels or drink mixes the day of is a recipe for disaster!
So Now What?
WELL, for me that means heeding my own advice and hitting those hills and mountains more often, and taking on longer rides. I would guess that applies to you as well.
ANOTHER aspect of training that I’m working on is the gear. You may have noticed that I was wearing an USWE hydration pack. Amazing piece of equipment by the way – pretty darn comfy and it DOES NOT move. I am not planning on wearing it for the Deathride but I am going to have it on for May’s Paydirt here in the Pine Nuts. And, yes, sharp-eyed reader, Roscoe is a gravel bike. So it was a double-duty deed, if you will, yesterday – got some climbing in and did it on the bike I’ll be riding in May, with the gear and grub I’ll be hauling.
I’m thinking a 50-60 mile ride on dirt will be a similar experience to a century on the road and so I see some benefits to training for Pete Stetina’s ride now, while also keeping that next big day in July, in mind.
NEED some other ideas? Search “climbing” on this blog for myriad posts on the subject. If you’re a neophyte I’d especially call your attention to this post as well as this one.
The snow is melting and the rivers and creeks are rising and getting chocolately. This is the East Fork of the Carson near Monitor Junction.
AFTER all, spring has sprung so it’s time to get cracking!
WE’RE looking forward to riding with you in July (or sooner perhaps), and the community is getting ready for your visit.
BE sure to make those reservations early, by the way. There are fewer resources around due to last year’s Tamarack Fire.
REGISTRATION for the 2022 Deathride – Tour of the California Alps has opened! I’m already registered (first thing yesterday morning) and today begins the start of my training; primarily for this “Grandaddy of Them All,” but also for Stetina’s Paydirt (May 21st), and later in the year, the Mammoth Gran Fondo (September 10th).
“Challenge yourself to the premier cycling event in California. The route offers over 14,000′ of climbing, 103 miles, and up to six (6) HC Alpine climbs. This ride is sure to challenge you, inspire you, and leave you wanting more.“
I penned a post in November about what we at the Alpine County Chamber of Commerce hope will be a successful third try at the 40th Annual Tour so if you are perhaps looking for more inspiration, or a bit of addtional information, give it a look-see.
FOR me personally it’s time to shed some of those winter layers of lard, or at least start the rendering process. I took a rest day yesterday, somewhat forced due to the overnindulgence of the night before, and so today begins the work.
Signs of things past; and things to come…
IT was a travesty of epic proportions, last year’s cancellation, yet we have weathered the storm (figuratively and literally) here in Alpine Co. That’s not to say the drama is done by any means, what with Omicron raging, winter fires in Colorado and so much more angst, and anger, throughout our world.
STILL, our Alpine Co. communities have risen to the challenge, as have so many more, and have refused to give in or give up. We continue to bang our heads against the wall, if you will, but we, like you I suspect, have hard heads.
SO let’s get to it and approach the day, the training, and the year, as Coach Harbaugh would say, with an enthusiasm unknown to mankind.
YEAH, you’re right, there have been thirty-nine (39) charms really since the Deathride began. It’s those last two (2) attempts that have been problematic. Perhaps then we should say then that it’s the 3rd attempt for the 40th Annual Ride that’s the charm?
OF course, we haven’t had the ride yet so fingers crossed this tertiary try will be that trinket.
THE Alpine County Chamber of Commerce Board of Directors (full disclosure: I’m a member of the board), along with our Executive Director, Becky Hanson, met last week to discuss, among other things, the 2022 Deathride.
HERE’S what you should know:
The ride will take place on Saturday, July 16th, 2022
The course will be the same as last year’s; no Carson Pass but instead Pacific Grade x 2
Early registration price = $139.00
Registration will open in January!
BECKY has been hard at work dealing with the aftermath of this year’s evacuations (I still can’t believe we had to cancel the day before the ride), swag bag distributions and most recently, insurance claims.
ON that note, here’s a partial excerpt from her email to our Deathride Family, sent yesterday…
While it has been a lengthy process to iron out, we are pleased to inform you that the riders who stuck with us through the 2020 postponement, and to date have not cancelled their registration, will receive a partial refund of registration fees from imATHLETE.
We do not know the exact date that refunds will go out, but we do know that it will be a credit to the card used to register. In the situation where that card is no longer active, an electronic check will be issued (again, by imATHLETE). It is not a full refund, but we were very pleased to finally get to a resolution and hope this helps you, our loyal riders.
DEATHRIDERS are a special lot, no doubt. I’ve only attempted the ride three (3) times, and completed it once, so I’m really just a rookie. Many of you riders, including my bruddah, Scott Keno (that’s him there with bib no. 1619), have completed it every time they’ve attempted it and have done so many, many times. Scotty has done 8 or 9, I can’t remember. I’m sure there are some of you out there who’ve got even more impressive stats.
IT’S not just the physical feat itself that makes me have so much respect for you TOTCA riders, though. It’s your fortitude. Your friendliness. Your patience. Your support. Your attitude.
LIKE you I suspect, I’ve done many fondos, many centuries; a shitload of organized rides. Yet this one is special. It’s different.
IT’S the location, the elements (you know what they say…If you don’t like the weather here in the Sierra, just wait five (5) minutes), the climbing and the volunteers; but mostly it’s the comraderie.
It’s just a such a special gig.
ALTA Alpina Cycling Club is arranging a training series, cleverly called the “Brush with Death,” for the spring time, so be on the lookout for that announcement.
WE – I’m a member but have no skin in this training series game; the club leadership gets credit for that – tried to do so last year but the pandemic put the kibosh on those plans.
MAYHAPS we’ll do the same here at California Alps Cycling. A few early jaunts over Ebbett’s Pass, Monitor Pass and Pacific Grade couldn’t hurt, right? Okay you’re right, it will hurt but in a good way. If nothing else, we’ll know what level of pain to expect. 😉
SO we’re going to keep at it, and hopefully we’ll actually have the ride next summer, and we’ll see you all again at the Expo.
THIS time though let’s kick some passes’ asses sans those pyrocumulus clouds that are in the pic. at the top of this post, k? I took that photo, by the way, from Carson Pass (that’s Red Lake) the day the ride was supposed to happen.
RIDE on. Be safe. Stay healthy and we’ll see you next year!
