Oh, the pain, the joy.... of one's first Wrightwood.
All I can say is that it was a collossally bad idea, but I survived. It was probably also a testament to the evils of peer pressure. I've been feeling bad all week, with sky rocketing heart rates matched with alarmingly reduced climbing speeds. The overtraining thought had crossed my mind... but there was momentum for Wrightwood this week, and I didn't want to be the lame-o to back out.
I think I was regretting my pride 8 hours later, as the thought occurred to me... can you will your heart to keep on beating??? What am I going to do if I look down and my monitor suddenly reads 0?!?!
This ride was about a lot of new things for me, some good... some not so good. The scenery was beautiful, I finally got to see what happened after Dawson's Saddle. I'm also pleased about how almost 11 hours in the saddle felt. It didn't feel as long as I thought it would. On the flip side, I did experience a state (medically) that I really think I would have preferred never to get to. I'm no stranger to "exhausted to tears", but I've never reached this state where it felt like my body was literally over-riding my brain and shutting itself down.
I kinda knew as soon as we hit the Angeles Crest that this ride was going to be about survival. Even my earliest long rides, I always started out feeling good, and ended up feeling bad. This one, I felt bad from the first step... I took down the pace to about a crawl, and hoped to feel better after Red Box, but that never came. I felt lethargic and weak but forced myself to keep up with Will and Ian up until about the 39 intersection, after which I was pretty much resigned to being dropped. Nevertheless I struggled up to Dawson's Saddle, feeling by far the worst I ever have at this juncture, but determined to make it to Wrightwood, at this point, it would be stupid to turn back. Or so I thought.
I expended my last bit of fight to get up the 2.5 mile ascent (Ian had mistakenly described it as a "short" uphill) a few miles before Wrightwood, and arrived pretty zonked out at the cute little cafe where we caught some lunch. I remembered feeling even more lethargic after some meals at Newcombe's ranch, so I decided to stick with a snack of a strawberry pastry and a donut. Maybe that was also a mistake.
I was feeling positively deathly by the time we headed back out, and in completely a different way than all of the other times I've over-extended myself on a ride. This time, it wasn't about a feeling of over-exertion or a high heart rate, it was the reverse... as if I was stuck in state of semi-hibernation, with only one pace. And it was by no means a challenging pace, but I couldn't manage to lift myself out of it. I felt almost as if I were at a little distance from my struggling body, fighting it, trying to cajole it out of its lethargy, but to no avail. As I climbed, I developed a side stitch, and then I noticed my HR begin to plummet, 160 went to 150 went to 140... I tried desperately to rev it back up, but to no avail. I was pretty freaked out as I reached the water stop halfway back to Dawson's Saddle, but the worst was yet to come.
Climbing the last 6 or so miles up to Dawson's was a surreal experience. Despite a little rest and a little water, my side hurt so badly, I couldn't stand up on my bike, as I desperately wanted to do... because my HR had now fallen into the 130's and I was starting to seriously worry that it would continue to drop until it was 0. In addition, I was engaged in a surreal discussion with myself regarding the fact that I couldn't account for a mile between here and Wrightwood. According to my odometer, I still had 4 miles to go... but according to the mile markers... I only had 3. I couldn't understand, and I honestly still don't. By the end I didn't have the bandwidth to care. The summit came 1 mile too early, but not early enough. Ian sat by the shed at Dawson's Saddle with me for a while as I pondered the medical/mental mystery.
Thankfully, things normalized a little bit after that... leading me to think maybe it was just a sugar crash from my ill advised lunch. I felt a lot better at the base of the 39, and was able to trundle relatively pleasantly back the rest of the way. My HR was still a little low, but not scarily so, and I was going slow, but not RIDICULOUSLY so. I was heartened enough by the time I got to Newcombe's that I didn't call for a rescue. I met the owner again, who suggested my next trip (to San Grigonio, another 23 miles past Wrightwood). I arrived home in the waning hours of light, feeling pooped but a million times better than during that stretch climbing up to Dawson's at 5 mph, wondering if my heart decided to go on strike, there was anything I could do about that. It was actually really scary. I don't ever want to be in that place again.
Sunday 06/28: 76.9 mph, 4:45-ish. "Flat" ride around Denver, with some mild dirt roading around Griggs Road. I should have known that nothing in Peter's vocabulary really means "flat", and this ride was like that as well. I felt positively heinous after yesterday. In hindsight this was the beginning of this weird low HR phenomenon. I was struggling and breathing hard at a really low HR, it felt insanely bad. I sprinted up a few hills about 2 hours in to get my HR up, and somehow that cleared up all of the bad feelings. I still felt tired, but a lot more normal after that and was able to complete the ride feeling okay.
Monday 06/29: Off. Travel, well deserved break.
Tuesday 06/30: 51.3 miles, 3:45:41 (13.6 mph) Angeles Crest to Mt. Wilson with Ian. I was feeling pretty decent to start off, but noticed that something was wrong when we hit the 2. I always climb the crest in third to lowest gear, at a nice quick cadence, but today, I was in second to lowest and already feeling tired. Bad news. Things only got worse as we went further up, I was huffing and puffing by Clear Creek, only to look down at my spedometer and see a fairly pedestrian pace. To make it any further, I convinced Ian to slow down to a snail's pace, and I made it fairly pleasantly up to Mt. Wilson, but was still kind of freaked out by the insane slowness, coupled with a really high HR.
Wednesday 07/01: 45.7 miles, 2:37:22 (17.4 mph) Peter's Short Long Loop. Decided a true easy day was in order. Did a nice relaxed flat ride, but somehow I felt tired and achey nonetheless. I was kind of peeved about the time, but I guess one has to make some allowances for a hard few weeks.
Thursday 07/02: Off, shots. Shot office is closed on Friday, so off day came early. Probably for the best.
Friday 07/03: 64.6 miles, 4:29:30 (14.3 mph), East Fork back on GMR. This was supposed to be a nice relaxed pre-Wrightwood shake out, but it turned into kind of a nightmare. Peter started out saying he would ride easy with me, but apparently my pace became too soul crushing before 5 miles had elapsed, and he went on his merry way. I was pretty sad to discover that the Encanto Park bathrooms were closed (!) by the time I got there. So I continued onto the 39 but at this point I was becoming more and more uncomfortable, and also more and more dehydrated, but I didn't want to drink because then that would increase the peeing problem!
I finally made it to the East Fork turnoff, knowing that there was a bathroom up ahead. I arrived there, plowed through the dirt parking lot, and ran into the bathroom. Finally after that I drank an entire bottle of water. It was really seriously hot by this point, and it didn't feel like it helped very much. But I pressed on. Unfortunately as I was rolling out of the dirt parking lot, I slipped on some sand and crashed onto my bad hip (the one that was damaged in the RB crash). Unfortunately I was now in the street at a narrow curve, so I had get up immediately and get out of the way, being narrowly missed by two vehicles as I did so.
I determined that this was a poor location, so I got up and started riding, but I could feel my hip quivering and locking up where the impact had been. I felt pretty terrible, but pushed on to the base of the climb... where the police were closing up the gate. Motorcycles were being turned back... but I had to get home! I waited for them to look the other way and pushed my bike through and made my escape. Unfortunately the climb wasn't any better. I felt tired, dehydrated, insanely hot, and my HR was pushing 185. It was miserable. I was pretty happy to finally hit the GMR descent. I saw an eagle, and had a gu near the bottom, and the return journey was a lot more pleasant.... but all in all I definitely felt like I had taxed myself a LOT more than I wanted to right before the Wrightwood adventure... this had not been the pleasant easy short ride that I had envisioned.
Saturday 07/04: 134.2 miles, 10:49:36 (12.4 mph) Angeles Crest to Wrighwood, back the same way. Happy 4th of July folks! See description above. I've never stuffed myself with such reckless abandon as I did when I got back from this ride. Holy crap... 134 is a lot of miles.
Training this week: 372.7 miles, 26:27:09... holy shit that is a huge weekly PR!
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