At the risk of sounding like Jack Bauer, yesterday was the longest day of my life. In the 8.5 hours that I was on the course I experienced more pain, suffering, and joy than I can ever recall in a single day. Here’s the final chapter of the Journey to 100…
The start
The start/finish area was located at the Orange County Fair and Exposition Center. As I stood among hundreds of riders -- all riding in support/memory of their loved ones -- my fears & worries were replaced by hope & excitement. A board member from LAF took the stage before the start and we were told that 1,100 participants in this event have raised more than $1 million for the Foundation. Good stuff.
As the horn sounded, the song Beautiful Day by U2 blared on the speakers. It’s one of my favorite songs -- and a truly appropriate one for the occasion
The first stage
There were 7 rest stops total in this event, and the ride to the first rest stop was by far the fastest segment for me. I was aware of the fact that I needed to pace myself carefully to complete the 100+ mile ride, but I also wanted to take full advantage of the drafting opportunities in the beginning. I knew that we would all spread out as we got further into the race, so I just latched on to the back of fast-riding pack and tried to get as much “free speed” as possible. I cruised into the first rest stop after 45 min, and stuffed down a bagel to top out my fuel. So far so good.
Cruise control
Between Rest Stop 1 and 4, I felt golden. I was maintaining a good pace with a group of riders and I felt surprisingly energized. One thing I did notice though was that my heart rate was higher than normal -- I was averaging over 160 bpm even though I wasn’t pedaling all that fast/hard. At the time I figured it was just adrenaline or sudden burst of energy from the bagel I ate earlier. If I only knew it was a warning sign for something much serious.
Danger zone
At around 40-mile mark my right quad started to tighten up, and I realized that I haven’t been drinking enough fluids. Looking back I’ve only urinated once so far at Rest Stop 2, and not much came out -- which was a bad sign. So in the effort to make-up for the lack of hydration, I immediately started guzzling down my water bottles. Bad mistake. By not pacing my fluid intake I was completely out of water by mile 50 -- and I could feel my mouth getting drier by the minute. I was in the danger zone for severe dehydration and I still had 5 miles to go until the next rest stop. By the time I reached Rest Stop 4, my heart rate had shot up to 170 and I was feeling little disoriented. I immediately start downing tons of Gatorade and took a refuge in a medical tent.
The decision
As I sat on a chair under the medical tent and tried desperately to hydrate myself, I could tell that the medical staffs were worried about me. They said my face looked white, and that I should seriously consider pulling out of the ride…or at least take a shortcut back to the finish area. “The next section isn’t something you want to try if you’re not feeling well,” one of them told me. “There are lot of hills and it would be hard for us to get to you if something happens to you before the next rest stop.” I knew exactly where she was coming from -- riding a 100 miles is hard enough when you’re in optimal shape, let alone in extreme heat and humidity. And here I was pushed to the edge of severe dehydration, yet still contemplating riding ahead. “I’ll give myself 15 more minutes,” I told her. “If I’m not feeling better by then, I’ll pull out of the race”.
Fortunately I began to feel better as I forced myself to eat/drink as much as possible, and after a half-hour stay I’ve decided to continue on with the 100-mile course. I was doubtful that would make it to the end, but I knew I’d rather try to keep on going and fail than make the decision to give up on my goal now and take a short ride to the finish. So with that I began pedaling toward the toughest section of the ride.
The ascent
Back when I first saw the course profile, I thought the long ascent between 60 and 75-mile mark was going to be a breeze. The tallest point of the climb was only 1,500ft -- the same elevation I cover in 3 miles as part of my long training rides. Surely such climb spread out over 15 miles would be a piece of cake! But when you add extreme heat, humidity, and dehydration to the mix, a hill can turn into the Everest. It didn’t take long before my legs began cramping up with every pedal stroke, and as I reached the 70-mile mark my stomach began aching like crazy from the all the Gatorade I’ve consumed at the medical tent. At this point I was convinced that I would have to pull-out of the race at the next rest stop…and the only thing that kept me going was the thought of support vehicle waiting to take me back to the staging area.
The bus
As soon as I reached the Rest Stop 5, I just dropped my bike on the grass and sat down. I was feeling completely exhausted -- and looking around it was obvious that I wasn’t the only one being pushed to the limit. The beds in medical tent were fully occupied and many riders were walking around me in daze. And then I saw a bus; an air-conditioned luxury tour bus waiting to take drop-out riders to the finish line! There were already several riders inside the bus waiting for its departure, and I noticed couple more riders getting ready on get on board. It was my ticket out of this hell -- given my physical state getting on that bus was clearly the smartest choice. But then again I was never the smartest one in the family.
As tempting as it was to catch a ride on the bus, I knew I was already half way up the torturous hills…and after the climb it was all downhill to the finish. So if I could just get past the summit then maybe -- just maybe -- I might be able to finish the ride. Feeling slight sense of hope, I forced down more food and Gatorade (with Pepto-Bismol tablets) and resumed my ascent to the summit.
Gut check
There’s something about being pushed to the very edge of your physical/mental limit by no other force but your own free-will. When you subject yourself to pain and suffering for something/someone that you care deeply about, I think you discover what you’re truly made of. Well on this hill yesterday, I discovered just how strong I can be. As I inched closer to the summit all my self-doubts began to vanish…and the vision of crossing the finish line slowly began to reappear. I was still suffering physically, but mentally I was feeling strong. When I finally crossed the summit and arrived at Rest Stop 6, I was determined to finish the ride no matter what.
The long way home
With renewed focus and down hill terrain, I wish I could say that I was able to coast the final 20 miles to the finish…but that wasn’t the case. There were still some short (but challenging) hills waiting for me, and every mile seemed to pass slower than the last. Without a doubt, the only reason I was still pedaling at this point was the riders around me -- all suffering just as much as I was. Their efforts inspired me, and I would like to think that I was doing the same for them. In the final miles of the ride I came upon a rider who graciously offered to pull me to the finish…and as we made the final turn into the Fairground we were welcomed by the loud cheers from all the volunteers in yellow. What happened next I don’t exactly remember -- I was simpley overcome with emotions when I saw the finish line ahead of me. All I recall is looking up in the sky and pumping my fist in the air. I hope you were watching me grandma.
I took a day-off from work today for final preparation for the Ride, and I'm currently scrambling to get ready for the trip down to O.C. I went for an easy one-hour ride this morning, went to get a back massage & adjustments from my chiropractor in the afternoon, and now I'm checking direction to 
My bike hadn't touched a mechanic's hands for over 2,000 miles, so I took it in to 
