Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Battle of My Left and Right Brains
Yes, I have two brains. Neither of them work properly all of the time, but between them and me, we seem to manage ok. Here is my report from the Triple Bypass. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the ride!
After (finally) finding a place to park, Ryan and I clipped in at about 6:40. The climbing started at about 6:41. The first climb is up to Squaw Pass, which tops out at 11,140 feet. It was gorgeous and not too tough (probably because it was the first climb!). We pretty much rode steady up to the first aid station, which is at the top of the climb. It was cold at the top so I put on my arm warmers for the fast ride back down the other side of the mountain. I was basically wearing the same clothing I would wear on a 100 degree day in Hades, er . . . Texas, plus some thin arm warmers. No big deal, right? Wrong. It turns out, when you are traveling on two very thin wheels at speeds of over 40 miles an hour, it's a good idea to be warm! Just try staying on your bike traveling that fast down a mountain without the ability to keep your front wheel from wobbling because you are shivering so much. The ironic part is that shivering is your brain’s way of keeping you warm so that you don’t go into hypothermia. But when choosing between 40mph worth of road rash (not to mention broken bones . . . even though I just did) and the risk of hypothermia, I choose the risk of hypothermia almost every time (especially since I was in no real danger of hypothermia!). My logical, know-it-all, dorky, left brain was eventually able to convince my touchy feely, over-reacting, hippie, risk-taking (and very cold), right brain that keeping the bike upright was more important, and the shivering in my arms stopped. One down. Two to go.
After a jaunt through Idaho Springs, we started the climb up to Loveland Pass (11,990 feet). The only really bad part of the entire course was when we actually had to get on I-70 and battle the semis. It wasn’t too long though, and eventually, we made it to an aid station 4 miles from the top of Loveland Pass. I knew this would be the steepest part of the day, so we fueled up on turkey sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly, watermelon, and Cliff Blocks before heading up the last part of the climb. We guessed that it would take around 40 minutes. I felt really good coming out of that aid station (I’m sure it was the Wonder Bread and processed turkey!), so I decided to go for it. At one point I heard someone tell his riding partner (a very strong female) to “get on his wheel” (talking about me), so there was no way I was slowing down after that (both my brains are prideful!). I pulled those two for a while, and ended up ticking off all four miles in 26 minutes (14 minutes faster than my guess). That’s where we stopped for the above picture.
Knowing that my right brain is not a fast learner, I bundled up for the ride down this time (arm warmers, leg warmers, and my rain jacket). While bundling, I felt like the back of my head was going to explode! I got dizzy, and for a minute wondered if I would vomit right over the side of the mountain. Apparently, neither of my brains like working that hard at 12,000 feet since they live about 6 feet above sea level. They settled down and I felt much better about half way down the mountain, and no shivering! Two down. One to go.
After the descent we went around Lake Dillon and into a rest stop in Frisco. Once you go through Frisco, you get on a trail that leads all the way to Avon (about 40-50 miles away (pay attention Texas, you could learn something from Colorado’s trails!)). It was the easiest climb of the day, but it was by far the hardest climb of the day. It wasn’t as steep or as long as the two we had just done. But I entered a zone, not too far into that climb, that endurance athletes refer to as "bonking." Most athletes overuse the term bonking, so I rarely say it. It’s not just getting tired and not being able to work hard anymore. That's not bonking, that's you not training hard enough. Bonking is actually when your brain decides it’s time to quit, and there’s nothing the rest of your body can do to convince it otherwise. Here is the scientific explanation of what happens when you bonk, which was written by Chris Carmichael:
“The importance of carbohydrate cannot be overstated. Not only is it the primary fuel source for endurance performance, it is the primary fuel for your brain and central nervous system. The brain cannot produce energy from fat or protein on its own; it can only take glucose (sugar) from the blood. This is part of the reason bonking (running low on blood sugar) is so detrimental to performance. The confusion, nausea, and disorientation that go along with bonking are more due to the brain running low on glucose than a problem with energy-starved muscles. When push comes to shove, the brain acts defensively to make sure it gets enough fuel. It forces you to slow down or stop exercising so it can use what sugar you have left to maintain your basic bodily functions.”
In other words, if you truly bonk, you can only blame yourself because you didn’t fuel properly! (of course, if you fake bonk, you can only blame yourself because you didn't train properly!). I’ve known this for a long time. I’ve known that bonking leads to confusion, nausea, and in my case, grumpiness/irritability. But the best part about bonking is that the logical, analytical left brain can’t even figure out what the heck is going on! Logic goes out the window, and the hippie right brain takes over and screams “DUUUUDE! SOMETHING’S WRONG!!! You've killed the left brain! I'm all you have left! We have to stop, NOW! And don’t think I won’t make you puke to do it!” All you can think at that point is, “I don't want to do this anymore or ever again.” You can’t figure out that all you need is a little sugar. And all you want is to do is stop.
So when we got to Copper Mountain, we stopped. And I ate. And then, I was fine. We cruised on up to Vail Pass (10,560 feet) without any other issues. I was happy, level headed, and having fun again. Stupid right brain! All we needed was a gel! Stop overreacting! We aren’t going to freeze to death, and we certainly aren’t going to starve to death! (Does anyone else find it strange that the RIGHT side of our brain is the hippie? Genius. God is hilarious.).
This has gotten really long, so I won’t go into much detail about the last 25-30 miles other than to say that it is NOT all downhill like the deceitful map shows. And the map conveniently left off the headwind as well. In all, I only burned around 4500 calories over the 121 miles (that extra mile was from our parking spot to the start) and over 10,000 feet of climbing. Right at 7 and a half hours. Average speed: a smokin’ 16 mph.
My right brain wants to do it again next year. We still haven’t convinced the left side. He’ll come around though. He forgets things easily.
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Seriously, how do you come up with this stuff? I thought it might be interesting to hear from Ryan, Barry's riding parter on the ride. I won't go into much detail, but will piggy back off Barry's post.
Climb One:
Starting with the descent down Squaw pass, in which I laughed so hard my bike shook. I told Barry the night before that it was going to be cold on the descents. I explained to him that there have been descents in which I was not dressed properly and, as a result, shivered so hard I almost crashed. Well, it was FREEZING at the top of Squaw Pass, and no sooner than 30 seconds into the descent, I noticed Barry's bike shaking rapidly from side to side, with his front wheel quite unsteady. When I realized Barry was just cold, and not having a seizure, I knew he'd be ok and started laughing. Then I rode up and told him "Dude, you have GOT to relax. Force yourself not to shiver." He did. I guess his left brain listened.
Climb Two:
For the climb up Loveland out of the rest stop, Barry took off like a bat out of hell, and I told him that. He obviously digests turkey sandwiches much better than me. Ok, he's just in better shape. Anyway, Barry left me and I watched him passing tons of riders on the switchbacks above me. Fortunately, he waited a few minutes for me at the top for me to catch up. At first I thought he was just being nice, but then I realized that he just wanted me to take a picture of him next to that Loveland pass sign.
Climb 3:
While I did all I could to keep up with Barry most the day, something happened to him up Vail pass. For about 3 miles, it was all I could do to hang on to his back wheel, regardless of how slim the benefit of drafting off him going up a mountain was. When I felt his pace slow, I took the lead and after a few minutes looked back to say something to him, only to see him 20 yards behind me. I slowed down to let him catch up and then picked my pace back up, only to find, 2 minutes later, Barry dragging behind me. I tried engaging B in conversation and he just wouldn't have it. Odd for him as any reader that knows him would know. About 5 miles later (after Copper) we pulled over so I could take a leak. I asked Barry if he wanted one of my Cliff Blocks and he said no. Somehow he suddenly decided that a Cliff Block was a good idea and he downed over a bag of them. That's when his bonk left I guess, because soon after we got riding again, it was back to me trying to hang onto Barry's wheel, and he beat me to the top of the pass.
In all, what a great day. The ride was more challenging than I thought it would be. I knew keeping up with Barry would be tough, but the moutnains and the wind took much more out of me than I anticipated. But, what an accomplishment, and what a great day. The views we had were spectacular; the company I had was great; and the feeling I had at the top of Vail pass - well, let's just say you have to ride 90 miles and up 10,000 feet to get it.
Thanks for writing Barry. Next year?
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