BC Outside

The sun wasn’t quite up as we gathered along Georgia Street in Vancouver.  The elite riders were scheduled to take off shortly before 7.  The rest of us milled around nervously. Despite the ominous forecast all week, it was a dry, crisp morning. 

The first half of the ride felt great.  Taylor Way, the Upper Levels Highway, Porteau Cove, Furry Creek, Brittania Beach – all the climbs that had seemed so daunting felt good. I arrived at lunch feeling strong. After a brief stop, I was back on the bike feeling refuelled and rested. With a bit of tail wind I was riding the flats out of Squamish at 37k/h – that’s fast for me. I was on fire – legs and heart pumping strongly.

Then came the monster climb up to Cheakamus, which was expected to be challenging.  It’s not even that steep, but it just goes on forever – especially after already having 70km behind you. It was a huge slog getting up there and the pit stop at 88km was a welcome sight.

With just over 30km to go, fatigue came knocking.  A low grade headache was the first sign followed by my asthma acting up and my legs threatening to cramp as I pushed through the last few climbs.  I focussed on rehydrating but it was tough to do well into hour 6 of the ride. Even the descents started to feel like work. Not finishing was not an option – I just had to keep working. “Push and pull, push and pull!”

Never in my life was I so happy to see the sign for Whistler Village.  A posted sign announced the finish line was 250m away.  My headache disappeared, my legs stopped cramping, my lungs expanded to afford a great whooping holler as I crossed the finish line with my fist in the air. I had done it.

My riding partner, Moira, who waited for me umpteen times.

My time was 7:31 – that’s how long it took me to ride 120km and climb 2,400m. The time didn’t matter – I had finished the ride and I was elated.

It took a while before my time was posted on the official site. Then the trash talk began.  The fast times were in the 3:30 range and the masses mostly came in between 5:00 and 6:00. I was at 7:31. There were many finishing above 8 hours and a whole lot who didn’t finish at all.  The conversation I had with myself over the next day and a half went something like this.

“What a loser! 7:31 – that’s pretty lame”, I berated myself.

My other voice would pipe up in defence, “Are you kidding?  That was an insanely difficult ride and you finished it”.

“But seriously – 7:31. Your average speed was less than 20kph.”

“So what? Those climbs were ridiculous. You muscled through every one of them.”

“In your granny gear – getting smoked by everyone!!”

“Have you noticed the bikes some of those riders were riding? Super high end bikes! Surely you acknowledge the advantage”.

“That’s right, bring on the excuses. Next thing you’re going to say what super athletes they all are.”

“Well yeah – super athletes with 0% body fat. They’re all muscle.”

I wavered between disappointment and elation over the next day and half.  Perhaps it was the aftermath of the mental exhaustion.

On Monday we drove home from Whistler. Along the way we saw a few GranFondo riders cycling back to Vancouver. There were a number of other cars on the road carrying bikes still displaying their Granfondo numbers.  A number of the cars had Ironman stickers on. Many of the bikes were tri bikes.  All of the bikes were far superior to mine.  These people were all hardcore cyclists.  I started to realise that I was more than OK with getting whipped by Mr. Ironman.  Heck!! I am just honored to have participated in the event with these elite riders.

We drove home along the route I had ridden two days earlier and we descended one hill after another after another after another.  I marvelled that I had climbed all of them – after having already ridden for a number of hours – on my entry-level road bike, carrying my .. ummm … ample load.

 

This event had many elite athletes participating, but I am not one of them.  This was not about them.  Congratulations to everyone who finished – especially those with times that just leave me in awe.

This was about me and what I did. I am just little old me – a recreational rider who rides because I love it – and I rode the Whistler Granfondo in 7 1/2 hours.  I’m pretty proud of my accomplishment.