Electric Run, WOOHOO!

I had a great run this afternoon. I went down to the reservoir to run trails and about halfway through my run a thunder storm rolled in. It was all good until the storm -- and the lightning -- got closer. The storm was moving my way and a bolt of lightning struck the field less than an 1/8th of a mile from me. Now, I love a good thunder and lightning storm, but that was just a little too close for comfort. I got spooked and started running scared thinking I’d get my goose cooked out there. My HR jumped from 140 to 155+ bpm in a flash -- and continued climbing.

The eye of the storm was right on me now and I was running in a total downpour. Then the wind picked up and the hail came to the party -- almost sideways. By the time I got back to the car I was completely drenched from head to toe. I looked like someone had pushed me into a pool fully clothed. It was pretty entertaining actually. Other people waiting out the storm must have thought I’d lost it when I sat there laughing out loud. Spooked as I was about the lightning, I was ready to go back out there and play in the rain and hail.

Nothing like a bit of lightning to help you pick up the pace. Hopefully we’ll get a thunder storm rolling through at my next race. That ought to help me set some new PRs. ;-)

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That Dang Mountain

At the end of the Vegas to Boulder training road trip, Gordo said he wanted me to ride up Trail Ridge Road to the summit. The road starts are 7,000 feet and climbs to just over 12,000 feet over about 10 miles or so. He told me that this would be a “challenge” workout for me and that it would be harder than anything I had done before. Harder even than Palomar. Taking that mindset with me, I climbed and climbed and climbed. Yes, it was certainly a long climb, but it was a pleasant grade. Nothing too taxing at all.

I made the mistake of telling Gordo afterwards that it wasn’t that much of a biggie. I wouldn’t classify it as a “challenge”. Right away I could see the scheming wheels turning in his head. “Okay then, ride to Ward,” he says with a sly grin.

I met up with one of my buddies from the Lounge, Andrew, and we headed up the long climb to Ward. He had never done that ride either, so we were both in the dark about what faced us. It was all good until about the 12 mile marker. That’s where the weather started to crap out. The wind picked up, it started raining and the temperatures dropped. Andrew rode a little ways ahead and said it was starting to snow further up... and get stepper. I got as far as the mile 15 marker and turned back for warmer temps and drier climates.

Attempt #1: Failed.

“You’re going to have to go again, and this time I want you to ride all the way to Brainard and tell me if the gates are opened yet,” says the diabolical Coach Gordo, that evil glint in his eye.

So, on Tuesday I headed out on my own to make the climb. I was feeling great and the weather was pleasant. I made it Ward this time. I only had a mile and a half to go from where I turned back on Sunday – a steep as mile and a half! I had however, developed a slow leak on my way up and by the time I got to Ward my tire was nearly out of air. I stopped to pump my tire but something was wrong with my pump and I couldn’t get any air going. I didn’t have any CO2 on me, so I hoped the General Store might have something. Holy Twilight Zone, Batman! That was an experience stepping in there, and I promptly stepped back out as quickly as I could. You really have to experience Ward for yourself to understand.

No luck with my tire. I sat out front for a few minutes eating a banana and hoping a cyclist would happen by with air. No luck. A couple riders did pass by, coming down light a flash of lightning. I started getting cold so I hopped on my bike with the lame wheel and slowly made the long descent home.

Attempt #2: Failed.

“You’re going to have to keep going until you get there,” that meanie of a coach says.

Up I go again a week or so later. This time I made it... or so I thought. It was a tough go through Ward in that steep section. It kept on steep until I hit the Peak to Peak Hwy and then eased off a little along the entrance to Brainard Lake. I saw a sign that said two miles to the Ranger Station. That’s where the gate would be and that’s where I had to get to before I could turn around. Man, that last two miles was the longest two miles I’d ever ridden. The climbing just didn’t end.

Finally I made it to the gate – and it was open. What a relief... or not so much. When I got home and told el Diablo Gordo, he says, “but did you get to the lake? You have to get to the lake.” The lake?! Cripes! “It will be worth,” he says with an evil snicker. Ugh!

Attempt #3: Failed.

Okay, fine. I can deal with it. It was a cool overcast morning when I set out on attempt #4 up this friggin’ mountain. The climbing was pretty socked in, visibility wasn’t so good, but once I got past Ward it started clearing up. By the time I got to the road leading into the park, the clouds had broken and the sun was shinning warmly on my back.

I rode that super long two miles, went right past the gate, and kept going for another four miles until I reached it. The oasis on the mountain. Brainard Lake sitting in all its glory at 10,300 feet high. I stopped and had a trout fisherman take a victory picture of me and then did a victory loop around the lake. Gordo was right, it was worth it. I made the 20-mile climb to the lake and I had a big honkin’ smile on my face.

Attempt #4: SUCCESS! :-)

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