LEBEC, CA
The Heartbreak Hundred was a fitting end to the King of the Mountains Challenge. Not a terribly challenging course, but still hard enough to make the sprinters cry in the grupetto-- wait a second... make the sprinters cry? That doesn't sound like an easy course... Maybe I'm so jaded from all the climbing I've done in the past month that this course seemed easier. Hmm.. perhaps this needs some perspective. The course had a total elevation gain of 9,500 ft. That's equivalent to taking the stairs to the top of the empire state building, not once, not twice, but seven and a half times! Gosh, and I was going to call this an easier ride. Guess I'm crazier than I thought. But it's not like I had to pay money to do this race-- oh wait...
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| Hearbreak Hundred starting line. |
The day started innocently enough in Lebec, California; clear blue sky, calm winds, and a pleasant 70 degrees. I remember thinking that I was going to be able to enjoy the weather since I would be sticking around with the slower group. After my time off the bike, I was in no shape to start thinking about race tactics or my overall placement. This was just going to be a nice and easy training ride through the beautiful hills of southern California. Or that's what I thought was going to happen.
I started with the early group that estimated they could complete the course in 10-12 hours. I still don't know how someone could be in the saddle for that long, but hey, I wanted to make sure I started with a slow group to keep me under control. The ride immediately started with a long 7.5 mile category 2 climb averaging a 4% gradient and maxing out at just 8%. It was just a long constant drag up the foothills. The usual growls and roars of the asphalt seemed like gentle purrs, and the pain beast wasn't climbing on my back and sinking its claws into my legs during the climb. Wow, it looked like it was going to be just a nice ride through the mountains. I stayed in the peloton of 60-70 slower paced riders keeping my head turning from side to side to absorb all the scenery along the ride. The landscape was decorated with large boulders framed by large, wiry, bushes that varied from youthful green colors to morbid brown. Reddish sand filled the bald spots in between and completed nature's portrait. The desolate landscape inspired thoughts of cowboys roaming the west on their chocolate and ebony steeds. I suppose my experience wasn't too different to the western pioneers, only I was riding a mechanical horse.
I continued to save my energy among the throng of riders and let my mind wander from one western movie to the next. I replayed 'The Magnificent Seven', 'The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly', and 'For a Few Dollars More' in my head. I almost started whistling the iconic songs from each movie. After a long period of day dreaming, I looked down at my Garmin to see how much further we had left to climb. To my surprise we had only traveled a few miles. I swallowed nervously and frowned as I thought about how much longer I had until the top of the climb. By now, the rocks and bushes had lost their western charm and were about as interesting to look at as a brick wall. It looked like boredom, not pain, was going to destroy me during this race.
Just then, two riders picked up the pace next to me, and I quickly latched onto the back of their wheels. I needed to lift the pace to get out of there and inject some excitement into the race. I could hear my mind's internal dialogue:
"Kevin, this isn't part of the plan. Just say in the peloton."
"Stay in the peloton and lose my mind from boredom? Not bloody likely!"
"Kevin, if you go in this break, you'll have to do more work which your legs can't handle."
"Yeah? Well, I'll take my chances."
"Kevin, you're not listening!"
The pre-race plan quickly went out the window. I was going to try my luck in the breakaway. The pace wasn't unbearable, but certainly quick for my current level of form. I sat behind a rider that was already decorated with a polka-dotted jersey from the 2010 KOM Challenge. He was very tall and lanky, a typical build for most cyclists that excel in the mountains. I thought that this could be really good or really bad: Good since he would have some course knowledge that he could share with the rest of the group, bad because he might be a full blown climbing beast and tear us all to shreds.
My legs welcomed the faster pace and we quickly dropped the peloton like they were standing still. The pain beast was starting to wake from its cave, but hadn't emerged yet. I was feeling pretty strong and easily held the wheels of my breakaway companions, but it was a noticeable change from the free wheeling I was doing in the peloton. One by one, our breakaway companions were popped off the back during our ascent of the first climb. When we reached the summit, only myself and the polka-dotted jersey were left. We enjoyed a quick descent before starting a short, steep, category 3 climb.
The scenery had changed to a more alpine look and feel. Tall evergreen trees now lined the road and decorated the sides of the mountains. It certainly was more interesting to look at than the rocks and bushes on the other side of the mountain, but I didn't get to enjoy the scenery for long. We caught up to two other riders on the road and started stomping on the pedals to keep the pace up. The other two riders we caught cooperated well and told a few jokes here and there to lighten the mood. As we approached the top of the category 3 climb, we encountered a steep section of road tipping up to 12%. We all got out of the saddle and started dancing on the pedals to push our way through the steep section. The polka-dotted rider turned to us and cried with disbelief, "Are all you guys riding compacts? How are you turning the pedals over so easily?" We all laughed and responded that we were riding with standard 53-39 rings up front, but it was good to know that someone else in the group felt pain in their legs too.
We reached the first rest stop at the summit of the climb. It was only at mile 20, but it seemed like we had been riding for much longer. That is never a good feeling. We all refilled our water bottles and snacked on Gu gels and Cliff bars. Deciding that I was going to ride with these guys for most of the race, I broke the ice and started introductions. The guy in the polka-dotted jersey was named Graham and the two riders we caught were James and Andrew. James was built like a sprinter, thick, with tree trunks for legs. Andrew was of more typical climbing pedigree with his short and lean physique. After taking our fair share of water and food, we started the long descent to the central valley.
The descent was fast with long straights and very few hairpin turns. James lead us down most of the way since his heavily built body made him shoot straight through the wind. Along the way we were treated to fantastic views of the valley below and rolling hills of grass. There is something about cycling along country roads that is incredibly beautiful. Flying along the asphalt next to the fields that dance and breath in the wind is better than any kind of meditation or therapy. Andrew pulled up next to me and said, "I feel like I'm in France riding Paris-Roubaix with all these fields." I smiled and replied, "California, all the beauty of Paris-Roubaix, but without the cobbles."After the descent to the valley, we took turns on the front again as we worked our way to the rest stop at the 50 mile mark. The miles ticked by quickly and had made it to the second rest stop.
By this time, my legs were beginning to feel fairly heavy. A feeling that I was expecting, but I still didn't like that it came at the halfway mark of the race with 4,500 ft left to climb. We all headed back out onto the long false flat to the penultimate climb of the day, Heartbreak Hill. The false flat stretched out for a little over 20 miles staying fairly constant at 2-3% gradient. The flat played strange games with your head. Since we were in a valley with mountains on either side, it was hard locate the horizon. This made the road look perfectly flat and make you feel like you could crush this section. But the steady gradient would bite into your legs when you would try to accelerate to your usual flat cruising speed.
After a few miles, I decided to take my foot off the gas when I got to the front and set a more moderate pace to save my already fatigued legs for the climb. The boys weren't upset about the change in pace and Graham complimented the change. With the reduction in pace, we stopped our pace line and rode next to one another and swapped stories to make the miles tick by a little quicker. However, we mostly talked about our experiences of pain and torture in Malibu for the Mulholland Challenge. I shared my leg shut down story along Decker Road. Everyone immediately groaned in agony with thoughts about Decker-- exclaiming how steep and brutal that climb was. It was nice to commiserate with my companions about the previous races, but it only seemed to draw more attention to slow and gradual build up of acid in our legs.
As we continued up the long road to Heartbreak Hill, a fighter jet swooped into the valley. It couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet off the ground as it whooshed by leaving behind its signature roar and boom. We all howled like wolves at the moon as the plane came soaring past us. At least it was something to keep our minds away from the miles we had left. I noticed that Graham started to fall back from the group shortly after the fly-bye. Since he had completed the course before, I figured he knew just how challenging the climb ahead of us was, so I decided to pull up and ride with him.
It turns out that Graham was in a similar form situation. Shortly after Mulholland, he became ill with the flu and couldn't train for a few weeks. He limped through Breathless and told me he still wasn't 100% for Heartbreak. He decided to go through with the races since it was his last cycling hurrah since he was expecting a baby in a few months. I congratulated him on his new family and said it would be a hell of a way to go out. I explained how my business trip kept me off the bike for a few weeks and caused me to miss Breathless. At that point, we could tell that we were both hurting and we were going to do our best to bring each other to the finish line.
We finally made it to the base of Heartbreak Hill after what felt like an eternity. The climb is only a category 2, stretching out for 4 miles at a 5% average gradient. On a normal day, it certainly isn't anything special. It's not terribly long and has no steep section that cut down your legs and leaves you groveling. However, this wasn't a normal day-- The climb quickly turned into a sufferfest. A 5% gradient felt like a wall to my legs at this point. The pain beast was out of his cave and feasting on my legs, looking up every now and then just to give a wide, Cheshire cat like, grin; showing all of its sharp and crooked teeth before turning back down and taking another bite out of my thighs. As I climbed higher and higher, the beast would cackle and laugh in its imp-like voice as it clawed and scratched all over my body, looking for new places to sink its twisted fangs. Graham dropped me about a mile from the top, but the mountain was hurting him as well. I powered on through the last mile, twisting and contorting my face into a horrible grimace, trying to push through the suffering as best I could. I started channeling my inner Jens Voigt to push on through the pain. (See video below)
I made it to the peak and let out a loud sigh as I coasted down the road to the rest stop shortly after the summit. I joined up with Graham again and I made sure to take my time to eat and hydrate at the rest stop. He assured me that the worst part was over and that it was basically all downhill from there to the finish. This wasn't exactly true, we still had 15 more miles of rolling hills before the 10 mile descent back into Lebec. I felt surprisingly strong going up the steep rolling sections, often dropping Graham and having to slow up at the top to let him latch on again. I believe that the extra strength and energy came from knowing that the finish line was within reach.
The miles passed slowly, but they passed. My legs were still hurting, but eager to push on to the finish so they could finally have some respite. We made our way to the final descent through Frasier Park, and cruised along most of the way trading smiles knowing that our work was basically done. Mile 97, 98, and 99 passed---
POP!!
My rear tire had blown out. I slowed to the side of the road and kept control. I pulled out my spare tube and started to change the flat when I noticed that my tire had been damaged as well. A section of rubber had been ripped off so that the Kevlar lining was now showing. Uh-oh, this was not good. I showed Graham. He frowned and could only muster a small, "That sucks..." I decided to change the tube and just hope and that it could hold up for the last mile. I finished the change and hopped back on my bike, only to roll a few hundred feet before hearing that terrible popping noise again.
I stopped and told Graham to go on to the finish. I wished him well and thanked him for all the help. As he rode off, I pulled out my cell phone and called Kristen, who was waiting at the finish. I had just finished telling her to hop in my car to pick me up and escort me to the finish when another rider came screaming past me. He put on the breaks and asked if I was OK. I grumbled that I was fine, but I needed a new tire to make it to the finish.
"No problem. I have one! Here ya go!"
I couldn't hardly believe my eyes. He handed me a brand new tire and tube. "Just give 'em back when you get to the finish." I thanked him and began changing my flat with my newly borrowed equipment. I quickly called Kristen back and told her to cancel the emergency escort, I was going to finish on my own. I came rolling through the finish line and was greeted with cheers from Kristen, Graham, and my support rider. I gave back the borrowed equipment and thanked him wholeheartedly.
"Hey man. Lets get a picture, we went through hell together." Graham said. A picture was the least I could do. We really had been to hell and back but stuck together for the whole race. It's rare when you find that kind of comradery in a race. We had started out as total strangers, but by the end of the race we became what felt like brothers. It's really amazing what some shared pain and suffering can do to bring people together.
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| Sufferfest Brothers |
The Heartbreak Hundred hurt more than it really should have. I'm sure that if I had still been on my training schedule, I could have done much better with less suffering. But it turned to be quite the challenge both in terms of cycling form and mechanical difficulties. I was happy to at least end the season with a solid finish after running into heat stroke on the L'Etape du California and having to miss Breathless. I needed that finish just to salvage my first half of the season. I finished 114th overall out of 300 finishing riders. Graham had finished just inside the top 100 in 93rd. I'm sure we both could have easily finished around 75th overall if I didn't get that flat in the last mile.
I'm not disappointed with the results as I am more happy that I finished and can now start planning my training schedule for the second half of my cycling season.
Ride Statistics:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/180565988
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