Pain on a Whim

Posted August 5th, 2011 by KellBell

From Merriam Webster…

whim (ˈhwim, ˈwim), noun: a capricious or eccentric and often sudden idea or turn of the mind.

The example Merriam Webster provides is this: “He decided to quit his job on a whim.” I think I would use this as an example instead: “I decided to participate in the 2011 Vineman Relay on a whim.” On Thursday, 2 days before the event, I saw the following post on Facebook:

Echelon Cycle & Multisport
Anyone interested in doing the bike portion of the Vineman? We are racing in the Vineman Ironman Relay this Saturday. Last minute emergency, we are looking for someone who lives in Sonoma County who would like to race for free! If you know anyone interested please have them call me ASAP…

Upon reading that I sent a message to Dave asking him what he thought. I figured he would come back and tell me that I was totally crazy which would convince me to pass, but instead he replied with …”you can totally do that.” After a bit more hemming and hawing I sent a text message to the number that was provided saying that I had just completed the Death Ride so I could complete the full 112 miles if they couldn’t find anyone else. Even though I had responded I think I always figured that they would find someone else to fill in. I mean…there had to be other crazy people in Sonoma County who weren’t already doing the event that could fill in…right? Although he did get a couple other calls on Friday, by then the ball was already in motion for me to step in and take part in Vineman 2011.

Fast forward to Saturday. After a very hectic Friday that saw me go from San Rafael (for work) to San Francisco (to pick up and deliver my SFM run packet to a friend) and then to Windsor (to pick up my Vineman packet), my alarm went off bright and early at 4:45 am. Since I had only conversed with the team captain via text and a brief phone call, I was hoping to get to the beach before the swim started in order to start putting faces together. After running through my mental checklist a few times – for some reason I felt really unprepared for this event – we loaded up the car and headed out. The good thing for us? We are locals so we know the “back door” places to park. After making sure I had all the gear I needed and figuring out how to carry breakfast on the bike, we completed the 7 minute ride over to T1. Unfortunately, we arrived a little too close to the start of the swim so the captain and I arranged to meet at the T1 entrance after the swim started. About 5 minutes after the start of the 6:45 wave, things started to slowly fall in to place when I was finally able to meet our team captain, Luke.

Once brief hellos and introductions were completed, Luke and I entered T1 so we could figure out where I had to rack my bike and where Tom, his dad and our swimmer, would have to come for the exchange. After finding a spot on the already full rack, I got the story of how I came to be there. The day before Luke, his dad and his brother Jesse were set to leave, Jesse went for one last spin on his bike. Unfortunately, he tangled with a car and was injured. Despite that bad luck, Luke and Tom started to make their way to the event with the hope that they could somehow find a cyclist. I’m not sure how they got hooked in to Echelon, but after that…well…you know the rest of the story.

After racking my bike and chatting with Luke for bit, he headed back to the beach to try and spot his dad as he headed out for his second lap and I went back to be with Dave. With Tom’s expected swim time to be 1:30 I had some time before I had to be ready to go. I ate my breakfast and chatted with Dave for a bit and with about 40 minutes left before my estimated start, I headed back in to T1 for the last time. From the time I had exited to the time I re-entered the scene had completely changed. The chaos level was beginning to slowly rise as more people arrived to rack their bikes and as racers began to exit the water. After almost getting run over by one of the lead racers heading out to the bike portion along the wrong path, I made my way back to the rack for the relay teams. I finished getting ready to hit the road and then settled down and soaked in what was unfolding around me. There were athletes running up from the beach and entering the corral to the sound of volunteers shouting “wet suit assistance!” While some continued straight to their bikes with the plan of getting their wet suits off on their own, others jumped on the opportunity to have help. There was water and wet suits flying everywhere! As we moved away from the elite and more seasoned participants to the more average participants, the chaotic scene only got worse with bodies trying to move in every direction. At some point in the mayhem Luke returned, and after 1:40 in the water Tom made his way up the ramp to us. After a brief introduction we got the timing chip transferred from Tom to me and my adventures fully kicked in.

Given all the countless training miles endured so far this year I figured I would be prepared for the 112 miles that awaited me. What I came to discover is that 100+ hilly miles where you have a very consistent, steady pace between climbs and descents and 100+ flattish miles where you are supposed to “gun” it for the entire time are WAY different. Yes, my body was ready for the distance, but it was not ready for that kind of an effort.

The first 56 miles went well. I had laid out a tentative plan to try and have negative splits over the 112 mile course. Despite feeling good and wanting to push faster as I rolled along Westside, I kept things in check knowing I was going to try to ramp up the effort later. It wasn’t long before I hit Dry Creek and then the turn on to Canyon. Canyon felt easier than I remembered it being the last time I rode it, but I forced myself in to my little ring to conserve energy. After rolling through Geyserville and Jimtown along Hwy 128 – and passing quite a few of my teammates as they were heading towards Pine Flat – I hit the Chalk Hill rest stop. I wasn’t 100% sure, but it seemed as if I was making pretty good time given that only a little over 2 hours had elapsed. After refilling my bottles and snacking on some food I continued towards the “turn around” point. Like Canyon, my way up Chalk Hill seemed relatively easy and after getting down the other side to Pleasant it wasn’t long before I made my way in to the shoot that would take me out to Starr Road and Eastside before dumping me back on to Westside for lap #2. By the time I hit the 56 mile mark I had a ride time of 3:06 and if the negative split plan was successful I would be closer to my ideal 6 hrs of total ride time.

Ah…plans. They are wonderful things. You can draft them to put your mind at ease or to give yourself a goal. But just as the 2 Wheel Crit so painfully illustrated, the problem with plans is that they are often thrown right out the window if anything goes wrong. Such was the case with my plan in doing negative splits. Towards the beginning of lap #2 after passing the special needs bag area/rest stop along Windsor-River Rd my body started to take a dive. I could recognize all the signs as me starting to bonk. Although I had been eating and drinking, my body was trained to have lots of coke and salty foods during long efforts. Unfortunately for me, there was no coke and there were no chips or salted potatoes at any of the rest stops. With lesson learned (and regrets formed) somewhere along Eastside road at mile 65-ish I had bonking episode #1. My pace slowed down to a snail’s pace and I was dreading the fact that I still had so far to go not only to the end of the ride but just to get to the rest stop on Kinley. I battled my way along Eastside, cursing its very existence, and finally made my way to the right hand turn that would eventually navigate me to Westside Rd. On Westside things got only slightly better. I kept trying to shove what food I did have in my body, but it didn’t seem to help and I started to sink in to my own head. It was here that I started to loathe triathlons. They are solitary efforts and what I have come to enjoy about cycling is completing challenging rides with friends. They are there with you when things are good, and they are there with you when things are bad and you need a little help. But this time, there was no help from smiling, friendly faces, and drafting would get me a penalty. Sad to say, but the only reprieve I found for my body were on the rollers along Westside. Every time the road went up, my body knew exactly what to do and was rather happy about it. I finally crawled my way to the rest stop along Kinley where I settled in for quite a few minutes to refill my bottles, drink even more water and eat all that I could handle. After taking a couple of deep breaths, I hit the road again.

The second trip along Dry Creek Rd didn’t feel as good as the first, but I was definitely feeling better after my stop along Kinley. As I continued on my dislike of triathlons deepened out of what was just frustration at how things were going. I realized, that for some reason…even if you’re in a really wide shoulder and there is a lot of room to the right…riders were riding right on the white line. Why when I have to pass you on the left do you stay on the white line and force me in to traffic?! Even if you said you were on the left, so many wouldn’t move over. Nope…they stuck to that white line. I would even pass them and move all the way to the right to set a good example, but none of it mattered. After lamenting on this revelation for quite some time I finally hit the turn on to Canyon. Where the first time up I was holding myself back, the second time up I was pleading with my body to go harder. Again, once I hit the climb my body knew what to do and I passed quite a few folks on my way up, but it was far from how I had climbed it just a few hours before. After getting to the top and making the descent down, I made the right hand turn in to Geyserville and was greeted with a nasty head wind. Talk about adding insult to injury! Without being able to suck a wheel, I just kept turning my crank over. As I rolled by the rest stop in Geyserville, I grabbed a PBJ from a volunteer and force fed myself as I rolled along. Peanut butter oozed all over my hand and ended up on my handle bars but I trudged on. I turned left to continue on Hwy 128 and started to perk up a little, but it wasn’t long before I ended up in the hurt locker and bonked again. As the road curved along, the battle with the wind would come and go. Cross wind, to slight head wind, to cross wind before it finally became a full on head wind as I headed to Alexander Valley Rd. Somewhere along that straight away I was trying to stretch out my neck and although I thought I was going straight I rode myself right off the road. I kept pedaling along in the dirt shoulder waiting for the lip of the road to come down so I could jump back on, but in the end I just stopped and collected myself. After a couple of minutes I got myself back on the road and after a couple more battles past Jimtown I arrived to the Chalk Hill rest stop…again.

Feeling pretty depleted and discouraged I made my way to a volunteer. He asked if I was stopping and I mumbled something like a yes. He grabbed my bike and told me all I had to do was unclip and get off and he would take care of the rest. I was so thankful for that because I only had enough energy to get myself to a chair and sit down. I happily took the Clif bar and banana that were handed to me and filled my bottles again. Another rider rolled up asking if they had anything salty and the volunteer I was near said that she actually had some salted nuts. Both of us took small bits of the nuts with much delight and gratitude. After sitting in that chair for what seemed like eternity I finally got back at it. I knew I was close, but I wouldn’t get any closer unless I actually got riding again. Somewhere along Chalk Hill things switched for me. I still wasn’t going as quickly as I wanted, but things were getting better. By the time I hit the “major” climb on Chalk Hill I was raring to go and get the ride done. I put my back cog in the 28 and motored my way up. While folks were slowly grinding it out or walking, I ramped my cadence up determined to bring this all to an end as best I could. I knew that by the time I got to the top of Chalk Hill that I would only have 12 miles left and that included a descent. As I neared the top I got some inspiring words of encouragement from those who were there cheering us riders on. They were applauding my efforts to finish strong and all I could think was…this is only the beginning of the end! After peaking and then flying down the descent, I hit the last little bump on Chalk Hill. I used my momentum and stood up in the middle of the rise to crank it up and over. As I made my way down the last little part of Chalk Hill I hit that last turn on to Pleasant with a full head of steam. The miles were ticking down and my ride time was at 6:10. If I wanted to hit my best case estimate of 6:30 I would have to go all out to cover those last 9 miles in time. The short jaunt on the windy and bumpy section of Pleasant derailed me a bit, but once I made that turn on to E Shiloh Road things changed. From there to Fulton to Airport to Skylane to Shiloh to Windsor Rd was all about increasing my effort ever higher and picking off as many riders as I could. One by one I passed people, burying my head and driving on as I watched the miles tick away. By the time I hit Windsor Rd and the shoot to take me in to T2 I had spent the last 7+ minutes pushing a really tired body between 20-22+ mph and I knew I was close to my 6:30 time. I hit the dismount line, stopped my computer, dismounted, and ran it all the way in to T2 where Luke was waiting. After exchanging the timing chip he was off and I was done. It was safe to say that I was completely exhausted, thankful to be done, yet so very happy that I was able to hold up my end of the deal and help Tom and Luke out.

In the end, it took me a total elapsed time of 6:47:39 (ride time of 6:29:59) to complete the 112 miles. Not bad considering the battles along the way and the fact that all my long rides were completely different journeys. Instead of being slow and steady and filled with lots of lounging at all my rest stops to fill up on cup of noodle, cokes, chips, potatoes and salted watermelon, I managed to minimize my rest stop time to under 18 minutes including my chair time at Chalk Hill. Take in to account that it was my first time doing anything like this, and it wasn’t bad for an unanticipated and unprepared day in the office! And even better yet, by the time Luke cruised in from the run 3:34 later, the team that almost didn’t compete finished the Vineman Relay in a total elapsed time of 12:05:33 and took 5th in the Coed -119 division. It was a long hard day in the saddle for me, but the fact that I could help some pretty awesome people meet their goals made the experience all worth it. That, and this is one event that I wouldn’t mind another crack at. There were so many lessons learned and I’d like another more prepared shot at it!

Before I end there are quite a few folks I need to thank:

- Tom & Luke for taking a chance on me and letting me be the one to fill in. Like I said, I was not only happy to help, but I am also grateful for the opportunity at this experience!

- My teammates who sent me lots of smiles and shouts of encouragement as we passed each other. It was brief, but it helped me a lot!

- The awesome volunteers who spend long hours making sure we are all taken care of.

- Kate B for taking my SFM bid from me! I had arranged it long before I took on the ride, but it still helped me out a lot knowing that my bid wasn’t going to waste (basically…if she didn’t take it I would have tried to run on Sunday).

- And of course Dave who always supports me and who encouraged me the entire way. I only saw him at the corner of Starr & Windsor-River and again at Chalk Hill & Pleasant on lap 2, but I could feel him pushing me on the entire way.

Humbling Revelations from the Bike

Posted July 26th, 2011 by KellBell

I have no intentions of turning this blog of ours into race/ride/event recap central, but this past race is one worth writing about for different reasons. The 2 Wheel/Early Bird Crit this past weekend isn’t grand in the world of epic events, but it is grand in the fact that it was an eye opening experience. Scheduled to start at 12:25 pm and last for 40 minutes, this past Sunday the Women’s Cat 4 crit lasted for a mere 34 minutes since we got off to a late start. You may wonder just how any lessons can be learned from a 34 minute race. Well I am here to illustrate just that.

The team planned to arrive at the event a solid 90 minutes before the start of our race. This would give us plenty of time to reg, get ready, warm up and strategize. You see, we’re a group of girls that are pretty new to the consistent racing scene and we’re still trying to figure things out. Knowing we were going to have numbers and have strong riders we wanted to be able to execute our plan of actually leading out our sprinter. While getting our sprinter on the podium would be ideal, we knew we just needed to be able to craft a plan and execute it amidst what can be chaos during a race. After a crash in an earlier race delayed the start of the other races, we took off from the start finish line 13 minutes late. This is where the lessons begin.

Lesson #1: Endurance vs Speed
Out of the gates this race was fast, faster than any of my previous crits (including the 3/4 race the weekend prior). Luckily for me I wasn’t supposed to do a lot of work in the beginning of the race because what I came to realize really, really quickly is that being in shape and prepared for a 100+ mile event with 15k’ of climbing DOES NOT make you ready for an all out sprint for 35 minutes. Slow, steady and tortoise like vs really quick, rabbit like sprints. Yeah…night and day! My body was rather offended at me for making it take on this effort two weekends in a row. Yes, I did race the Colavita GP the weekend prior and felt pretty good, but this race unfolded very differently.

For the first two laps a Team Type 1 rider was at the front driving the pace. I think she wanted to set the bar for where she wanted the speed to be the entire race because once she pulled off the speed stayed that high. We continued around the course and then came the first prime. We came into the start finish line and the bell rang again for another prime (yes back to back primes). I moved myself into position to be ready to counter attack if a planned move went off, but it never materialized so I just stayed tucked into the middle of the pack.

Lesson #2: Checking the Ego at the Door
After my legs and body got over the shock of the initial speed of the race I was feeling better and really wanted to give it a go. But when you’re racing for a teammate your own goals and desires, and especially your ego, are checked at the door once you enter the office. It’s not about you, it’s about your team and the team goal. My main job for that race was to help keep our sprinter rested, help cover attacks (as needed) and help deliver our sprinter to the line. As we looped around for another lap I could tell Jen was feeling good and wanted to help out in some way. Unfortunately for her (or fortunately depending on how you look at it), she was our sprinter and she needed to stay protected. So when she asked me if she should go and help out at one time I told her NO with a bit of mama bear grrr in my tone. I felt bad at the time, but I had a job to do! After a couple more laps around the course it was all of a sudden 3 laps to go. Not only was it early, we never had a chance to execute one of our attack-counter attack scenarios. With a bit of a huff I set out to start job # 2.

Lesson #3: Even the best plans can be laid to waste
We had planned on massing near the front with about 5 laps to go. So needless to say, when we saw there were only 3 laps left we knew we needed to move. I picked my way forward in order move Jen up to the front where Lauren and Shannon were and told Stephanie to jump on as we passed by. Just as we exited corner 2 we were set-up pretty much where we needed to be and I told Lauren we were there. All we needed next was to get Shannon over to the other side so we could execute the rest of our game plan. But like most well thought out plans, ours got thrown out the window. Along the head wind section before corner 3 our favorite Team Type 1 rider drove to the front and took off – again. Apparently she had plans of her own and didn’t care about ours. We ramped up the speed as we went around corner 3 and as we were moving along the back stretch along the fields a small break was starting to form. From behind me I thought I heard a “Kelli, go!” so I took off to catch the small group in front of me. They didn’t get a huge gap, but it felt like forever before I was able to get to the back of their wheels a little after corner 4. With my heart rate spiking and my already not full lung capacity battling me I buried my head and kept going. Up over the little rise and down towards the start finish Shannon came up next to me. My first and only real thought at that moment? THANK GOD because I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on being in the red like I was. I lost contact with the front group as we neared turn 1 and all I could do was hope I could make up ground on that small little downhill section. Luckily, around that same head wind side the group came back together again but I was spent and wasn’t recovering well. I had been saving that last acceleration for the lead out and only had enough energy left to hold on to the back. We wrapped our way around back to the start finish line and it was 1 to go.

Lesson #4: Helping a teammate win is far more rewarding than winning yourself
With lungs and legs toast I had to pull myself out from the 2nd to last spot of our lead out train. As much as I wanted to, and as much as it broke my ego more to not be able to do my last job, I knew I couldn’t do anything after covering that last break. We hauled around corners 1 and 2 and I was just hanging on to the back. Stephanie was trying to drive Lauren and Jen around the head wind side into the back stretch, but it was chaotic and the girls ended up getting swarmed and lost positioning. Once we rounded corner 3 Lauren took over and drove on with Jen behind her for as long as she could. She got Jen around corner 4 and delivered her off about 1/4 of the way past the corner about 10 wheels back. From there Jen picked a wheel she wanted to follow til her take off point and then off she went. With much shouting from Lauren and Shannon, Jen sprinted herself to a second place finish. Shannon, Lauren and I slowly rolled in last knowing we had successfully sacrificed ourselves for our teammate. It wasn’t about where we did or didn’t place. Nope. It was about helping our team execute a plan (and adapting on the fly in the midst of the chaos) to a successful end. I was one very tired, but very happy and proud teammate.

So there we were, race done and lessons learned all within a span of 34 minutes. It was humbling to realize that although I may be in pretty good shape this year that there is a big difference between speed and endurance. It was also really humbling to realize just how much joy and accomplishment one can feel by propelling a teammate to a successful outcome. Unlike soccer and ultimate where the entire team wins, in cycling only one of you can win. Yet, when one of you wins, you all win because it takes a team to get you there and it feels good knowing that I helped my teammate get there.

The Death Ride 2011

Posted July 18th, 2011 by KellBell

I truly am my own worst enemy. Not only because I seem to find a sick pleasure in taking on somewhat insane challenges, but also because I become my own road block when trying to complete said challenges. It’s taken 8 days and a crit race to finally pull myself out from under the exhausted daze that the Death Ride 2011 put me in. Like I said, I am my own worst enemy since I am the only one to blame for the daze that blanketed me this past week.

Last December – for reasons I cannot even truly remember – I thought it was a really good idea to set my sight on the Death Ride as my next challenge. I mean, who wouldn’t find climbing 15,000 feet over 130 miles at altitude fun…right? So after talking a few other teammates into joining me in the madness, I signed up for an event that was 7 months away with the hope that I would somehow find a way to properly prepare.

Fast forward to July. After many a hill repeat, intervals and even the Alta Alpina Challenge and the first 110 of the Terrible Two thrown in for good measure, the day of reckoning, per se, arrived. The big question at hand: Was I truly ready? Those who knew how hard I had trained all believed I was, but I still wasn’t convinced. The Alta Alpina was both a blessing and a curse. Yes, it gave me really good insight into what I would encounter during the Death Ride, but it was also a bit demoralizing at the same time. What it showed me was that all your training can be thrown out the window in an instant if your body doesn’t handle the change in altitude well. Having struggled so hard on Ebbetts and knowing how painful 93 miles was I had very big doubts in my head about whether or not I would survive all 5 passes and the full 130 miles.

The Start and Monitor 1
The morning started early, really early. The goal was to arrive at the start by 5 in order to take off at 5:30 (the “official” start time). With alarms going off right before 4 am, we stumbled around in the dark with only the glow from our flashlights to help us get ready. By the time we got ourselves fed, situated and out the door we didn’t get to the start until 5:30 and didn’t start the ride itself until 6 am. With LeeAnn staying elsewhere and starting earlier than us, and Terri, Anette and I getting separated trying to find desired facilities before starting the ride, I ended up embarking on the challenge alone. The trip towards Monitor was fairly easy and filled with lots of eager riders. I hit the base of Monitor 1 right on schedule and started my ascent. With fresh legs, this trip up Monitor West seemed so much easier. With the sun rising, the world just waking up, and all the cyclist making their way up to the top, this trip was also more awe inspiring. Really, there is something exhilarating and beautiful about conquering a climb like that at the break of dawn with thousands of “friends.” By the time I reached the top of the 7.6 mile climb I had knocked off 15 minutes from my previous time.

Sat morning sunrise.

My Death Ride co-horts!

Monitor 2
Just as calming as the first climb up the side of Monitor I knew was, descending and then ascending the other side was as equally unnerving. While the descent down Monitor 2 would have been rip roaring fun in normal conditions, this was anything but. The amazing thing about the Death Ride…it attracts cyclists of all abilities. The bad thing about the Death Ride…it attracts cyclists of all abilities. Add uncertain handling skills with inexperience in descending and you may understand just why the descent was a little less than thrilling. Having riders cut you off without looking back before moving over, or people slamming on their brakes unexpectedly makes getting downhill safely a challenge. It’s true that I am known to fly downhill, but I don’t just bomb down without caution. I will adjust my speed to match the conditions, but having me excessively ride the brakes and putting up a huge fight against gravity isn’t necessarily safe either. Eventually I hit a nice, clean break in the crowd and was able to follow a good set of wheels down to the bottom. After a quick break to delayer and snack on my goodies I started my climb to the top.

When I outlined my timing before the ride I thought that the eastern side of Monitor was about 8 miles. In all my excitement I didn’t check my computer before heading down so I couldn’t calculate if I was right or wrong and went with the assumption that my initial estimate was accurate. How wrong I was. What I would come to learn is that the climb back up to the top was a good 10 miles long with an average gradient of 6.2%. Unlike the front side where it leveled off in a few places to provide a respite, the backside of Monitor was just a constant climb. During my descent down the backside I was able to observe the crowd that was heading up. The only way I can describe it is this: It looked like an escalator that was packed with riders from one side to the other making its way up the hill. I was happy to find that my way up was not as crowded. It was still busy, but there was room enough to patiently maneuver around people as needed. It was at this point that the mental games started. I think I passed just about as many people as passed me. While it was encouraging to pass people on the climb, it was also demoralizing to be passed so easily by others. After hanging out on the mental roller coaster for a few minutes, I finally pulled myself out of the head games and focused on the task at hand: climbing at a steady yet manageable strong pace. After 90 minutes of consistent, painful fun I finally made my way back to the rest stop at the top of Monitor. With 2 stickers obtained and only 3 more to go I refueled before continuing my journey.

Monitor 1 Descent & Ebbetts 1
Unlike the descent down Monitor 2, the descent down Monitor 1 was a bit more relaxed. With less riders heading down the hill and the roads closed to traffic – and after making my way past a few riders who thought they were faster than me downhill – I was able to descend at my comfort level without having to excessively ride my brakes. Having gone down Monitor West twice now, I think it is my favorite descent of all time. Yes, I even like it more than Meyers Grade (Those who know me know that is saying something)! After a 10 minute descent and a 15 minute south westerly ride along route 89 I finally hit the gate that signifies (at least to me) the start of Ebbetts 1. That gate also signified the start of the portion of the ride that I feared most. Although I was determined to conquer all of Ebbetts 1 without stopping or breaking down, I wasn’t confident that I could. That lack of confidence is what led me to stop off at the Scossa’s rest stop before the heart of the climb truly began; it was there that I gave in to my fear of not having enough strength to make it up Ebbetts and started my coke addiction that would last for the remainder of the ride. After downing half of an iced cold coke and stuffing lots of salty chips in my mouth I remounted my bike and carried on. I wish I could say my 2nd time up this climb went as well as my 2nd time up Monitor, but alas no. To put it plainly, Ebbetts is downright evil and it sucks. It is long – even longer than last time since the rest stop was at the true top of the climb. Yet despite the fatigue setting in and the looming doubt I had, I soldiered on. I hit the 2 hairpin turns quicker than I expected and the bluff that had me fooled the first time shortly after that. I was feeling better than the first time, but that ascent is long and by the time you hit those last kickers past the lake where I cried on my first outing…well…your body is begging for mercy. I suppose being 8700′ above sea level doesn’t help either. Finally, 92 minutes later, I made my way to the end of the 10.6 mile climb. More importantly, I made my way to the end without stopping and without crying! After getting my 3rd sticker I happily parked my bike and set out to refill my bottles, devour a cup of noodle and yet another half a coke.

Ebbetts 2
With a happy belly I headed down the back side of Ebbetts. From what I had been told, at 5 miles the backside of Ebbetts would be the shortest climb of the day. What I was also told: although it was the shortest, it was far from easy. Both of those facts were indeed true. The descent down the backside of Ebbetts was just as unnerving as the descent down the backside of Monitor. With the uncertain, inexperienced riders now fatigued and on a really narrow road, it made getting down to Hermit Valley stressful. But the shorter distance meant a shorter time going downhill and it wasn’t long before I came to the bottom where I promptly turned around after receiving sticker #4 and started my way up the climb. The climb up Ebbetts 2 started out well, really it did, but about half way up I started to tire. Although I was hydrating well, I wasn’t necessarily eating enough and the downside of coke is that you have to keep a steady stream in your body to avoid crashing. Instead of trying to tackle Ebbetts 2 right away to avoid my legs getting cold, I should have sucked down another half a coke and a sandwich to keep my energy level up. Even though I knew I was low on fuel I kept trying to soldier on. Eventually, about 1/4 of the way from the top, I had to stop in the shade. The warmer temps, lack of fuel and altitude finally got the best of me. After force feeding myself (I really do have a hard time eating once my pedals start turning over) and resting for a few minutes I merged back into the line of cyclists moving up hill and finished making my way to the top. I had initially intended to stop at the top of Ebbetts again, but realized that I was far behind schedule (I had told Dave that it would take me 3 hours to get back to the base of Monitor and I was only at the top of Ebbetts the second time at that 3 hour mark). I zipped up my vest, crossed the cattle guard at the top of the climb and continued straight on. After navigating around pot holes, methodically moving around unsure riders and safely making my way around the hairpin turns, I finally found a solid wheel and an open road that led me the rest of the way to the lunch stop. I was hoping to find some hearty grub at the lunch stop, but given how busy it was and how late I already was I adjusted my plans. I refilled my bottles and skipped the lunch stop with the intention of eating at the Woodfords’ stop. Was it wise to gamble like that? Only time would tell.

The Long Road to Carson
The next part of the ride was the longest and most mentally challenging aspect of my ride. Thirty minutes after starting my descent down the front side of Ebbetts, I finally found myself at the base of Monitor where Dave was waiting for me. I had found a good set of wheels to follow while I was making my way to him so he told me to continue on and he would catch me. By this point, with 4 strenuous climbs in only 70 miles in my legs I was pretty broken. I was definitely considering throwing in the towel and ending my day at Turtle Rock Park, but Dave rolled beside me and encouraged me to keep going. He took my vest and arm warmers from me to lighten my load a bit and I asked him how many more miles he had in his legs. After a few more encouraging words he told me he would meet me up the road and ride with me as far as I needed him to. With that he left me with orders to stay on the wheels of the folks in front of me.

As much as the trek back to Woodfords was a low point for me, it was also a high point and the hottest point of the ride. After starting the ride in 46 degree weather, heading back through the heart of Markleeville saw us hit temps of 102 degrees. Yet, despite all of that heat and long hours, the town of Markleeville brought us one of the most awesome signs of support. There, sprawled along the grassy hillside and all along the side of the roads were the inhabitants of Markleeville. I am pretty sure it was the entire town as well. They cheered and encouraged us to continue on as we rode by. There were kids offering red vines and waving feverishly. It was enough of a rush to keep you going on your way – at least for a bit. After leaving the town we started to literally roll up back towards Turtle Rock. Every little roller made my legs beg for no more and all I had in my head was that I needed to make sure that I stayed on a wheel. No matter if that wheel was going slower than I should be at that time, I needed to stay on a wheel in order to stay protected and conserve my energy until I made it to my next stop. Although I was moving along at a quicker pace than Dave expected, it seemed like forever before we reached Turtle Rock. From there the wheels I was devoutly following departed in various directions and I continued on my own. The good thing though – if there was such a thing at this point – was that the journey from Turtle Rock to Woodfords was mostly down hill. I gladly accepted the reprieve the mild descents offered me and made my way into the Woodfords’ rest stop. It was there that I was greeted with a rain shower from a hose and a gracious set of volunteers. One took my bike for me, another took my bottles, and even another was walking around with sodas and food. Seeing as I hadn’t stopped to eat since my first pass over the top of Ebbetts, I excitedly grabbed a coke and hit the food. After downing a couple soggy, salty potatoes, a watermelon slice, a lot of chips and then some of the food I brought, I sucked down my half a coke allotment. Feeling better with the rush of food (and sugar) I went through the shower for a second time before getting back on my bike and continuing towards Picketts Junction. There was still no sign of Dave by the time I left, but I knew I needed to soldier on. Not only that, I knew I would get to the top of Carson with or without him. All the volunteers kept saying it was only 17 miles to the top and all I told myself was come hell or high water; or by hook or by crook I was going to get to the top of that climb. Even if I had to crawl – I would get to the top of that climb. So with that I was off and on my way again.

The 7 miles from Woodfords to Picketts Junction are the gnarliest miles. They are beautiful since they run along a rushing creek, but they are unfriendly since you are constantly climbing. The ascent is nowhere near as steep as the the real climbs of the day, but this very long, very slow 1200′ ascent feels like a huge mountain by that point. I settled in behind a pair of wheels that were far slower than I was capable of going. And although I knew I could go faster than the two riders in front of me, I just couldn’t will myself to come around and move on. Finally logic kicked in. While staying slower may have felt nicer in one way, I was only prolonging my suffering. With a bit of resolve I kicked up my cadence and passed them. It took about 2 minutes of struggling uphill in the head wind by myself, but I finally found the next set of wheels I wanted to follow. They were definitely going at a faster clip, but still slower than my full potential; that is IF I had the desire to hit said full potential. I happily settled in for the long haul when I finally saw Dave drive by. Once he passed me I knew he would be waiting for me and I knew my pace would kick up whether I wanted it to or not. Five minutes after I saw him drive by and about 2-3 miles outside of Woodfords, there was Dave on the side of the road ready to shepherd me along. Shirley shouted one last set of encouraging words to me and then we were off…well sort of. Dave settled into a gap ahead of me, but I stayed glued to the rider in front of me. Again…that desire to kick it up and roll around just wasn’t there. Nor were the words to tell the rider to catch Dave’s wheel because he would pull us along. Poor Dave, he had to pretty much come to a stand still as he waited for us to catch his wheel. Finally, I sucked it up and kicked it around the person who had been pulling me along to that point. Very happy, but very exhausted I hitched myself to Dave’s wheel. He strongly encouraged me to eat more and did all he could to keep me out of the wind without making me work harder than I wanted to. As we neared the rest stop at Picketts Junction I told him that I needed to stop and eat more in order to try and get enough juice in my body to make it up the final climb. I rolled into the rest stop as he went to the end to wait for me and was greeted by even more friendly volunteers. Just like that my bike was taken away and parked for me and my bottles taken to be filled. There was water dumped on my head (only after they asked first) and then there was food. I knew I needed something more solid and salty but just couldn’t bring myself to eat. I forced another soggy, salty potato down when someone suggested I try putting salt on the watermelon instead. Thank goodness for that because I was able to handle that way better than the potatoes. I gobbled up more chips but passed the coke at this point. I dipped into the food I had brought with me and then got back on my bike and made my way to Dave. From that point there was only 4 more miles before the 6 mile climb up Carson truly began. That was it, 10 total miles. I settled in behind Dave’s wheel and off we went.

Carson Pass
The 4 miles to the start of the climb went along well, really well. I was feeling pretty good after the food and having Dave there to protect me gave me the mental boost I needed. Like I said earlier, by hook or by crook I would have made it to the top – even without him there – but having him there made it more bearable. I suppose I am weak for not being able to truly tackle these adventures on my own, but I’d like to think I am also strong for realizing and admitting to my weakness. He happily pulled me along at a pace I was able to manage and rider after rider hopped on our little train. Finally the climb started and I buckled down for the last little fight up hill. The last time I hit Carson I hit it with really fresh legs and felt it was very doable. I knew it would be harder with fatigued legs, but I was still convinced after surviving both sides of Ebbetts that I could make it. While Dave was trying to be kind and not push me too hard, he also wasn’t going to let me lollygag up the hill. He knew that I needed to get to the top as quickly as possible for many reasons so with a bit of tough love he pushed me along. We were making our way up Carson at a very reasonable pace. With cars whizzing by us in both directions (Carson was the one road they didn’t close down) and riders buzzing down the other side I was finding it hard to stay positive. The more I witnessed what was happening on the other side of the road, the more uncertain I became about finishing the entire ride. Soon we came to the midway point of the climb, and there on the side of the road with a cyclist that was laying in the shoulder was LeeAnn. With her far earlier start time I figured she would have reached the top already, but it was nice to see a fellow teammate so nearby. I told her to jump on and get going, but she stayed with the cyclist to make sure he was okay. Dave and I pushed on – still with an ever growing train of riders behind us. They had all heard he had fresh legs and were happy to have him do the work. I had to battle to keep his wheel from other people a couple of times, but I was determined. He was there for ME and I wasn’t going to give it up. Finally we hit the bend in the road where you see the final turn and I knew I was close. I was so super close, yet so far at the same time. After making it half way up the final part before the bend started I pulled my bike over. I was tired, I hadn’t eaten enough and I wanted to get some fuel in my body. After a couple minutes of eating and drinking I started up again. Dave was trying to take care of something on his bike but told me to go on since he would catch me. I was moving at a snail’s pace so I knew he would. He caught me just as I started my way into the last bend but this time stayed behind me. I figured he wanted me to take it at my own pace, but instead he was strongly encouraging me to pick it up a bit. I was, needless to say, pretty darn grumpy with the request but did so anyway. As we continued around that darn bend that seemed to go on and on forever, all I could think of was making it to the elevation sign. Once I hit the elevation marker I knew would be done climbing and the rest stop would be no more than 50 feet away. After passing the last overlook point Dave came around me again and continued to push me on at a faster clip then I really would have preferred. I kept whining about the elevation sign when I heard him say “The sign is right there!” That was it. I was done. With a bit more energy in my legs, a few tears of joy and relief in my eyes, I picked up my pace around the final part of the bend and into the rest stop where there were lots of cheering fans and volunteers. I gladly got my last sticker, my finishers’ pin and my ice cream (well…frozen fruit bar). Yes…after climbing over 15,000′ in 105 miles my rewards were a pin, 5 stickers, an ice cream bar and the honor of signing my name on the Finishers’ Board. You would have thought all of those things were diamonds and gold to me because I was thoroughly excited about each and every single one.

My name is on that Finishers' Board!

My "prizes"

So there, on the top of Carson Pass, after 105 miles and 9:31 of total moving time (it was about 10:30 of overall elapsed time) my Death Ride experience came to an end. With no cell service and no way to communicate with everyone else to coordinate where we should meet and what we should do, and coupled with the fact that I didn’t want to be crashed out by an impatient driver or unsteady rider heading back downhill, I opted to bypass the last 20 miles of the ride. I had conquered all 5 passes, there was no need to put my safety at risk just to get another 20 miles in. Much to my surprise, I was the first one of the group to the top. Although John was ahead of me the whole time, not stopping at the lunch stop actually saved me a lot of time. About 40 minutes after cheering folks in at the top, the crew of riders I had been with for most of the beginning of the ride came rolling in. I had lost them on the way up Ebbetts 1, but had apparently leap frogged them all when I skipped lunch. Was it worth skipping lunch? I’m still not sure. Looking back now I know I didn’t eat enough and lunch probably would have helped, but I also don’t like prolonging things either. It’s a trade off and all I know is that I need to find a way to force myself to get enough heavy calories in my body when I do intense endurance efforts like that.

I guess the next question that needs to be answered is if I’ll ever do it again. I can answer that with a resounding NO. This was one of the hardest physical things I have ever done in my life – second only to natural child birth. I’m not joking when I say that either! Am I glad I did it? Absolutely! It’s something I really didn’t think I could or would ever do, but I don’t have any desire to do it again. I will do the Alta Alpina again. I think I felt safer with the smaller venue even though it was lonely and filled with more cars. If I never have to make that long run up to Carson Pass again it will be too soon…seriously. The 2.5 hours it took me to get from the top of Ebbetts to the bottom of Carson Pass were nightmarish and something I don’t want to repeat. But despite all of that I do believe that riding the Death Ride at least once is something every cyclist should consider. It’s hard and training for it takes a lot of dedication and sacrifice, but it’s a pretty darn amazing feeling when you conquer it!

Alta Alpina Challenge

Posted June 13th, 2011 by KellBell

What is the Alta Alpina Challenge? Well, before this weekend I had absolutely no clue. After this weekend…well…I have a small idea of what the “challenge” part entails. Every year the Alta Alpina Cycling Club hosts the Alta Alpina Challenge along the same roads that are used for the infamous Death Ride.  Since a few of us are doing the Death Ride this year we figured the Alta Alpina Challenge was a great opportunity to get in a fully supported training ride. It is that belief that leads us to where we are today.

The true “challenge” of this event is to complete the 8 pass double century. But this isn’t any old double century;  this is a double century at altitude. However, since this was just a training ride, and since I personally have no desire to ever do a double century, Terri, Anette and I decided to pass on the 8 pass challenge and take on our own 3 pass challenge that included Carson, Ebbetts East, and Monitor West.

Before I get into detail on how the day went I really need to pause and say thank you to the event organizers, volunteers and staff. While it is a small event (no more than 500 people), it is a really big undertaking to get aid up to remote places like Ebbetts. All the volunteers were awesome, the aid stations (especially the ones at the top of the climbs) were well stocked with just the right foods for the conditions, and the roads were in pretty darn good condition – especially when compared to Sonoma County roads. Although I may never do the Death Ride again, I would consider doing the Alta Alpina Challenge again. Trust me folks, that is saying a lot considering how hard this ride was. So without further adieu, here’s the recap of the event…

The morning started bright and early for us. We wanted to try and get a good hearty breakfast in before the ride which meant being out the door at 6:30 am. After biding the hostel that housed us for the night good bye we headed towards Turtle Rock Park with the mission of finding breakfast. Our first stop was Sorensen’s but as fate would have it the kitchen wasn’t open yet. Based on what times things opened and closed, I am led to believe that things run at a different pace up there. In the end, we ended up eating at the local coffee shop all the way in Markleeville. It was  really the only place that was open at 7:30 in the morning and much to our delight they actually served full breakfasts. After filling up with some darn good diner coffee and eggs with potatoes and bacon we headed back to Turtle Rock Park where our riding adventures began.

Carson Pass
Our first climb of the day was Carson Pass which was 12 direct miles from the start. I say direct only because we decided to cut out a 10 mile loop in the beginning of the ride. Our rationale was this: we were there to climb the passes in preparation for the Death Ride so there was no need to make the journey any longer and painful then it was already going to be! We all started together but soon after turning onto Hwy 88 we were spread out on the course. As I made my way up the road I realized quickly why all the cyclists we passed on the way in to town looked like they were struggling so much. The saddest part about the first 12 miles to the “start” of the climb is the fact that you have to climb 1600+ feet just to get there. It was definitely slow going, but it did afford plenty of opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the area. While it is somewhat barren and desolate on one hand, the rushing streams from the snow melt and the surrounding mountains are breathtaking.

After pedaling for an hour I finally got to the official start of the climb (at least based on what I was told the day before). It was here that I fully came to realize what it meant to be at altitude. The heart rate numbers I have learned to equate to a certain kind of effort just weren’t lining up. While my heart rate was low, I was having a harder time breathing and the body didn’t feel right. No matter how hard I tried,  I couldn’t get my heart rate up to the range I wanted while climbing so I quickly abandoned my game plan for the ride. It’s not that the climb was steep, because it really wasn’t. The climb up Carson Pass was a very steady and manageable gradient most of the way up (I’d say Pine Flat to the house). It was more the fact that being at altitude changed things for me physiologically and I realized that if I was going to survive all 3 passes I would need to take a “survival mode” kind of approach. Finally, 47 minutes after hitting the start, I completed the 6.5 mile climb to the rest stop at the summit. 

After a quick stop at the top to eat and take some pics, I hopped back on my bike and headed back down the hill all the way back to Turtle Rock Park. The descent and the trip back towards the Markleeville turn off was rip roaring fun, but once you made that right hand turn you were greeted with a nasty head wind. Luckily, I had caught a couple of guys on the descent so I just sat on their wheels as we rolled up and down back into the park for lunch. After fueling up, dumping layers (which was actually a bad thing), and applying more chamois cream and sunscreen in their respective locations I was ready to head back out on the road. Terri and Anette rolled in right before I left so after a quick check in and encouragement between us I was off towards climb 2.

Ebbetts Pass
Unlike Carson where I kind of knew what to expect since I had driven it a few times the day before, the rest of the ride was going to be an unknown adventure. I had no idea what to expect between Turtle Rock and the start of the climb to Ebbetts Pass, nor did I know where the climb to Ebbetts Pass actually started. 25 minutes and 7.3 miles after leaving the lunch stop I came to the turn off for Monitor. For some odd reason I just started to time my trip from that point to the rest stop at the top of Ebbetts. Time and the miles seemed to tick by very slowly as I continued to pedal on in what I hoped was the right direction. With no cyclists around me going the same direction and no cyclists going the other direction for quite some time I was just questioning if I was headed the right way. Finally, I came to a sign that said vehicles over 25′ weren’t allowed on Ebbetts Pass due to the steepness of the road. Yes, I was headed the right direction and 40 minutes after leaving the lunch stop and gradually making my way up hill the entire time I hit what I now know is the start of Ebbetts.

What I can say about Ebbetts is that it is beautiful towards the bottom. All the trees, the slight uphill rolling and gently twisting road with the sounds of a stream rushing by – beautiful! The other thing that I can say about Ebbetts is that it totally and completely broke me. All in all, the climb is 10 miles long – not the longest continuous climb I’ve done, but for some reason it seemed like for-ev-er. The climb would kick up a little bit, then come back down before going up again. In a couple of areas it kicked up to a good 18% or so as the road took a sharp turn and continued up the road. Eventually you clear all the trees and hit what you think must surely be the top. There is nothing but mountain on one side and a sheer drop on the other. Despite that, the climb continues. Once I turned the final corner in this area I saw the road continue upward and the snow banks really taking shape. The road became narrower as it was walled in on both sides by snow. As I continued to climb the snow walls got taller. After climbing for what I thought was an eternity I finally lost the mental battle. After trying to focus on my breathing (which was becoming pretty tough as we got above 8500′) or my pedal strokes (I tried to distract myself by counting to 8), I pulled my bike over next to a frozen lake and slumped over and cried. Yes, I cried. Pathetic as it may seem, I totally broke down. Eventually another rider went by me and called my name (we had our names on our numbers) and said that I was almost there. I asked, “Really?” He said, “We better be.” I pulled myself together, took a picture of the lake, and continued the ascent. After a few more minutes I finally saw what I had been longing to see – the rest stop that was hidden between two 10 foot walls of snow. I stopped my bike and a volunteer asked me how I was doing while he put the sticker on my number. I think my look said it all and he encouraged me to continue on by saying that after the climb up Ebbetts the climb up Monitor would be a breeze. Not only that, he said I would have plenty of time to get rested up on the trip back down the hill. 

It was at the top of Ebbetts - nearly 8700′ up – that I had a few revelations:
1 – I quickly started to regret leaving my vest, thicker arm warmers, and gloves in the car during the lunch stop. Being surrounded by the snow I was getting cold fast and I knew the descent was going to be miserably cold.
2 – I definitely questioned my sanity in and ability to even tackle the Death Ride. Ebbetts was only my 2nd climb on this day and it totally broke me. How can any good come out of having to climb it as my 3rd climb of the day when I tackle it as part of the Death Ride?
3 – Tums with calcium are a good thing

After sitting at the rest stop for far longer than I should have and after having some watermelon, a coke, and a couple Tums (I really couldn’t conceive eating anything else at that moment), I got back on my bike and started my descent. Sure enough, it was freezing cold as I started down. With teeth chattering and body shivering I maneuvered my bike around pot holes and narrow snowy roads. In a blink of an eye I came to the place that I was so sure was the top during my climb. Even quicker than that I came to the two hair pin turns that I took a mental note of as I came up. A couple of minutes later I had descended far enough down the hill that I was warmed up and the road curved in a way where I felt I could really open it up on the descent. I got in a good rhythm and continued to power my way down and before I knew it I was back at the base of the climb up to Monitor. What had taken me 1:44 to ascend only took me 29 minutes to descend. I kind of chuckled at what the volunteer had said about having plenty of time to recover; I don’t think he realized how fast I can move down hill.

Monitor Pass
So there I was at the turn off for Monitor Pass. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to try to make it up the hill. I ran into two women who were headed out to Ebbetts and who lived in the area. They told me that all I had to do was get to mile 4. Once I got past the 4th mile I would be fine – I would only be half way done but I would be fine. For nothing other than pride I took my arm warmers off since I knew the climb would be warm and headed up Monitor Pass.

Of the 3 passes, Monitor was by far the easiest. The gradient at the bottom wasn’t bad and, sure to her word, after the first 1.5 miles the climb got more difficult. The gradient wasn’t steep, but it was consistent for a long, long time. The road was wide and clear, the scenery was pretty in it’s barren kind of way, and I was happy to have a tail wind. Was it helping me get up hill any faster? Heck no. Although it was the easiest, Monitor was by far my slowest climb. But I’d rather have a tail wind going up hill than a head wind. I mean, having to battle a head wind while you climb is just like adding insult to injury. I kept on chugging up hill checking my mileage from time to time. Eventually I came to mile 4 and for some reason I broke through a mental barrier. I’m not sure if it’s because I had made it to that 4th mile and now I felt I could do the next 4 because of what I was told earlier or what, but I went into the second half of that climb with more confidence. Similar to Ebbetts I was pretty isolated as I made my way up hill. I could see some folks ahead of me, but there was no one close behind me. At about mile 5 I came upon a guy on the side of the road and I asked him if he was okay. He gave me the thumbs up so I continued on my way. Eventually he caught up to me on the climb and we climbed together for a bit. Trying to stay on his wheel and just having another person in the area was what I needed to kick my climbing up a notch. What I have come to learn is that I don’t climb well by myself because I lose the mental battle. After about a mile I had to let go of his wheel because I was tuckered out, but before we parted he told me not to get fooled by the false summit. He said the climb would summit once but then descend before you had to climb up again to what was the actual top. At last, about 8 miles later, I came to the rest stop at the top of Monitor. The young volunteer gave me my sticker and then took my bike to the racks for me so I could just focus on getting to the food. Her brother came and took my water bottles to fill them for me. That little bit of pampering was much appreciated. At the top of the open and windy summit the volunteer crew had set up a tent they called the Tiki Lounge. With my Coke and Cup ‘O Noodle in hand I entered the lounge. Although the “lounge” was just a bunch of chairs around a fire pit, it was quite a welcome sight. I happily sat down and lingered for probably a good 30-40 minutes enjoying every bit of my soup and soda. Finally, I said farewell and thank you to the volunteers and climbed back on my bike to head down my last descent. Monitor was by far the funnest descent of the day. The roads were smooth and like I said earlier they were wide open. That combined with the fact that there weren’t many sharp turns and I only needed to hit my brakes a few times. That was probably the funnest 15 minutes I had going down hill – maybe even more fun then the descent down Meyers Grade. 

After stopping at the stop sign at the bottom of the hill like a good little cyclist, I made my final right hand turn to head back through Markleeville and to Turtle Rock Park. Once again I was by myself and had to battle what was now a cross wind alone. Every roller I came to felt like a huge hill at this point. My legs, my body, and my mind were just tired of having to battle gravity. I finally came to the center of Markleeville and told myself to motor on for just a little bit longer. After a couple more ascents up medium sized rollers I finally saw the sign I had been looking for – I finally saw the sign signaling the turn off to Turtle Rock Park. I don’t think I’ve ever done such a jubilant happy dance on my bike as I did at that moment. After 93 miles my journey was almost done. A few more pedal strokes and I made my final left hand turn into the parking lot and slowly rolled to my car. 93.64 miles and 10,781′ of climbing my Alta Alpina challenge finally came to an end. In the end I rode for 7 hours and 25 minutes, but all those long breaks at the rest stops had my total elapsed time at 8 hours and 42 minutes. 

I think it goes without saying that it was a long and painful day in the saddle. But more importantly, it was also fun. As one of the volunteers at the top of Ebbetts said, if it isn’t fun why would you do it? It’s true that I questioned myself and my abilities at various points on the ride, but in the end it was fun and rewarding. I mean, who ever thought that I would be so happy to have stickers as my reward for climbing those three peaks? So will I do it again? I think most definitely…maybe… 

When You Have Lemons…

Posted June 1st, 2011 by KellBell

I think we all know that saying…When you have lemons, make lemonade. Well that is in full effect right now in so many ways. I’ve started to write posts on several different occasions, but each time I start, I stop. As I begin to write and reflect I realize that in the grand scheme of things that I really don’t have much to complain about. Of course I could absolutely find something and be all Eeyore like and do it anyway, but why? And that is what brings me to the old saying regarding lemons.

Every now and then I forget, but along with the still in progress “glass half full” mentatlity I’ve been trying to live by, I have also been trying to remind myself to not fight against those things which I cannot control. You know, that train of thought that has yet another saying to go along with it…

“God grant me the strength to accept the things I can’t change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Hmmm…it seems as if life can be seemed up with lots of different sayings, but I’ll stop digressing. In the end I think they all boil down to basically the same concept: Life is what YOU make it.

I won’t lie. Life for me has had its ups and downs. While Jeremy is happy and healthy, he is also struggling. He still struggles from the divorce. And although he has all the smarts and potential in the world, he struggles with his grades. His teacher says that he is bright – one of the brightest in her class – but he doesn’t apply himself. That is part ADHD and part lack of self confidence and self motivation, but in the end all that equates to is that it is a challenge. It pains me and I struggle with him because I know he can do it, but for reasons he can’t explain and I can’t figure out he just continues to skate by. I am so desperately trying to find the switch that turns things on for him and as a mother I feel that I have failed because I haven’t been able to fix it yet, but how can you fix a lack of confidence and motivation? But then after all of that I go back to the beginning: he has a good heart, he is (generally) happy and he is healthy.

Then there is me and Dave. We are doing well. We are happy with each other, in love and supported by each other. Really, I am one very lucky girl and couldn’t ask for anything more. I have a man who loves me for me and who supports me in everything I do. Do we always agree? Oh heck no. Do we have our arguments? Ummm…yeah! But what real couple doesn’t? Really, we are good, but we also feel trapped by our financial burdens. I can’t call them hardships because in reality we are both doing really well and are so very lucky to be where we are, but we are also stuck in no man’s land. While we can make our payments, we would also like to find a way to crawl out from under debt completely. The problem with that? Things we’d like to do we can’t qualify for. We’d love to take advantage of the lower interest rates and so on and so forth, but can’t. Either our house is too underwater, or we are on time with our payments and don’t qualify for something else. Really, because we can pay things we are kind of trapped. So we continue on as we are…surviving, but not being able to really do what we want to pull ourselves out. But just like Jeremy, if we go back to the beginning, we are doing well as a couple and family. We love each other, we have a roof over our heads, food on the table, jobs, health care and most importantly we have each other.

And of course there is me and my own demons. We all have them. If you say you don’t then you are in your own world of denial. Other than the feelings of failure because I can’t help my son and because I can’t get out of debt as quickly or efficiently as I would like and my sadness over missing my family (I just don’t get to see them as often as I used to), I struggle with my own self worth and purpose in life. Is my job really where I want to be and what I want to do? Am I really raising my son the best I can? What value am I really bringing to this world? You know, all of those normal self evaluating struggles. But self reflection and moments of insecurity (and insanity) aside, life is pretty darn good. Really. I have a beautiful son, a wonderful husband, a job, my health, friends and family. I think you get the point…

So as you can see, every time I started to write about something that was troubling me I would end up realizing that I really don’t have problems. I have challenges, but I don’t have problems. The issues in the Middle East, the flooding and tornadoes in the mid west, all of those things are serious troubles. Me? I just have bumps in the road. And this is where we come full circle again. Yes, I could absolutely sit and wallow in all my unluckiness and the fact that life isn’t perfect and easy and handed to me on a silver platter, or I can make the best of what has been laid out in front of me. Again, life is what YOU make it. Well, I have an eclectic bowl of lemons in front of me and I prefer to make the best tasting lemonade ever!