Reality Reality

So I'm going to hurl myself against the wall
'Cause I'd rather feel bad than not feel anything at all

         Lyrics fromAin't that Pretty at All by Warren Zevon

It is bicycle racing season, although the only thing most people are hearing about the sport these days are the echoing doping accusations being flung by disgruntled and often disgraced former teammates at cycling legend Lance Armstrong like so much over-cooked pasta, in the hopes that some of it will finally stick. What most people are missing, however, are the real glories of bike racing being played out in the flats and mountains of Italy, and the just completed dashing ups and downs on the Tour of California. One could point to the strange hypocrisy of having the premiere cycling event in these United States being sponsored by the same drug company that manufactures the performance enhancing substance whose use is banned by the International Cycling Federation, but that would get into a depth and breadth of absurdity we have no time and no where near the space for here. Instead we will give a nod of recognition to the snippet of Mr. Zevon's song lyrics above while describing an event, both past and future, on our home turf.

It started with an email and an invitation to join in on a trial run of something Bruce Morser and the members of the Vashon Island Rowing Club (VIRC) had decided to call the Passport to Pain. How could one resist such an offer, one might ask? To start with, there was the map of the Island with cute, squiggly red lines all over it somewhat resembling those "Billy's Route Home" cartoons from Bill Keane and his Family Circus comic syndication. The only difference was that all the deviations were not there for distraction- they were the pain. Each detour and tangent was there as a vertical challenge to be confronted and conquered. It was a bit like being handed a walking stick and a trail map with x's marking bee's nests that you would then find and poke at with the stick, and then run from while seeing how few (or many) times you got stung. Yes, this is what some of us consider to be good fun.

While this was being billed as a ride, not a race, I knew that because it was a bunch of guys on bikes that, well, it was going to be a race anyway. I also knew that I was not ready for either the distance or traveling quickly over it. Part of my training had been a week of swimming and very spotty 'round the Island bike rides since March. It had otherwise been a winter of sloth for me, so I resolved going in to ride my own ride and hopefully get through the whole thing, knowing full well that having tried easier Island loops before, and bailed part way through, that even an "easy" Island circuit is not all that easy. Leaving Jensen Point in the group I felt okay, but as soon as we hit the climb up Burton Hill I realized I wouldn't be a part of this group for long. I was right.

There was some imaginary training coming in as well. Watching cycling greats self-propel up narrow roads with slope percentages ranging into the twenties can't do anything but help the viewer's climbing prowess, right? And having just finished reading Christopher McDougall's magical ultra-running book, Born to Run, I knew there was nothing I couldn't do. Actually, that's not quite right. If anything, I was a bit concerned about the damage I might do to myself by jumping into the fire like this. As the pedals turned, I took it relatively easy in order to make it all the way through. I got off and walked up most of the steepest parts of the Burma Road climb, a stretch that is hard to impossible even when you are in shape. I did, however, visualize climbing forms gleaned from my mountain stage Giro viewing. I also thought back to one of the lessons offered in Born to Run, and that was "smiling through the pain". In reading about how the Tarahumara runners from Mexico smiled and floated over hundreds of off road trail running miles, and in seeing Chris Horner grinning his way to a mountain stage victory in the Tour of California, it seemed to be a simple thing to try. I'm here to say that I believe it worked, as I made it through the whole ride, all 47 miles and 5,200 feet of elevation gain of it.

There was something else from Born to Run that I almost tried for the ride, but didn't in deference to the old adage-  if you can avoid it, don't do anything new right before race day. Don't buy new shoes right before a big run, get them and break them in first. Don't buy a new bike before a big ride- tune up the one you've got or get the new one well in advance of the event. I was thinking of trying the "secret" energy drink of the Tarahumara to help get through the ride, but opted for the tried and true green goo of Accelerade instead. It did help. But after the ride Wendy mixed me up a bit of Iskiate- a blend of water, lime juice, a bit of sugar and some scoops of chia seeds, and in writing on this day after when I normally would be hobbling, I find myself to be nearly pain free and ready to go again.

For those interested, a full blown Passport to Pain ride is in the works for sometime this Fall as a fundraiser for the rowing club. At that time, Billy's route home will include Maury as well, along with plenty of bee's nests over the seventy mile route which includes 10,000 feet of elevation gain. Watch for details as September approaches and start riding now. If you do decide to ride, don't forget your passport (it will be supplied), some Iskiate, and a smile.