At around 10:40 on Saturday morning, I was over Juniper Pass and should have been undertaking the ride from Idaho Springs to Georgetown.
I mean, the ultimate destination was Vail. But mentally I was breaking the ride down into sections. There were four aid/break stations. All I had to do was make it to the next aid station.
One was on the way up to the summit of Juniper Pass, the second was just before Georgetown.
I made it to Juniper Pass. Everything went to shit after that.
What did me in was the weather. Certainly weather is always a factor. It's something you need to prepare for. But I didn't think it would totally flatten me the way it did.
It has been hot and sunny for months. All of my outdoor training has been in 90°+ weather. I like heat. I grew up in heat. I understand heat. Riding over a mountain pass in the heat is challenging, but you have air in your face (at least a little bit), and then you really get to cool off when you're descending at 30 miles per hour. My body can handle heat.
But this past weekend, the heat went away, to be replaced by cold and rain in the mountains.
I thought I was prepared. I bought a waterproof rain jacket. I had a warm fleece to put on. I had gloves. I had waterproof booties to wear over my shoes.
None of it turned out to be waterproof or warm. It started to rain within the first hour of the ride. I put on my jacket. I rode further and was cold, and I realized I was wet under my jacket. I put on my fleece. It started to rain harder. I put on my waterproof shoe covers. I wore my gloves.
By the time I got to the summit of Juniper - a 16 mile slog with a 3600' elevation gain - I was wearing everything I had, it was all soaking wet, and the temperature was in the 30s. I was freezing. And I still had a windy 16 mile descent to Idaho Springs.
On the descent, I lost feeling in my hands and my feet. I focused on being able to move my fingers enough to brake and shift gears, but it was a struggle. In my head, I was in disbelief. How could I be this cold? How could I continue?
At the bottom of the mountain, there's a little parking lot right by where you turn onto the road that leads west. I pulled into the parking lot, still numb, shivering uncontrollably, and started to cry. Like, sobbing crying. Because I knew I couldn't go on.
I called Christin, who is definitely on my list of my favorite people on the planet. Greg and I had randomly run into her the day before when we were picking up our ride packets, and she told us that her husband was also riding the Triple and that it was her plan to be on call all day.
"I'll be around, so call me if you need anything."
So when I was standing in that parking lot crying, I got my phone out and called her.
"Christin, I need your help." She immediately said she would come and get me. She is the best.
While I was talking to her, there was a guy near me in a truck who worked for the organization that sponsored the ride - he was helping to coordinate all of the assistance efforts for people who had broken spokes or flat tires or injuries. He saw me shaking from the cold and said, "you need to get in the truck right now to warm up."
I nodded and did as I was told.
The cab of his truck was roasting - the heat was all the way up and blasting. He told me he could drive me to Georgetown, and Christen could pick me up from there.
Notwithstanding the heat, I couldn't stop shivering. He told me that that was a sign that I was done.
"You're clearly borderline hypothermic. It's not safe to continue, especially if you don't have anything dry to put on."
He also told me that I was crazy to attempt the ride after only being able to really train outside for 6 weeks. And that before I attempt a ride like that, I should have at least three century (100 mile) rides under my belt.
I have none under my belt.
Looking back, it's clear that I was overly ambitious. I lost months of real training time because of my knee injury. I didn't get the chance to really put in the miles I needed to put in.
But it was the weather that was the nail in the coffin. If I had been warmer, I can't guarantee that I would have finished, but I would have been able to keep going from Idaho Springs. I could have made it over Loveland Pass and accomplished two of the three peaks. But freezing and wet and numb, I was done.
Christin picked me up and brought blankets and dry clothes. She took me to her place, where I took a hot shower. I finally was warming up. It had taken me almost an hour and a half to stop shivering.
I texted Greg what had happened - he had been ahead of me. He was also freezing and decided to bail after Loveland, so Christin and I went to pick him up. While we were waiting for him at our designated pickup spot, Ken, Christin's husband called. He was done as well, and was just down the road from where we were. We saw tons of people who were calling it a day and getting picked up to head home.
Christin took us to Vail. Greg and I checked into our lovely hotel. We warmed up in the hot tub. My wonderful parents sent us champagne and a charcuterie board and a cake, so we ate and drank. Then we feel asleep at 7:30 and slept for 12 hours.
Even with hindsight being 20/20, I am beyond disappointed. I really wanted to finish. I really wanted to do well. In the moment, I knew that my body could not continue, but there's always that feeling later of, well, maybe I gave up too early. Maybe I could have kept going. Maybe I'm just weak.
I know I shouldn't do that to myself. I did the best I could. And even in those conditions, I rode over a difficult mountain pass. Most people in the world can't say that.
There were points of beauty and joy. The scenery was gorgeous. There were people who had come out to sit by the side of the road and cheer us on, including a guy playing the bagpipes. It was amazing to feel the camaraderie of the group. Everyone was so positive and encouraging.
"You can give it another shot next year!"
Maybe. I don't know. I doubt it.
Maybe.
I do know that if I give it another shot, I will have much better gear.
