Triple Bypass!

I survived!

The Triple Bypass bike ride goes from Evergreen, Colorado to Avon -- a total of 120 miles. Riders travel over the tops of Squaw Pass (11,140 ft), Loveland Pass (11,990 ft) and Vail Pass (10,560 ft), and back down again. There are very few places where the road isn't steep. And the lowest valley is still at about 7400 feet, so the entire trip is spent up where there's considerably less oxygen than you find down in Denver.

The thought of doing this ride would probably never had entered my mind, if it weren't for the encouragement of my training buddy, Kim Clemens. He seems to enjoy taking on crazy challenges, and his enthusiasm is infectious. But even with Kim's prodding, I probably wouldn't have done it if it weren't for our other inspirational friend, the ageless Reynold Kalstrom. For an animal like Reynold, this would be just another leisurely ride, so he had signed up for the event months in advance. Unfortunately, some unforeseen circumstances left him unable to do the Bypass, so he offered me his slot.

I didn't exactly jump at it, but eventually the guys persuaded me. And as regular readers know, Kim had pushed me through a few good training rides on the local hills in the weeks leading up to the event. Any rational coach would've recommended far more training that what I did, but when have I ever behaved rationally, eh?

Reynold was kind enough to offer us a ride up to the starting line, and we arrived in Bergen Park before 5am. It only took a few minutes to assemble the bikes, pose for photos, and strap into our backpacks, and then we were off!

The sun rose as we climbed up Squaw Pass, and as the journey began, it was all fun and sociable. Pleasant weather. Lots of colorful bikes, beautiful forest, and scenic views across various valleys. I didn't pay much attention to how many people we were passing, nor to how many were passing us -- but there certainly were a boatload of bikes on the road. Fortunately, there was not much auto traffic; it was a very pleasant ride, indeed.

I was a bit surprised by how much I wanted to eat at the first aid station. Peanut butter bagels, oranges, nuts, and fig newtons, all washed down with Gatorade. We took our time, enjoying the friendly banter of the aid station workers, and dutifully waiting our turns in the porta-potty line. So far, so good.

The next section was a bit more challenging. Though the specifics of the course are a blur to me now, I know that at some point we left the road and got onto a bike path. It was pretty crowded, and you had to pay much closer attention to the other cyclists as the path wound its way through the woods. I lost track of Kim around that time, and ended up trying to hold onto a draft behind another rider for a while. I tried to remember to soak up the scenery and deeply inhale the pine-scented morning air...but I'm afraid there were long stretches where my vision was focused on the tire in front of me, and on when I needed to shift gears.

When the path finally began to descend, I found a nice spot to pull over so I could take a photo of Kim when he passed that point. Unfortunately, those photos were pretty crummy, so it was a wasted effort. I didn't realize it when I pulled over, but we were only a few hundred meters from the Loveland ski area aid station. As Kim rode by, I yelled that I'd meet him in the sandwich line, and he rode on by.

I think that's about when Kim realized that he hadn't entirely rid himself of the flu bug that had attacked him the previous week. He tried to eat a ham sandwich, but said it just wasn't appealing to him. I had no such troubles, and wolfed down a turkey sandwich, some cookies, and some fruit, and was still more than happy to finish off the remainder of his sandwich. It was all delicious to me.

I'm not sure I've done any other event where the aid stations were essentially a party spot. Since it was publicly accessible, riders were kissing their spouses, high-fiving their kids, and being licked by their dogs. The place had music, vendor booths, an abundance of solid and liquid fuel, and the ever-popular porta pots. Once again, we took our time, and relished the ambience as we prepared ourselves for the daunting trip over the rest of Loveland pass.

Since Kim knew he didn't have his normal pep, he urged me to go on ahead, so I tried to find some other riders to draft. Unfortunately, when the hill is that steep and the speeds that slow, you just don't get much help from having someone in front of you. So I ended up just riding fairly hard, and not worrying about what anyone else was doing. I just wanted to make it to the top without stopping, and I was able to do that.

At the summit, I chatted with a few other riders who were also taking a break, and learned that some of them were not only doing the "Double Triple" (ie, riding the same route AGAIN the next day), but were also intending to ride back down to the Loveland aid station so they could do the climb again. Yes, that does sound extreme (and stupid)...but since I regularly hang out with people who run 100 miles at a time, or swim more than 20, well, I can pretty much just accept it when people tell me stuff like that. More power to ya, dude -- say "hey" when you pass me for the second time, OK?

Anyway, when Kim rejoined me a few minutes later, we decided it would be worth it to wait in line for the obligatory "Summit Sign" photograph. We took our turns snapping shutters on other peoples' cameras so that they would do ours. OK, so it's not Ansel Adams, but I'm pretty proud of that picture.

As you can tell, I had already put on my long sleeves for the descent. Kim was hot from the climb and thought he wouldn't need the extra wind protection...but we only made one switchback before he changed his mind. We pulled over so he could shirt up, and I took that opportunity to also add my calf compression sleeves. My legs were feeling fine, but I figured that the fabric would help cut the wind, and the compression might help me get through the tough climbs to come.

After the long and fast descent, we climbed over Swan Mountain, refilled out bellies and bottles at the Summit High aid station, and then eventually made our way onto the bike path that follows I-70 from Dillon to Copper Mountain. It's reasonably flat (at least compared to the other parts of this ride), and reasonably scenic. Unfortunately, it was around this time that Kim realized exactly how much the previous week's flu had taken out of him. As much as I wanted to see him stick with it to the finish, it became obvious that it just wouldn't be healthy for him to continue past Copper. Fortunately, he was able to make contact with his son Nick, who would pick him up once he got into town. He gave me a short inspirational speech and urged me onward; I told him I'd meet him at the finish line, and then I was on my own.

Vail Pass was the easiest of the passes -- in terms of pure climbing. But since it came after so many hours of cranking and pushing, it seemed like it was still a pretty tough challenge. The low point for me was when a guy on a mountain bike with a baby trailer attached went around me. I think I actually said "Aw, Come ON!" since it's just not nice to humiliate a fellow like that. But I knew I was getting tired, so I just accepted my comeuppance, and kept the pedals turning.

(Hey, it wasn't as bad as I had thought. I ended up passing him back a short time later, and totally left him in the dust when it got steeper. Bwaahhh haaa haa ha!)

The crowds were thinner at the aid station atop Vail Pass, but I have never been happier to see sliced watermelon. I just wanted liquid-ish fuels at that point, and slurped down a few slices without giving a thought to my normal table manners. After a quick visit to the outhouse, it was back onto the bike for the last leg.

There were about 15 miles of screamin' downhills, most of which was on an isolated road where you could let gravity do its thing with abandon. I had a great time on this section -- I was smokin'! This is where I learned that my bike seems to coast downhill faster than most of the others on the course. Someone who obviously doesn't understand the laws of physics has since suggested that it was my excess weight that contributed to this speed, but I flatly reject that theory. It's a matter of good bearing grease and streamlined wheels, that's all.

Then came the final 10 miles or so of relatively flat section on the pathways from Vail into Avon. At this point, I just wanted to be done. The good news is that I was able to latch onto a couple of pelotons and was therefore traveling much faster than I could've gone by myself. The bad news is that every time we went around a curve or up a hill, I'd fall off the back and would have to wait for the next group of pack riders to go by so I could catch a draft. I probably did this with four or five different groups.

And suddenly, there was the finish line!

Kim was there to take photos and help me figure out what to do next. (By then, my brain was pretty muddy and I was happy to have someone just point to where I should go, and tell me what to do.) His wife and son were there, too, and they had already eaten dinner -- so I grabbed a quick plate of goodies and snarfed it down. I had a veggie burger with more mustard than would fit on the bun, and it was delicious! I could've used some ice cream (and maybe a beer), but the lemonade tasted pretty darn sweet and refreshing.

About the time I was swallowing the last of the burger, the rain started. We made it back to the truck (and yes, I was walking funny at that point...why do you ask?) before the downpour started, but ended up driving through torrential rain for a good part of the trip back to Denver. I felt so sorry for the bikers who were still out on the course -- we could see some of them as we drove, and they looked absolutely miserable. So I guess the one piece of advice I'd give folks who are considering this ride is "Leave early and ride hard". Of course, in some years, the rain starts earlier and you'd still get soaked even if you did follow my advice. But still...

Will I do it again next year? Well, Kim will be back and eager to finish it, and Reynold will sign up as well. So I couldn't very well say "no", could I?

But that's a year away. In the meantime, I think I'll stay off the bike seat for a little while. So, I'll probably see you at the pool, or maybe at the track. In any case, thanks for supporting me...and thanks in advance for helping me train next year! Have a great day!