puking is not an option

I've already written on here about my feelings regarding riding in hot weather. I f*cking hate it. I hate it so much, it makes me want to go out and punch random babies in strollers. High temps affect my riding abilities and my mood while others don't seem so bothered by it. I know riders who will go out in 100+ degree weather and climb all the hell over So Cal, later reporting on their heat filled adventures with the kind of gloating I find unsavory. They claim to flourish in soaring temps and look on me with pity as my face turns red and I wheeze while taking hits off my Albuterol (stupid asthma). Yeah, well...I think they are all bastards, quite honestly. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Seriously, I am the fair-skinned, light eyed individual who simply can't take a lethal combo of sun and heat. And today, the day I planned to ride up glorious Mt. Baldy, turned into the kind of hot summer day I never ever ever ever ever want to ride in again. I'll haul my ass out of bed at 4:00am to ride (solo) if that's what it takes. But no more feeling as if my internal organs are sizzling, no more nausea, and simply no more suffering for the sake of...nothing.

Now, do note, I'm the one who planned and invited others for the ride today. It is my fault that I believed the stupid weathermen/women and weather online predictions (highs of 81 degrees on Baldy, my ass!). I take responsibility for how my day of riding panned out. I just think that needs to be said. As for the ride, here goes.




I drove to The Hub and carpooled with Herb to Encanto Park. I was running a tad late, meaning we got to the park at 7:20am. Roll time was 7:30. We were all ready to roll at 7:33 when one of the riders discovered he had a flat. By the time it was changed and we took off, it was closer to 7:50am. It was warm out but not hot, and I was so excited to get up Baldy (I haven't been up it for over a year!). I was also pleased with the group that had showed up - The Lobsters, Andy and a pal, Vic (uber endurance man and super fun to be around), Kurt (another very pleasant man, new to the group) and a whole bunch of Adobo riders including Francis (my favorite), Rosalie (my idol) and Pete (a sweetie). It was a large gathering and judging from the crowd, Herb, Lisa and I would be the caboose (not that there is anything wrong with that).



As we headed out on SGRT toward Hwy 39, I was flying. My legs felt great. I did have a slight headache this morning (I had a little wine last night, but with dinner and counted into my WW points), for which I took one Advil. Other than that, I was on top of the world. In the early morning, coolish air, I felt alive, invigorated and set to climb all 5,800 feet of the beautiful mountain that stood before me like a monument to mother nature in all her glory. I continued to feel this good all the way up Hwy 39, climbing at a speed I've not ridden in awhile (again!). I didn't even push that hard, but caught a rhythm. The weather was holding out at this point, and with a soft haze down over the hills and the lake below the highway, I was certain we'd beat the heat. Foolish girl I am; when will I learn?




As we neared East Fork, the haze began to fade, and the sun's presence grew stronger. The Adobos, including Francis, had easily dropped me (like a badly microwaved potato) on 39, but they had pulled off for a quick break. I might should have followed their example, but still high from my steady climbing thus far, I continued with Herb and Lisa in tow on up East Fork to the cafe there. It was when we stopped that I realized the heat had arrived. I quickly hit the girl's room, drank another 1/2 bottle of water (I was fully hydrated) and added some ice to one of my bottles. I then doused my head handkerchief and sports bra with a little ice water. I knew Little GMR, the steepest and toughest climb of the ride, was just around the corner. I was a little concerned since the sun seemed so much brighter than when we'd turned on East Fork, but I pushed those thoughts from my mind, clipped in, hollered at the Adobos that they'd catch us, and took off, again with Herb and Lisa as well as Vic and Kurt, who'd waited for us (such nice guys!)




As we began that 5 mile climb up Little GMR to GRR, I still felt strong. My legs were holding out. Still, I pulled the speed back and pedaled softer than before. The heat had fully arrived at this point, and it was well over 81 degrees. We rounded a couple of curves, and Kurt mentioned to me that I had one more gear left. I didn't believe him so I checked by tapping my right lever. Then, like a dumbass, I tapped my left (for what reason I just don't know) and knocked the chain up into the middle gear. Drats! I quickly knocked it back down, and my chain came off. I was so pissed (at my own stupidity) and stopped to fix it, urging the others to keep going. It was here, while fixing my chain, that I knew I had a problem. For one thing, my face and neck were really hot. And for another, my heart rate was alarmingly high. Gawddim it! I jumped back on Patsy and took off. I figured it would get cooler as we climbed so I hauled ass to catch first Herb, then Lisa, up the hill.



As I pulled up to Lisa (who does just great in heat and was climbing fine), a cloud covering moved to shade us a tad. There was a nice breeze. Oh, thank goodness, I thought to myself. I was foolish enough to believe this would stay with us, so I took it up a notch. As I climbed a bit ahead of Lisa, I again thought of the mountain ahead and how much I was hopeful for cooler temps once we passed the GMR/GRR intersection. Vic, who'd climbed ahead, had come back down to continue climbing up with us gals. As we rounded another steep curve, we came out from under the cloud coverage and, as if on cue, the breeze stopped, just stopped. I swear, it was as if two large invisible hands wrapped around my neck and squeezed, it was so hot. I could feel the heat rising from the pavement to my cheeks. Suddenly, and without warning, a wave of nausea hit, hard.

I pulled my bike to the side of the road. Herb, who'd caught up, asked me what was wrong ("is it your back?") and got snapped at (sorry, Herbie). I was now taking in deep breaths. I grabbed my water bottle, the one I had put ice in earlier, and took a large swig, realizing too late what a mistake that was - the water was hot! I sat for a second, pondering my situation. Here is where my ego got the better of me. At this very point, I should have said to myself, 'At GMR/GRR, you go back down Big GMR to the car.' Instead, I said aloud, "HTFU, M.E." Seriously, when will I learn?


As I finally struggled up the final section of that climb and came to the ledge where we always take a break, I admitted to myself that it was way too hot for my comfort level. Regardless of how everyone else was coping, for me, the rest of the ride would be misery. I kept shoving these thoughts out of my head, though. After all, this was Baldy, my favorite ride, and my God, it couldn't have been prettier up there than it was today! I could taste the ice cold coke I'd order at the lodge as I sat there in the insufferable heat. I envisioned myself pushing through and climbing to a cooler section of the mountain (yeah, as if that exists on days like today!).

The Adobos were over by the Big GMR gate taking another break. Those are smart riders, those guys. They know that mountain even better than I do (well, duh - Francis is the person who first paced me up it in late 2005!). I should have followed their example and taken a longer break, but the desire to get out of the now stifling heat (and to feel a breeze, any breeze) motivated me to shove a melted Luna Bar down my throat (I was not hungry and didn't want it, which should have been yet another clue that I was overheating) and get back on my bike to continue.






I kept a game face as I rode with Lisa through the first section, up and then downhill for a short stint. I engaged her conversation and really listened to her, trying to ignore the waves of nausea crashing over me. My head now throbbed and my throat tightened. As we began the real climb on GRR, the first bit of bile mixed with regurgitated Luna Bar arrived at the top of my throat. I pulled the speed way back and watched Lisa continue up the mountain without me. Vic and Kurt were just beside me. I smiled at them and watched them go too. Then it was Herb, good ol' true blue riding buddy of mine, and me. Herb will never leave me, just as I won't him. It's a pact certain cyclists make with one another without ever saying a word. Since we took on the CAM challenge, we have designated one another riding partner. You don't leave your riding partner, certainly not when he/she is hurting. So, Herb stayed and we began our snail's climb up Baldy.



As I continued on with the burn of swallowed bile lining my throat, I knew what my options were. I could climb slowly on up to the lodge (assuming I could make it), turn around and admit defeat or puke. Well, puking is not an option, ever, on a ride. Once you puke, your electrolytes will be shot to hell. Given that I now had only one bottle of hot water to drink and over 8 miles to ride to the village, all of it climbing in 90+ degree weather, I realized how dangerous my situation could become. I've overheated on very few rides and only twice have I experienced nausea. There is nothing worse, take my word for it. And heat stroke can kill you very quickly, so I don't take this stuff too lightly.



On top of all of this, Herb was hurting too. He hates Baldy, if truth be known. Mt. Baldy to him is like Big Tujunga Canyon (Big T) for me. He's had more than a couple of bad rides out there, and those memories ride with him every time he attempts to make it to the lodge (which he's only gotten to twice). I've had very bad experiences out on Big T myself and dread that ride (although, like Herb, I will still go out there and go up it). Today, Herb's legs were not with him and he was struggling. He'd already asked me if I'd consider turning around by this point and silently suffered my temper ("NO!"). But as I stood on the side of the road with my head down over my handlebars, swallowing more bile and looking at my sweet friend patiently (and with concern) waiting for me up ahead, I knew I had to choose. We had crawled another mile and a half with me stopping every 100 feet or so. It would take us another hour and a half (or two!) to get up to the lodge at that pace, and it was only getting hotter, not cooler, on that mountain road.

I had the sense God gave a lemon, ignored my ego's nagging insistence and made a decision (the right one). "Herb?!"

"Yeah?" He had his hand on his hip, the way he does when he's fed up with something.

"I'm going back." (translated: "we're going back.")

I could swear I witnessed his entire body relax with relief as he stood in the ridiculous heat. "Yeah, me too."

As we turned around, two riders approached. I asked them if they knew how hot it was. The woman rider looked down at her thermometer. "It's 104 according to this, which means it's in the 90's, and hotter in the sun."

Oh, well, look at that. Here we were standing in the sun. That was all I needed to hear. I barreled back down the section we'd climbed and sludged up the few hills we had to ascend to get back, but by the time I began the long descent down off Big GMR, I was flying, free-fall style, cutting the curves with perfect ease. Herb would later compliment me on my descending today, surprised at exactly how fast I got down off GMR. Like I told him, I have the skills to descend very fast but normally choose not to. I know riders personally who have crashed on GMR (and other mountains) due to speed and not seeing one wayward rock or patch of gravel. I never want to end up sliding down GMR on my backside, if I can help it! But today, I'll admit that I threw caution to the wind, and descended at a very high speed. I wanted a cold coke and a sweet patch of shade to recover in, and all I had between me and that was one long, winding mountain road.


Back at the car, we both hung our heads. Not only were we hot but both doubted our own abilities. Silly, really. I know that had it not been hot today, Herb and I would have climbed that mountain at a very respectable speed (by my standards). I'm still fat, but the six pounds I've dropped are noticeably gone on the climbs, and I had the legs today to carry me up all 5,800 feet of Baldy. As it is, we still ended up with 50.4 miles and 4,400 feet of climbing. Enough, certainly, for most riders, but Herb and I are similar creatures in that we expect more of ourselves. I reassured Herb that he would have gotten to the lodge had I not been the big, fat noose around his neck, dragging him back down the mountain prematurely. Herb just shrugged his shoulders.

"You waited and rode back with me last week when I was hurting. I waited and rode back this week with you." He said this in a way that needed no reply. Yup. That's our agreement, though we've never shook on it, and I have to say, today I'm so glad he kept his end of the bargain. Nothing like having a good friend there to console you when you have to quit Baldy early.