Author: leannah

I remember waking up in the middle of the night with legs so sore I didn’t know if I’d be able to go out the next day but it was somewhat better in the morning. I got up a bit early and did a LOT of stretches. Left Lakeside Park at 8am. Sore starting out. My ride buddy (a friend from work) is much more athletic (and a faster rider) than me but she was so sweet and waited for me at each rest stop before lunch (3 stops between Nelson and Kaslo).

After the stop in Ainsworth I started dreading the hill after the Woodbury Marina – it’s steep and the sun would make it extra terrible. But then I started thinking about 49 Creek hill – about the advice to just put my head down and go. And I remember gearing right down and putting my head down so my eyes were focused on a spot just ahead of my front tire. And I just kept pedaling, slow and steady.

I made it to the top. I have never in practice runs made it up without stopping! I was panting and grinning like a fool by the time I started coasting down the other side, almost crying with pride. I rode another 15 mins before stopping to check my BG. (I don’t remember the number but I remember it was still in good range). I remember the medics drove by then and I gave them the thumbs up and they waved.

Made it to Kaslo for lunch at about 12:10. The rules are you have to be leaving Kaslo by 1pm or they scoop you up and transport you to the Fish Lake rest stop (30km up the hill from Kaslo, last rest stop before the finish line). No one had to tell me to hurry, I was shoveling food in within 10mins. One of the medics checked in on me while I was eating- was I ok? Staying hydrated? Yes! and Yes! I left the lunch stop at 12:40 and pushed up the steep hill out of Kaslo – head down, slow and steady.

There is a nice, seemingly gentle incline between Kaslo and Fish Lake (the summit of the mountain). It’s 30 km. It’s mostly hell. The first rest stop after Kaslo is about 15 km up. And I was tired at this point. All the scenery the whole 30 km was gorgeous but I was getting fucking tired. And I remember this section of the ride was where I felt the most like quitting. Because it felt like it went on forever. Fish Lake was never around the next bend (like I kept telling myself).

I stopped about 4 times in that next 15 km to eat and hydrate. One of them I thought for sure I was feeling a low BG  but when I checked it was 6.8 – I was just exhausted. That was right around Whitewater Creek and the climb got a little steeper and I was really ready to just sit down on the side of the road and quit. I kept watching for a break in the trees up ahead, trying to guess which place would be wide enough that the little lake would be there.

Then there was a sign on the side of the road, marking a rest stop coming up. Suddenly I was there and there was a wonderful volunteer offering to put ice on my neck (Yes! oh god, please!!) and my head. I could smile again.

I ate again there and tried not to panic because my own extra supplies were done except for the 2/3 bottle of sport drink. I ate as much as I could and tried not to overthink – most of the next (and last!) 20 km were downhill so I should be ok.

That 20 km (with a little climb near Sandon) was amazing! Now I would say worth the endless 30 km up. At one point my speedometer clocked 60 km/hr! One of the stronger riders who had been lounging at Fish Lake ‘caught up’ with me and we coasted into New Denver together.

I yelled out for another hug at the finish line and got it with lots of cheers from other riders and volunteers. I didn’t check my BG right away but downed a chocolate milk (the best I have ever drank, by the way) and went and sat in the lake for 5 mins as it was 4pm and about a thousand (30) degrees out.

I remember being euphoric and in total disbelief and so full of pride. I ate and wandered around for an hour before packing up to head home. I cried on the drive home – joyfully- and I remember being completely blissed out that evening. I don’t think I have ever felt that way before. And even now, I am craving it, and I am mourning a bit, that all of it is over.