We started very calmly. We rode with Tori until the first real hill, and I spent time riding with Mark (Marco?) who's the Dutch fellow living in Curacao with the Moots with Rohloff 26" version. He even has the S&S couplers, I just didn't notice before.
On the first road climb Pat and I started moving up the field. He was riding strong and took a few pulls. I pulled lightly, my heart felt like it was working hard even when I was just standing around, like I had a few too many glasses of wine the night before or something.
On the first climb we split up - I didn't know if he was ahead or behind, but turns out he was behind. Once we got into the mud, he came flying by like he meant serious business, grunting and saying "lodo". That was probably the three hour mark, I never saw him again.
It was slightly overcast, and not as wet as we would have imagined. At check stop 1 I had drank half a camel back and one bottle, so I refilled. Between checkstop one and two, I ran out of water (2L camelback + 750 bottle). I was trying to pace and eat smart, and felt pretty good up until the 5 hour mark.
At about 5 hours, purgatory set in. I knew this year I'd be facing the truth test without much backup, as I'd been training little and eating too much. I was willing to pay the price for that, although I underestimated how bad that would end up feeling. I'm used to riding to the limits of my legs or lungs. The next step is riding to the limits of your mind, where you coax yourself onward by rational logic. I spent much of today beyond that in the "soul" stage where it's something much more gutteral that keeps you moving onward. The part I wasn't ready for was that I didn't get a single revolution out of my granny ring today. It was fine for the last couple of days of pre-riding, but today it was a chain suck machine. So not only am I undertrained and overweight, going into a day of the most climbing one can possibly do on a mountain bike, but now I'm forced to middle ring it.
The jungle hike a bike was challenging, a few spots where the mud fully packed up even my skinny 1.8" tire. Lots of "skiing" downhill where wheel traction was non existent and it was more just general direction. Once we got to the hike-a-bike hills, I started cramping, and simultaneously came up on Craig, who was feeling empty (vast understatement) from his recent food poisoning. We were within sight of each other for a few minutes, but my cramping and lack of granny gear had me going backwards fast. The heat, running out of water, and overgearing was ruining my legs.
Once we exited the jungle, I coasted luxuriously down the gravel roads on my full suspension... but the glory was short lived. After crossing a bridge at the bottom of the river, it's a steep gravel climb up toward check stop 3. Lots of people were lining the climb, and part way up with their cheering I made up my mind that I was going to ride it no matter what (maybe about Cochrane hill sized). It was a plan of short term pride with longer term consequences. I bonked so hard at the top I sat in the bushes in the shade and tried not to lose my marbles completely. Eventually it dawned on me that the day's biggest climb was only about 2km away, and sitting here wasn't doing much in the way of moving me toward the finish.
I rolled onward and found a surprise at check stop 3. Craig had waited and snacked so we could ride together for a while. We traded stories of suffering as we progressed slowly up the giant road climb. I was slowly wearing into my thin reserves, and promised myself I wouldn't stop forward momentum until I got to theck stop 4 at the top. If I needed to stop there I would. We passed a tico I recognized from every other year dry heaving at the side of the road 2/3 of the way up. With my brush with feeling ill yesterday, Craig's full bout, and mine last week, it was hard to watch.
Eventually Craig stomped on the pedals and took off, meanwhile I was fending off another bonk, as my caloric output on the hill was probably 5% higher than my digestive tract's absorption rate, and I hadn't really caught up at the earlier checkpoint. My mind was in spiritual la la land. I kept remembering really wierd things, and also that Tori reminded me to always think back to where she might be on the course too. A tico supporter gave me some dulces (sweets/cookies) which helped propel me to the top.
After what seemed like forever, check point 4 was in sight. The girl gave me a bottle of water and I put a Nuun's in. I felt like I wasn't digesting all the sugars I was ingesting. I drank the entire 750ml bottle in 30 seconds, then laid on my back and briefly nodded off.
Two things happened that woke me in a hurry. The town church bell started ringing 12 noon, and a Costa Rican cowboy came galloping up the gravel road off to the side on a horse. Being in a brief restless sleep, my mind put the bells and the hooves into the image of the grim reaper riding a black horse coming for me. Bonking minds are funny things. I got up, grabbed a pocket full of hot mini potatoes, and started riding to finish off the remaining tip of the climb.
The downhill is blazing fast. First pavement, then gravel, then ultra steep concrete switchbacks. I was riding behind a kid who'll be known as Juan Nutbrown, as he's young, smaller, and runs soft setup tubeless so he can descend like a total animal. On the high speed straight gravel I couldn't keep up to him. I was about 15m behind when I see two dogs run out from the side of the road right in front of him. I thought I was going to witness him ending up in half a dozen different pieces, as we were moving pretty much at terminal velocity.
His reflexes had him wheelie, and he ran over and maimed the second dog. It pulled itself off the road quickly with its front paws as its rear legs were immobile. It started jerking funny in the ditch. He slowed down and his eyes were as big as saucers... turns out he is number 88, Chinese good luck.
The final climb firmly did me in. I had no legs, no energy left, wasn't digesting what was in me and was just getting bloated in the heat. I had to stop and ask some ticos for some water and I sat down to collect my wits. Eventually I was able to ride/hike the remainder and made it the last 5km (which I'd been hearing for the last 15km from people on the sides).
At the finish I went and laid down on a lawnchair in the rain for 5 minutes before doing anything else. I got crushed by this thing again. I spent about 4.5 out of my 9.5 hours out there in the bonk-mystic land. My legs are thrashed from overgearing for 12,000 feet of climbing or whatever that crazy number is. Once I got my proverbial shit together, I walked down to drop my bike off at the mechanics. Saw a dude in an ambulance but I didn't have the stomach to view that kind of thing at that point.
On the way back up from the mechanic tent, Gerry's girlfriend Sylvia asked me to take Pat's bag up to the bag tent. I asked why, and she pointed to the same ambulance. Pat was convulsing away uncontrolably, and Trish was there with her eyes wide in disbelief. They couldn't get an IV into him, plus his bood sugar was super low on whatever scale that's measured on. It hurt to look at, especially since I was feeling weak, and I've seen so much succumbing amongst the strong these last few days. I took the bag away, tried to take in Sylvia's instructions of giving other items to our crew as they finish, and can only hope it works out in short order. It's been a tough trip so far for Pat and Trish.
Andy looked fresh at the finish and had a super ride, as did his brother Matt. Gerry and Steve survived. Craig did well given his empty tank and recent illness to work with. SuperTori came in sounding chipper, in the same rough time as last year, despite the course running about an hour longer and bending her derailleur hangar/getting her derailleur replaced by the ever helpful Tim (who unfortunately was having hip issues and stopped at checkpoint one, where he helped Tori).
The most common thing I heard at the finish line was "that was the hardest day I've ever had on a bike" (or just the hardest day period). On climb after climb I felt like a rock falling through the ocean - I'd hit bottom eventually, just didn't know when it would be.
It's raining outside our hotel in San Jose and we'll be up at 5 for day 2. This features the steepest road climbs I've ever seen. If I don't have a working granny gear I'm in big trouble. One way to understand how hard the stage's climbing is is to note that the first check stop and aid station is 8.4km into the day.
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