| The Terrible Two 2003 |
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Sometimes nothing, is a cool hand Now, weeks after having completed the 2003 Terrible Two, I have finally been able to look back and reflect on the events of June 28th, 2003. Just as my body needed to recover from this endurance event of epic dimensions, so too did my mind need time to recover and allow me the ability to reflect on the goals and accomplishments of the ride. Without a doubt every cyclist who crosses the finish line of an endurance event of the magnitude of the Terrible Two is left with nothing. Nothing is left as a result of having expended all physical energy, emotional fortitude, and mental toughness to complete a journey that encompasses 200 miles, 16,000 feet of climbing, and climate extremes in excess of 100 degrees. Just as a detective wishes to leave no stone unturned in the investigation of a crime, a cyclist wishes to leave every once of energy, every thread of emotion, and every strand of mental toughness on the road. Nothing, a complete and fulfilling nothing is what a cyclist hopes to have at the finish line. It is from this state of nothingness that the joy of success or the pain of failure is fully experienced. It is this idea of having nothing left at the end of a ride that caused me to have reservation about joining Hooshang Mehranpour and Ed Keller for the 2003 version of the Terrible Two. The allure of participating in one of the most difficult endurance events in the Western United States and Hooshang's unparalleled sales ability convinced me to join in on this adventure. Ed and Hooshang had set a goal for completing the 200 miles in 13 hours or less and thus joining an elite group of 202 riders who have done so in the last 27 years. Again with some coercing by Hooshang, I agreed to be a part of this bold endeavor. I must admit it was easy to make the commitment during a winter weekend with rain pouring down, but oh how fast the months fly by. The temperature in Sacramento was projected to crest 100 degrees on Friday as we left for Santa Rosa, the host city for the Terrible Two. Santa Rosa's temperature was projected to mirror that of Sacramento. We arrived at Lake Spring Park to find golden bone dry grass standing waist high all around the perimeter of our camp site. It appeared as if the mere sight of a match would send the entire campgrounds into flames. The high temperature and dry surroundings did not bode well for Saturday's ride. None of us dared mention the weather, it was understood that this was going to be a hot Terrible Two. Saturday morning found us trembling, but not necessarily from the excitement of the pending mass start, but from a chill in the morning air. Some optimists among us even choose to carry arm warmers. A glance up at the sky revealed stars in abundance sparkling down on us with the promise of an unimpeded sky from which the sun could rise and dominate from above. The energy generated by the excitement of a mass start at 530 a.m. combined with the cool temperatures provided the spring board from which the riders sped through Santa Rosa to the very first climb of the day up Trinity Grade. The failure to complete the Terrible Two has been traced to this initial portion of the ride, where riders expend more energy then is prudent and are left devastated later in the ride. Trinity Grade, forgive me if I rush to your summit without concern for what the rest of the day has to offer. Forgive me if I do not indulge and partake of the expansive views you provide me, for I have only one goal to crest your summit. I do not underestimate you, but the day is young and my legs are fresh. Having crested the summit of the first major climb of the day, riders drop down a treacherous descent into the Napa Valley and speed toward the first rest stop of the day just outside of Calistoga. Once again discounting the difficulty of the ride ahead and driven by the excitement of the moment riders allow themselves only brief moments to refuel. The second major climb of the day beckons, the Geysers are covered in a coat of golden brown grass and scrub brush and loom above the fertile Napa Valley. Riders climb up the first of two summits that constitute the Geysers leaving behind the green vineyards of the Napa Valley and spilling down onto Sulfur Creek Canyon which in contrast is a dry and desolate geothermal area of rock and sand. It is here that the sun opened up its doors to reveal the furnace that would be our nemesis for the better part of this day. Geysers, I am being tested, my pace has slowed, gone is the excitement of the morning. Your peaks are delivering me to the power of the afternoon sun. You provide no illusions only the reality of what is to come. The full potential of the sun's power revealed itself after lunch along the barren pavement of Skaggs Springs Road. Here on this road built by the Army Corps of Engineers in 1981 riders are treated to mile after mile of climbing exposed to the baking sun. Unfortunately for many riders this was the end of their ride, succumbing to the heat and muscle cramps many were forced to concede to unforgiving heat. Each rider who was forced to concede to the rigors of this difficult ride had tested the limits of their endurance. Now, all that was left was time to marvel at what they had done and what the riders still on the road were doing. Skaggs Springs Road, how brutal you are. The sun beats down upon you and radiates off your surface onto my sweat drenched body. You have taken your toll, rider after rider has been forced to quit this day. Those that survived the furnace like heat along Skaggs Springs Road were further taxed by a monstrous climb up a 1.7 mile narrow section of road just past Camp Gualala referred to by local cyclist as the wall. Riders push themselves past the pain of this climb with the knowledge that the rejuvenating spirit of the ocean at Stewarts Point is now within reach. Normally there can be no more thrilling site then the view afforded riders as they crest the last hill before Stewarts Point. A magnificent combination of sight, sound and smell greets the rider as a surging ocean comes into view. This year however, the view of the ocean was obscured by a fog bank that hugged the coastline from Stewarts Point to Fort Ross. Having survived the extreme heat of the inland coast, riders were now subjected to the cold of a fog bank which refused to relinquish its hold on the coast. The atmosphere was subdued at the Fort Ross rest stop located at the base of the last major climb of the day. Having done this ride on two other occasions I can't remember a more somber mood at this stop. The rest area at the base of Fort Ross Road affords all who dare an intimidating view of the narrow road that winds into the forested mountain above. The sight of fellow cyclists toiling up the 2.6 miles of narrow pavement with an average gradient of 11% is at once awe inspiring and demoralizing in the knowledge that there is only one way to the finish and that is up. Fort Ross Road, you are by far the most majestic climb of the day, but no less challenging. Your narrow tree lined path belies the difficulty of your ascent. You are the last obstacle of the day. Give me a moment as I admire you from below. Now, with Trinity Grade, the Geysers, and Fort Ross Road only a recent memory a treacherous descent down Old Cazadero Highway is the next obstacle on the way to the finish. Old Cazadero Highway is lined with numerous oak and pine trees which cast ominous shadows on an already difficult stretch of road that is laced with potholes, ruts, and an assortment of other debris. Along with this gauntlet of road hazards, a final humiliating climb up Black Mountain greets riders about half way down Old Cazadero. It tests the limits of the rider's patience and endurance. The Old Cazaerdo Highway delivers the riders onto the Russian River Road for the final leg of the journey. Now, it is time for riders to dig deep into the mental and physical conditioning developed during the training for this ride. The finish is only a few miles away. Only a few miles from the overwhelming emotion of having nothing left to give, nothing more to sacrifice, nothing more to want from the day. Everything has been given, everything has been done, and all that is left is to allow the body, mind and soul to be replenished by the accomplishments of the day. Nothing now becomes in the words of Cool Hand Luke, a cool hand. Ed Keller and I finished in 13 hours and 20 minutes, short of our goal, but we finished with nothing left and that in the end was the ultimate goal. Hooshang Mehranpour fell victim to Skaggs Springs Road, but joined us at the finish in celebration of a great day.
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