The Dempsey Challenge 2011: Walking, Cycling, Patrick Dempsey, and some other random junk.
I debated a long while about how to write up my experiences this weekend. Last year, I skipped over a lot of the things and mostly wrote about PD, but when I went that time, the whole trek was a lot more about getting a chance to see PD and to meet some awesome new friends than it was about doing the 10k walk. Also, I knew most people who read my LJ at the time were primarily interested in PD scoopage and not much else to do with the event or anything to do with me.
This year, everything is all flipped around. I went to kick ass on my bike, and I went to see my friends, and somewhere behind all that, there was a little part of me that declared PD as icing on the already awesome cake. I also know that the people who still bother to follow my LJ at this point are likely to be good personal friends or longtime readers who might care a little bit more about the rest of it, too. So, I've opted to write about everything from start to finish, anything and everything I can think of.
I hope there will be something for everyone who takes a peek.
I flew out to Boston on Thursday afternoon and arrived late evening, where I met up with HBR. Cat picked HBR and I up from our hotel in Boston at about 11:00 AM on Friday morning. We made tracks for Maine instead of stopping for lunch, because I wanted to be pick up my bike before close of business and make sure everything was all right with it. When we arrived in Lewiston, we stopped at the hotel first to check in and drop off our luggage. I changed into my cycling gear, and we went to the bike store where I'd had my bike shipped from San Diego. I picked up my bike without a hitch, they refitted the bike for me, and everything seemed to be in perfect working order.
The manager of the store, as he took my credit card, said, “It's too bad you weren't here a few minutes ago.”
I asked why.
He said, “Well, Patrick Dempsey was just here getting his bike checked. He hung around for thirty minutes or so. Great guy. Down to earth and super friendly. We love him around here.”
I blinked. I glanced around. The store was empty except for me, Cat, HBR, and the store employees. It would have been an amazing opportunity for me to thank him, when he wasn't mobbed by the crowds that usually follow him. I have wanted to sincerely thank him for this amazing event since last year, but particularly in the last six months. Let me back up a little to explain.
The Dempsey Challenge has made an amazing difference in my life, because it has encouraged me to take charge of my health and fight to improve it. For those of you who don't know, I'm diabetic, among several other things that I don't care to disclose. Last year, when I was at the Dempsey Challenge, I had trouble completing the 10k walk because I'd gotten so out of shape. I was overweight, and, at the time, my diabetes was undiagnosed.
The Dempsey Challenge is broken into two sections. The walk and the cycling course, which occur on different days. The day after the walk, we leaned against the railing at the finish line and watched for hours. Cyclist after cyclist zipped past. Hundreds of them. For hours. The infectious exhilaration as bystanders cheered and clapped for the people riding across the finish line hit a resonant chord with me. I knew from our driving around to see PD as he rode the course that the scenery on such a ride was likely to be incredible, too. The weather was gorgeous that weekend, and the general energy of the whole event was a great mood elevator.
So, I leaned over and told Cat, who was watching the cyclists with me, “I'm going to do that next year.”
She asked me for specifics.
I said, “I want to do the 50 mile course. That seems like a reasonable goal. Challenging but not impossible.”
She nodded and encouraged me to go for it.
At that point, I didn't even own a bike.
When I got home from the Challenge, within a week, I'd gone out and bought a bike, much to the pleasure of the bike shop across the street from me and to the woe of my pocketbook, and started training. I could barely ride five miles to start with, but I kept plugging at it.
Later that month, I was diagnosed with diabetes by my doctor. This was the latest result in a cascade of serious problems all caused by a root chronic health problem. Being healthy is something you tend to take for granted until you haven't been healthy, and then it becomes precious. The repeated knocks made me start to think the world hated me. I didn't know what to do or how this had happened to me. I felt lost and alone. I was mad and jealous that I couldn't be normal like everybody else. I was depressed to the point that I thought more than once about killing myself. I imagine that might be similar to how one might feel when diagnosed with cancer. I don't know for sure. But I like to think since 2010, I've developed a certain empathy I didn't have before.
After my diagnosis, I started losing weight because I was so terrified of spiking my blood sugar that I started not eating at all. It was a pretty dark time that I eventually crawled out of because I kept cycling, and I fixed my diet over time by cutting portion sizes. As the weight came off, my diabetes drastically improved, to the point that, now, with medication and by staying active on my bike, I can eat what I want without worrying too much about it. Coincidentally, the weight loss also indirectly helped with the root problem that had caused the diabetes in the first place. My mood bounced back. I was thin again, and happier due to my better fitness and improving health.
I figured out the world wasn't ending.
I kept cycling.
By May, I decided I was ready to participate in my first cycling event, the San Diego Century. I signed up for the modest 37 mile course, and was nervous about it, but I made it through. I was thrilled at the end. I continued participating in modest, local events, like Bike the Bay, a 30ish mile course that took cyclists over the Coronado Bridge and around the San Diego Bay. I kept cycling on the weekends. I began to commute every once in a while on my bike to help with my training as well.
Fast forwarding again.
With all of that behind me, I really, really wanted to thank Patrick for organizing something that gave me such a thorough, resounding kick in the ass to get moving in the first place. The results of that kick in the ass got me through a very dark time in my life, and I will always be grateful. He's made a huge difference in my life, and I wanted him to know what he's inadvertently done to inspire me to change my own life. I mean it. I'm crying a little as I type this because it means so much to me.
After finding out I had missed the perfect opportunity to say what I wanted to say, I was inwardly crushed, because I knew from last year there wouldn't be much opportunity at the Challenge. Cat, HBR, and I made jokes about missing him, and we whined like adolescents in the car, but I was seriously kicking myself about the bad timing internally. While PD is very present at the Challenge, he is not that accessible, and hundreds of other people want to see him, too. With luck and some persistence, you can get an autograph or a quick photo, but I've been told that if you want to exchange real words with him, the best place to catch him as at an autograph signing at a racetrack. I definitely don't recommend the Dempsey Challenge for face time.
Going into this whole thing, I thought getting a photograph taken with him would be nice, eventually, if the opportunity presented itself, but that task wasn't huge on my list. I didn't want an autograph because I already had one, thanks entirely to HBR, who got our picture standing by the 2010 Dempsey Challenge archway signed by him when he was in the vicinity (Birmingham?) for a race. I cherish that autograph because of all the meaning behind the photograph, and the fact that he signed that specific photo, but I've never been a huge autograph person in general. When I get things signed, if I even get anything signed, it's a rush for a minute, and then I don't even know what to do with it. Yay, a signature. What now? I know, I'm probably weird, otherwise there would be less people mobbing PD to get his John Hancock :)
Anyway. Suffice it to say, pictures and autographs weren't really my goal for the weekend. What I did want, though, was to thank him if I ran into him for some strange reason, because he deserves to be thanked for this.
After that bad stroke of luck at the bike shop, we went out for a late lunch. We picked up our registration packets for the Challenge and got all our fund raising swag. I got an LL Bean vest, a 2011 Dempsey Challenge bike jersey, a shirt, and some other goodies. I wish I could have worn that 2011 jersey for the 50 miles, because it fit perfectly. Unfortunately, because I didn't raise my funds by the drop dead date on incentives, they will mail me mine, and I'll get it in about six weeks. So, next year, I'll be wearing it, I hope!
Eventually, we ended up in Gritty's, the local pub, which was mobbed, to meet Shannon Gilmartin and the other Buddha Rubbers. The Buddha Rubbers are the team we joined for fund raising this year, and we got to meet Shannon and Dee and some of the others. They are all very nice people, and they're doing a great thing by supporting the Dempsey Center, so please support them next year in 2012 when they're asking for donations!
As the night progressed, I had quite a few very good amaretto sours and got good and tipsy. After my third, we went back to the hotel, and we watched the episode of Grey's from the day before. We all loved it, though that might have been because of the libations :D
Overall, it was a good night.
In the morning, we headed to the Challenge starting line to do the 10k. We knew from last year where PD would be when he arrived, and which way he would walk to get to the stage, and where the best spot was to stand. We placed ourselves accordingly and watched from there. He proved predictable, and our view was indeed perfect. He wasn't late this year. Instead, he got there early and was there well before the event start to talk to the press and other things.
He didn't speak very long this year, but what he did say was, as usual, pretty funny when he got a chance to crack a joke. I think he didn't speak much because everything was running on time this year, and they didn't need him to fill dead time. Oh, and we spotted his daughter in the back on the left of the stage. There was a pretty adorable moment where he walked down to give her a bear hug. She is a real cutie, moreso in the flesh than in the few pictures I've seen.
The walk launched. I think they listened to my survey response about how unsafe having PD walk around in the crowd was last year, because he didn't go anywhere past the fence, and during the walk launch, he stayed away from the fence entirely. Good job, organizers and PD. That was smart.
I was in a lot better shape this year, and we didn't have any difficulty finishing the 10k, though I did get some pretty painful blisters because I hadn't broken in my shoes well enough, I guess. The route was slightly different. I think last year it went through the residential areas of Lewiston, primarily, and this time, we were on the Auburn side of the river. We walked along the river for a large portion of the walk. I think it was prettier in places, but more monotonous. The route was also flatter.
We finished in about 1:45 hours. We made it back in time to see PD do the survivor walk and speak quickly on the stage before departing, presumably to go do the private bike ride and the Hope dinner and the other stuff on the schedule that we were not privy to because we hadn't raised enough money. The quick “thank you” stage time after the survivor walk was a new feature this year. Also, they had the survivor walk go across the bridge instead of having everybody take a lap around the muddy park. Big improvement over last year. I approve of both changes.
Frankly, I don't remember much about Saturday night because I was getting really nervous about my upcoming ride. We went to dinner at a steak house, and I got cheese fries and an alcoholic lemonade for dinner because I really did want some alcohol at that point. I tried to go to bed early, but that mostly resulted in me staring at the ceiling for hours, which leads me into Saturday.
The morning started at about 4:00 AM for me. I was originally going to try and sleep until 5:00, but woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so I opted to start getting ready. Though Maine was due for some awesome weather (up to 80 degrees!) that afternoon, in the pitch black early morning, the thermostat still hovered at around 45 degrees, which, while it's not super cold standing around in when you have a coat, it's freezing when you're riding a bike in cycling gear designed to “breathe” and the wind is hitting you dead on. So, I loaded up on most of the layered cold weather gear I brought for the ride, which included leg warmers, arm warmers, toe warmers, ear warmers, a base layer for underneath my bike jersey, long-fingered gloves, and a wind shell.
To Maine, I took with me my 2010 Dempsey Challenge bike jersey, which I got for free because of my fund raising totals last year (thank you, everyone!), and the robin egg blue jersey I normally wear, and was wearing when I took my massive concussion spill last week. Cat and HBR told me I looked pretty sleek in the Dempsey Challenge one, but that it was a bit tight around my chest, and I should go for comfort. Plus, the robin egg blue was easier for them to spot, whereas the Dempsey Challenge jersey would be one of hundreds in the crowd. So, at their behest and encouragement, I opted for my beat up blue jersey.
At this point, my foot blisters were pretty uncomfortable. They were luckily not an issue in my bike shoes while pedaling after I loaded up on band-aids, but walking sucked. Cat told me that given my recent concussion, and given my foot pain, that there would be no shame in reducing my ride plan from the 50 mile to the 25 mile, but I refused. My goal was 50. I decided I would rather break down and be unable to finish the 50 than to not try it at all. I was in it to win it, so to speak, and I wouldn't back down.
After I loaded up on carbs (I had spaghetti for breakfast), I hopped on my bike and followed Cat and HBR, who drove in front of me in the car, to the Dempsey Challenge starting line. My main thoughts during this short ride were, “Holy SHIT, it's COLD!!!” Keep in mind I'm slowly becoming a warm-blooded San Diegan. After the two mile ride from the hotel, I'd luckily heated up enough to strip some layers, though, so I handed off my arm warmers and my ear warmers to Cat, who graciously accepted every piece of sweaty clothing I dumped on her over the next 50 miles :) Thank you, Cat!
Before parting ways, Cat and I discussed how I would keep her and HBR updated on my progress. We settled on Twitter because it's very easy for me to update from my phone. I told her, at the very least, I'd update with mile markers every time I stopped. She told me she and HBR would try to catch up with me at one of the rest stops.
That all settled, I lined up beside about four thousand other cyclists, according to the announcers, and Cat and HBR went off to watch the stage for PD and to watch the kickoff. Here is a picture of my view from the 50 mile start line. In front of me were the 70 and 100 milers, which actually comprised the smallest number of cyclists from the look of it, and behind me were the rest of the 50s, the 25s, and the 10s, which seemed to be the majority. The whole pack of them went back and around the corner behind me out of view.
I couldn't see the stage from the 50 mile staging area, so I'm not certain when PD arrived or went on stage, but he spoke a few words of encouragement about five minutes pre-start. He sounded chipper and ready to go, which was a strong contrast to last year, when he sounded sick and stuffy and suffering general malaise (though he made a credible attempt to cover it). I noticed this year that his sister Mary did not get up to urge people to leave him alone while he got ready to get going, so I guess this wasn't much of a problem this year. I assume he took his spot at the front of the pack for the photo op and took off when the century riders (100 milers) started, since that's what he did last year.
So, they started the century riders and asked all the 70s and 50s to move up. At this point, I had a minor crisis when I tried to pedal forward and noticed my chain had popped off my back chain ring. When this happens, it basically means the pedals will spin and spin but none of that force gets applied to the wheels, since the chain just spins across nothing but air. All I had to do was say, “My chain is off!” and I had about five different fellow cyclists converge on me to help me fix it. We got me under way again in about sixty seconds, and with plenty of time before the 50 mile group started. I don't know who the people who helped me were, but thank you very much if you're reading this!
Cyclists, I've noticed, are a pretty awesome bunch in general. Unless I am obviously sipping from a water bottle or snacking on something, if I pull over to the side of the road, I've noticed anybody who passes usually slows down and asks me if I'm okay or need help. This is the case in San Diego as well as Maine, so I assume now that it's a cyclist thing and has nothing to do with San Diego's laid back locale. People who don't even know you will stop and help you deal with the greasy work of fixing a flat, or repairing a chain, or any of the other thousand things that can go wrong when your sport revolves around riding around on a breakable machine.
The 50 mile ride started about 5-10 minutes after the 100 mile ride started. We got the buzzer and started moving forward. I saw Cat and HBR cheering me on from the side near the Dempsey Challenge archway. I smiled, waved to let them know I'd seen them, and continued on my way.
The first three miles of the race were incredibly deceiving because they were all flat and fast. Once the packed crowd of cyclists spread out a bit and I had some room, I tore out at a respectable 22mph pace, and passed a lot more people than people passed me. I recall at least a few people drafting off of me, which made me feel pretty awesome.
Cyclists draft just like race car drivers. There is a substantial effort reduction to be found by finding the sweet spot behind somebody's back wheel. Standard operation in a pelaton is to have constant rotation from front to back in a big circle so that everybody shares the same burden in the long run.
The average novice cyclist pedals at about 12-15mph. My tires are specially reinforced with Kevlar to prevent flats. The heaviness of these tires sacrifices about 3mph of speed for peace of mind, which I consider a worthwhile tradeoff. With this in mind, I expected to maintain about a 13-14 mph pace for this ride.
Then I hit the first hill.
I used to live on the east coast. I know from experience that most people who live on the east coast call hills mountains, and most of the things they call hills are not really that hilly in the grand scheme of what the earth can produce for us. I had heard that the DC course was hilly and challenging, but I wasn't quite sure what to expect, given my east versus west perspective. Back in San Diego, I had trained on the west coast version of a hill, which is long and grueling over minutes and minutes and minutes of climbing, but typically not too steep, so I hoped that would be sufficient.
Anyway, this first hill is when I discovered the people who designed this course suck. I say that in the most loving way. Honestly. Because I'll be back next year for more punishment, hopefully with a bit more preparation for the conditions :)
All of these hills were, in terms of elevation changes, midget hills exactly like I expected to find on the east coast. The problem that I had not expected, however, was how rapidly these minor elevation changes occurred. Those suckers were short, but steep, so they were a bear to get up to the top of, and had very short payoff of sailing down at the end before hitting the next one, to the point that I began to feel sort of like a kicked puppy. I would reach the crest, get ready for the happiness of going downhill, only to look in horror at the next hill so soon after the last one, and think, “Seriously?????” Sometimes, it didn't feel like I went down at all. Just up, flat, up, flat. Ugh.
Back when I was in high school, I played varsity basketball, and I hyper-extended my left knee a few times. It has not worked quite right ever since then. It flares up occasionally when I'm putting a lot of stress on it. Well, climbing hills with grades like this, my knee started to hurt a little, and then a bit more than a little, which threw another annoying wrench into things.
This is where my bike saved me. Bike, I love you. I have a triple chain ring. It's not popular with racers because there are more gears. It adds weight, and shifting becomes more clunky the more gears the bike has. However, the triple chain ring is a beautiful thing for hill climbing and for novices. I'm a novice, and there were lots of freaking hills. Best of both worlds. My bike made up for lack of training on my part and for otherwise crippling knee pain, and I was able to soldier through.
Once I settled into the rhythm of repeated hill-bound punishment, despite all the huffing and puffing, I was able to start enjoying the scenery. Only a few miles out of town, and it was surreal. Lots of open fields, blue skies, quaint farm houses, lakes and rivers, beautiful foliage, and the weather was warming up to perfection. I remember at least one long flat stretch where I was pedaling through solid, brilliant orange because of the fall foliage. I didn't take pictures because I didn't want to ruin my momentum, but at one point I had to stop and adjust my wind shell and ended up taking this photo:
About 9 miles into the ride, I noticed a familiar bend and a hill that, last year, I had thought looked really steep, but after so much cycling the last year, it was barely a blip on my radar in terms of difficulty. The blip came from the locale itself. This was the hill we took a picture of Patrick riding last year. You can see some of my recounting of that in my 2010 Dempsey Challenge LJ post - I think I even used the word ginormous to describe the hill. Oh, the woeful ignorance of my former self ;p
In retrospect, I find the fact that Patrick was panting so hard last year telling, because as I said, this was a pretty baby-sized hill, and it was less than 10 miles from the start. I didn't have any trouble with it, and while I'm in good shape, I'm no crazy athlete. I do think he was pretty sick last year, now, and possibly trying too hard at the same time to keep going at a pace that was too fast for him. Professionals tend to cycle very fast, and he probably wanted to stick with them for photo ops until at least rest stop 1. Also, he has said repeatedly he doesn't have much time to train. I think this example highlights how dedicated to this cause he is, and it amazes me even more, given the difficulty of the course, that he comes out and does what he does, sick or not, trained or not, and is still up for so many hours of schmoozing, smiling, and making jokes during the event and for many hours after. I'm also glad he brought T to this to see what he does and why he does it, because it's amazing.
I thought about stopping on this mini hill to update Twitter, because I figured Cat & HBR would know exactly where I was if I mentioned it, but then I remembered that the first rest stop was somewhere around mile 11, and decided instead to wait until I got there. At this point, my knee was hurting, but I didn't feel too bad, yet. I was just riding more slowly than I had hoped to be going.
Rest stop 1 was a mad house. There were hundreds of people there. I could barely find a place to park my bike. I eventually found a spot against a sapling, and then took a moment to take stock of the scene. There was a huge pack of people standing in a clot in the center of nothing important. I took one look at it, and decided that must be PD jammed in the middle somewhere, hence the crush. I was impressed I'd caught up with him, but at that point, I was more interested in using the bathroom and resting my legs than worrying about him. Since I was there, though, I did try to get a picture of him when the crowd miraculously parted for a moment, but somebody stepped in the way just as my shutter went off, so I didn't get anything. I figured I might try again after I was done in the bathroom if the crowd had cleared a bit, but didn't put much more thought into it, and walked off. By the time I came out, he was gone. I saw on Twitter that Cat and HBR were attempting to get to rest stop 2 to meet with me there. I relaxed for a bit more, swapped in my short-fingered gloves for my long-fingered ones because the long-fingered ones were driving me batty, and then took off.
The distance between rest stop 1 and rest stop 2 was a hellish 18 miles of hills and hills and more hills. Oh, and hills. Did I mention hills? And also, there were hills. Honestly, the whole thing is a bit of a suffering blur. I was unhappy with the rest stop placement by the end of that stretch. This is my singular complaint about the whole event, actually. The hardest, evilest part of the course had the widest space between rest stops, and the easy part later had stops every 8 miles or so. That's silly.
The one bonus to all this, though, was that the ride took me to some pretty places out in the middle of nowhere, primarily through the woods at this point. There's something incredibly personal and exhilarating about being by yourself, surrounded in a cavern of trees, nothing between you and the rest of the world but a little bicycle, and nothing pulling your forward but your own strength of will and a desire to succeed.
I would like to take this opportunity to mention the amazing community support during this event. People gathered on the road sides all over the place and rang cow bells for passing riders, or clapped, or cheered, or set up speakers and boomed music so loud it bounced around for miles. People sat on their lawns in lawn chairs, in their driveways, in their pickup trucks, feet dangling off the lip of the truck bed, really, just everywhere, watching and waving and cheering all the riders. There were downright parties at several intersections out in the country where there wasn't much traffic. I even got a few honks from cars who passed me, and people would stick their hands out the window and give me thumbs up and cheer. Some guy who was mowing his lawn actually had the presence of mind to turn off his massive lawnmower before I passed, so I wouldn't get sprayed with grass bits. He thanked me, too. I high-fived a little girl standing at an intersection as I passed because she had her hand up, and she seemed genuinely tickled that I'd done so. It was incredible seeing so many people out on the streets, grateful for the DC and all that it means for their community, and it makes me want to support the whole thing even more. It made me feel like the funds I raised made a big difference, and it moved me to tears more than once.
I also appreciate the tremendous volunteer and local police support for this event. Any time there was a sharp turn or a road crossing on the course, there was someone standing in the road, spotting for cars, and making sure nobody missed the turn. Any time there was any ambiguity about which way to go, such as when the 25 mile course split from the 50/70/100 loop, and when the 50 split from the 70/100, there was a volunteer shouting directions such as, “25, take a left, everybody else go right!” Every single one of them cheered and clapped and told me I was doing a great job or called out some other encouragements. It was amazing to see such an army of people volunteering their time to make sure my ride went along without a hitch, and to support the DC.
When I hit rest stop 2, I'd completed about 30 miles, and I felt awful. Not hurting other than my knee. Just spent. Kaput. Stop 2 was also a bit of a zoo, but Patrick was not there, and neither were Cat or HBR. I took one look at the traffic problems outside the stop and decided they'd probably given up trying to get there and had either chosen a different stop to meet me, or had gone to see if they could catch Patrick for a photo because they'd spotted him on the route somewhere while trying to get to me.
I ate a banana, refilled my water bottle, and rested for a while. I started stripping layers here, because at this point, my wind shell was soaked and pointless because the weather had warmed to the point that wind chill wasn't a problem. I stripped off my leg warmers, too, but left the toe warmers on because I didn't have a good place to put them. I stuffed my leg warmers in my pockets, and my wind shell, I tied around my waist. After a lot of hemming and hawing and stalling, I rolled out, wondering how the fucking hell I was going to do 20 more freaking miles of this constant climbing crap.
Thankfully, the course designer decided to stop punishing people, and everything flattened out at this point. There were still hills, but fewer and farther between. Much easier to deal with. My knee was thankful, and I finally got off the granny wheel (lingo: the granny wheel is the wimpy gear used almost solely to make pedaling on hills not suck; only triples have this). I managed to pull off about a 15-18mph pace here, despite how shitty I felt, and the shitty feeling slowly dissipated with lack of constant punishment.
When I approached rest stop 3 a few miles later, I wasn't even planning on stopping. I figured I could make it to stop 4 before I had to take another break. Stop 3 was largely empty from my vantage point. Volunteers were milling about, and there were a few cyclists munching on bananas and whatnot. However, there, on the side of the road, I saw HBR and Cat waving at me excitedly. HBR held up a sign on which she'd written, “Way to go!” which made me smile. I pulled over to chat and rest my legs even though I wasn't too tired at that point, since my friends were there, and it wasn't like I was racing or anything.
I wobbled off the bike and got hugs from both of them. I noticed, then, that the sign HBR had been waving was also signed with a rather familiar autograph that I recognized from the 2010 photo she'd gotten signed. I asked how she'd managed that. She launched into an excited explanation. She and Cat had been trying for two hours to find a rest stop at which to meet me. They'd tried to get to stop 2 and gave up due to traffic, eventually settling on stop 3. They'd gotten there about an hour before I arrived, at which point, HBR decided she wanted to make a sign to hold up for me. Stop 3 was near a school, and she somehow managed to wrangle a local teacher into letting her into the building. With permission, she used some of the students' supplies to make the sign. While she was doing this, Cat stood out by the road to make sure I didn't miss that they were at the stop. After HBR finished in the school, she and Cat both stood by the side of the road. Patrick rolled in about twenty minutes before my arrival with a giant entourage of other cyclists. They started taking shifts by the side of the road so one could take Patrick pictures and get the sign signed while the other waited for me and stayed visible. HBR said she'd gotten him to sign the sign and explained they were here to cheer me on. Patrick asked if I'd made it, but she said I hadn't yet, and they were hoping I'd arrive soon. They exchanged some other words, most of which I've forgotten from HBR's excited recollection by this time.
I was amazed by all this. I asked how long ago he'd rolled out.
HBR and Cat looked at me like I was nuts. HBR then said, “He's still here.” Then she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over to the middle of the rest stop, which I hadn't been paying any attention to because I'd thought it was just a few random cyclists milling about, resting.
At which point, I said, “Wait. Wait, what?”
HBR said, not to me, “This is my friend! She's the sign lady!”
I didn't have time to think beyond that, because all the sudden I heard a very familiar voice say, “Hey, you made it! Congratulations!!!” like he was beyond ecstatic for me (and he genuinely appeared to be ecstatic). I got a glimpse of sparkly blue eyes. And then I was being bear hugged by a sweaty Patrick Dempsey. That man is a hugger. Seriously. He uses them like an attack. Just WHAM. You're being hugged, and there's no escape (not that you'd want to)! At this point, I was completely befuddled, because up until about five seconds before, I hadn't even realized he was there. Apparently, he'd stayed at this rest stop so long his massive entourage had given up and left him in relative peace. Without the usual cluster around him, he's camouflaged pretty well, I guess.
HBR gave Patrick the signed sign and asked if she could take a picture of the two of us. He said sure we could, so he grabbed me around the waist and posed beside me. At which point he gently encouraged me to hold the sign on the other end, because I totally wasn't holding it at all. I was still in the, “Uh...” part of the mental process, there. So, I grabbed the sign at the corner and beamed for the camera because that was all I was capable of at that point. Then he told HBR he thought her camera might be in the wrong mode.
She said, “Oh, thanks. It was in video mode! So sorry!”
He said, “No problem.”
HBR took the photo. At this point, I'd finally gotten some of my wits back and thanked him for organizing the DC. I regret that I didn't get to say more, but I'd already taken up a chunk of his time, and I'd barely recovered from complete overload. At least I'd yanked the most important part out of the jumble in my head and said it. On his way out, he pulled HBR aside and told her, “Thanks so much for organizing that.”
I was left gobsmacked, and it took me a few minutes to really catch up all the way.
Seriously, how many people do you know thank you for asking them to sign things? It should be the other way around! He is so sincerely gracious it gets me every time, and I tell you, he's got this autograph and photo thing down pat, given how fast he was at fixing HBR's camera issue and how he assured I was holding the sign so the picture would be good. He even carried a black sharpie around with him in his freaking bike jersey, which surprised me. Most celebrities I know of are BYOP for signings (bring your own pen).
Oh, and random aside, for what all it matters. We settled the height debate once and for all. Helmet to helmet, in the exact same kind of shoes as mine, he is dead even with me, so that makes him 5'10".
Anyway, after Patrick left, I rested for another few minutes, dazed. I'd gone from just hoping I'd get to thank him to having thanked him, having a hugely sentimental autograph and photograph because of all the crap HBR had gone through to get it for me, and because it was on this ride, only fifteen miles from my year long goal, and, well, everything. I wouldn't have gotten to do any of it without HBR and her happy-go-lucky persistence in all things Patrick. Thank you, HBR!
After I'd sufficiently recovered, I handed my wind shell, leg warmers, and toe warmers to Cat, who put them with my other sweaty junk in a bag. I headed out after coordinating with them that I would tweet with 3-5 miles left to go, and telling them that the remaining 15 miles would likely take me about an hour or so. They wanted to be sure to be at the finish line when I was there.
I don't remember the next 7-8 miles very much except everybody who saw me riding probably thought I was high because I was smiling at nothing. All I can say is that the scenery was still quite gorgeous, and the ride was mostly flat. Rest stop 4 was a ghost town. I only stopped to catch my breath a little before heading out. I had a blood sugar problem a few miles later at the "5 miles to go!" sign, where I felt myself starting to crash a bit, so I pulled over immediately and had a snack. I felt better in about 5 minutes and continued.
Those last 5 miles got a bit hilly again, and my “Holy shit, he hugged me!” high had worn off by then. The shitty feeling that had loitered around stop 2 returned with a vengeance. I remember staring at one of the last super steep hills and yelling out loud, “Are you fucking kidding me!?”
At some point, some tiny guy with a $20398420398029385098 bike equipped with racing tires rode past at about 25mph on a freaking hill of horrible hillness. For reference, I was barely pushing 6mph and struggling quite a bit because I was running out of steam and quickly descending into a state of starvation barely held at bay by the Clif bar I'd just eaten. Tiny Guy gave me a thumbs up as he went past and said I was doing great and to keep at it. My suspicion is that he was one of the professional cyclists they had in attendance, possibly Levi, but I couldn't tell you for sure because he was gone so fast. He was like Speedy Gonzales. I was sort of tickled that somebody so high on the cycling totem pole would even bother to encourage me as I struggled up one of those last hills, so that got me smiling all over again.
I was able to finish my ride about... oh... ten minutes later? Maybe fifteen? When I rode in, HBR and Cat were standing there waiting for me, cheering and clapping. The final stretch was exhilarating because so many people were there watching, and it was just like I'd imagined it would be last year. According to HBR and Cat, I finished only about 10 minutes after PD.
I felt pretty good that I'd largely kept up with him, particularly given that he didn't seem to stop to talk with onlookers this year and only took breaks at rest stops. Another difference from last year, according to Cat and HBR, was that he rode all the way to the finish instead of getting pulled off by his sister and his security midway down the end pipe, and he didn't come in with a big fanfare or in a big group. He was just suddenly there. Actually, the sudden thereness of him with no announcement was probably just as effective security as pulling him off his bike early to avoid the crowds. People were so surprised he was there, they didn't have time to collect into a crush.
Supposedly after the ride, pictures were taken of him getting his blood pressure checked in the VIP tent. I know at least one or two riders suffered heat exhaustion on the ride. I hope he finished quickly the way he did and didn't chat too much with onlookers along the course because he wanted to do it that way, and not because he was feeling sick. He stayed a suspiciously long time at rest stop 3, which was what permitted me to get my picture and autograph and say thanks, but I'm hoping his lingering was just him lollygagging for the hell of it. He seemed fine when he hugged me, so here's hoping his ride was as pleasant as mine was, overall.
Yes, I know you're probably thinking I'm twisted at this point for calling this whole ordeal pleasant. But, anyway.
After approximately 4:15 hours of pedal time, I finished the 50 mile course at the Dempsey Challenge, which I am very proud of due to all the hurdles I'd had in the weeks leading up to this event. I threw out my back approximately five weeks prior to the Challenge, which took away one weekend of training and set me back. I also had a major accident the week before the Dempsey Challenge. I hit a bump in the road, flipped over my bike, and hit my head on the pavement so hard that my helmet cracked all the way up the back. I got a concussion and a bruise on my hip the size of a pie plate. I ended up having to go to the ER and get a CT. 7 days after sitting in that ER staring at the bowels of a CT machine, I rode a total of about 55 miles when you add in the fact that I also rode about 2 miles from the hotel to the starting line, and I didn't have to walk up a single hill, hills that seemed to be claiming other riders left and right. The farthest I've ever ridden until that point was the 37 miles last May at the San Diego Century, so that was a big step up for me, even without all the injuries leading up to it.
Despite how tired I was, the entire ride was totally worth it. And, as pleasant and dumbfounding as being bear hugged out of nowhere by Patrick Dempsey was, I would do this event again, PD or no PD. I was that impressed by the organization of the event as a whole, the community support, the scenery on the ride, the challenge it brought to complete it, and the cause it supports.
When I climbed off my bike at the end, I was pretty wobbly and starving. My shins and hamstrings were just about kaput, and my knee was whining at me any time I put weight on it. I hobbled to the bike check station, gave them my bike, looked to see if I could register for next year before I forgot again (couldn't, will do that online ASAP), and then bee-lined for the lobster bake tent to get some chicken and ice cream and other stuff. I'm not much of a lobster person when it's still in the shell, but Cat partook. HBR didn't have a ticket for the bake and couldn't buy one at the gate, so she just sat with us and chatted.
After I'd infused myself with some much needed calories, we went to the car and went back to the hotel so I could take a quick shower and get out of my sweaty, grimy, gross gear. We headed back in time for the closing ceremony, where Patrick thanked everybody and was his usual, funny self for thirty delightful minutes. He said his daughter had ridden the 10 mile course, and that his goal was to get kids more active in the community. He seems to be doing a good job on that goal, based on all the young people I saw riding their bikes on Sunday. He nearly broke into tears a few times thanking everybody and talking about how nice it was to come home, which prompted a cute moment where his mom came up to hug him (instinctive mom thing, I guess). He clearly feels very strongly about this event.
I do, too, at this point, after experiencing the cycling half and seeing how much the community supports it. Last year, I enjoyed myself, but it didn't quite sink in as hard as it did this time. Though the Dempsey Challenge is great for the 10k, particularly if you're a PD fan in general, having now experienced both prongs of the event, it is, at heart, for cyclists, and it shows.
Courtesy of HBR, here is some of the closing ceremony: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcrS-7nvhLg
It was a spectacular weekend that I will never forget, and I will be back next year to ride the 50 again! If this writeup has inspired even one person to participate in the Challenge next year who hasn't done it before, either the run/walk or the cycling portion, then it was worth it in the end.
I mean it when I say you can do it, and who knows? You might get hugged by Patrick Dempsey.
This year, everything is all flipped around. I went to kick ass on my bike, and I went to see my friends, and somewhere behind all that, there was a little part of me that declared PD as icing on the already awesome cake. I also know that the people who still bother to follow my LJ at this point are likely to be good personal friends or longtime readers who might care a little bit more about the rest of it, too. So, I've opted to write about everything from start to finish, anything and everything I can think of.
I hope there will be something for everyone who takes a peek.
I flew out to Boston on Thursday afternoon and arrived late evening, where I met up with HBR. Cat picked HBR and I up from our hotel in Boston at about 11:00 AM on Friday morning. We made tracks for Maine instead of stopping for lunch, because I wanted to be pick up my bike before close of business and make sure everything was all right with it. When we arrived in Lewiston, we stopped at the hotel first to check in and drop off our luggage. I changed into my cycling gear, and we went to the bike store where I'd had my bike shipped from San Diego. I picked up my bike without a hitch, they refitted the bike for me, and everything seemed to be in perfect working order.
The manager of the store, as he took my credit card, said, “It's too bad you weren't here a few minutes ago.”
I asked why.
He said, “Well, Patrick Dempsey was just here getting his bike checked. He hung around for thirty minutes or so. Great guy. Down to earth and super friendly. We love him around here.”
I blinked. I glanced around. The store was empty except for me, Cat, HBR, and the store employees. It would have been an amazing opportunity for me to thank him, when he wasn't mobbed by the crowds that usually follow him. I have wanted to sincerely thank him for this amazing event since last year, but particularly in the last six months. Let me back up a little to explain.
The Dempsey Challenge has made an amazing difference in my life, because it has encouraged me to take charge of my health and fight to improve it. For those of you who don't know, I'm diabetic, among several other things that I don't care to disclose. Last year, when I was at the Dempsey Challenge, I had trouble completing the 10k walk because I'd gotten so out of shape. I was overweight, and, at the time, my diabetes was undiagnosed.
The Dempsey Challenge is broken into two sections. The walk and the cycling course, which occur on different days. The day after the walk, we leaned against the railing at the finish line and watched for hours. Cyclist after cyclist zipped past. Hundreds of them. For hours. The infectious exhilaration as bystanders cheered and clapped for the people riding across the finish line hit a resonant chord with me. I knew from our driving around to see PD as he rode the course that the scenery on such a ride was likely to be incredible, too. The weather was gorgeous that weekend, and the general energy of the whole event was a great mood elevator.
So, I leaned over and told Cat, who was watching the cyclists with me, “I'm going to do that next year.”
She asked me for specifics.
I said, “I want to do the 50 mile course. That seems like a reasonable goal. Challenging but not impossible.”
She nodded and encouraged me to go for it.
At that point, I didn't even own a bike.
When I got home from the Challenge, within a week, I'd gone out and bought a bike, much to the pleasure of the bike shop across the street from me and to the woe of my pocketbook, and started training. I could barely ride five miles to start with, but I kept plugging at it.
Later that month, I was diagnosed with diabetes by my doctor. This was the latest result in a cascade of serious problems all caused by a root chronic health problem. Being healthy is something you tend to take for granted until you haven't been healthy, and then it becomes precious. The repeated knocks made me start to think the world hated me. I didn't know what to do or how this had happened to me. I felt lost and alone. I was mad and jealous that I couldn't be normal like everybody else. I was depressed to the point that I thought more than once about killing myself. I imagine that might be similar to how one might feel when diagnosed with cancer. I don't know for sure. But I like to think since 2010, I've developed a certain empathy I didn't have before.
After my diagnosis, I started losing weight because I was so terrified of spiking my blood sugar that I started not eating at all. It was a pretty dark time that I eventually crawled out of because I kept cycling, and I fixed my diet over time by cutting portion sizes. As the weight came off, my diabetes drastically improved, to the point that, now, with medication and by staying active on my bike, I can eat what I want without worrying too much about it. Coincidentally, the weight loss also indirectly helped with the root problem that had caused the diabetes in the first place. My mood bounced back. I was thin again, and happier due to my better fitness and improving health.
I figured out the world wasn't ending.
I kept cycling.
By May, I decided I was ready to participate in my first cycling event, the San Diego Century. I signed up for the modest 37 mile course, and was nervous about it, but I made it through. I was thrilled at the end. I continued participating in modest, local events, like Bike the Bay, a 30ish mile course that took cyclists over the Coronado Bridge and around the San Diego Bay. I kept cycling on the weekends. I began to commute every once in a while on my bike to help with my training as well.
Fast forwarding again.
With all of that behind me, I really, really wanted to thank Patrick for organizing something that gave me such a thorough, resounding kick in the ass to get moving in the first place. The results of that kick in the ass got me through a very dark time in my life, and I will always be grateful. He's made a huge difference in my life, and I wanted him to know what he's inadvertently done to inspire me to change my own life. I mean it. I'm crying a little as I type this because it means so much to me.
After finding out I had missed the perfect opportunity to say what I wanted to say, I was inwardly crushed, because I knew from last year there wouldn't be much opportunity at the Challenge. Cat, HBR, and I made jokes about missing him, and we whined like adolescents in the car, but I was seriously kicking myself about the bad timing internally. While PD is very present at the Challenge, he is not that accessible, and hundreds of other people want to see him, too. With luck and some persistence, you can get an autograph or a quick photo, but I've been told that if you want to exchange real words with him, the best place to catch him as at an autograph signing at a racetrack. I definitely don't recommend the Dempsey Challenge for face time.
Going into this whole thing, I thought getting a photograph taken with him would be nice, eventually, if the opportunity presented itself, but that task wasn't huge on my list. I didn't want an autograph because I already had one, thanks entirely to HBR, who got our picture standing by the 2010 Dempsey Challenge archway signed by him when he was in the vicinity (Birmingham?) for a race. I cherish that autograph because of all the meaning behind the photograph, and the fact that he signed that specific photo, but I've never been a huge autograph person in general. When I get things signed, if I even get anything signed, it's a rush for a minute, and then I don't even know what to do with it. Yay, a signature. What now? I know, I'm probably weird, otherwise there would be less people mobbing PD to get his John Hancock :)
Anyway. Suffice it to say, pictures and autographs weren't really my goal for the weekend. What I did want, though, was to thank him if I ran into him for some strange reason, because he deserves to be thanked for this.
After that bad stroke of luck at the bike shop, we went out for a late lunch. We picked up our registration packets for the Challenge and got all our fund raising swag. I got an LL Bean vest, a 2011 Dempsey Challenge bike jersey, a shirt, and some other goodies. I wish I could have worn that 2011 jersey for the 50 miles, because it fit perfectly. Unfortunately, because I didn't raise my funds by the drop dead date on incentives, they will mail me mine, and I'll get it in about six weeks. So, next year, I'll be wearing it, I hope!
Eventually, we ended up in Gritty's, the local pub, which was mobbed, to meet Shannon Gilmartin and the other Buddha Rubbers. The Buddha Rubbers are the team we joined for fund raising this year, and we got to meet Shannon and Dee and some of the others. They are all very nice people, and they're doing a great thing by supporting the Dempsey Center, so please support them next year in 2012 when they're asking for donations!
As the night progressed, I had quite a few very good amaretto sours and got good and tipsy. After my third, we went back to the hotel, and we watched the episode of Grey's from the day before. We all loved it, though that might have been because of the libations :D
Overall, it was a good night.
In the morning, we headed to the Challenge starting line to do the 10k. We knew from last year where PD would be when he arrived, and which way he would walk to get to the stage, and where the best spot was to stand. We placed ourselves accordingly and watched from there. He proved predictable, and our view was indeed perfect. He wasn't late this year. Instead, he got there early and was there well before the event start to talk to the press and other things.
He didn't speak very long this year, but what he did say was, as usual, pretty funny when he got a chance to crack a joke. I think he didn't speak much because everything was running on time this year, and they didn't need him to fill dead time. Oh, and we spotted his daughter in the back on the left of the stage. There was a pretty adorable moment where he walked down to give her a bear hug. She is a real cutie, moreso in the flesh than in the few pictures I've seen.
The walk launched. I think they listened to my survey response about how unsafe having PD walk around in the crowd was last year, because he didn't go anywhere past the fence, and during the walk launch, he stayed away from the fence entirely. Good job, organizers and PD. That was smart.
I was in a lot better shape this year, and we didn't have any difficulty finishing the 10k, though I did get some pretty painful blisters because I hadn't broken in my shoes well enough, I guess. The route was slightly different. I think last year it went through the residential areas of Lewiston, primarily, and this time, we were on the Auburn side of the river. We walked along the river for a large portion of the walk. I think it was prettier in places, but more monotonous. The route was also flatter.
We finished in about 1:45 hours. We made it back in time to see PD do the survivor walk and speak quickly on the stage before departing, presumably to go do the private bike ride and the Hope dinner and the other stuff on the schedule that we were not privy to because we hadn't raised enough money. The quick “thank you” stage time after the survivor walk was a new feature this year. Also, they had the survivor walk go across the bridge instead of having everybody take a lap around the muddy park. Big improvement over last year. I approve of both changes.
Frankly, I don't remember much about Saturday night because I was getting really nervous about my upcoming ride. We went to dinner at a steak house, and I got cheese fries and an alcoholic lemonade for dinner because I really did want some alcohol at that point. I tried to go to bed early, but that mostly resulted in me staring at the ceiling for hours, which leads me into Saturday.
The morning started at about 4:00 AM for me. I was originally going to try and sleep until 5:00, but woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so I opted to start getting ready. Though Maine was due for some awesome weather (up to 80 degrees!) that afternoon, in the pitch black early morning, the thermostat still hovered at around 45 degrees, which, while it's not super cold standing around in when you have a coat, it's freezing when you're riding a bike in cycling gear designed to “breathe” and the wind is hitting you dead on. So, I loaded up on most of the layered cold weather gear I brought for the ride, which included leg warmers, arm warmers, toe warmers, ear warmers, a base layer for underneath my bike jersey, long-fingered gloves, and a wind shell.
To Maine, I took with me my 2010 Dempsey Challenge bike jersey, which I got for free because of my fund raising totals last year (thank you, everyone!), and the robin egg blue jersey I normally wear, and was wearing when I took my massive concussion spill last week. Cat and HBR told me I looked pretty sleek in the Dempsey Challenge one, but that it was a bit tight around my chest, and I should go for comfort. Plus, the robin egg blue was easier for them to spot, whereas the Dempsey Challenge jersey would be one of hundreds in the crowd. So, at their behest and encouragement, I opted for my beat up blue jersey.
At this point, my foot blisters were pretty uncomfortable. They were luckily not an issue in my bike shoes while pedaling after I loaded up on band-aids, but walking sucked. Cat told me that given my recent concussion, and given my foot pain, that there would be no shame in reducing my ride plan from the 50 mile to the 25 mile, but I refused. My goal was 50. I decided I would rather break down and be unable to finish the 50 than to not try it at all. I was in it to win it, so to speak, and I wouldn't back down.
After I loaded up on carbs (I had spaghetti for breakfast), I hopped on my bike and followed Cat and HBR, who drove in front of me in the car, to the Dempsey Challenge starting line. My main thoughts during this short ride were, “Holy SHIT, it's COLD!!!” Keep in mind I'm slowly becoming a warm-blooded San Diegan. After the two mile ride from the hotel, I'd luckily heated up enough to strip some layers, though, so I handed off my arm warmers and my ear warmers to Cat, who graciously accepted every piece of sweaty clothing I dumped on her over the next 50 miles :) Thank you, Cat!
Before parting ways, Cat and I discussed how I would keep her and HBR updated on my progress. We settled on Twitter because it's very easy for me to update from my phone. I told her, at the very least, I'd update with mile markers every time I stopped. She told me she and HBR would try to catch up with me at one of the rest stops.
That all settled, I lined up beside about four thousand other cyclists, according to the announcers, and Cat and HBR went off to watch the stage for PD and to watch the kickoff. Here is a picture of my view from the 50 mile start line. In front of me were the 70 and 100 milers, which actually comprised the smallest number of cyclists from the look of it, and behind me were the rest of the 50s, the 25s, and the 10s, which seemed to be the majority. The whole pack of them went back and around the corner behind me out of view.
I couldn't see the stage from the 50 mile staging area, so I'm not certain when PD arrived or went on stage, but he spoke a few words of encouragement about five minutes pre-start. He sounded chipper and ready to go, which was a strong contrast to last year, when he sounded sick and stuffy and suffering general malaise (though he made a credible attempt to cover it). I noticed this year that his sister Mary did not get up to urge people to leave him alone while he got ready to get going, so I guess this wasn't much of a problem this year. I assume he took his spot at the front of the pack for the photo op and took off when the century riders (100 milers) started, since that's what he did last year.
So, they started the century riders and asked all the 70s and 50s to move up. At this point, I had a minor crisis when I tried to pedal forward and noticed my chain had popped off my back chain ring. When this happens, it basically means the pedals will spin and spin but none of that force gets applied to the wheels, since the chain just spins across nothing but air. All I had to do was say, “My chain is off!” and I had about five different fellow cyclists converge on me to help me fix it. We got me under way again in about sixty seconds, and with plenty of time before the 50 mile group started. I don't know who the people who helped me were, but thank you very much if you're reading this!
Cyclists, I've noticed, are a pretty awesome bunch in general. Unless I am obviously sipping from a water bottle or snacking on something, if I pull over to the side of the road, I've noticed anybody who passes usually slows down and asks me if I'm okay or need help. This is the case in San Diego as well as Maine, so I assume now that it's a cyclist thing and has nothing to do with San Diego's laid back locale. People who don't even know you will stop and help you deal with the greasy work of fixing a flat, or repairing a chain, or any of the other thousand things that can go wrong when your sport revolves around riding around on a breakable machine.
The 50 mile ride started about 5-10 minutes after the 100 mile ride started. We got the buzzer and started moving forward. I saw Cat and HBR cheering me on from the side near the Dempsey Challenge archway. I smiled, waved to let them know I'd seen them, and continued on my way.
The first three miles of the race were incredibly deceiving because they were all flat and fast. Once the packed crowd of cyclists spread out a bit and I had some room, I tore out at a respectable 22mph pace, and passed a lot more people than people passed me. I recall at least a few people drafting off of me, which made me feel pretty awesome.
Cyclists draft just like race car drivers. There is a substantial effort reduction to be found by finding the sweet spot behind somebody's back wheel. Standard operation in a pelaton is to have constant rotation from front to back in a big circle so that everybody shares the same burden in the long run.
The average novice cyclist pedals at about 12-15mph. My tires are specially reinforced with Kevlar to prevent flats. The heaviness of these tires sacrifices about 3mph of speed for peace of mind, which I consider a worthwhile tradeoff. With this in mind, I expected to maintain about a 13-14 mph pace for this ride.
Then I hit the first hill.
I used to live on the east coast. I know from experience that most people who live on the east coast call hills mountains, and most of the things they call hills are not really that hilly in the grand scheme of what the earth can produce for us. I had heard that the DC course was hilly and challenging, but I wasn't quite sure what to expect, given my east versus west perspective. Back in San Diego, I had trained on the west coast version of a hill, which is long and grueling over minutes and minutes and minutes of climbing, but typically not too steep, so I hoped that would be sufficient.
Anyway, this first hill is when I discovered the people who designed this course suck. I say that in the most loving way. Honestly. Because I'll be back next year for more punishment, hopefully with a bit more preparation for the conditions :)
All of these hills were, in terms of elevation changes, midget hills exactly like I expected to find on the east coast. The problem that I had not expected, however, was how rapidly these minor elevation changes occurred. Those suckers were short, but steep, so they were a bear to get up to the top of, and had very short payoff of sailing down at the end before hitting the next one, to the point that I began to feel sort of like a kicked puppy. I would reach the crest, get ready for the happiness of going downhill, only to look in horror at the next hill so soon after the last one, and think, “Seriously?????” Sometimes, it didn't feel like I went down at all. Just up, flat, up, flat. Ugh.
Back when I was in high school, I played varsity basketball, and I hyper-extended my left knee a few times. It has not worked quite right ever since then. It flares up occasionally when I'm putting a lot of stress on it. Well, climbing hills with grades like this, my knee started to hurt a little, and then a bit more than a little, which threw another annoying wrench into things.
This is where my bike saved me. Bike, I love you. I have a triple chain ring. It's not popular with racers because there are more gears. It adds weight, and shifting becomes more clunky the more gears the bike has. However, the triple chain ring is a beautiful thing for hill climbing and for novices. I'm a novice, and there were lots of freaking hills. Best of both worlds. My bike made up for lack of training on my part and for otherwise crippling knee pain, and I was able to soldier through.
Once I settled into the rhythm of repeated hill-bound punishment, despite all the huffing and puffing, I was able to start enjoying the scenery. Only a few miles out of town, and it was surreal. Lots of open fields, blue skies, quaint farm houses, lakes and rivers, beautiful foliage, and the weather was warming up to perfection. I remember at least one long flat stretch where I was pedaling through solid, brilliant orange because of the fall foliage. I didn't take pictures because I didn't want to ruin my momentum, but at one point I had to stop and adjust my wind shell and ended up taking this photo:
About 9 miles into the ride, I noticed a familiar bend and a hill that, last year, I had thought looked really steep, but after so much cycling the last year, it was barely a blip on my radar in terms of difficulty. The blip came from the locale itself. This was the hill we took a picture of Patrick riding last year. You can see some of my recounting of that in my 2010 Dempsey Challenge LJ post - I think I even used the word ginormous to describe the hill. Oh, the woeful ignorance of my former self ;p
In retrospect, I find the fact that Patrick was panting so hard last year telling, because as I said, this was a pretty baby-sized hill, and it was less than 10 miles from the start. I didn't have any trouble with it, and while I'm in good shape, I'm no crazy athlete. I do think he was pretty sick last year, now, and possibly trying too hard at the same time to keep going at a pace that was too fast for him. Professionals tend to cycle very fast, and he probably wanted to stick with them for photo ops until at least rest stop 1. Also, he has said repeatedly he doesn't have much time to train. I think this example highlights how dedicated to this cause he is, and it amazes me even more, given the difficulty of the course, that he comes out and does what he does, sick or not, trained or not, and is still up for so many hours of schmoozing, smiling, and making jokes during the event and for many hours after. I'm also glad he brought T to this to see what he does and why he does it, because it's amazing.
I thought about stopping on this mini hill to update Twitter, because I figured Cat & HBR would know exactly where I was if I mentioned it, but then I remembered that the first rest stop was somewhere around mile 11, and decided instead to wait until I got there. At this point, my knee was hurting, but I didn't feel too bad, yet. I was just riding more slowly than I had hoped to be going.
Rest stop 1 was a mad house. There were hundreds of people there. I could barely find a place to park my bike. I eventually found a spot against a sapling, and then took a moment to take stock of the scene. There was a huge pack of people standing in a clot in the center of nothing important. I took one look at it, and decided that must be PD jammed in the middle somewhere, hence the crush. I was impressed I'd caught up with him, but at that point, I was more interested in using the bathroom and resting my legs than worrying about him. Since I was there, though, I did try to get a picture of him when the crowd miraculously parted for a moment, but somebody stepped in the way just as my shutter went off, so I didn't get anything. I figured I might try again after I was done in the bathroom if the crowd had cleared a bit, but didn't put much more thought into it, and walked off. By the time I came out, he was gone. I saw on Twitter that Cat and HBR were attempting to get to rest stop 2 to meet with me there. I relaxed for a bit more, swapped in my short-fingered gloves for my long-fingered ones because the long-fingered ones were driving me batty, and then took off.
The distance between rest stop 1 and rest stop 2 was a hellish 18 miles of hills and hills and more hills. Oh, and hills. Did I mention hills? And also, there were hills. Honestly, the whole thing is a bit of a suffering blur. I was unhappy with the rest stop placement by the end of that stretch. This is my singular complaint about the whole event, actually. The hardest, evilest part of the course had the widest space between rest stops, and the easy part later had stops every 8 miles or so. That's silly.
The one bonus to all this, though, was that the ride took me to some pretty places out in the middle of nowhere, primarily through the woods at this point. There's something incredibly personal and exhilarating about being by yourself, surrounded in a cavern of trees, nothing between you and the rest of the world but a little bicycle, and nothing pulling your forward but your own strength of will and a desire to succeed.
I would like to take this opportunity to mention the amazing community support during this event. People gathered on the road sides all over the place and rang cow bells for passing riders, or clapped, or cheered, or set up speakers and boomed music so loud it bounced around for miles. People sat on their lawns in lawn chairs, in their driveways, in their pickup trucks, feet dangling off the lip of the truck bed, really, just everywhere, watching and waving and cheering all the riders. There were downright parties at several intersections out in the country where there wasn't much traffic. I even got a few honks from cars who passed me, and people would stick their hands out the window and give me thumbs up and cheer. Some guy who was mowing his lawn actually had the presence of mind to turn off his massive lawnmower before I passed, so I wouldn't get sprayed with grass bits. He thanked me, too. I high-fived a little girl standing at an intersection as I passed because she had her hand up, and she seemed genuinely tickled that I'd done so. It was incredible seeing so many people out on the streets, grateful for the DC and all that it means for their community, and it makes me want to support the whole thing even more. It made me feel like the funds I raised made a big difference, and it moved me to tears more than once.
I also appreciate the tremendous volunteer and local police support for this event. Any time there was a sharp turn or a road crossing on the course, there was someone standing in the road, spotting for cars, and making sure nobody missed the turn. Any time there was any ambiguity about which way to go, such as when the 25 mile course split from the 50/70/100 loop, and when the 50 split from the 70/100, there was a volunteer shouting directions such as, “25, take a left, everybody else go right!” Every single one of them cheered and clapped and told me I was doing a great job or called out some other encouragements. It was amazing to see such an army of people volunteering their time to make sure my ride went along without a hitch, and to support the DC.
When I hit rest stop 2, I'd completed about 30 miles, and I felt awful. Not hurting other than my knee. Just spent. Kaput. Stop 2 was also a bit of a zoo, but Patrick was not there, and neither were Cat or HBR. I took one look at the traffic problems outside the stop and decided they'd probably given up trying to get there and had either chosen a different stop to meet me, or had gone to see if they could catch Patrick for a photo because they'd spotted him on the route somewhere while trying to get to me.
I ate a banana, refilled my water bottle, and rested for a while. I started stripping layers here, because at this point, my wind shell was soaked and pointless because the weather had warmed to the point that wind chill wasn't a problem. I stripped off my leg warmers, too, but left the toe warmers on because I didn't have a good place to put them. I stuffed my leg warmers in my pockets, and my wind shell, I tied around my waist. After a lot of hemming and hawing and stalling, I rolled out, wondering how the fucking hell I was going to do 20 more freaking miles of this constant climbing crap.
Thankfully, the course designer decided to stop punishing people, and everything flattened out at this point. There were still hills, but fewer and farther between. Much easier to deal with. My knee was thankful, and I finally got off the granny wheel (lingo: the granny wheel is the wimpy gear used almost solely to make pedaling on hills not suck; only triples have this). I managed to pull off about a 15-18mph pace here, despite how shitty I felt, and the shitty feeling slowly dissipated with lack of constant punishment.
When I approached rest stop 3 a few miles later, I wasn't even planning on stopping. I figured I could make it to stop 4 before I had to take another break. Stop 3 was largely empty from my vantage point. Volunteers were milling about, and there were a few cyclists munching on bananas and whatnot. However, there, on the side of the road, I saw HBR and Cat waving at me excitedly. HBR held up a sign on which she'd written, “Way to go!” which made me smile. I pulled over to chat and rest my legs even though I wasn't too tired at that point, since my friends were there, and it wasn't like I was racing or anything.
I wobbled off the bike and got hugs from both of them. I noticed, then, that the sign HBR had been waving was also signed with a rather familiar autograph that I recognized from the 2010 photo she'd gotten signed. I asked how she'd managed that. She launched into an excited explanation. She and Cat had been trying for two hours to find a rest stop at which to meet me. They'd tried to get to stop 2 and gave up due to traffic, eventually settling on stop 3. They'd gotten there about an hour before I arrived, at which point, HBR decided she wanted to make a sign to hold up for me. Stop 3 was near a school, and she somehow managed to wrangle a local teacher into letting her into the building. With permission, she used some of the students' supplies to make the sign. While she was doing this, Cat stood out by the road to make sure I didn't miss that they were at the stop. After HBR finished in the school, she and Cat both stood by the side of the road. Patrick rolled in about twenty minutes before my arrival with a giant entourage of other cyclists. They started taking shifts by the side of the road so one could take Patrick pictures and get the sign signed while the other waited for me and stayed visible. HBR said she'd gotten him to sign the sign and explained they were here to cheer me on. Patrick asked if I'd made it, but she said I hadn't yet, and they were hoping I'd arrive soon. They exchanged some other words, most of which I've forgotten from HBR's excited recollection by this time.
I was amazed by all this. I asked how long ago he'd rolled out.
HBR and Cat looked at me like I was nuts. HBR then said, “He's still here.” Then she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me over to the middle of the rest stop, which I hadn't been paying any attention to because I'd thought it was just a few random cyclists milling about, resting.
At which point, I said, “Wait. Wait, what?”
HBR said, not to me, “This is my friend! She's the sign lady!”
I didn't have time to think beyond that, because all the sudden I heard a very familiar voice say, “Hey, you made it! Congratulations!!!” like he was beyond ecstatic for me (and he genuinely appeared to be ecstatic). I got a glimpse of sparkly blue eyes. And then I was being bear hugged by a sweaty Patrick Dempsey. That man is a hugger. Seriously. He uses them like an attack. Just WHAM. You're being hugged, and there's no escape (not that you'd want to)! At this point, I was completely befuddled, because up until about five seconds before, I hadn't even realized he was there. Apparently, he'd stayed at this rest stop so long his massive entourage had given up and left him in relative peace. Without the usual cluster around him, he's camouflaged pretty well, I guess.
HBR gave Patrick the signed sign and asked if she could take a picture of the two of us. He said sure we could, so he grabbed me around the waist and posed beside me. At which point he gently encouraged me to hold the sign on the other end, because I totally wasn't holding it at all. I was still in the, “Uh...” part of the mental process, there. So, I grabbed the sign at the corner and beamed for the camera because that was all I was capable of at that point. Then he told HBR he thought her camera might be in the wrong mode.
She said, “Oh, thanks. It was in video mode! So sorry!”
He said, “No problem.”
HBR took the photo. At this point, I'd finally gotten some of my wits back and thanked him for organizing the DC. I regret that I didn't get to say more, but I'd already taken up a chunk of his time, and I'd barely recovered from complete overload. At least I'd yanked the most important part out of the jumble in my head and said it. On his way out, he pulled HBR aside and told her, “Thanks so much for organizing that.”
I was left gobsmacked, and it took me a few minutes to really catch up all the way.
Seriously, how many people do you know thank you for asking them to sign things? It should be the other way around! He is so sincerely gracious it gets me every time, and I tell you, he's got this autograph and photo thing down pat, given how fast he was at fixing HBR's camera issue and how he assured I was holding the sign so the picture would be good. He even carried a black sharpie around with him in his freaking bike jersey, which surprised me. Most celebrities I know of are BYOP for signings (bring your own pen).
Oh, and random aside, for what all it matters. We settled the height debate once and for all. Helmet to helmet, in the exact same kind of shoes as mine, he is dead even with me, so that makes him 5'10".
Anyway, after Patrick left, I rested for another few minutes, dazed. I'd gone from just hoping I'd get to thank him to having thanked him, having a hugely sentimental autograph and photograph because of all the crap HBR had gone through to get it for me, and because it was on this ride, only fifteen miles from my year long goal, and, well, everything. I wouldn't have gotten to do any of it without HBR and her happy-go-lucky persistence in all things Patrick. Thank you, HBR!
After I'd sufficiently recovered, I handed my wind shell, leg warmers, and toe warmers to Cat, who put them with my other sweaty junk in a bag. I headed out after coordinating with them that I would tweet with 3-5 miles left to go, and telling them that the remaining 15 miles would likely take me about an hour or so. They wanted to be sure to be at the finish line when I was there.
I don't remember the next 7-8 miles very much except everybody who saw me riding probably thought I was high because I was smiling at nothing. All I can say is that the scenery was still quite gorgeous, and the ride was mostly flat. Rest stop 4 was a ghost town. I only stopped to catch my breath a little before heading out. I had a blood sugar problem a few miles later at the "5 miles to go!" sign, where I felt myself starting to crash a bit, so I pulled over immediately and had a snack. I felt better in about 5 minutes and continued.
Those last 5 miles got a bit hilly again, and my “Holy shit, he hugged me!” high had worn off by then. The shitty feeling that had loitered around stop 2 returned with a vengeance. I remember staring at one of the last super steep hills and yelling out loud, “Are you fucking kidding me!?”
At some point, some tiny guy with a $20398420398029385098 bike equipped with racing tires rode past at about 25mph on a freaking hill of horrible hillness. For reference, I was barely pushing 6mph and struggling quite a bit because I was running out of steam and quickly descending into a state of starvation barely held at bay by the Clif bar I'd just eaten. Tiny Guy gave me a thumbs up as he went past and said I was doing great and to keep at it. My suspicion is that he was one of the professional cyclists they had in attendance, possibly Levi, but I couldn't tell you for sure because he was gone so fast. He was like Speedy Gonzales. I was sort of tickled that somebody so high on the cycling totem pole would even bother to encourage me as I struggled up one of those last hills, so that got me smiling all over again.
I was able to finish my ride about... oh... ten minutes later? Maybe fifteen? When I rode in, HBR and Cat were standing there waiting for me, cheering and clapping. The final stretch was exhilarating because so many people were there watching, and it was just like I'd imagined it would be last year. According to HBR and Cat, I finished only about 10 minutes after PD.
I felt pretty good that I'd largely kept up with him, particularly given that he didn't seem to stop to talk with onlookers this year and only took breaks at rest stops. Another difference from last year, according to Cat and HBR, was that he rode all the way to the finish instead of getting pulled off by his sister and his security midway down the end pipe, and he didn't come in with a big fanfare or in a big group. He was just suddenly there. Actually, the sudden thereness of him with no announcement was probably just as effective security as pulling him off his bike early to avoid the crowds. People were so surprised he was there, they didn't have time to collect into a crush.
Supposedly after the ride, pictures were taken of him getting his blood pressure checked in the VIP tent. I know at least one or two riders suffered heat exhaustion on the ride. I hope he finished quickly the way he did and didn't chat too much with onlookers along the course because he wanted to do it that way, and not because he was feeling sick. He stayed a suspiciously long time at rest stop 3, which was what permitted me to get my picture and autograph and say thanks, but I'm hoping his lingering was just him lollygagging for the hell of it. He seemed fine when he hugged me, so here's hoping his ride was as pleasant as mine was, overall.
Yes, I know you're probably thinking I'm twisted at this point for calling this whole ordeal pleasant. But, anyway.
After approximately 4:15 hours of pedal time, I finished the 50 mile course at the Dempsey Challenge, which I am very proud of due to all the hurdles I'd had in the weeks leading up to this event. I threw out my back approximately five weeks prior to the Challenge, which took away one weekend of training and set me back. I also had a major accident the week before the Dempsey Challenge. I hit a bump in the road, flipped over my bike, and hit my head on the pavement so hard that my helmet cracked all the way up the back. I got a concussion and a bruise on my hip the size of a pie plate. I ended up having to go to the ER and get a CT. 7 days after sitting in that ER staring at the bowels of a CT machine, I rode a total of about 55 miles when you add in the fact that I also rode about 2 miles from the hotel to the starting line, and I didn't have to walk up a single hill, hills that seemed to be claiming other riders left and right. The farthest I've ever ridden until that point was the 37 miles last May at the San Diego Century, so that was a big step up for me, even without all the injuries leading up to it.
Despite how tired I was, the entire ride was totally worth it. And, as pleasant and dumbfounding as being bear hugged out of nowhere by Patrick Dempsey was, I would do this event again, PD or no PD. I was that impressed by the organization of the event as a whole, the community support, the scenery on the ride, the challenge it brought to complete it, and the cause it supports.
When I climbed off my bike at the end, I was pretty wobbly and starving. My shins and hamstrings were just about kaput, and my knee was whining at me any time I put weight on it. I hobbled to the bike check station, gave them my bike, looked to see if I could register for next year before I forgot again (couldn't, will do that online ASAP), and then bee-lined for the lobster bake tent to get some chicken and ice cream and other stuff. I'm not much of a lobster person when it's still in the shell, but Cat partook. HBR didn't have a ticket for the bake and couldn't buy one at the gate, so she just sat with us and chatted.
After I'd infused myself with some much needed calories, we went to the car and went back to the hotel so I could take a quick shower and get out of my sweaty, grimy, gross gear. We headed back in time for the closing ceremony, where Patrick thanked everybody and was his usual, funny self for thirty delightful minutes. He said his daughter had ridden the 10 mile course, and that his goal was to get kids more active in the community. He seems to be doing a good job on that goal, based on all the young people I saw riding their bikes on Sunday. He nearly broke into tears a few times thanking everybody and talking about how nice it was to come home, which prompted a cute moment where his mom came up to hug him (instinctive mom thing, I guess). He clearly feels very strongly about this event.
I do, too, at this point, after experiencing the cycling half and seeing how much the community supports it. Last year, I enjoyed myself, but it didn't quite sink in as hard as it did this time. Though the Dempsey Challenge is great for the 10k, particularly if you're a PD fan in general, having now experienced both prongs of the event, it is, at heart, for cyclists, and it shows.
Courtesy of HBR, here is some of the closing ceremony: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcrS-7nvhLg
It was a spectacular weekend that I will never forget, and I will be back next year to ride the 50 again! If this writeup has inspired even one person to participate in the Challenge next year who hasn't done it before, either the run/walk or the cycling portion, then it was worth it in the end.
I mean it when I say you can do it, and who knows? You might get hugged by Patrick Dempsey.