That was the defining aspect of my ride. At the turnaround point, halfway through a 30 mile route on the twisty-with-breathtaking-views Calaveras Road in Sunol, we had an optional little hill to climb. Dropping down over the edge of The Wall and descending to its bottom, you have this feeling of, "there's no turning back." You have to ride up it now. Or walk it. And nobody wants to walk your bike. If you stop, you will likely have to walk the rest of the way because you can't get started again on a hill that steep. In the photos below, it looks innocuous, but the steepest part lies in the middle, unseen.
View from the bottom
From the top looking down
In the cycling world, a "wall" is not called a wall for nothing. It's marked by a severe grade that can trouble even an experienced cyclist. The Wall was even featured in one of the stages of last year's Amgen Tour of California.
The last time I rode up the wall I almost bailed out halfway, where it gets really steep. Expletives flew from my mouth unrestrained. This time, with slightly lower gearing on my bike, there was no swearing, but the desire to quit was still there. My breath came to me in short and raspy gasps, and I seriously questioned my cardiovascular fitness. But I grinded to the top, motivated by my pride and the fear of falling over should I give up and attempt to unclip.
The Wall- a walking perspective to illustrate its steepness
None of this was helped by the fact that I am, six weeks after having been inflicted by the flu, still battling sinus congestion and drainage. My cough resurfaced yesterday after my efforts, and I am also battling unusual upper back pain, probably due to computer work, but certainly aggravated by riding. The truth is, I got started on the wrong foot this season. The flu stopped me from getting my training started, and here I am, a month into the season, and I have not set my foot into a gym or even considered a mid-week ride. All that will have to change this week.
So that was my ride. But what defined my day was our Honoree Potluck. The Honoree Potluck is where our Team Honorees, all cancer survivors or currently battling cancer, tell us their stories. It is always a moving event, and it reminds you why you're out there, and puts the whining about climbing something like The Wall into perspective. I can heave and gasp up The Wall, but decide halfway up that I'm not having it and bail out. But when you're on round 5 of chemo for acute myelogenous leukemia, you cannot.
Sunday morning as I write this, I'm about to get ready to attend a good friend's baby shower. A story that's in my mind from yesterday was one told by the mother of a leukemia survivor. Her daughter was diagnosed in her mid-20s, and her mom, who is a chemo nurse, told her that if she was thinking about having kids in the future, she needed to harvest her eggs now, before chemo put toxic chemicals into her body that would destroy her hopes of ever becoming a mother.
It was a devastating blow I hadn't known about, and I was shocked. Not only do you have to fight to simply survive this awful disease, but as a woman in child-bearing years, you might survive but then not be able to safely have children? Just terrible.
Several years later, there is a happy ending, as the woman is cancer free and now planning to use her saved eggs to have a baby with her husband next year. Research for the drugs used in her treatment, by the way, were partially funded by Team In Training and LLS- the fundraising efforts of people like yours truly, with YOUR help. This is where your donations go. For real.
Click here to access my fundraising site.
Panoramic view of Calaveras Road and Reservoir in the summer (it's much greener now)
My teammates had the good fortune to see an eaglet during the ride.
After climbing The Wall, looking deceptively happy
(about 100 yards back was a whole other picture)
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