Levi's Granfondo of Pain

I chose to ride Levi's Granfondo solo. It's not that I didn't know anyone riding it, it's just those that I knew were faster than me. But there were no shortage of cyclists to ride with. Of the 7,000 or so riders who departed that chilly morning on Saturday, 1,200 of us chose the Gran Route. 103 miles, over 8,000 feet of climbing, and north of 100 degree heat to top it off.

Riding with a peloton of 70 riders, we quickly

swooped through the town of Occidental as we made our way to King's Ridge, just passed Cazadero. And the ascent up to King's Ridge quickly separated the riders. The pain was worth it. We were greeted with sweeping hillside vistas including farms, grapes, and roads basically to ourselves.

The target from here was to get to Meyer's Grade on Highway 101. After diving down several treacherous descents riddled with potholes, Meyer's Grade was a welcome relief. High speed coasting on smooth roads with breathtaking views of the pacific on the hottest day of the year. Compared to what I had just gone through I felt fantastic.

But remember I was solo, so I quickly gazed ahead of me to find a train to ride with. Instead, I was enjoying myself so much that I ended up leading a train of riders all the way into Jenner, dropping most of them before the last rest stop before Coleman. Yep, the dreaded Coleman climb. I was only 30 miles from the end however, and 30 miles is a skme commute for me. So when my left leg seized into a massive cramp, only 50 yards onto the climb, I was devastated. 

This was my only event of the year. I've lost hours of sleep from logging several three hour rides before work. I had put close to 650 miles under my belt in the last 28 days alone, to get ready. As my leg screamed uncle, the thought of getting sagged loomed over my head.

My next move determined the rest of ride. I downed an entire bottle of electrolyte water, leaving me only with one bottle for the next 10 plus miles of rigorous climbing. I then chewed up several cliff shots, and stuffed my lasting cliff bar down my throat. For five minutes I stood idly by. As cyclist rode by, I massaged my leg while praying to anyone who would listen. And then after a few false starts, my leg held. From here on out, not only was I battling the heat and lack of nutrition, but the fleeting feeling that at any time my leg could cramp again.

But it didn't. And although my pace slowed, I finally crawled back into Occidental. Only 15 miles to go. The cruelest part of this route are the surprise hills. At this point I thought I was done. I've got this in the bag. So after refueling, and reapplying my sunscreen I headed out only to be greeted by yet another climb. 

I'm not getting sagged. Not today. So after I finally got out of the last hill climb and descent, I found my ticket. A group of four riders riding between 19-22 mph and holding steady. Those guys brought me home the last 6-8 miles. We passes many a defeated looking cyclist, who had no more gas left and were pouring their souls into just finishing those last few miles.

When we rolled to the finish line we quickened the pace, our spirits flew high, and all of us bunny hopped the bumps on the road like they were nothing.

Bob Sarlotte, the event announcer quipped that we looked like the fittest group of riders to complete the course yet, and couldn't believe how fresh we looked.

If he only knew, this was the Fondo of Pain.