Endurance cycling puts mind, body, and bike to the test.

Succeeding at these is, to me, worth more than the few moments of exhilaration I feel at the finish. The real pay-off is in the journey to the starting line. Giving an event the respect it deserves provides the motivation I need to ride in the winter rain, or indoors on the trainer, when I rather be inside by the fire reading a good book.

A long ride finds the weak points in my body. It pushes me beyond my limits. Finishing strong and healthy requires a great deal of discipline in my training. Riders like John Hughes, Fred Matheny and Ed Pavelka say it takes about six months to prepare for a multi-day, long distance event, and that a slow, steady ramp-up to longer rides with greater intensity will help to avoid injury and burn-out. I have enrolled in their school of thought.

A long ride finds the weak points in my bicycle. Chip-seal and pot holes on back-country roads test wheels and spokes and rubber. Steep ascents on mountain passes grind gears and flex frames. Hour-long descents down steep alpine passes stretch cables, burn brakes, and superheat rims. Getting my bike ready and keeping it on the road problem-free requires an intimate knowledge of the components, and the basic mechanical ability to keep everything tight and true.

A long ride finds the weak points in my mind. Spending 16 to 20 hours in the saddle can burn as many as 10,000 calories in a day. Add sleep deprivation to the calorie deficit and the result can be fuzzy thinking, a lower pain-threshold, negative self-talk, hallucinations, and worse still, a premature decision to quit. Ultra Rondonneur Ken Bonner once told me that at some point in a long ride, everybody thinks about quitting. That’s normal, he says. But keeping your head straight and your bike rolling ultimately boils down to knowing why you are out there in the first place, so you have the motivation to keep pedaling even when your body or your bike are are working against you.

I believe that mind, body, and bike are the fundamentals of long distance cycling, so that is how we organize the articles published on Ready to Ride. It is also the way that I will share my reflections on the Portland to Glacier 1000K brevet, which was produced by Susan France and a a small, hardy group of volunteers between June 30 and July 2, 2007.

Thirty-seven riders started, 31 riders finished, and each one of them has a story about how they managed to ride 620 miles, climb more than 26,000 feet, in less than 75 hours – or not. The most dramatic stories are always told by the riders who lived at the edge of time, like Greg Paley, who rode through overnight controls and through the Bitterroot Mountains at 2 o’clock in the morning, soloing to the finish line in under 58 hours. And like James Yee and Mike Norman. They also rode to the finish alone, just about an hour under the cut-off time.

I finished the Glacier 1000 in less than 70 hours, with a comfortable 5 and one-half-hour cushion, so there is no drama in my story. But that was the plan. I Finished the 2006 Cascade 1200 just 60 seconds under the 90 hour limit. It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. But it is not one I want to repeat. The evaluation of that ride provided me with insight that became part of my plan and preparation for the Glacier 1000. That is the story I will tell in a five-part series that we call The Glacier’s Shadow.

Stay tuned, and keep the pedals turnin.’

Click here to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V

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