As most of you know, I was lucky (?) enough to be offered a spot on this year's Death Ride. Since this ride is by raffle only, and only half of the people that register actually get chosen to ride, I felt the honor was one I could not pass up. So I started riding hills every chance I got, as well as obsessing about percent grades and gearing. And altitude.

Soon, the big date was less than a month away. About this time, I suddenly got something else dropped in my lap: I could get the promotion I'd been waiting for if I was willing to drop everything and move to San Jose. After much agonizing, I decided I couldn't pass it up, and I altered my Markleeville plans to include a trip to San Jose. This may have been a big mistake, but I did want to find a place to live BEFORE I started my "new" job in SJ.

After a very productive day and a half in the Almaden area, I headed for the hills. The temperature hit 109 as I drove across the valley. I got into Markleeville Thursday evening and was glad it was "only" in the 90's. I could not find Ralph and Kathi as planned, but was welcomed to join the Almaden club at their site (we had been emailing back and forth about my move to the area, and the Death Ride). They turned out to be a great group of people with the most wonderful potluck meals I've ever eaten campside. In fact, camping and socializing turned out to be much more fun than the Ride itself...

I spent Friday biking and sightseeing in the big city (pop. 165). Late afternoon, I was back at the campsite with several of the Almaden bunch. An electrical storm was lighting up a blackened sky across the lake. It was very impressive to watch, and we oohed and ahhed at the show. Suddenly the "show" became reality as a literal wall of water and wind and debris swept across the lake and into our camp. Everyone jumped into their tents. Alas, mine was not anchored down well and started to whip about. I jumped out to try and stake it down again, but realized it would be torn away from me if I let go for a second. I jumped back in and held the tent down with my own weight. The wind and water buffeted the tent, moving everything in it, and flattening it down around me. I just held on and tried not to panic as the thunder cracked and the wind howled.

Within half an hour it was over. I pushed the tent up and climbed out. The campsite was a mess. I had blood running from a cut on my leg - and no idea how I got it. A branch had fallen on and flattened a neighbor's tent. Luckily, they weren't home. No one was hurt and all our tents survived. The sun came out and everything dried out by the time we were ready to sit down and eat. A loud plane started circling around over our heads. We soon learned that the lightning had started a fire at the small lake up the road and the plane was trying to put it out. We would see a haze of smoke over the valleys the next day. First "near-death" experience survived.

The next day was The Ride. I was up at 4am and heading for breakfast. It was exciting to see so many people awake in the blackness, staff directing with flashlights as more and more cars lined the road. The sky was just lightening as I rode out at 5:40am.

As I started to climb the first pass, I realized something wasn't quite right. I was in my lowest gear, trying to go slow and pace myself. But I couldn't catch my breath. I pulled over and rested once on the way up. The view as I came over the top was worth it: an amazing vista, with snow at the top and green valleys at the bottom. And 9 miles of downhill. I cautiously tried to keep around 40 mph, as every other biker whizzed past me. I was actually relieved when I made it to the bottom in one piece.

Then it was 9 miles of uphill. Which felt much safer, but I was soon in trouble. Not only could I not catch my breath, but I started to feel nauseous and weak. It was getting hotter and there was no shade. I stopped at the water stop and rested. My legs were fine, but the rest of me was not. One of my wonderful new Almaden friends (Miguel Aznar) dumped water over my head and encouraged me. I decided I would make it back up and see how I felt at the top. It took literally hours to do that 9 miles. I finally make it to the pit stop and headed straight for the medical tent. By this time my stomach was cramping up, I was dizzy, and I was getting a headache. There was no way I was safe to ride down the hill, let alone try a third pass. I stayed and waited for the sag vehicle, and was grateful that they'd thought to give me a plastic bag for the trip back. Unfortunately, emptying my stomach didn't stop the cramping. That stayed with me into the evening, and I spent the rest of the day lying down and trying to ignore the world around me. And that was the Death Ride for me.

I am glad to say that I felt much better the next day, a bit weak maybe but well enough to drive the 8 hours home and sleep in a real bed after a hot shower. I'm disappointed I didn't do more of the ride, but grateful to be alive and well - and glad they didn't make me give that jersey back! Maybe I'll be crazy enough to try it again...with a whole WEEK to acclimate to that darn altitude! Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to try this crazy ride - I don't hold any of you responsible!

Theresa