A friend recently competed in his first Everest Challenge. Let's just say his experience and results were a little different than some others.

Here is his story.

Be warned, this one is long

For those of you who have been following the
Mis-Adventures of EL Josho, I can promise you that
this installment will be epic- in both length and
content. This one is long but its impossible to
articulate two days of shear hell in just a page or
two and I think the entertainment is definately worth
the price of admission. For those of you who have not
been following along, well, I fear you have missed out
on some incredible literary endeavors.

So, go grab a coffee, get your reading glasses, take
your Ritalin, find a comfy chair, sit back, relax and
prepare to be relatively amused...

Its Monday morning and I had ice cream for breakfast...
and Reese's peanut butter cups too... and I just may
head back to 7-11 for any other sugar-induced whim of
mine. Why, you ask? Answer: Because I can. Because
I deserve it. Because I... Yours Truly, EL JOSHO... am
king of the mountains.

Last Thursday found a flurry of activity in my little
condo with bike parts, cycling gear, bike-food-stuffs,
water, clothing, and tools strewn about my living room
floor like the aftermath of a tornado having hit a
bike shop and grocery store. To most who would have
viewed it, one or two words would likely have come to
mind, "mayhem" or perhaps even "disaster-area", but to
me, it was organization at its finest.

I had list after list of stuff to pack, re-pack,
check, re-check, assemble, disassemble, test, try on,
clean and otherwise accomplish before finally driving
off in search of billy-goat greatness. You see, I
wasn't just preparing for any day or two days on the
bike... oh no... I was getting ready for a show-down with
a mountain.... Well, seven mountains to be exact - but
who's counting.

Upon checking the weather on Thursday I found out that
Bishop California (my destination) was under siege...not
from some whack-job extremist religious group, but
rather from a storm system that was very, very angry.

With that in mind, I had to prepare for sun, clouds,
rain, hail, snow, hot, cold and everything in between.
After packing everything up into various bags and
boxes specific to its contents, I surveyed the
incredible pile of gear that hid most of my living
room floor with a sense of incredible accomplishment...
and quietly wondered to myself how in the hell I was
going to get all that crap, my bike, my dog and my
girl into the Hummer.
Silently I started prioritizing what could be left
behind if space was an issue and frowned upon the
realization that each piece of equipment was key to my
success... including the dog and the girl...(but not in
that order).

The last item of preparation was the icing on the
cake, the star on the Christmas tree... the last touch
to make sure I would rise from the ashes victorious.
It was a simple note to myself, three words written in
black sharpie on a piece of white tape: EAT... DRINK...
FINISH. I walked over to my bike and deftly applied
my hand-written battle cry to my stem to be my
constant under-the-nose reminder for the next two
days. I stepped back with great satisfaction and
stared at my stem for a long, hard moment. It was
then that I realized finish has two I's in it and
FINSH just wasn't going to do.

I opted out of leaving Thursday night, and left at the
ass-crack-o-dawn on Friday morning. It was early, I
was sleepy, but I was a man on a mission. With the
hummer loaded up and busting at its seams, I pulled
out of my parking spot and headed north for the
mountains.

First stop: Starbucks....why? Because all successful
morning road trips that include the girl start with
caffeine, period.

It was a beautiful drive (once out of L.A.) and I
found my right foot quite leaden with anticipation. I
was making great time, and this trip had been going
off without a hitch for a solid 4 hours!

On a side note, if you are ever traveling with your
dog and forget to feed him breakfast... do not ever feed
them a happy meal or beef jerky. Because while these
foods may be convenient, I have recently found out
that dogs process any food from McDonald's or any
Quickiemart directly into gas... hummer-clearing,
eye-bulging, lung-choking, time-to-trade-that-car-in,
alien-crawled-up-inside-them-and-died gas. It will
leave your pet feeling very alone, and curiously
staring out the window of the car at you after the
abrupt-highway-shoulder-stop and subsequent panicked
mass exodus from the vehicle... Shannon naturally tried
to blame it on me at first.... I only WISH I had that
kind of power....but I digress.

As we approached the mountains I could see beauty
everywhere... except up. Yes the flats were alive with
grassy meadows, and fields punctuated by the
occasional farm house leading up to the base of each
hill...and it was beautiful... until my eyes hit about
7000 feet and were met by a bluish-blackish-greyish
mass of dark swirling death.

As we approached the town of Bishop the temperature
was 47 degrees. We crossed over from the sun bathed
plains and into the shadows of the giant black swirl
of cotton balls above us and we both stared up at the
mountains - what we could see of them - and both noted
the white contrast of snow. I noted it with a
wide-eyed and exclamatory, "F#CK ME!", and she noted
it by putting her hand on my knee and gave a
supportive squeeze as if to say, "yup, yer screwed..."

Within minutes of my arrival at the hotel the Bishop
air-raid sirens sounded filling the air with their ear
drum shattering wails. I called the front desk to
inquire if that was normal and was assured it wasn't,
which combined with the weather only added to my
pre-race angst.

After unpacking a bit I decided to go down to the
registration at the camp grounds and pick up my
packet. In the 5 minutes it took me to drive down
there the winds had picked up from "windy" to
"if-it-aint-tied-down-it-aint-stayin'-put". I got out
of my vehicle to see volunteers running around in all
directions, chasing down and picking up USCF sheets,
rider lists, route boards, plastic hammer nutrition
bags and everything else that wasn't weighted down by
a boulder or human.

As I picked up my packet and in the midst of the
torrential wind gusts with spotted with freezing rain
the race officials were nice enough to give us the
following announcement. "Racers, please be aware that
extreme conditions exist up on the mountain...(Really?
No shit? Thanks for that news-flash, Captain
Obvious...) While we may change the course, we will
not cancel the race. If we have to change the course
it will still be 120 miles long with approximately
15k' of climbing. Currently it is 33 degrees at the
finish line for tomorrow leg and we are expecting 12
to 15 inches of snow overnight. It will be raining
most of tomorrow and very cold. Please plan
accordingly."

Any excitement I had felt at the beginning of the day
had by now waned and been replaced with a commensurate
amount of dread for the coming days. I was not
looking forward to this at all.

Before this whole journey of mine began, Coach Cliffy
imparted his wisdom on many things to me but the three
things that stood out in my mind were as follows:
"You must finish, It is ok to stop and get off the
bike, and Tears are OK." Tomorrow would be no
exception to at least 2 of those.

On Friday night, CC's words played over in my mind I
tried hard not to dwell on the obvious. Given the
insurmountable tasks ahead with the added difficulties
to overcome I had a fair amount of anxiety about the
next day. I wont lie and will tell everyone that I
had to take a sleeping pill to get to sleep.

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TATATATATATAT-TAT-TAT! I woke abruptly
from my slumber to the staccato sounds of some beast
pounding on my hotel window. Sleepy, confused and
generally wondering what in the mother of God was
going on outside
at 3:30 a.m., I tripped over the dog and stumbled to
the window. Opening the blinds I was greeted with
little white pellets crashing against the panes, into
cars, and everything outside of my room. I blinked a
couple of times, and said aloud, "Hail? Effing
super.", and went back to bed.

The only stores open in Bishop before 7am are
Starbucks and Vons, and I didn't really like my
options for a pre race meal at either. I opted for a
pre-made protein/juice drink from Vons - my first in a
slew of mistakes for the day.

I pulled up to the wet starting area in my vehicle and
referenced the outdoor temperature proudly displayed
at the bottom of my rearview mirror... 41 degrees. I
looked out the rain spattered window at the mountains
and shivered, realizing that the top half was
completely obscured by some ominous looking clouds.

For those of you who don't know, Everest Challenge has
a common start/finish line with 3 out and backs that
cross back over that line each time you switch
mountains. It can get a little confusing because you
end up traversing over roads you have already gone up
but, I will say that those traverses between mountains
are indeed the most welcomed and easiest part of the
day.

I geared up and rolled to the start noting that it was
cold, wet and generally the worst possible conditions
to endure outdoors even in full North-Face gear, let
alone wrapped in a quarter inch of lycra with a flimsy
vest. I also noted that while I was pleased at how
warm my new Pearl Izumi toe covers were and how well
they matched my ensemble, I wished to God I had opted
to purchase the full booties. At that moment it was so
cold that you could have offered me a pair of bright
pink booties that said "LLama Lover" on them, I would
have gladly slipped them on.

The race officials asked the 4-5's to line up (we were
the last group to start) and started their pre-race
announcements: "Due to the snowfall last night we
have changed the course. Instead of 3 climbs today
there will be 4. All climbs will end just short of
8k' elevation. Today will be approximately 8 miles
shorter than the planned course but we will make it up
tomorrow. You will get 29k' of climbing in two
days...." Gee, how lucky...

I looked around at the competition and noted that I
hadn't ever seen so many skinny bastards in one place...
ever. WHISTLE and we were off. We were headed
into the cold wind but the rain had stopped and we
were all crowded together like 60 puppies all trying
to nurse on that innermost teet - no one wanted to be
left out in the cold

We rolled flat for about 10 miles and I was feeling
optimistic about the day since the sun had poked some
rays through the swiss cheese of clouds that hung over
us. In spite of the fact that I ducked behind the car
3 times before the race started, I now found myself
needing to pee again. One of the guys out front
looked back at everyone and said, "Anyone up for a
neutral pee break before the first climb?" I quickly
shouted out a yes, as well as a bunch of others. He
pulled over to the side, I followed suit and the
peleton rolled by. I quickly realized that the
"bunch" of others had turned into 4 of us.
It is very hard to make a quick pit-stop when its cold
outside, when your guts are in knots with
anticipation, anxiety and bad protein from breakfast.
Plus, long fingered winter-riding gloves do not make
for precision handling of merchandise...

The three of them got back on the bike before I did
and I had to make a huge effort to catch them. Then
when I got on we all made a huge effort to get back to
the peleton, and we did... just as the group hit the
base of the first climb. As the road rose into the
air, I slowly picked my way along the group to be in
the front 25 riders.

About ½ mile into the first climb the peleton started
to splinter. It broke into two main sections with a
few stragglers in between. I was with the front group
and not feeling to bad. I was not getting dropped on
the first climb of the day. I had trained hard for
this, I was ready.

I hung with that group for about another mile and then
the grade pitched up from 7% steep to somewhere around
"suddenly-both-brakes-feel-like-they-are-rubbing"
steep. I was redlining, sweating profusely and slowly
losing touch with that group.

I told myself that it was going to be a long day in
the saddle and I needed to back off and find a tempo
that was right for me. Images of my lazy-boy chair
with a beer in my hand watching Saturday morning
Kung-Fu on the bigscreen came to mind in reference to
that "right tempo" and I busted out laughing. About
that time one of the skinny bastards referenced
earlier rode by me and looked back at me like I was
insane. I thought to myself, "yah man, have you
looked at how big I am and where we are at? I AM
insane".

As I found that comfy tempo I slowly but surely got
passed by almost every single person in the Cat 4/5
group on the way to that first peak. I reached the
top of the first climb in some kind of
record-breaking-slowest-ever time and thought to
myself, "Holy dogsh!t, Batman.... I have to do that 3
more times today?" My inner self replied, "yes, and
don't forget you have to do it all again tomorrow
too...."

The only thing I was really looking forward to with
any kind of enjoyment were the down hills. Given the
wet condition of the road, that first one was anything
but fun. By the time I got down, I was soaked, and
damn cold, and cursing about anything that came to
mind.... Particularly, this bright idea of mine to do
EC.

Climb # 2 started off pretty tame and after settling
into my own tempo I actually found myself gaining on a
few dots ahead of me on the road! I was climbing! I
was gaining! I was in dire need of finding anything
to be happy about! 35 minutes later, I was about 20'
from one of the riders in front of me when I really
started to swell with pride in having caught someone.
As I got closer I saw a tuft of white hair poke out
from under their helmet. As I passed this rider my
heart sunk as I saw that she was clearly one of the 2
confirmed riders for the 85+ category. I quickly
rebounded... I would not be deterred, this small victory
was STILL a victory... I HAD PASSED SOMEONE AND IT WAS
CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION!

As the climb wore on, I found myself catching more and
more people. Each time I passed someone I allowed
myself to imagine another ingredient I was going to
have on my Victory Pizza on Sunday night. I didn't
care that they weighed more than me or were 40 years
older... I was kicking some ass!

About 2 miles before the summit of climb #2 the grade
pitched up to something I hadn't ever experienced on a
bike before. It was steep... so steep in fact that out
of the saddle I couldn't get going more than 4mph. I
was redlining and wheezing like a vacuum that had
something stuck in the nozzle when a lady - not even
breathing hard - passed me and said, "steep, huh?" I
just smiled and admonished myself for getting passed
by a lady whose cycling shorts were big enough to fit
one of me in each leg. Quite frankly, I didn't know
they made cycling shorts that big.

My spirits had improved markedly as I topped climb # 2
and so had the weather. The road was dry enough to
bomb down this one and damn did I have fun. I haven't
ever hit 55mph on a bike before, but I did on Saturday
and while scary it was exhilarating!

I big ringed the traverse from the base of climb 2 to
the base of climb 3. No matter which direction I
traveled that day, it was into the wind. If you have
read my emails regarding my training for EC you will
note that I made some important meteorological
discoveries. I would like to revise my previous
statement to include every peak around Bishop as well.

Within a few minutes of starting climb # 3, I was
rounding a sharp bend to the left when I heard the
sound of brakes being hit hard, tires locking up on
wet pavement and an unmistakable, "AAAAAAAHHHHH" when
the body and bike of a down-hill racer shot past me
and off the road. This person was incredibly lucky
because he barely missed me then missed a large
boulder by inches and slowed to a stop on a 3'x 4'
loose gravel section of the road shoulder. Baseball
umpire hand motions.....SAFE! He put his right foot
down but unceremoniously dumped off his bike to the
left, rolling downhill with his bike carrying over him
in slow motion and landing on top of him with a thud.
I knew he was alright when I heard him bust out
laughing and quietly thought to myself that him and I
were probably brothers in a previous life.

Just after this mishap an all too familiar sensation
started to take over me... I was bonking. I was 50
miles into my day and I was bonking hard. I hadn't
eaten enough for breakfast, and I hadn't been eating
enough on the previous two climbs. I had indeed eaten
some over the first two climbs, but not near enough.
I started to panic a bit and decided to load up on
everything I had left in my pockets.

Somewhere on the previous climbs I must have dropped
some of my food out of my pockets, because all I had
left was 1 packet of Gu. Up until now Shannon, being
the good Samaritan she was had been leap-frogging
ahead of me as the race allowed but had picked someone
up who had abandoned and was driving them back to
their car. I was alone and basically out of food
and water and started to pray that an aid station was
coming up soon. What I didnt know was that there was
only one more aid station between me and the top,
becuase there were no more turnouts.

In spite of the bonk that I felt I kept pushing myself
to carry on. I wasn't ½ way done with my day and any
stopping or slowing wasn't going to get me to the
finish any quicker. About 2 miles up the road I saw
an aid station, as I came upon them I asked if they
had any bars, the guy responded with an enthusiastic,
"yes!" He said to keep pedaling and he would stuff
them in my jersey as I went by.

My joy was short lived when I reached back to get one
of these bars. I was horror struck to feel the
unmistakable shape of multiple Power bars in my back
pocket. I think my exact response was, "Sh!t Sh!t
Sh!t!". As I pedaled on I tried unsuccessfully to
open the armor-clad foil wrapping with my teeth.
After 10 minutes of wrestling with this beast I
finally stopped the bike, took off my gloves and spent
3 minutes of unimpeded effort to get the bugger open.
I immediately put it in my mouth and tried to take a
bite. In my zest to peel back the adult-proof
wrapping I failed to realize that the cold weather had
made it as hard as oversized jolly rancher. The only
way I could consume this thing was to break parts of
it off and let it thaw out in my mouth.

I was hungry, and thirsty. I was utterly frustrated
with my power bar. I hadn't seen Shannon in a couple
of miles and I was at a breaking point. I hadn't ever
been more miserable in my life: I was cramping up in
my neck and lower back, both of my knees hurt, it was
raining again now, it was cold, I was bonking and most
importantly I was alone. My inner thigh cramped up
several times so bad that I had to stop and clip out.
By now I was well acquainted with another thing I
remember Coach Cliffy to have said, "you will suffer
unimaginable pain on the bike over the course of that
race, but you must finish", and he was right.

I wanted to quit and I wanted to cry but I only
allowed myself one of the two. I initially started to
cry because I was frustrated with myself for wanting
to quit. Then through some sort of catharsis I cried
for all the real reasons that I should cry. I cried
because I live so far away from and terribly missed my
sister and nephew. I cried because I missed my mom.
I cried because I haven't spoken to my father in 5
years. I cried for my failed relationship with the
only woman I ever wanted to marry. I cried because I
want so badly to be a daddy by now. I cried because I
hurt, because every muscle in my body was screaming at
me to do anything but take another stroke on the
pedals. I cried because I was and still am...human.

I crossed the top of climb 3 too weak to call out my
number with tears still rolling down my face and a
nasal drip that would rival any leaky faucet. Shannon
was there. I stopped, she hugged me and I cried some
more. She looked me in the eyes, and said, "you can
do this, one more climb to go". It was time to cowboy
up and stop crying because decents are tricky enough
without tears.

I negotiated my way down hill # 3 across the flats to
the start of hill 4. I was a little over 6 hours into
my day. A race official came upon me in her car and I
asked if she knew how long the last climb was, she
said, "it's the steepest of the day and 14 miles". I
was not happy.

Upon passing the start/finish on my way to the final
climb I passed a little noodle of a man who sat
leaning against his car, clearly tired, and finished.
I asked him if he was done, and with a smirk on his
face he says, "Yuz, aye am feeneeesh'd az uv twelve
meeneeetz ago". I think I replied, "I hate you" and
pedaled on.

I started the last climb of the day realizing that it
was the only road I had reconnoitered the day before.
I was crestfallen because my recollection from the day
before was that even in the Hummer, it was just
ridiculously steep and went on forever. I knew that
even if I somehow miraculously managed to average 7
mph, it was still going to take me another 2 hours to
get to the top.

One thing I noted throughout the day was that as the
day wore on, my max heart rate was steadily dropping.
Whereas I can normally ping at 170-175 for hours on
end, it had been hovering at 160 and was now down to
148 at max effort (sub-anaerobic) and while I didn't
know what it meant, I knew it wasn't good.

Ominous clouds started to roll in like something out
of a movie when things are about to get real nasty for
the protagonist and it was my bad movie and I was the
star. I had passed 3 more people on the way to that
climb and caught up with 2 more at the first "aid
station". I stopped there and happened to roll off at
the same time as another cat 4/5 racer, his name was
Ben.

We rolled together for a few minutes and exchanged
pleasantries. We talked for another 10 minutes
together and I noticed how nice it was to have someone
to talk to. It was the first time all day that I
hadn't been alone. While secretly I would have traded
my left arm to have someone to talk to for the rest of
the ride, when I found out he weighed 150, I
unselfishly told that while I was enjoying the
conversation, I didn't want to hold him back and if he
needed to ride ahead, to please do so. I was
overjoyed when he replied, "man, im going no-where in
a hurry", I'd like the company too.

Its amazing how misery loves company because, while he
weighed less than me, he was struggling just like I
was. We commiserated and laughed for a while talking
about anything to keep our minds off of what we were
doing and how bad the conditions were. It worked
until we got up to about 6k' and that's when it really
started to get ugly. The wind started to pick up
again, and the temperature dropped a noticeable 10
degrees. We quickly stopped and put on our rain coats
when the heavens saw fit to start a nasal drip of
their own.

As we passed the next aid station the lady said that
we had about `3 miles of really steep road ahead of
us' and she wasn't kidding. Its one thing when its
all switch backs and you cant see more than 200 yards
ahead of you. It's a whole other monster when you are
in a canyon so big that it makes you feel just how
small you really are, and you can see the road
stretching out in front of you as far as your eyes can
focus, seeing the mountain you have to climb in its
entirety.

Shortly after receiving this great news God decided it
would be funny to add to our plight a headwind gusting
to 30mph and made it cold enough for the drip to
become snow. Shannon has great video of me pedaling
uphill into the wind, in a blizzard. I was bonking
again, and it was at that precise moment I looked to
the heavens and asked, "Could you possibly make this
worse?" Thankfully, he didn't take my challenge.

The blizzard blew over and everything but the wind
stopped. We were about a mile from the top and we
were both gasping for air, wanting to give up when we
saw it.... THE FINISH LINE! There it was in all its
glory, lit up by a sliver of sunlight peering through
the clouds, just around the bend and of course, up
hill where all the cars and tents were! We took
heart and plowed ahead. At about 50 yards from the
cars, tents and cone in the road I was thinking,
"Thank God, I couldn't pedal past that cone if I had
to..." Then we hear Shannon yelling, "Doing great!
Almost there! 1 more mile!..." record scratch

WHAT?

We both looked at her with eyes bulging and said,
"This isn't the finish?" I looked sternly at her and
said, "are you F#cking kidding me? Don't Eff with me
right now, this ISNT funny." She starts giggling and
says, "no, im not, they wont let cars past this
point. Its just up the road".

If Ben and I had any manner of instrument to off each
other at that point, I am sure we would have, but
since bludgeoning each other to death with carbon
fiber bikes would have taken longer than riding to the
top, we opted to finish the race.

The ride from the cone to the finish consisted of 5
short 15% stingers over ¾ of a mile that proved to me
it is possible to keep a bike upright at 0.5 mph.

We rode back down to the cars at the top with little
fanfare and collapsed into the chairs and blankets
they had waiting for finishers. They also had the
best campfire bean and cheese quesadilla I have ever
eaten in my life. Truthfully, it could have been a
shoe-sole-sandwich and I would have raved about it
too. Admittedly, I was hungry.

The good news is I finished FOURTH! (from last) and I
was stoked to have made it through day 1.

Day 1 stats:

94.5 miles
Approximately 55 miles of it were uphill
13, 820' of climbing
8 hours 40 minutes from start to finish
Total time on bike: 7 hours 46 minutes.
Max Heart rate: 195
Average Heart rate: 154
Top speed: 55mph
Bottom Speed: 0.5 mph
Average speed: 12 mph
Place: 7 DNF's + 4 places from last.

On the way back to the hotel room that night, I sat in
the car with my head against the window looking much
like a lost soul as I contemplated my day. I had 3
things to accomplish that evening. Soak, eat, and
sleep as much as possible.

Somewhere during the day I had the idea that soaking
in Epsom salts would be good for my muscles, what I
didn't consider is just how bad it would be for the
two silver dollar sized saddle sores I had on opposing
cheeks....hey, at least they matched.

Sunday morning came way, way, way too soon. The alarm
clock went off and I sat up in bed and hoped that
deciding to do the EC was all just a bad dream. It
wasn't and I had the day from hell ahead of me.

I would like to take this special place in time to
introduce you all to my good friend Mr. Jack Schidt.
If you haven't done EC or a 2 day race like it I am
going to assume you don't know Jack Schidt. I met
him on the morning of day 2. I thought I had
experienced discomfort and pain before but immediately
upon mounting my bike I became aware that I didn't
know Jack schidt either, and subsequently introduced
myself to him... We are good friends now.

I took stock of my situation and felt pretty
overwhelmed by the realities. Day 2 would be almost
as long as day 1 in terms of miles, have 4k' more
climbing, a shorter flat traverse between climbs, the
climbs would average 20 miles each, and I was wrecked
mentally and physically. I wasn't coming in fresh off
of a week of ease, I was destroyed from the day
before. My knees were shot, my neck was worked, my
lower back was so stiff I couldn't stand up straight,
I had sores and blisters, aches and pains in all the
regular places and a few new ones I didn't know
existed before EC. In short I had no idea where I was
going to find the intestinal fortitude, or drugs to
pull this off.

I wished for some way out, but knew that there wasn't
any way out but up.

At the start line for I quickly found my buddy from
the first day. We grimly nodded to each other how
tough it was going to be and we made a pact to finish
- no matter what.

The first climb started out much like day 1 with the
group splintering quickly after the climb began. I
drifted to my position at the back making sure
everyone had at least 1 person to pass. Ben and I
hammered out that hill with only 3 people behind us.
While there were few clouds on Sunday, it was bitter
cold...35 degrees at the top of that climb to be exact.

We didn't realize how steep the climb we had just come
up was until we headed downhill. I bombed down the
first part of it, but with the sheer 400' drop-offs,
no guard-rail and my fingers frozen stiff resulting in
poor braking, I sat up and opted to live.

Climb # 2 came way to quickly and we delighted in
hearing that it was easiest climb of the day. That
tidbit of info was slightly overshadowed by the news
that # 3 was the highest, longest and most brutal of
all 7 climbs over the two day race.

By now the sun was out, and too many layers resulted
in needing to peel to get to a comfortable core
temperature. Climb # 2 wasn't so steep, just steep
enough to be uncomfortable, however and it was damn
long... 18 miles to be exact, with no reprieves
anywhere. It was a mind-numbing-quad-grinder of a
hill, luckily we gobbled up another rider and he
decided to pace with us up the hill. I should note
that on day two I wasn't able to get my heart rate up
above 150 all day.

This third rider was named Brett. He was 22 and had a
bad knee from being hit by a car. He was thinking
about abandoning and I don't know why, but I felt it
incumbent upon me not to let this kid quit. I brought
him into the fold and started chatting him up to get
him in better spirits. I convinced him to promise me
he wasn't going to quit, and so we became the three
musketeers. Yes we were the Triple threat! Though the
only thing we were threatening was last place...

A little way longer up the road we gobbled up one
more, and once again I extolled the virtues of
sticking together, encouraging each other and
finishing so that none of us would ever feel the need
to come back and finish what we started years before.
Somehow encouraging them to stick it out and keep
pushing was keeping me in the race too... so I
continued... Another convert! The three became four and
we carried on.

By now I was numb with pain all over, no amount of bag
balm was helping my saddle sores and taking an advil
or two for my pain was like shooting a spitwad at a
charging bull... just not going to have much effect. I
wanted to stop and get in the hummer and go home, I
wanted to quit, I wanted to leave that place and never
come back, but I knew I couldn't. I knew I would
have to face all of you with my truth when I got home.

We finished climb # 2 as a foursome all the while I
kept everyone entertained with my jokes and stories.
No one seemed to mind at least, so I kept on. By the
time we hit the flats at the bottom on our way to
climb # 3 I wondered aloud where I was going to get
the strength to finish.

Climb # 3 was 22 miles long, the steepest one of the
day and finished at 10,000'. As we started it, a race
official passed us and informed us that we were the
last 4 out on the course. I quickly calculated and
shared the good news with everyone that at our pace,
it was only likely to take 4 more hours to finish...

It started out with a super steep section that
required me to be out of the saddle for quite some
time. I was completely out of breath, and we were
only at 4800', but my heart rate wouldn't go above
138. I was fading hard and I knew I was in deep pewp.

This was a defining moment for me as a cyclist. Ben
and Hirar had started to pull ahead and I was really
struggling just to keep pace. I kept thinking, "I
cant do this... I cant". I told myself then and there
that I was going to finish the race if it killed me,
if it took me the rest of the day and all night, I was
going to finish, so I had better get a move on.

Then I looked back at Brett and he was a good 20'
behind me. "C'mon Brett", I said. "Beer and Pizza
waiting for you at the top!" I looked back and saw a
smile on his face, and he edged a little closer. I
continued on, "Brett your presence is requested in a 4
man peleton on Mt. White... Please RSVP". I said all
manner of stupid things to get him and myself to laugh
and to take our minds off of what was going on.
Somehow it worked.

As we passed the next Aid station, the lady asked if
we needed anything. I muttered something about an,
"EPO Sandwich, Epitestosterone or homologous blood
transfusion" and she didn't laugh, but I did. I
busted out laughing because there are just sometimes
when you find yourself in certain situations that
there is just nothing left to do, but laugh.

We dropped Brett after that aid station and I felt
really bad about abandoning him, we had all been
together for almost the entire day and it just didn't
feel right. I announced to the other two that I was
going back down to ride with Brett and they could
choose to wait or not. I went back down, they waited,
and Brett was grateful.

The four of us stayed together up until the last 10
miles of the climb. At the last aid station on the
climb I was actually feeling good and could have kept
up with Ben and Hirar, but Brett was struggling
incredibly and I felt strongly that if we left Brett
he would abandon. I didn't want to see him come all
this way only to quit so close to the end. Besides, I
realized earlier that in the end, the race was only
against myself, and it was long since over, I had
already won.

So, I stayed with him, I rode up a ways then circled
back down and gave him some encouragement or talked to
him about whatever. I zigzagged back and forth just
in front of him on the road to keep pace. I continued
doing this for the next 10 miles. Ben and Hirar went
ahead of us and finished, but I stayed with Brett. It
was a long, slow last ten miles, but as we came to the
finish I thought about crossing the line the 40' or so
that I was ahead of him. Then, I changed my mind. I
looped back downhill one more time, got next to him,
put my arm over his shoulder and we pedaled across the
finish line together, in last place.

I was done, and so was my race against me. I had
beaten the mountain and conquered my fear of failing.

Day 2 stats:

82.4 miles
Approximately 60 miles of it were uphill
15, 540' of climbing
9 hours 40 minutes from start to finish
Total time on bike: 8 hours 23 minutes.
Max Heart rate: 157
Average Heart rate: 131
Top speed: 52mph
Bottom Speed: 0.5 mph
Average speed: 9.3 mph
Place: 12 DNF's + 2nd from last.

I learned more about myself in two days than I think I
have learned in years. Considering that 3 months ago
I couldn't go up Palomar once without stopping, and
now I have accomplished Everest... I can do anything I
set my mind to.

Overall I finished 2nd to last place in Cat 4/5, only
3 riders out of the total 150 or so that rode finished
slower than me. More than 30 people that paid to race
DNF'd - but I didn't.
Every tandem and lady racer, every 45+, 55+ and public
racer beat me up that mountain, and I don't mind one
bit. I did what I set out to do, which was take my
non-climbing-ass through to the finish of the hardest
mountain race in the states.

I want to thank a few people who, to me, I couldn't
have done this without. Coach Cliffy, thank you for
the many emails and your words of encouragement.
Richard, thank you for enlightening me on training
specificity and compact cranks. Swami's thank you all
for the encouragement and support via emails. To mom
and sis, thank you for your prayers, love and always
being there for me. Lastly and most importantly, to
Shannon, for being my greatest cheerleader, for always
jumping in and helping out, for wearing high-heels to
everything from Disney land to Everest Challenge, for
driving up and down mountains and filming my insanity
all day long and for never-ever-giving-up-on-me, even
when I had.

Today is Monday, and the world is a fresh new place.
After my ordeal this weekend I have a different
outlook on cycling, myself, and life in general. My
knees and quads are so shot that I am walking like a
pregnant yak. I have sores on my ass that aren't
going away any time soon. I am tired like I have
never ever been tired before. I am changed forever.

In spite of the great lessons learned, the experience
and the insight gleaned into myself and the friends
made, I can say without reservation, that I wont
ever, ever do Everest Challenge again.

It is time to take the advice of the state-champion
Matt Becica and train my strengths.

Important lessons I have learned for all Swami-kind:

1. Cycling shorts are indeed available in size XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXL
2. Communism is alive and well here in the U.S. in the form of a 2 day bike race called EC
3. It is embarrassing getting passed by anyone on a climb.
4.It is exhilarating to pass anyone on a climb.
5. Don't try to push God around... no matter how mad you are, its just a bad idea.
6. You don't know Jack Schidt about pain if you haven't done one of these races.
7. Epsom salts + bath + saddle sores = scream like a girl
8. Epsom salts + fresh shaved legs = scream like a girl
9. PEP = Post Exercise Puke... know it... avoid it.
10. Too much Chamois butter = flashbacks to 2 yrs old and diapers.
11. It is better to be DFL than to DNF

Peter... Cliff... we need to talk about the RAAM.

Nuff Said.

Much luv to all,

El Josho

P.S. My ass hurts.

P.P.S. DFL = Dead Effing Last ... DNF = Did Not Finish

Josh Soto
thelandscapeguru.com