KOM Stage 2: Breathless Agony

Last weekend, Reuben and I completed the second stage of the Planet Ultra King of the Mountains Challenge. Breathless Agony remains one of the hardest things I've ever done on the bike, but this year was definitely easier than 2009. We both felt stronger the whole way, and not cramping this year was a huge morale booster. Both of us also improved upon last year's times, and frankly, I actually enjoyed most of the ride this year, whereas before it had been almost total misery. In fact, the only real bummer is that I seem to have temporarily branded an outline of my saddle into my hind quarters. It's time to investigate shammy cream.

Getting saddle sores isn't the most unusual thing that happens during these things, though. Something very strange goes on in my head near the end of each event, and in the next few days afterward. I go through this cycle of "glad I'll never have to do that again" to "well, it really wasn't too bad" to "I bet if I continue to train I can improve my time significantly." The mind forgets the pain very quickly, and the body follows the mind, much the same way it followed the mind up the mountain in the first place.

While riding the last oxygen-depriving bit of Breathless (some 8,000ft above sea-level) I spoke with a guy wearing his KOM jersey. I said I was surprised how long this last part was taking, as I had expected to be farther ahead of last year's pace. His response was innocuous first, but later became troubling. "You're not supposed to get faster each year...it's the other way around," is what he said. Now given, he was more than twice my age, actually probably closer to three times. Still, what a shame for a man to feel that way while completing one of the toughest events in the country on par with a 22 year old. I have a different philosophy.

Certainly, I will improve with age and experience over the next ten years even without increasing my effort, but who's to say it should stop there; that wherever I am when I reach the conventional peak of athletic performance, that's where my inevitable decline begins. Whether built for it or not, anyone who finishes one of these events is a climber. The only decline I'll have anything to do with is the one right before the next mountain comes into view.