“We climbed a mountain today.”
This summed up the feeling of triumph and exhausted euphoria that enveloped the Tour de Rock riders after we reached the summit of Mount Washington, the toughest and most grueling ride we’ve done to date.
Mount Washington has always been held up as our Everest, a benchmark to measure the results of three-and-a-half months of training. While the Tour de Rock in September is our ultimate test of endurance, with back-to-back days of up to 140 kilometre rides, no hill we encounter will be bigger than Mount Washington.
When I woke up Sunday morning at 6 a.m., I flitted back and forth between feeling pumped to woefully unprepared. I know the trainers wouldn’t throw something at us we’re not ready for but thus far, our longest climb has been the two-kilometres up the Saanich Observatory, which seems like a piddly little hill compared to the 18-kilometre, make-your-quads-cry slog up Mount Washington where the inclines range from very miserable to only slightly miserable.
CTV’s Chandler Grieve and I had the three-hour drive from Victoria to the Comox Valley to solidify our nerves and terror. We tried to lighten the mood by making playlists, a soundtrack for our impending doom.
The team met in the parking lot of the chain-up area, had a quick bike inspection and exchanged nervous banter. The North riders were a bit peeved that they didn’t get the memo that for this ride and this ride only, headphones would be allowed.
We did a quick five-minute warm-up ride to loosen up our legs and once we got back to the chain-up area, off we went, “on our own” which means, “as much physical exertion as your body will allow.”
The first four kilometres were unrelenting misery, a steep climb-from-hell that seems to reach into the heavens.
At every curve, I was hoping for a crest, a plateau, any sort of reprieve from the slow burning in my quads as they pushed the pedals around in the lowest possible gear.
My back was burning, too, from the 32 C heat and the blazing sun beating down as I rode up. As much as I told myself to stay positive, there were times I thought I wouldn’t make it.
Emotions switched from verge-of-tears frustration: “Who built this road? Didn’t they think of putting in some valleys in between these hills?” to pull-yourself-together pep talks: “This is nothing compared to chemo. Do this for your junior rider.”
It helped that I had met with my junior rider, four-year-old Hannah Day, the day before. Her smile, and the childhood innocence that belies the two years of painful cancer treatments, forced me to push on.
Finally, I could see a flat bit, and I dare say, teeny bit of a downhill drop where I could recharge my legs.
And there on the side of the road, like a glittering mirage in the arid desert, was the silver Honda support car with Jan Buehler and Katie Crowe from the Canadian Cancer Society, waiting with cold water to throw on my head and into my water bottle. I felt refreshed. I started bobbing my head to my music. I told myself “Enjoy this — when you reach the top, it will be the single best physical accomplishment of your life. Relish in it.”
At one point, about half way up, I was riding next to Oceanside RCMP Cpl. Jesse Foreman, who rode the Tour last year and is now a trainer. He’s become the stuff of legends by conquering Mount Washington in an hour and 11 minutes. I pushed a little harder. “I’m Jesse Foreman-ing it. You’ve become a verb now.” He laughed and I carried on riding.
Some riders had to stop because they felt dizzy and thought they were going to pass out. I found out later that one Mountie actually did, on the side of the road before being taken into an air conditioned support vehicle to cool down. After some much-needed hydration, he soldiered on and kept going. And soldier on we did.
Kilometre after kilometre we put our heads down and climbed. Nothing was so sweet as seeing the “Welcome to Mount Washington” sign and the colourful chalets dotting the ski hill.
When I rode into the parking lot, I let out a cry. I made it. I hugged some of the teammates already gathered at the main lodge and hugged those who came in after me. I made it in an hour and 50 minutes, better than the two-hour goal I set for myself.
After pigging out on chocolate-covered almonds, bananas and jube jubes, we took a team photo at the top, exhausted smiles across all our faces.
Then came the best part. Riding down. Slog up in an hour 50 minutes, fly down in 15. I think I’ve been watching too much Tour de France because instead of just letting myself coast down, I found a second wind and hammered down that hill. I was even drafting with VicPD traffic cop Ryan Koropatniski, keeping right onto his back wheel as we hit speeds of over 80 kilometres an hour.
When we reached the parking lot, my legs felt like rubber elastics and I felt delirious from hunger.
Good thing there was a veritable feast waiting for us at the chalet rented by North rider Chris Kippel. I don’t think any of us felt guilty for wolfing down chili, chips and mini sandwiches.
After all, we did just climb a mountain.
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Katie DeRosa is one of the media riders for this year’s Cops for Cancer Tour de Rock, a 13-day bike ride from Port Alice to Victoria. Follow DeRosa's blog for details about the ongoing training, leading up to full coverage of the ride Sept. 20 to Oct. 3. To donate to her fundraising campaign, click here.
