Dam(n) Wind!

For weeks now, my training rides have been visited by Mother Nature before she's had her coffee. Cold. Wind. Rain. Hail. Even the Tour de Palm Springs challenged us with strong head & cross winds during the longest climb of the day. The last weekend in February was no different... cold & windy. I chose not to ride that weekend because I was over it. I just wanted to go out and enjoy some time in the saddle without fighting the weather... wanted to smile and cruise along and feel that love of cycling. So when I was greeted with a warm, clear sunny day this past Saturday, I saddled up and headed out to Red Rock Canyon for a 30 mile pleasure ride.

Aside from my chain falling off once and getting my first flat tire, the day was perfect! Honestly, the bike issues didn't bother me at all... was proud of myself for changing my first flat. It's something I'm going to have to get used to and after more than 700 miles in training, it was bound to happen at some point. I hit my 30 mile goal and did it at top speed, clocking a damn nice average speed of 14.8 mph. The biggest disappointment of the day was that the sunset from the canyon wasn't spectacular... was just okay. And if that's the worst the day brings me, I gotta feel pretty blessed.

After such an incredible ride, I decided I'd make the most of the gorgeous weekend by going on an even longer ride on Sunday. Even chose to mix it up a little by heading out to the east side of town and giving the River Mountain Loop Trail a try for the first time. I've heard about this trail since I started cycling but the thought of driving 30 minutes to ride deterred me, especially since I have the canyon right here at my doorstep. But on Sunday, I was going to give it a go.... and make it even more memorable by adding a 14 mile side-trip to the Hoover Dam. Seven years in Las Vegas and I've never been to the Dam... figured seeing it from my Cannondale would turn it into a true adventure.

So I geared up, aired the tires, safety checked the bike, packed my saddle bag, filled my water bottles, mixed my electrolytes and drove out to Railroad Pass Casino which has a trail entrance at the back parking lot. Rolling up onto the path, I started out casually - warming up my legs and body knowing I had a long, challenging ride ahead. But within minutes, the trail took me. This thing is PHENOMENAL! It's like a Hot Wheels track made especially for cycling! Felt like a nine year old through the dips and turns and curves and tunnels and bridges and.... WOOOOHOOOO!!! I pedaled harder and faster, zoomed down hills then hit the brakes hard on tight corners. Whipped through zig-zags, rolled up and down, and took in all the beauty of the area. Red rocks, green tumbleweed, blue waters. This trail reminded me why I love cycling. Why I love Las Vegas. And why I love life!

Closing in on Lake Mead, I took my turn to head toward the Dam. The sun was still bright, the sky still blue, the wind in my face but just enough to keep me cool. Veering off the path and onto the road, I climbed up and around and over the pass. As I started the descent, I was waved through the security checkpoint (two of the five guards were hot!), and rolled on down. Passing vehicles were considerate even during the spans where there was little to no shoulder. I was the only cyclist heading down - and none passed on the other side heading up. Maybe this trek was more off the beaten path than I realized.

In areas where I was protected from motorists and where there was something to see, I stopped to take photos. Then suddenly swung around a curve to be faced with the massiveness of the new bridge looming over me. More photo ops. More curves. More rolling down hill. Then it was there. What looked like a gargantuan slab of concrete, built nearly 80 years ago, was holding the force of a rushing river behind it, forming Lake Mead.  I guess maybe that's why they made the base of the dam 660 feet thick. This monolith provides power across three states. And I became one of the nearly 1,000,000 visitors who would see it this year.

I slowly rode across the top of the Dam, keeping with the snail's pace of the touring motorists. This thing's an engineering marvel, but it's also architecturally significant. Designed in the late 20s and completed in 1935, it holds an Art Deco flair mixed with the oncoming architectural era of the monolithic concrete behemoth. Taking it all in, I suddenly realized I was no longer in Nevada... I'd crossed the state line... on my bicycle!

Knowing I was still in the early miles of my ride, I couldn't dally too long, so I began the trek back to the River Mountain Loop Trail. Or should I say the trek up to the RMLT.

That descent was fun. The climb? Not so much. But I'm used to it by now. Just pedaled my heart out, dropped down into my lowest gear. Stopped once to pop an energy chew and a couple bites from my Clif Bar. But made it to the top and back to the trail.

Again, on this zig-zagging, rolling path... now heading north and following a few hundred yards off the shore of the lake, I was giddy and smiley as I cruised through the bright sunshine joy of my day. Then the path began to change direction. Just about the time the wind picked up.

The first 24 miles... pretty much downhill.

Even with rolling hills, when you're headed toward the lake you're pretty much going downhill. And when you turn west, away from the lake, you start climbing. And climbing. And climbing. Climbing. Climbing. Every summit, I looked ahead and there, just up the path, was another hill. It was late afternoon and the sun began to descend while the wind picked up full force. At around the 28 mile point, the wind was a steady 20 mph with gusts hitting close to 30. On the small downhill slopes I had to stay in low gear and pedal hard just to keep moving. The uphills were a crawl, with a wall of wind straight in my face, trying it's damndest to push me back to the bottom.

And the next 24 miles... Up Up and UPPPPP!

But I persevered. I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Make it stop!" or sometimes, "You're friggin' kidding me!!!" Secret wishes in my head sent out to the universe to please let there be no more hills after that next curve.... wishes which weren't granted for miles and miles and miles. During this climb, I thought of all the people I was doing it for. The friends I've held as they passed away from this horrific disease. The heroes who survived all odds and are still with me today. The volunteers and the staffers and the donors to ALC and to all the programs and services and agencies I've worked for in my many years of HIV work. It took all of them. Every single name. Every single face. But with the help of their energy, I climbed to the top.

Passing Lake Las Vegas, I got a brief respite as I turned south for a moment... allowing me to keep a steady, but far from stellar pace, and worrying more about being blown sideways than fighting a headwind. The path made one more slight turn then... to the southwest.... right into the winds.... and right when I hit The Three Sisters.

This is the top, right?!?!?

So, I thought I was at the top but forgot that my friends Kristen & Brian had warned me the Sisters were the biggest bitches on this route. The steepest climbs. Three progressively more difficult hills in a row. The thing about progressive hills is you usually have a downhill between each to pick up speed, providing some momentum to assist you up the next hill. That day, there was no momentum. I pedaled my ass off just trying to keep a 6 mph pace downhill. The little bit of speed I gained, combined with the hardest pedaling I'd ever done, got me to the summit of the first hill. Well, that momentum, that pedaling, and thinking about all the inspirational and motivational souls that surround my life everyday. But sometimes, even inspiration only gets you so far... like only three-quarters of the way up the second hill. And only halfway up the third. I have to admit. I walked part of the way up those last two hills.

But I didn't stop. Trust me... I wanted to. If there was a white flag to raise, I would have. No... I couldn't stop. First, the sun was setting fast. But also because this was a trail dedicated to non-motorized vehicles. I couldn't call anyone to come pick me up because the nearest road was still a few miles to my west.

So what's a guy to do? Keep going, of course.

And get a little lost. With only 3.5 miles to go, the path begins to break up into a bunch of arterial trails. And I took a wrong turn. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice little ride. But added about two miles... and an extra fifteen minutes... to my ride. The biggest blessing was the wind had died down and the path had pretty much leveled out. So although I rode the last 3 miles in the dark (don't fret, I was safe - no motor vehicles, remember?), I wasn't fighting Aeolus (Greek God of the Winds).

When I passed the one-mile marker, I came up over a rise and saw the lights of the Railroad Pass Casino up ahead. I whispered an almost silent "Thank you" to that hideous neon sign. Pushed myself a little faster... and, finally, arrived at my destination.

Exhausted. And. Exhilarated.

Friends, this wasn't the longest ride I've ever completed. But, to-date, there's no doubt it was the most challenging. And I think maybe it happened for a reason. You see, the thing about the River Mountain Loop is once you start, there's really no turning back. I mean, even at the halfway point, if you turn back you're still going uphill. Yes, I could have called someone. Could have walked to the nearest road and been picked up. But I didn't. You know why? Because it wasn't going to kill me. Or even harm me. It only tested me.

And you wanna know something?


I aced it.