The Tale of Seven

We all have limitations, some are real, some are imagined and some we impose upon ourselves by over-reaching. It is important to recognise your limitations and when you can safely push through them to find a new level.

Allow me to share some times when I found my limits, and where I finally (?) learnt my lesson.

When I started running again, after many a year of sedentary life, I quickly found I could continue to plod along at my comfortable pace for long periods of time. This led me to attempt longer and longer runs and I was always able to complete the distance. I remember wondering at the time, what is my limit here, I seemed to be able to run all day, albeit slowly. One evening I had completed a longish run with a group at the office, then continued on to run home. Turned out, 28km was my limit, turned out I discovered this fact with about 10 km left to run before arriving home.

This would be the first time I would be forced to place the call. The Wife had to get in the car to come and pick up "my sorry ass"

 I heard about this cycling event that sounded like it would be fun to do, "Around the Bay in a Day", I just need to get a bike first. Unfortunately, the bike I bought took several weeks to arrive at the shop so I missed out on the event in that first year. The following year, a friend reminded me about the ride, after the main distances had reached capacity fields. I did the 50km ride.

A year later, I remembered the event date, I had a bike, but I also had a Father Child camp on the same weekend. 

Like they always, say; fourth time's the charm, and I finally got in to the 250km ride. The Wife drove me to the city early in the morning so I could finally join in on the fun of the main ride. She then drove back home to get some sleep.

The ride was long and tough, I only got lost twice and only got back to the Start/Finish line as they were packing up the Expo. The plan had been to complete the ride with a cool down ride home, however, the severe cramping in my feet had other thoughts.

The Wife drove back into town to give me a lift home.

Turns out I can be a slow learner when it comes to my own limits, but, the Tale of Seven finally drummed the message home.

A couple of years ago, in August or September, I received an email from the Victorian High Country tourism. Included in this message was an invitation and it sounded intriguing. Climb the seven Victorian peaks, get a passport stamped at them summit for a chance to win a trip for 2 to the following year's Tour de France. 7 climbs, I can do that!

I signed up and received my passport and realised I had all the way until the end of March to get all of my stamps - easy.

Fat forward a little bit and it's mid-January, having attempted precisely zero of the required climbs, time running out There were two options, resign to the fact I'd left it too late and tackle to challenge whole heartedly next time, with a sensible timeline and plenty of recovery time between each; OR cobble together a rushed plan and cram it into a reduced time frame.

I made the obvious choice of the delusional optimist and hatched a plan of assault for this challenge. So begins the Tale of Seven...

The First Tale - Lake Mountain

I decided that I should ease into this a little before attempting the big ones. Lake Mountain is the closest of the seven peaks and there are some nice places for The Wife and kids to hangout whilst I did the climb and get my stamp.

We picked a weekend that didn't clash with other family activities and marked it in the calendar. Soon afterwards, The Wife noticed our Family Outing to Lake Mountain was the same weekend as the first anniversary of Black Saturday; bad day to pick for the ride.

Undeterred, Plan B went into effect and my ride was bumped a week back. The problem with Plan B, The Wife had to work so that family outing was scrapped, so too was my lift to the start line. They say "Where there is a will there is a way"; I discovered my "way" in the public transport system. I could catch the train to Lillydale station, ride to Marysville, climb the mountain, collect my stamp and then make the return journey. Total ride distance of about 160 km.

I had previously done much longer rides so this didn't seam to be too much of a stretch. Besides, I now had my super light, full carbon triathlon bike, that should make the going much easier!

No problems!!

The problems began as I entered what I had only noted on Google Maps as "the green section" and now know to be called "The Black Spur"; of all the roads to cycle on in Victoria, this is not one of them! It is a narrow, twisting steep stretch of tarmac that does not include the luxury of any kind of shoulder. More importantly, this road seemed to have been regularly traversed by 4X4's and large trucks. The unique layout of this road did give one lorry driver the ability to complete a hairpin turn and yell across the gap "Ya fuckin' lunatic" as I picked myself and bike out of the drainage ditch I'd sought refuge in when it became apparent the road would not accommodate both of us. I like to think his exclamation was his way of expressing concern as to my well being.

Over the top of The Black Spur and to the base of a valley, that part if the ride was pretty sweet, but this meant a fairly steep ascent (10% I believe) to get over before arriving in Marysville. This unexpected climb, coupled with the one just prior was where I discovered my climbing limits. As my legs took turns locking up and the cramping set in I was left to walk a large part of this section, and I was still yet to begin the ride I came here for.

Undeterred, I pressed on and finally rolled into the township of Marysville and therefore arrived at "Base camp" for today's ride. I was out of food, low on fluids so I used the few dollars I had brought to restock at the local cafe. A time check also showed that it was getting late, it was already close to 4pm. It was also time to face the horrible truth, there was no way I was getting home under my own power this day. I was going have to make the call.

I dialled, I pleaded my case and I described my hardships to this point. The Wife seemed rather understanding as she resigned herself to the realisation there was going to be a family outing after all, however abbreviated.

With that unpleasantness out of the way I retuned to the task at hand and commenced the climb proper. It actually felt good to be finally doing what I had spent so many hours of the day preparing for, it felt great, for approximately 1 km...

The profile of Lake Mountain shows that the initial 4.4km are all at around 8%. I was pretty well cooked from the start and my triumphant ascent became a tough grind until the cramping in my thighs threatened to stop me completely. Reduced to again walk the super bike I continued to climb, I was going to finish this. When the gradient slackened off I got back in the saddle and pressed forward. It was not a pretty display, jaws clenched, muscles protesting and several sections on foot I pressed on, one eye on the time, hoping the station at the summit was somehow aware of my battle and was holding the door open for my inevitable arrival.

Happy to report, when I crested the summit and arrived at my destination I did so rolling into town - however, as it was now 5:30, it was a bit like a ghost town. Likely driven more by denial than anything else, I tried the door of the lodge, even though there was no one in sight.

Good News! The door was open and I found someone still on duty upstairs.

Bad News! He was part of the construction crew, not the lodge staff and had no knowledge of the challenge nor the prized stamps. I had been riding (and walking and dodging lorries) for over seven hours, and missed the checkpoint by less than 30 minutes.

Seeking some sort of consolation, I asked to fill my empty water bottles so I could get back to base camp and rehydrate. Murphy struck a final blow when I found the water filter was empty and the tap water was not fit for consumption.

Back on the bike, empty handed and defeated, I rolled back down the mountain trying to see the road through the dappled light and shadows from the overhead foliage as the light began to fail, even my descent was slow.

An hour after arriving back in the township of Marysville, The Wife arrived, kids in the back, to rescue my sorry ass, again

I must say (and The Wife is all too happy to agree) The Black Spur was no fun at night in the car either, especially with two tired and disgruntled kids in the back seat, and a tired and whiny husband riding shotgun.

The following day I mailed my challenge passport to Lake Mountain lodge with a letter telling of my ordeal. A week later, it was returned, and it was stamped.

One climb done, six to go

      To Be Continued...