What It Feels Like To Ride Up the Matterhorn

The wind finally stopped blowing this morning. The sun was shining. The road on 300 north was finally repaved and cleaned up. Doug was at pre-school. This was the recipe for a perfect ride.


I was feeling great, so I headed up to Alpine. I figured that a little climbing would do me good. (What was I thinking?)


I got into Alpine pretty quickly-- love those new wheels! I was feeling so good, that I decided to tackle the Matterhorn. Matterhorn Road, that is. This picture is at the top of the road: (Point is, there is NOTHING higher.)

The road gets real steep, real fast. Before I get 100 yards into it, I'm already shifted down into my "granny" ring (smallest chain ring in front.) I start shifting down my cogs in back and before long, I run out of them too. I'm less than 25% into the climb, and I'm already as low as I go. This can't be good.



I push and push and get about a third of the way up-- and that's when the fun really starts. That's when the grade gets to be about 9% or so and you have to keep pedalling or you'll fall over.

Just about then, my heart starts pounding in my chest so hard that it hurts. All of those health websites tell me that my maximum heart rate should be about 185. I wasn't wearing my heart rate monitor, but I know that my heart rate was faster than the beat of the Offspring song I was listening to-- at least 180 beats per minute. Also not good.



I finally got to the halfway point of the climb where God (and the city of Alpine) put a little flat with a STOP sign. Although I tend to run stop signs when no one is around, I made sure to stop at this one. For like a minute. Here's the view from here- and, trust me, the picture doesn't do it justice. (You'll notice the hill from the picture above at the top of this road.)

I seriously considered turning around at this point, but my competitive drive pushed me on. After I stopped, it didn't seem so hard. For about 10 seconds, anyway. Then, my legs started to HURT. I am tempted to stand up and let my body weight help me push the pedals down, but I know that will just drive my heart rate up even further and, well, that might kill me. I keep my butt on the seat.

I try every trick I can think of. I count my pedal strokes. I only look up every 50 yards or so. I am breathing so hard that it feels like I will suck up all of the oxygen in the city. My lungs are burning and my mouth tastes metallic. I'd like to take a drink, but I'm afraid to take a hand off the handlebars. I try to spit. Nothing is there.

My chest hurts and I start seeing stars. What the heck am I doing? Why do I get so excited to come out and do this-- this sucks! I must be nuts.

Just when I can't pedal one more stroke, I reach the top.

I am sucking wind and considering puking, but a little old couple is on a walk at the top of the street and they are already looking at this spandex-clad freak like I'm from Mars. I keep my puke to myself. I turn around, and this is what I see:
This picture also doesn't do justice to the view. I can see the Temple in the distance-- I know that my house is just a mile down from it. No wonder people pay so much to live up here.

Now for the reward (besides the view, that is). I start down the hill. It takes about 1/5 of the time to get down as it did to get up. My speed hits about 35 mph and the adrenaline kicks in. I realize that if I sneeze or jerk, I will probably die. What a rush!

I did nearly 20 more miles after that. By the time I got home, I was feeling spent. (That doesn't bode well for the 100 mile ride I'm supposed to do in 6 weeks.) I've been ravenous all day. Good thing that I burned nearly 1800 calories on my ride.

I think I'll go get a shake.