During the last few days of cycling in Oregon, I feel like I been initiated into the club of long-distance cyclists. Like a girl guide I feel like have a earned a few badges that show my increased experience. I can definitely claim the hill survival badge.
I earned that badge cycling the Seven Devils Road and Cape Arago. The guide book states that it's the steepest section of riding in Oregon, but worth it for the scenery. While Misty and Mariana did the sane thing and opted for a shorter and more direct route along the highway to our destination, I took a big breath and did it for the challenge. I chose not to read nor to remember the details of this section provided in the guide book. I figured that ignorance is somewhat blissful anyway and also because knowing how long and how steep the hill is doesn't make my legs stronger nor cause my bike to sprout wings. I only realized what I got into when I arrived at Charleston, the junction which leads to both the scenic and the challenging sections. On the right, I peered down to see a steep and long downhill towards the Cape. On my left, there was a steep rise up towards the Seven Devils road segment. Basically, I had to ride down to sea level, turn around, come up what I had gone down, then continue going upwards on an even steeper grade. Great.
I was stubbornly determined not to think negative thoughts during this ride. I did really well for the first third of the epic and despite struggling I was still upbeat. I had a rough idea that the Seven Devils Road was challenging because it consisted of a long steep first ascent, then two other shorter peaks. I did not know that after the first ascent there were multiple little sloping sections between the big steep sections that didn't make it into the altitude profile diagram. So the road went up, then down, and then up, then down again with each uphill requiring a solid sweaty effort. Whether or not you got relief from the burning quad and back muscles was unpredictable. Sometimes the crest came satisfyingly fast and other times the hill stretched on and on after multiple bends in the road. In short, I felt like the hill was misleading me, taunting me with the sweet relief of a flat or a downhill section. It was like waving a piece of chocolate in front of my face and letting me have some sometimes, maybe, possibly. I had to remind myself that hills are inanimate objects. I ended up with a strategy: look only far enough ahead to avoid collisions, notice that the bike was still moving despite multiple burning sensations in the back and legs, breathe deeply and play "Baby Love" by the Supremes as the internal soundtrack.
This section finally ended and I hadn't burst into tears nor did I curse more than ten times. It was a success and the strategy has subsequently been applied in different settings with decent results. I really hope it carries me through northern California.
