All of us were at a superb dinner at the Liebscher’s house in Colorado Springs chowing down on some Rudy’s BBQ (delicious!), and two T4K alumni were there. One thing led to another, and they were telling us about the Mount Evans challenge Rockies ‘08 “completed". Naturally drawn to challenges of endurance and strength in terms of cycling, I was all ears and so were a couple of others namely Brett Bowlin. It sounded awesome and happened to be on the way to Boulder our next stop after Denver. We had to do it. The fun part was planning it out on our own on a short notice.

Mount Evans peaks at 14,270 feet above sea level. It is THE highest paved road in North America. Several people warned us about the torrential weather normally found on the top of mountain to the high altitude. We were also very well warned about altitude sickness; there’s no way to know if you’re predisposed and everyone can get it. The last major concern was the climbing. It was going to be 50 plus miles of nothing but 5-8% upward grade. I was a little scared but more so I was excited for such a daunting challenge. I have never thought of doing something close to it in my life.

The night before we were to leave, we had to plan. This wasn’t just a little detour. We figured that only 6 of us would be able to go because of team resources and logistical issues. The rest of the team would ride with the other van on to Boulder. There were 8 or 9 people that wanted to try it, so we drew straws. I happened to get a short straw, but a great teammate Sam offered me his. We ended up taking straw draws after straw draws, discussion after discussion, and we were left with me, Dan Walk, Brett Bowlin, Andrew Porter, Jordan Deathe, and Jack Reynolds. Two SAGers: Whitney Yang and Sam Kutscha. There were was fairly dense drama about whether or not we’d be able to go and if we did, who would go. It worked out, and we planned and got ready that night until 1:30am.

I woke up at 5am for a 6am roll-out. At that time, something didn’t feel right. I’m not sure how to describe it, but I felt unprepared, a little anxious, and scared. I was really doubting myself for some weird reason. We did an emotional ride dedication that morning. Jordan finally decided to partially dedicate that ride to himself. Jordan is a two time cancer survivor and one hell of a guy. It was an emotional moment for me as well. Brett decided to do the Hakka chant (A chant warriors do before they go to battle) to get us pumped up. Luckily, Kelly Webeck came up with the great idea of waking up the rest of the team via the Hakka. The energy you’re allowed to expend vocally doing the Hakka is an amazing thing. After that, we were all well awake and ready for the challenge of a lifetime.

It was really happening. We put our best pedal forward and rode.

Out of Denver, first town up was Golden, CO. After Golden, our first taste of the climb was the relatively short Lookout Mountain. It’s pretty obvious why they called it Lookout Mountain. We were about 15 miles away from downtown Denver, but it wasn’t hard to see at all (including the massive Coors plant we passed by in Golden). We caught up with a cyclists who was climbing Lookout and we decided to get some advice from him with regards to Evans. He noticed we were overly anxious and worrisome, and gave a good peace of mind. He told us we were all strong riders, gave us some simple tips on cycling in great altitudes, and sent us on our way. Although he had never done Evans, it was calming and empowering to hear a fellow cyclist not to worry and own the mountain.

After about 5 hours or so, we finally made it to the base of Mount Evans, Idaho Springs. Everybody we talked to had suggested Idaho Springs and the starting point, so I knew if we could make it to there fine, we were set to start the climb. Leaving Idaho Springs, I thought to myself that this was it. People who typically endeavor to climb Evans actually start there, not Denver. Nevertheless, we left the last town before we were to reach the summit. At first, the grade was minimal but the wind was kicking our asses. After about three slow miles we made a U-turn (oh how beautiful U-turns are when it’s extremely windy). The grade increased, but at least we had a tail wind. At that point I had consumed over three PowerBar gels, many PB&J sandwiches, over 4 bottles of PureSport, and other random things; my legs were burning, but I was energized to get to the top. The elevation was at about 8,000 ft.

When we reached 10,000 ft, Brett screamed the number into the mountain range. We decided to take breaks at about every 20-30 minutes to refill bottles and to catch our breathe. Even at Lookout Moutain I could tell there was difference and would easily pant and feel my muscles screaming for oxygen. I tried to focus on breathing, deep but slow. The scenery was beautiful, and I took a lot of photos ....ecspecially the pristine Echo Lake at 10,600 ft. It was in fact pristine.

After that we got the news that we had 14 miles to go to the summit. We all thought we only had 7 miles left. We pushed on with great determination.

The next couple of hours would test my mind and body to limits I couldn't fathom.

At 10,000 ft, I began feeling the lack of oxygen in the air. I had to breathe a lot deeper than usual. This battle for air would only increase. But with asking God to guide me and the thoughts of everyone in my life, I pushed pedal by pedal to get to the next 500 ft.

Surrounded by ice and very little elevation, the next thing I knew we were at Summit Lake. I sight I wish everyone could see. A partially frozen lake surrounded by a view I cannot describe. What I can describe is looking up and seeing the summit in the distance. 5 miles and almost 2,000 ft were keeping me away from my goal. My body was worn down, my lungs felt like they were the size of kidney beans, and we were all a bit scared of what was to come because the last 5 miles is more intense climbing than the rest of the route. We coached each other and headed up the endless switchbacks.

Our SAG support told us their was 12 switchbacks (By the way our Whitney and Sam were the greatest support imaginable. We wouldn't have made it 10,000 ft up if it wasn't for their coaching, nourishment, enthusiasm, and kind gestures.) left until the summit.

The next hour would take all 6 riders to push one another to make it.

I could go on and on to describe the play by play, but one thing really kept me going.

Cancer

Cancer takes people down. It dominates the strong and is fearless in its attack. I saw this last climb as a cancer to my goal of reaching the top which symbolized any goal I will ever have in my life. Aside from that, Jordan. He has fought cancer twice. Learned how to walk twice. I was going to pedal until I died to make sure I saw him get up to the summit. This trip to Alaska would serve as an exclimation point to his recovery, but I think him climbing a mountain adds 3 more to "RECOVERY!!!!". We all were fighting with everything we had to get up the steep climbs with 35mph freezing winds in our faces. Jordan was battling and it was a very very very emotional thing to see. But like his fight with cancer, he would not give up. He would see the next switchback up ahead and be overwhelmed with its qualities of fear and domination just like I was. Regardless he would pedal, I would pedal, we all would pedal, until we saw our support at the top with a finish line, a victory.

Let our journey be an example:

You have goals and aspirations

You have a way to get to those

You will not have an easy time doing it at all

You will hopefully have the right determination

If so,

You will be successful

I will remember this the rest of my life. I hope one day I can tell you more details over a cold beer, some bbq, or maybe yet another epic journey to come.

I Hate Cancer,

John