Ironman 70.3 Rapperswil-Jona, 01 June 2008

photos by Anton Largiadèr and Yves Deluz

Prologue

We flew in more than a week ahead of the race, in part to allow plenty of time for problems and time zone adjustments and because we had other things going on in Europe. We were worried about our bikes making it onto the small prop plane from Richmond to Philadelphia, but it turned out that they loaded the bikes, then pulled us off the plane, and our bikes made it to Zürich before we did. We protested that we shouldn't be bumped because we had an international connection to make (which was later supported by the supervisor), but the plane was overweight, so the two people who were traveling to a triathlon (but not their heavy stuff) had to come off the plane. After stress and protests, we flew to Boston to catch a Swiss Air flight (all set up by US Airways), which was much nicer anyway.

This was a brief but fast downhill after the climb up Witches' Hill.

We put our bikes together soon after we arrived. Since the next day (Sunday) was nice, which you really have to take advantage of in Switzerland, we previewed most of the bike course (probably 20 or so miles of it, since it's a 2-loop course). We just dawdled along, stopping to check the map, for pictures, and to make small bike adjustments, so it was really relaxing and it wasn't anything that was going to be overly strenuous a week ahead of the race. I have done 2 races before and never previewed anything (mainly because of time and logistical constraints) and I am so glad that this was the one I actually rode in advance. I had studied the map and Google Earth a lot, so I was very familiar with how it went, but nothing compares with actually being on it. I think it really helped during the race that I knew exactly how hard and long the climbing felt, when it would be done, when I could plan for some easy time, and when to make the most of downhill momentum.

Even for the pre-ride, there were spectators with cowbells.

We did a short run on Monday am before heading to Germany, then another one before heading back on Wednesday AM. We did a short swim at the swim venue on Thursday morning, and this is another first for me, and also something I'm glad we did. I'm a confident swimmer, but it's still nice to know ahead of time what the water will be like. Lake Zürich is clear, relatively calm, cold, and does not taste yucky. But it was comfortable water to be in and it was actually kind of a fun little dip. There were a few others with wetsuits, and even a brave soul without one. There were also regular people enjoying the beautiful day beside the lake who probably got some good laughs out of the people in the funny suits and hats. We didn't do any actual pre-running of the run course, but we did look at the steps and we rode our bikes through another part of it, so it wasn't completely foreign. I'm glad I didn't have to see the boring half of the run any more times than I did during the race.

After another little trip, we got back to Rapperswil in the middle of the day on Saturday with plenty of time to go for packet pickup, the pre-race meeting, and bike check-in. Supposedly the meeting was mandatory, but they didn't call roll so I guess it wasn't really. It was a complete waste of time and didn't answer my main question, which was how late could we be in transition on race morning. The abnormally warm weather was continuing and a late-afternoon thunderstorm made bike check-in a rather wet affair.

The one thing we had not brought for our bikes was a floor pump (we figured a relative would have one; which was true, but it did not have a gauge and was definitely not made to put 120 psi into a tire). So there was one tied up at the "bike doctor" station and I waited in line to use it. I had changed my front tire a day or so before because the one I had been using didn't bead up evenly unless I used tire lube when installing it (otherwise there was always a hop) and I didn't want to have to mess with that if I got a flat in the race. There was a local shop and the guy recommended the Continental Grand Prix as a solid tire that mounted well and was good in all conditions. It was indeed easy to mount, and it certainly needed more than the 50 or so psi that I'd managed with the lame pump.

Nice scenery, flat, smooth...what could be better??	This guy was much faster than we were. This was the other steep segment, known as "The Beast." There was a steel drum band at the top during the race.

Leaving Goldingen, where there was also music and a guy with a microphone.	Nice snowy peaks in the background. At this point, the end of the big climb is just around the corner (and then some).

Alone in transition. Apparently this is facing the wrong direction (according to the ...friendly... people who turned it around while I was gone).

With that done, I headed for check-in, which was basically a QC check that the numbers on your helmet, brake cable, and bib were all the same. I passed the test and found my rack spot. I then went to the swim-side entrance and walked back to my spot (pass the changing tent, 3 racks, then down the row 'til level with white EZ-up). There was a children's zoo near the lake so there were camels on one side and zebras on the other side of the transition zone. I had trained with cows in the scenery at home in Virginia, but not with camels and zebras! It was still raining during all of this. Many people had elaborate things set up that were intended to keep their bikes dry, but I just left mine out in the air. Since the rain was not going to last, I preferred having it breathable, and I was only going to be putting a wet butt on the saddle anyway. I just planned to clean and lube the chain when I came back the next morning.

We went back to the apartment (less than 10 minutes' walk from transition—great having relatives who plan ahead like this!!) and cousin Yves made us a wonderful pasta dinner with homemade pesto and a nice salad while we laid out our stuff, prepared nutrition, and inventoried it about 15 times. I had a few nuun "cocktails" and, since you shouldn't do anything different in race prep than in training, I enjoyed a glass of wine with that great dinner. After getting in bed, I immediately started plotting all of these plans for the next day but forced myself to think of something else and actually got reasonable sleep, although I was definitely awake before the alarm.

Race day

No longer alone in transition. The backpacks in the foreground were part of the race loot.

Preparations

I had cereal with a banana and a cup of tea when I got up at 7. This was an odd race because the start was so late. My start wave would not be until 10:15, so there was plenty of time to digest, do a few more stuff inventories, put on sunscreen and Body Glide, and get down to transition. The race area was the usual scene with blathering loudspeaker alternating with music, except that this music had a fair percentage of that special kind of cheesy half-techno half-Frank Sinatra wannabe Abba music that only the German-speaking world can produce.

The race meeting had included a discussion of changing in the transition zone, in which they basically said that there was a changing tent for those who preferred more privacy while changing. Nothing was said about this being a requirement for Full Monty changes, and I sure didn't see anyone going into the tent. But you didn't need a telescope to see the moon that morning (or Mars or Venus, if you know what I mean).

I cleaned and lubed my chain, made sure I was in an easy gear, and set up my Aquacell. I had water in the big side and Perpetuem in the small side. I had done a few tests and found a way to manage the sponge thing so that I didn't get covered in it. I'd also bought longer, more flexible tubing for it so that it was easier to use. I strapped some gels onto the side with the rubber bands helping to hold the bottle in place, and also an open lip balm because I just need lip balm and this way it was at the ready. I put my hat with some other gels in it and then my running shoes on top of that. I turned my Forerunner on and "installed" it on my aerobar (high-tech packaging-foam mount) and set up my other bike stuff for transition. I'm a sock person so I folded them halfway inside out (this works because you can stuff the front of your foot in the right-way-out end, then grab the ankle part of the sock and pull on; even my wet feet don't get stuck this way). I have Sidi road shoes (2 velcro straps and a 'ratchet' strap), so the shoes-on-feet, then mount the bike method was best for me. The Astroturf in the transition zone would have been easy on unshod feet, but it was also easy on cleats. Then I took my wetsuit, race cap, neoprene hat, goggles, water, and pre-swim gel and headed for the start area.

The earliest starters were out, and the very fast people were already transitioning, so the path to the water got clogged very quickly since we had to yield to racers. There were volunteers to control the throng but they were too hesitant to let people cross when there was an opportunity so it was more chaotic than it needed to be. I think this was the only way to the water…so this might be an area to work on for next year. Since I still had almost an hour before my start, I found a shady spot to just chill for a while. It was also a good opportunity to see some of the earlier swimmers coming in and how the path to transition was laid out.

Swim

It was gradually getting to be time to get ready, so I had some more water and the gel. I also found a real brick-and-mortar bathroom that seemed to be a well-kept secret so I made use of that and then suited up. I got in the cold water about 25 minutes before my start, put my face in, got the bubbles going, and swam a little ways out and back (there was plenty of space in the designated warmup area, which we had to share with a few ducks; there was a mama with chicks and it was very cute). I guess it was more of an acclimation/ease the shock thing than a true warmup. I got back out and stood on the dock in my warming wetsuit. I still had about 15 minutes to wait. I watched the last men's wave start; it was good to see exactly how the in-water start was being managed. There were a few boats and kayaks and they picked up the start line when the gun went off. It wasn't cold standing there, and it was a bright, clear day, so I just checked out the great lake views and watched the tiny arms making triangles with the water off in the distance. With about 5 minutes to go, I got back in to make my way to the start and readjust (for breathing) to the cold water.

In my past 2 races (an Olympic and a sprint), I have kept to the back and side in the swim start to have less potential stress. At this race, as the start time approached, many people were convening some distance back from the start line. There was plenty of space at the front so I just went there. I am relatively better at swimming than at the other things, so I figured I'd do ok. Plus, it seemed that most of the washing machine was going to happen back there. I guess the plan from the back was that you could start before the gun and cross the line with a bit of momentum, but I didn't think of that until later and I really didn't think it mattered as much over a longer swim. I bobbed up and down so that my face would go under water to get in a breathing rhythm and keep my face used to the cold. It was funny to be floating around in the lake while looking at the snowy peaks.

This was the most swim traffic I'd ever been in, but it wasn't a problem. I got one harder whack near the turnaround; otherwise I would just mutually bump arms and feet. Sometimes it seemed like three of us were trying to occupy the same spot. The only hard thing was that our wave had yellow caps, and the buoys were yellow, so you couldn't always distinguish a distant buoy from a nearby cap (see photo above). The buoys were marked for distance, but the only numbers I saw were 600 and 800. At one point I though I should be nearing the next one, and I saw the lines holding it in place just as I was bopped on the head by it. At least I knew I was right on course. At some point it seemed like it was taking forever to reach the turnaround; I had been thinking of it as equal out and back, but I think it was more like 2/3s out and 1/3 back. On the way back, we caught some breaststrokers from the previous wave; I figured they were just waiting to get out and lap me on the bike.

Through the whole swim, I had three main thoughts: "I can't believe I'm finally actually doing this;" "this is really hard;" and "this isn't bad at all." I had some trouble with what I think is an asthma-like thing that I get when I swim harder in a heavily chlorinated indoor pool and apparently also when I swim in cold lakes…it's just a wheeziness that gradually worsens until I can eventually clear it out with some coughing. I managed to do this shortly after the turnaround, so I had clear breathing the rest of the time. Getting to the end of the swim, some people next to me were wading, but the water was still chest high so I kept swimming. There was a ramp to get out with wetsuited volunteers standing in the water and lining the ramp. They were there to help us not slip (and probably in case of anyone being a bit woozy suddenly standing up after the swim). Then it was up some steps, across a bridge, down a ramp, past one field, and into the Astroturf.

Water temperature: 15.7°C; 60.3°F (freshwater)
Swim time: 35:12
Pace: 1:51 per 100m
Age group rank: 21/83

T1

I followed my memorized path (pass the tent, 3 racks, then in). Amazingly, and happily, I could feel and operate my hands and feet. Transition went smoothly (better than my practice). Maybe it's not the fastest to have to stop near the mount line to get on your bike, but for me it was the right approach and better than having to fumble with shoes while trying not to crash. However, I did feel what I thought was some looseness on my right cleat as I clicked in, which fortunately turned out to be my imagination. In my very first race, I had more than a 7-minute transition. This one took less than half that time and involved a lot more distance between timing mats. I have no idea what I did during all that time.

T1 time: 3:09
T1 age group rank: 45/83
Overall age group rank: 23/83

Bike

People heading out on the bike. Fortunately the "Erdgas" arch was holding up better than it had the night before.

Once I got going on the bike, I saw that my heart rate was pretty high, so I tried to back off and relax a bit. I figured it would tend to be higher on race day anyway, but I still thought I needed to bring it down some. I was just about getting towards something a little more reasonable when I got to the first climb ("Witches' Hill") and "Stimmungsnest," or spirit/mood spot. There was music, a guy with a microphone announcing racers' names and where they were from, spectators with noisemakers (including cowbells), people dressed up as witches, and everyone yelling "Hopp!! Hopp!!" I was so entertained that I was actually laughing while riding up this hill.

I've done a lot of climbing in training (it's hard not to do hills where we live), and I can do it without atrial fibrillation, but with all that action getting me all hopped up I had to start from scratch on the heart rate reduction thing. I was also trying to stick with my nutrition plan but as time went on I found that I was possibly a bit underhydrated and/or I was having some effects of the harder-than-usual exertion, the heat, and the slight breeziness which made me feel less sweaty than I was. The scenery, as I knew from the pre-ride, was great. I had been apprehensive about the second steep climb because of how narrow the path was, but I got through it unscathed. On my second lap, someone almost cut me off there but moved away when I said something. There was a steel drum band at the top of this second steep one and plenty of people with cowbells. I hope all the cows got their bells back.

There was a brief flat before the climbing continued, just a bit more mildly. I found that I was forever passing and being passed by the same people. Then: through the town of Goldingen (where there was another Stimmungsnest and where my name got announced on my second lap), a stunning vista, a bit more climbing, accompanied by some of the biggest cowbells I have ever seen (maybe 30 inches tall), and then a really fast downhill, followed by a long, fast slight downhill, followed by a brief climb, then a milder downhill before a fast and twisty downhill, then mostly flat (but into the wind) to the turnaround.

I was surprised that people didn't seem to be exploiting the downhills. It's rare for me, but I passed people on the descents. Maybe it's because I have clip-on aerobars and was switching to my drops (so I had better control and access to brakes); maybe it's because I occasionally ride with a group and I've learned to push all the way over the peak and get off to a fast start downhill (or I don't see them for a while). I was using the "easy" parts of the course to try to figure out what my body needed to help it feel a bit more normal. My heart rate finally came more within reasonable bounds, and I just worked on taking small sips of water and occasionally Perpetuem. I could feel my quads more than I'd ever felt them before. I was a bit concerned, considering that I wasn't even half way through, but I had the whole way back to the turnaround and then out to the first climb to just ride steadily and calmly.

After the second visit to the Witches' Hill, I gradually started to feel better, although my throat was a bit sore (I think from my breathing issue in the swim). I stopped for water at an aid station (yes, stopped…after making sure it was safe and out of the way… it was tight quarters with lumpy pavement and I figured I'd lose much more time crashing than stopping) and just kept up with my small sips plan. Later I added a gel to that routine which was a nice change of pace. When I got back down to the flat (after a steep downhill with an acute right turn, where one girl fishtailed her disc wheel on the first lap), I was in pretty good shape and even sang parts of some songs (the "I"-pod), but I had to stop that because it would make me start pushing harder, which I didn't want to do at that point. Within the last 2 miles or so, at one of the roundabouts, there was a driver for whom the only answer would have been a big crane with a big magnet. Two of us had to make a wide swing around him and go down the oncoming side, and then he reversed such that 4 guys behind us almost ran into his car. The poor volunteer was doing his job well but some people are just beyond hope. Fortunately the racers were alert enough to avoid a problem. Nearing the end of the bike, I acknowledged my good fortune in not having had any flats, mechanical issues, or collisions. I actually saw maybe 3 or 4 people with bike issues during the whole ride, which is great. Of course, we had encountered a mini street sweeper on one of the paths earlier in the week; it's probably hard to get flats in such a tidy place. When I dismounted before transition (again, no fancy flying dismount plans…I just stopped and got off), I was pleased that my legs were still functional for running.

Total climb: 1016 meters; 3332 feet
Bike time: 3:06:56 (1:29:57 + 1:36:59)
Bike pace: 18 mph
Bike age group rank: 48/81
Overall age group rank: 41/81

T2

I took off my helmet, gave myself the luxury of sitting down to change shoes, took the computer off the bike, grabbed my hat and gels, and I was off. There were 3 portapots in the transition zone on the way out, so I thought I'd try them. I opened 2 of them on guys, and the 3rd was occupied and locked. I would find one later. My hat was wet, having soaked up water from the turf, but that was good in the heat. I couldn't believe I was heading out for the run! I was curious to see how it would go. I don't have much of a running base but had done a reasonable number of 8-10 mile runs. My longest ever before the race was 12 miles (and that was a standalone run on a damp chilly morning—ideal run conditions), and I had taken about a week off running about 3 weeks before the race because of a mild nonspecific foot pain (whatever it was seems to have resolved itself, though…it has not been back).

T2 time: 2:21
T2 age group rank: 31/80
Overall age group rank: 40/80

Run

The steps to the castle. The run profile shows a very steep, very short elevation gain, and this is why.

As on the bike, there was music and there were people everywhere. More "Hopp, Meredith, hopp!!" My legs felt surprisingly good and for the beginning I had a fast-for-me pace even as I tried to control myself because I knew it wasn't sustainable. I got a little something at most of the aid stations, generally water, broth, a few pretzels, and countless wet sponges. I walked on the steps up to the castle because I didn't think that running on them would do anything except enhance fatigue. After the steps I found an unoccupied portapot and paid a visit. The nicest part of the course is a shaded gravel path that runs below the castle and beside the harbor. I wished I could stay there forever. At the end of that section there was an aid station with a little sprinkler at the end of it, which was great.

The course loops back past the start/finish and then goes out in the other direction. This was the boring, flat, unshaded part that I could have done without. But there were some houses along the path and there were kids who had picked up sponges and were wetting them either from their garden hoses or buckets. We had all kinds of unofficial sponge stations provided by these kids who were really having fun with it.

Scene at the finish. Note the neat finisher medals.

The turnaround on this side was at a running track, where there was another aid station and where they gave you armbands to count your laps. I was approaching this volunteer who was brandishing ponytail holders and I was about to tell her that I didn't need one (the Goody Stay-Put was staying put) when she explained that it was for tracking laps on the course: black for 1, yellow for 2.

I got a huge boost from running back to the finish area even though I still had another loop to do. I was definitely feeling the general fatigue by this point, and I had to really concentrate on refocusing. I worked on running from my core, on just keeping up my run cadence, and on nipping a few things at the aid stations to keep me going without pushing my stomach over the edge—I was concentrating on the parts since the whole idea of running another 6 miles was rather daunting. I also took advantage of every sponge-soak opportunity. I had my hair in a French braid so I was soaking the tail from my neck down so that it could flop around and spritz me with water as I ran.

Approaching one of the aid stations, now back on the boring side, I saw a guy lying down with first aid people over him and I thought that I didn't want to end up like that, so after walking through the station I walked a bit more to get a bit of a rest before the end. Overall, I was doing as well as or better than I had expected based on training and other races, but it was harder than I'd expected to do what I expected. I was so happy to claim my yellow ponytail holder and head out for my final 2 or so miles. I kept trying to convince myself that I was running a 5K or something and that it was easy.

Salty, happy people.

When I had about a half mile left and knew I could fake the rest if necessary, I started getting energized by the excitement of finishing. I heard the loudspeaker and activity at the finish and started to get emotional as I passed the turnaround point and headed in. A guy (presumably the race director) was there high-fiving people as they got close, and I had a burst of energy that must have been stored in my left pinky toe (I hadn't thought I had anything left) and sprinted to the finish. I was elated to have finished, and overjoyed that I could stop running, but it was also kind of a celebration. I had done the training (no, it wasn't perfect, but it was consistent), and more immediately, I had succeeded in managing myself, listening to my body, focusing my mind, and being confident enough that I could do it that I kept at it even when it was not all that easy.

Run conditions: Hot!
Run time: 2:07:26 (1:01:05 + 1:06:21)
Run pace: 9:43 min/mile
Run age group rank: 53/78

Total time: 5:55:06
Age group rank: 44/78
Women overall rank: 155/290

Postrace

Right after the finish line, they gave us medals and there was a cold chocolate recovery drink. I don't know if there's ever a time that chocolate isn't a good idea. I was sort of slowly marching in place to keep my legs from tightening up. Eventually we mooooved with the herd to get our finisher shirts and a printed "diploma" with our times and rankings. Then we headed for transition to get our stuff (and see more people who didn't need the privacy of the changing tent). We took some happy pics and headed back to the apartment.

We had nuun/applejuice aperitifs, rinsed wetsuits, hung up wet stuff, made a laundry heap, showered, and headed out to a family cookout. Walking down the apartment stairs (2 flights) after the race, I could definitely tell that I had done more with my legs than ever before. I continued to work on rehydrating that evening (mineral water/applejuice) and my legs gradually felt better and better. The next day we didn't do too much…some reading, a lot of intermittent stretching, dealing with gear, and just general hanging out. The weather had changed from race day heat to much cooler with a bit of rain, so it was a fine day to be inside. The next day we planned our next adventure and went for a mild hike. I could definitely still feel some fatigue in my legs on the hillier parts, but it was a clear day so there were great views from the lookout tower (174 steps!). The next adventure? A trip to the Graubünden to bag some passes. It's probably not a recommended recovery activity, but we were there and we had our bikes, so what else were we supposed to do?

The Mountain Stage

At the top of the Flüelapass. The white sign says "Touristenlager," which means that it's lodging for tourists, but it sounds more like a warehouse where tourists are stored in the off-season.

The weather forecast was iffy. We wavered about doing it at all but then decided to just go for it and deal with whatever weather we encountered. We got up on Wednesday for a 6:30 train and it was raining. It rained pretty much all the way to Davos, our starting point. At Davos, it was chilly and damp, but not raining.

On the way down to Susch from the Fluelapass.

We geared up and headed up the Flüelapass. Some construction sites along the way were a bit of a pain, and I was in my granny gear pretty early on, but I was able to keep the pedaling fairly light for a good portion of the time. This was a fairly gentle one to get going on, but parts of it were hard. We weren't in any special hurry, so we took plenty of breaks. At the top, we warmed up with steaming beverages, added some layers, and then headed down to Susch. It was amazingly and unbelievably cold going down, and very hard to brake enough to keep a comfortable and controllable speed (there were a few hairpins, so control was a good thing). Little did I know how much more difficult it could be. At Susch back in the valley, we turned for a nice warming flat section to Zernez, from which we headed up to the Ofenpass. This one started out innocently enough, and even had some really enjoyable flat spots.

Reaching the top of the Ofenpass, after the single most difficult kilometer of the day.

After we were probably halfway up, the road descends and we lost what felt like all of the elevation we had just climbed. It descends all the way to the juncture at which you have the option of continuing to the Ofenpass (and then the Münstertal in Switzerland) or over to Livigno in Italy. We were headed for the former, and so it was time to climb some more. A bit of rain fell from time to time. Most of the climb was pleasant. About halfway up (for the second time), there was a restaurant, but we figured we'd eat at the one at the top, and kept going. At about 1 kilometer from the top, the road seemed to get much steeper, and it was a real push to get to the top. It may have been that we were completely out of energy at this point (with lunch waiting at the top), but it just seemed like the hardest thing we did. We got to the top to find that this was one of the restaurant's days off…unhappy tidings. We had some snacks and then bundled up for the descent, which was chilly as expected but very quick.

In the Münstertal.	Arriving in Italy, rain on the way.

Once in the valley, it was pretty warm again. We found warm food in Tschierv and then continued to head down the valley with intermittent rain. This was a tremendously fun ride, though, because it was essentially all gently downhill. As we approached the Italian border, the rain became heavier and more steady and it wasn't as warm anymore. The guy at the border did not care whether we had passports or not. We were headed for Schulderns/Sluderno (the area is politically Italian but otherwise Austrian, so bilingual signs are the norm) but the skies really opened up right before Glurns/Glorenza and we inquired about a room.

Glurns is a beautiful little town, famous because the town walls are entirely intact. We found inexpensive but nice accommodations just outside the walls. Since our goal the next day was the Stelvio, Glurns actually turned out to be a perfectly fine place to stop for the night. The shower was warm (although toiletries were scarce), and the bed was too (we recharged a bit before dinner). We walked into town for some wonderful pasta and hoped for an end to the rain.

The next morning, after about 3 minutes of riding in warm sun, a few sprinkles came down. There was intermittent rain for probably 3 hours. We stopped at Prato allo Stelvio for bananas and some Linzertorte (the next big thing in sports nutrition) so that we'd have some food with us as we headed up the pass.

The road started out fairly gently but I was apprehensive about how it would be closer to the top. Pretty soon we were rounding the 48th hairpin…47 more to go until the top! More intermittent rain followed us up the mountain. We went through Trafoi, which is the last actual town on the way up. We were passed by a guy on a Cervélo there. The hairpins were more regular now, although we were still well below treeline. The traffic wasn't bad, and motorcycles were predominant, which was good since they are narrower than cars and I think riders are generally more careful in tight situations than are drivers.

Still in the trees at Turn 40.	Stopping for Linzertorte at Turn 35. The path led to a little stream where we could get some very cold water.

The hairpins were nice because if you take them on the outside (even on right-handers, traffic permitting), you get little flat or downhill sections, and every little break helps. We stopped at the 35th hairpin and devoured the torte, making sure to not get into the energy deficit that had made the Ofenpass difficult. After we started up again, there was more rain, and two traverses between hairpins on which the grade was greater than it had generally been up to that point. Were these anomalies or harbingers of what was to come? I guess we were going to find out.

It's actually possible to see the restaurant (at Turn 22) from much farther up, at least for the moment.

At the 22nd hairpin was a restaurant and since it was raining and chilly, we decided to take another break. We weren't out to set any records. There were some motorcyclists outside of the place who said that if we kept catching them, they were going to get really frustrated. One of them, coming out with coffee, said that there was a fire inside, so I beelined for it. Cervélo guy was there, in front of the fire, and we chatted some. I had the large cocoa with cream, which, in combination with hanging out by the fire, went a long way toward driving the chill out.

After a bowl of soup, Cervélo guy made almost a complete change of clothes and continued on his way. We eventually did the same (alas, without a change of clothes), but the rain was minimal at this point. We were ever hopeful, even though you could now no longer see the top from there.

I did the last 21 turns without stopping. It rained gradually harder and visibility varied but was very poor in some places. I just kept pedaling and counting down the hairpins. I had to go around a few of the right-handers on the steep inside because of oncoming traffic, and hoped I wouldn't have to do that too much because it took more muscle power than I wanted to expend. I was happy to find that the general 8%ish grade prevailed, and that it did not get unreasonably steep as in those two earlier segments. I just kept a steady pace, in some places dodging potholes or slush on the road surface. I was getting a bit fatigued, but was helped by the hairpin countdown because I knew when I was getting really close. There was some writing on the pavement marking kilometers to go, and when I got to the 500 meter, 400 meter, etc. marks, I pictured those distances on a running track and knew I could do that much more. All the while the rain was coming down.

Triumphant and very visible at the top.

I got to the top and could hardly believe it because I had expected it to be so much worse getting up there. It may have been that the reduced visibility made it less intimidating and, perversely, easier to climb since it was more like just riding one turn after the next. Anyway, Cervélo guy was up there, too, and it turned out that he was from Munich and it was the first time he'd had his bike at such a high elevation. We also met a guy from Melbourne who had come up the Bormio side. His wife was there and said that it was raining down there, too. After a good long break and some attempt to dry out a bit, we took some pictures of our accomplishment and got ready to head down.

I was ready to hitchhike a ride down because I was really anxious about how cold I'd get and how my hands would freeze and make it hard to handle the bike and apply the brakes on the way down. I gave in and bought a day-glo rain jacket from guy with a little bicycle-related kiosk. It was actually made in Italy, so it is not a bad souvenir, and it was a very good thing I had it. As we were about to leave, the guy came out with newspapers for us to stuff under our jackets for some extra insulation. He has probably seen all types of cyclists in his little booth. I was certainly glad he was there and that he'd thought of the newspapers.

Finally, having put it off long enough, we set out. It took so long, and was so cold and wet, that it's really hard to believe we got through it. My main problem was that my hands and arms were getting so fatigued from all that braking. Obviously the cold wasn't helping this. Anton, being the crazy fool that he is, was going much faster and consequently braking much harder, so we would periodically huddle around his bike and warm our fingers on his hot front rim. There was next to no traffic though, which was nice, and although the rain continued, it decreased, and became a bit clearer so we could see more of the road (as it hairpinned back and forth) and the view in general. As had been the case on the way up, there were waterfalls and various drainage features on the road, and at all of them there was a roar of water rushing down the mountain. Sometimes I would look around expecting to see a truck approaching, but it was just the rushing water.

There was a thermometer at this falling-down border station. It read 7° C, and this was already a few hundred meters down.	More hairpins on the other side and, fortunately, a bit of a clearing (but the rain continued).

It's finally getting slightly warmer here in the trees. The background tells the story of all the elevation left behind.

The descent also had a number of what I call "porch tunnels," which are essentially tunnels but have either arches or pillars on the valley side so they are open. Usually there is water rushing over the tops of these. The closed tunnels were a bit scary since they were dark and narrow, but we did not have a problem. After an eternal freeze, we got to where the scrubby vegetation gave way to more and more actual trees, and it was a bit warmer. Eventually there was a sign for 7 km to Bormio, which was great news. We were close to the bottom, it was getting warmer, and the rain had stopped. Since we'd taken so long on the Stelvio (and on getting down), and because of the chilly weather, we knew that sticking with our original plan of getting to Livigno for the night was not going to work. As it was, we did not get into Bormio until well after 5.

We had been discussing our options and getting information from others we'd met, and we decided to take a bus to Tirano, which we did for a nominal price that evening. From there, we'd take the Bernina Express (train) to the top of that pass the next morning, then ride down the valley and eventually get a train home. Because of plans for Saturday and our Sunday departure, we had to be sure to get back at a reasonable time on Friday evening. Getting on the bus was a great feeling…someone else was responsible for getting me safely to my destination, and I was guaranteed not to get wetter or colder along the way.

We found acceptable lodging right by the bus station, and the food (more great pasta) was far more than acceptable. Yes, at that point, warm cardboard may have tasted good, but I think this was truly good regardless of the situation. Breakfast the next morning was on the minimal side. It rained as we ate, and we were glad to be heading for a train. Unfortunately we could not take the bikes on the train we'd planned to take, so our departure was delayed by an hour, but this wasn't such a big deal. It wasn't raining, so it was tempting to ride, but we stuck with the plan.

Nearing the top on the Bernina Express.

We enjoyed the train. Partly this was because of that same safe and warm feeling I'd had on the bus, but partly it was because there was so much to see out the windows, including the front of our bright red train as it snaked and spiraled up the mountain towards the Berninapass. It rained once in a while but we also caught glimpses of blue sky. Since bikes generally hang by their front wheels on trains, this was also a great opportunity for the water to drain out of my bike. I guess I felt like a bit of a cheater riding down the Bernina having not climbed up it under my own power, but we did what we had to in the interest of time. Heading down was initially great: it was a gentler descent, and warmer than expected, and there were even a few spots to warm up by pedaling. But soon there was a bit of rain, then more, then less, then more again, and soon my feet were wet and we were having another wet day. At that point you have to laugh or you just get upset.

We just leapfrogged down the valley and through the various towns, with some rain, some sun, and some of both at the same time. It was warmer, which was a nice change, but there was also a strong headwind up the valley, which was less welcome. I was suffering from the minimal breakfast and was happy to be a wheel-sucker for the last 10 miles or so. We made it to Zernez, then Susch, where we expected to get a train, which we did after quite a runaround involving rides to and from the next station, on the bikes and then in the train. Once on the train, we put on dry clothes and relaxed. It was actually bright and clear out, for that moment, but it eventually settled in to rain for the rest of the way home, including getting back to the apartment from the station.

We then had to find the motivation to dissemble and clean and pack up our filthy bikes (the fine road grime gets everywhere). We cleaned them in the hallway, worked intently, and had things basically packed up by 6:30. The trip was clearly not exactly what we'd had in mind, but it was still fun, we managed the challenges, and we have great memories.

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