Alone for the ride: She hadn't been on a bike in years. But that didn't keep her from signing up for a grueling 50-mile race - Time Out

Shape, May, 2002 by Jenna McCarthy

"Do you have a bike?" asked my friend Allison.

"Nope," I told her. "Why?"

"I was going to ask if you wanted to do a 50-mile ride from Rosarito Beach to Ensenada, Mexico," Allison told me.

The next day, I was the proud owner of a shiny, electric-blue Cannondale!

The day of the ride, I pulled my new toy out of Allison's SUV, praying that I could remember how to put the front wheel back on the way they had shown me in the bike shop. There were nearly 10,000 other riders milling about, and I was pumped by their energy.

We all took our places, then took off. The first few miles seemed effortless. Before long, though, the serious riders began to pull away from the pack and the less seasoned of us fell behind.

For the first two hours we cruised over undulating terrain. The hills were small and sharp, requiring quick bursts of energy. On each climb, I'd feverishly grind the unfamiliar gears until I stumbled upon that sweet spot that would ease the fiery pain in my thighs. Usually I found it in the comfort of the "granny gear." Granny and I became fast friends.

Exactly 22 miles into the ride -- I was counting -- we hit the infamous El Tigre, affectionately known as The Hill. Hill, my eye. 8 Tigre was an Alps-like mountain rising at a steep 70-degree angle, stretching into the highest clouds and disappearing into the sky. At least, that's the way it looked from the bottom.

Roughly every three seconds I'd look up, desperate to find myself approaching the summit. No luck The uphill path ahead was endless. I switched gears. I switched again. Eventually I'd land on a gear setting that didn't seem so bad and pedal for a few minutes, until the burning in my quads would become unbearable and I'd switch again.

About halfway up El Tigre, I had an epiphany: There is no secret gear that will propel me easily and effortlessly up this thing. This is hard work. I looked at Allison, struggling and sweating and gritting her teeth. All around me, people were feeling the exact same pain as I was, but they were pushing through it, pushing their own limits, all sharing one goal, one thought: Make it to the top. If they can do it, so can I, I resolved.

I kept my head down and kept pedaling. If I had been in two back-to-back Spinning classes, I would have dragged my exhausted self from the bike, and even felt pretty good about what I'd accomplished. But quitting wasn't an option this time. In the big-picture sense, El Tigre was merely an obstacle in my path, one I had to overcome on my way to the sweet reward -- the finish line.

So instead of stopping, I stopped looking for the top, realizing I would get there when I got there. X number of rotations would get me to Y destination in Z amount of time, and I was just along for the ride. In the end, a combination of adrenaline, desperation and pride got me up El Tigre and over the finish line in a respectable four-and-a-half hours. It was those very same things -- plus the cheers and the beers at the post-race party -- that inspired me to sign up again this year.

Jenna Mccarthy is a free-lance writer in Santa Barbara, Calif.

Ride info The 2002 Rosarito to Ensenada ride will be held Sept. 28. Call Bicycling West at (619) 583-3001 or visit rosaritoensenada.com.