500K Ride Report

Last weekend I took on a huge physical endeavor, attempting to ride my bike 310 miles up the coast toward mendocino and back. Within the cycling community there is a challenge called the “Festive 500,” where the goal is to ride your bike 500 kilometers (310 miles) in the 6 days between Christmas and New Years. This alone is a formidable challenge for most people, as it involves 18-25 hours of cycling over the course of those 6 days. After hearing about this challenge a friend of mine and I, half joking, talked about doing all 500 kilometers in a single ride. Thus, the single-day Festive 500 was born.  

Ideally, the Festive 500 would be done sometime between Christmas and New Years to stick to the spirit of the event. However, due to weather, recovery from my last race, and lack of motivation I had pushed the ride off weekend after weekend. Finally I saw a good weather window for this Saturday and felt fit enough that I would give the ride a go. I was extremely nervous, as I know the discomfort involved with a ride of this nature is very high. But I told myself I would do it, and once I get a challenge stuck in my head it’s hard to get it out without doing it. 

I woke up at 3am Saturday and stuffed myself with as much food and water as possible. Fueling is a huge deal in an event this long and I wanted to get started early. After eating and getting caffeinated I bundled up and hopped on the bike at 4am. I started riding through the dark, quiet streets of San Francisco, crossing the Golden Gate and heading off towards the coast. 

I knocked out the first 50 miles to Petaluma before sunrise, and made it out to Jenner at mile 85 before stopping for another breakfast. I love riding in the dark before sunrise, as I find it peaceful and calming. The first 85 miles flew by. Spirits were high and my body was feeling pretty good. Within the first 6 hours I ate 6 Clif bars and 2 bananas, and at breakfast I had a burrito, muffin, coffee, and a mountain dew. 

I set off from Jenner to start making my way up Highway 1. As many of you know, the coast is one of the most scenic areas of the state, and the weather while I was out there was ideal. I was trying to keep my effort steady and just enjoy the day, cruising up and down the rolling coastline. The riding on Highway 1 is really tough, with a lot of short, steep climbs and sharp, windy descents. It’s really hard to carry momentum through the undulations and I knew this stretch would take me a while, but I just kept pressure on the pedals and continued onward. 

The next few hours of riding past Sea Ranch to Gualala were very enjoyable but I could feel the fatigue setting in. I stopped for a quick lunch in Gualala around 2pm. When undertaking these long rides I try to stop as little as possible, so I ran into the grocery store quickly to buy some food and scarfed it down. The time you spend stopped quickly adds up, and I knew that if I wanted to finish at a reasonable hour I needed to minimize time off the bike. The weather and scenery in Gualala were beautiful, and there were large groups of people enjoying the scenic coastline. Unfortunately by the nature of ultra endurance cycling I had to keep moving and couldn’t enjoy the relaxation for long.

I hopped back on my bike and headed out of Gualala. The miles slowly passed as the hours ticked by. Around mile 150 the mental anguish began to build. With any endurance event, whether it’s a 5k run or a 500 mile bike ride, when you get to about half way through the endeavor is when mental fatigue sets in. You start dreaming about the feeling of finishing and can easily lose focus on what you are doing. The first 85 miles to Jenner flew by in an instant, but the 30 from Gualala to Albion seemed to move a lot more slowly. I was still maintaining a positive mindset, which was my main intention for the day, but the miles seemed to move by less quickly as my brain and body fatigued. This perceived slowing of time is a natural part of endurance competition and it’s necessary to cope with if you want to be successful.

As I approached the town of Elk around 3:30pm I felt the weather start to turn. Clouds started closing in and the wind started blowing, making it very difficult to push up the jagged coastline climbs. I had 9 more miles to go to get to the turnaround in Albion, but with this headwind I knew it would take a toll on me. I was already at 160 miles, and with the goal of making it to 310 I was pretty sure I would reach my goal if I just turned around then. I flipped around and made my way back to Elk as light rain started coming down.

The second half of my ride would take me away from the coast and inland over the coastal Mendocino mountain range. Straight out of Elk I started a very challenging 1,500-foot climb that had some super steep grades. Luckily as I rode into the mountains the wind slowed down, but the rain kept falling, making the roads slick. I pushed hard up the steep climbs but knew this effort would be unsustainable as my heart rate started to climb higher and higher.

I made it to the top of the first ascent, thankful to have it behind me. The day before the ride I had coordinated with my very supportive father to come help me through part of the ride, and he ended up driving all the way up to meet me on this road in the middle of nowhere with a ton of fluids and snacks. When I saw him at the top of the climb it really boosted my spirits. He gave me a Red Bull, water, and a ton of food to eat which all helped my energy levels, but also just seeing someone you know out there when you’ve been grinding alone all day is great for morale. As I stood there devouring food and caffeine I could hear the little voice in the back of my head telling me how far I had left to go and how hard it was going to be due to my current physical state. I did my best to stifle it, and when my dad asked me how I was doing I said, “great.” Because if you let that voice get too loud and you start wallowing in self pity you’re going to have a bad time and quitting becomes a greater risk. 

I hopped back on the bike to finish the last few big climbs through the mountains. Darkness started to set in and I flew down the final slick descents to highway 128 south back toward Anderson Valley. With the biggest climbs of the day done I felt some relief. However, I knew the hardest part of this ride wouldn’t be the riding itself. Rather, it’s the hours spent alone in the darkness as temperatures start to drop and eyes start to get heavy. The ride from Boonville to Cloverdale was 27 miles of almost pitch darkness, and when you’re alone on country roads in the middle of nowhere after dark there’s a feeling of exposure that can be very unsettling. I started to think of all the things that could happen like hitting a pothole, crashing, getting a flat tire, or encountering a reckless driver. My thoughts kept wandering to all of these negative topics and I felt super paranoid. I did my best to not stop and grind out the 27 miles to Cloverdale where my dad was waiting for me with a burrito. It was a huge relief when I rolled into Cloverdale around 8:30pm and was able to get warm and eat some food in my dad’s truck. The desire to quit is always the greatest when the option is sitting right in front of you, and I knew my dad would drive me home if I asked him. However, even though it was getting late and my body was hurting, I still felt mentally with it and had no desire to quit. I chugged another Red Bull and off I went. 

With 100 miles to go at 8:30pm some quick mental math told me I would finish around 3:30am if I kept up my same pace. Ouch. I tried not to think about this. Staying present is one of if not the most important skill in ultra endurance competition, and it is still something I need to practice regularly. Most people don’t quit because of their current situation, they quit because they anticipate how hard things are going to get, and they barter with their future self that it’s better to just stop. Letting your mind wander to the future and anticipating suffering is the first step to quitting. Stay present and focus. 

I made my way from Cloverdale to Healdsburg. Then to Windsor. Then to Santa Rosa. Just taking the journey one step at a time. It was almost midnight in Santa Rosa and people were out enjoying their Saturday night. Next stop, Petaluma. I rolled into town after 12:30am and my dad helped me restock on food and water one last time before he would leave me to go home and sleep. From Petaluma I would backtrack the same route I rode north on 20 hours earlier. It’s weird returning to these roads after going through so much that day. It seemed like a whole week went by between sunup and sundown, and it felt like an almost transcendent experience returning to familiar places. 

I made my way through Novato, San Rafael, and finally saw the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. It only really hit me then that I could for sure finish this thing, and I could finally start celebrating. Up until this point I was suffering through back and hip pain, severe chafing, and my knees both ached a lot. I felt like at any moment one of these pains could flare up and become debilitating, and it wasn’t until I could see San Francisco in the distance that I truly felt confident that I would complete the adventure I started 24 hours prior. As I rolled over the bridge with 5 miles to go I finally eased up my effort and cruised in as slow as I could, fully enjoying the last few moments I had. 

When I walked in my front door it was 3:30am. It was nice to see Julia (my girlfriend) when I got there since she just got home from work. The last time I saw her was when I started the ride at 4am the previous day when I said bye to her as she was returning from her previous shift. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized how destroyed my body was. Surprisingly, I still felt decent on the bike even towards the end of the trip, but when I got off to walk up the stairs to my house I felt like I could barely move. Changing clothes and showering was a whole other journey as well.

As some of you may know this isn’t the first time I have embarked on a cycling journey like this. I have ridden for 20+ hours a few times and know what it feels like physically and mentally to complete something like this. The physical aspect of riding this distance is undeniable, it takes a lot of time and effort. However, the mental piece is more abstract. In all of the previous ultra-distance riding I have done there usually comes a point where my mind turns negative and I start counting down the miles to the finish. Rather than focusing on myself and my effort, when fatigue starts to build I get stressed and start to shut down. However, this time felt a little different than the others. On this ride I was focusing solely on enjoying the moment, staying present, and not dreading future discomfort. There were obviously tough moments along the way, however, I am proud to say I stayed in it the whole time and had very few low moments if any. In my opinion, if you quit while undertaking a physical endeavor it probably isn’t because your body didn’t have anything left, it’s more likely because you gave up mentally. I kept asking myself while riding if my body could give more, and the answer was always “yes.” I think in general most people don’t come close to pushing their limits on a daily basis, and I think experiences like this that help you explore your limits, physically and psychologically, are a very important part of being a human.

If you made it this far thank you so much for reading! Please continue to reach out with any questions. I hope this story helps inspire you to do something that challenges you. Whether that’s running a marathon or walking a mile. Just get out there and do it! 

In strength,

Mark Kolding, M.S.
Personal Trainer/Triathlon Coach
ACSM CPT
510-734-2817