The Triple Bypass is a 120-mile bicycle ride from Evergreen to Avon that comes with an awesome reward: a classy cycling jersey that to wear is to show off.

This year's prize for climbing 10,310 feet over Squaw (9,807 feet), Juniper (11,140 feet), Loveland (11,990) and Vail (10,560) passes was red and black with an elevation profile on the right sleeve - thanks for the reminder - and the phrase "For Those Who Dare" on the front and back.

Like a "triple dog dare," a Triple Bypass dare is one that cannot be ignored.

When I accepted the dare, I knew the Triple was at the edge of what I'd be ready for.

To compensate, I planned to start slowly, survive rather than attack the early ascents and gradually get stronger on the course's easier second half.

I had company in Rocky Mountain News photo editor Jay Qua- dracci, a Ride the Rockies veteran. Our conversation made the miles go by faster and I enjoyed having a teammate. Coming out of Idaho Springs, Jay circled back for me and later waited at the side of the road. I wasn't strong enough to hold his back wheel, let alone do my share of pulling, so I urged him to drop me at Georgetown.

From Georgetown to the aid station at the Loveland ski basin, the course grinds away at you, steep enough or long enough that you can't punch it in the stomach and walk away.

The course gets in your face and swings until it finds your weakness. It goes jab, jab, jab; and jab, jab, jab; hook, hook. Dizzy, you stagger, wait for it to clobber you, but that knockout blow never connects. So you right yourself, wobble a little and, after catching your breath, start to punch back.

Then there's another uphill that's just a little too steep - jab - or a little too long - jab, jab - and again you go from puncher to punching bag.

Somehow, I made it to the Loveland aid station at Mile 56.

Never mind that I was way over my projected pace. There was food here! If it was edible and within reach, I grabbed it and ate it: sandwiches, watermelon, muffins, cookies, trail mix. Then I filled my jersey pockets with more food and guided my bike back to the road.

Will I ever reach the pass?

Can I go any slower and remain upright?

How many more switchbacks?

These are my thoughts as I ascend the four miles to Loveland Pass.

It shouldn't be this hard.

I wish I could run this hill instead of bike it.

Hot, tired and uncomfortable, I decided to call a timeout.

I pulled onto the shoulder of the road, stretched my legs, ate a bag of trail mix, gulped down a bottle of water and cleared my head.

When I clicked back into my pedals, I was a different person, still suffering, but now at a similar level to those around me. The other cyclists no longer looked at me and thought, "At least I'm not as bad off as him."

The second half of the Triple Bypass was much easier but not easy. I was riding granny gears on tiny uphills and coasting downhills where I could have pedaled and made back time.

Reportedly, the course is scenic - mountains, trees, streams and all that - but I couldn't appreciate it. My eyes were focused on the pavement just in front of me and the most recent rider to go by me.

Once I cleared Vail Pass, around Mile 98, I thought about Bob, the named bridge in Avon. I had no idea if the course went by Bob or over Bob or anywhere near Bob, but seeing Bob became synonymous with being done. Bob seemed to be running from me. I expected the route to go Vail, then Avon, then, "Hi, Bob." Instead, it went East Vail, then Vail (for a long time), then West Vail.

West Vail?

What about Bob?

When my wife greeted me at the finish, my obsession with Bob was replaced by thoughts of barbecue.

By the end of dinner, I started thinking that I might even enjoy the Triple Bypass someday if I trained for it properly.

I have enormous respect for all of "those who dare," and for Team Evergreen, the volunteers and police officers for their help.

If you're thinking about doing the Triple Bypass sometime, you should.

I Triple Bypass dare you.

burgesst@rockymountainnews.com

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