A Cycling Story: The Hell of the Marianas [4]
By: Ian Mulligan
Tags: Cycling, Traveling, Saipan, Reflections, Fitness

None of my neighbors were out to greet me and I lifted my bicycle up the staircase. Fumbling with the keys as I always did, I found myself inside the sweltering apartment. I quickly turned on the shower, activated all the air conditioning units, and stripped down to inspect the abrasions covering my body. In time each one of them would heal and as race day approached, I began to worry that my efforts would not be enough.

When I think about why I wanted to ride in the race I knew I wanted to win, but I see now how arrogant this was of me. In my condition today with a few teammates I am sure we would succeed in the race, but winning it is probably out of the question. A common thread throughout this narrative is the sheer unpredictable of cycling, and moreover the how nature has a way of stopping you. Saipan’s climate is not conducive to a 100-kilometer (62.1 mile) race. Hence the name of the race. Going into the final weeks before the race my focus was not where it needed to be. I started playing ultimate Frisbee, my parents visited for Thanksgiving, and I simply was not logging the necessary miles. Father Ryan Jimenez, now Bishop Jimenez, recruited me to ride with him. It was an offer I accepted without hesitation. As much as he needed me for the ride, I really needed him. In early November we raced a pre-Hell of the Marianas race together following a training ride the week before. Due to his level of fitness, I was worried that we would fall to far behind to be competitive in the race. I find this mindset to be flawed as I again was worried about something outside of my control. Bishop Ryan was doing this race as a pathway to fitness in wellness. As far as I know, he has completed multiple marathons since this time. This includes the New York City Marathon in 2017. I am immensely proud of him now just as I was then for his heart and determination on race day.

On an early Saturday morning at the end of October we first rode together with one of his friends. As I climbed up the steep incline, I slowly pulled away from him. This was a mistake and I found myself turning around to bring him up the hillside. I did not want to abandon my partner in his time of need . . . when he was struggling the most. It went beyond him being a man of God and had everything to do with the fact that we needed to build mutual trust and respect. I provided him with water and encouragement and helped steer me toward the vocation I have today. He helped reaffirm my beliefs and taught me patience in situations where it seemed impossible. After arriving at the top of climb his expression was one of joy and happiness. It was a milestone achievement for him, and I was able to witness it. His friend applauded, and I shook his hand before we proceeded back down the slope to where we had parked. Over the next month we had dinner ever week and he pledged to ride the climb every weekend. Come race day Bishop Ryan had a firm understanding of what he needed to do to find success. I on the other hand was still apprehensive and unsure of what to expect. The doubt I carried with me kept me up at night.

When I think about this doubt, I know it further rooted itself in two other bike rides prior to the race. A week after I rode with Father Ryan there was a preview of the race using half of the course. I entered the race and immediately started off way to fast. Cyclist-after-cyclist roared past me in a pace line. In hindsight, this was a novice mistake, but nonetheless it cost me in the way of time and effort. At only five miles in I was 50 seconds behind. Despite this time gap I remained optimistic knowing that both of climbs stay lay before us: Radar Station and Suicide Cliff. Out of these two climbs I have yet to explain Radar Station.