From Altitude Anxiety to 44 MPH: My Double Bypass Ride Colorado Recap
- Megan Eubanks
- Jul 16
- 4 min read
80 miles. 6,500 ft of climbing. One girl. Two passes. And way too many breaks.
This is the story of my longest ride to date, my steepest climb, my fastest descent, and probably the only time I’ll ugly cry from joy while going 44 mph on two wheels—all during the Double Bypass Ride Colorado.
Spoiler: 10/10 would do it again.
Double Bypass Ride Colorado
📍 Empire to Avon
📅 7/12/25
📏 80 miles
📈 6,500 ft of elevation gain
🚴♀️ Fastest speed: 44 mph
💥 Biggest emotional rollercoaster: 100%
Step One: Panic Booking a Motel in Oakley, Kansas
Did we carefully research where to stay halfway there? No. Did we close our eyes and pick a random dot on the map? Absolutely. Annie Oakley Motel, you strange little gem, thank you for your service.
Next time, though? Colby. We're looking at you.
Step Two: Packet Pickup (a.k.a. The Adult Version of Christmas Morning)
Yes, I know I could’ve had my packet mailed. But nothing beats walking into that room full of people buzzing with nerves and energy, pretending they’re not about to spend the weekend crying on a climb. Plus, they were selling last year’s Triple Bypass socks—which don’t match anything, I didn’t ride the triple, but hey... they were on SALE.
Step Three: “I Can’t Breathe, So This Should Go Well”
After packet pickup, we headed to Golden for a shakeout ride. That’s when the altitude sucker-punched me in the lungs. I couldn’t breathe on flat ground. FLAT. I sat at a cute little café pretending to enjoy the view while mentally preparing my will.
Step Four: Shakeout in Evergreen (Or, How to Completely Psych Yourself Out Before a Ride)
We did laps with 10% ascents and descents like some kind of sadistic cycling merry-go-round. Climbing fear? ✅ Triggered. Descending fear? ✅ Also triggered. Appetite? Still strong. We carb-loaded at an Italian place where the pasta was probably gluten-free (I made no inquiries), then headed to our cute glamping cabin in Empire.
Note: “glamping” does not mean spider-free. Troy was on full spider watch. I was on full “why am I more afraid of arachnids than Loveland Pass” mode.
Step Five: Race Day Bathroom Crisis
Race morning! Nerves hit. I had to pee. Then I had to pee again. Then Troy, my ever-patient partner, said the now-iconic line:
“You cannot possibly need to use the restroom again.”
Challenge accepted.
Step Six: Loveland Pass—Where Dreams Go to Wheeze
The ride started with a police escort and ended with me crawling up Loveland Pass at 4 mph, feeling like a human chimney. Every 5 minutes I had to stop to “control my heart rate,” which is code for question all my life choices.
We reached the SAG stop. Relief! I made it! I didn’t die!
Sign: “4 miles to summit.”
Me: Cool cool cool. I'm gonna go cry behind that rock real quick.
Another panic attack. Another pee. Another climb. Let’s move on.
Step Seven: My Descent Into Madness (And Pure Joy)
At the top of Loveland, bagpipes played, riders cheered, and I took a picture because if it ain't on Strava, it didn't happen.
But now… the descent. The thing I’d feared most. My rational thoughts included:
What if my chain falls off?
What if my brakes fail?
What if the bike just… explodes?
Troy and I had a deal: stick together on the climbs, but he could descend like a water park kid while I channeled full “granny brakes” energy.
Half a mile in, I realized: This is unsustainable. I let go of the brakes (mostly). I stayed to the right. And then… I FLEW. 44 mph. I was screaming with joy. Ugly crying. Laughing. I rolled up to Troy, and he said:
“How the hell did you get down so fast?!”
Me: “THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN!!!”
Step Eight: From Loveland to Vail and the Grand Finale
We cruised along bike paths and open roads, with fans cheering from the sidelines. Every once in a while, someone would catch my name tag and shout, “Go Megan!”—and for a second, I swear it felt like the Tour de France (minus the helicopters and champagne). At mile 55, we hit the start of the final climb—Vail.
I turned to Troy and said, “Go be the cyclist you are.”He nodded once. Then disappeared in a blur. All I saw was a puff of tire smoke.
I turned up my music and rode the last stretch solo. Strong. Happy. Slightly chafed. Crossed the finish line to a full heart and tired legs.
Final Thoughts: Do the Thing That Scares You
If you're thinking about doing something scary—do it anyway. Train for it. Show up. Ride it. Ugly cry at the top if you need to.
This ride was hard. Like, real hard. But it gave me a new kind of confidence. The kind you earn from proving your inner voice wrong. The kind you can’t buy with a fancy bike or matching kit.
Bonus Shoutout:
Big thanks to the team behind the Double Bypass Ride Colorado and all the incredible volunteers and organizers who make this event unforgettable. And to the riders who tackled the Triple Bypass—you’re absolute legends. I’ll cheer you on from a safe(ish) 80-mile distance.
Call to Action:
Clip in. Smile big. Get miles.
Go sign up for the thing you’re not quite sure you can do. That’s where the good stuff lives.Let the journey wreck you a little—in the best possible way. We’ll be cheering for you at the top (bagpipes optional).
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