Originally Posted by volosong

An aborted self-supported century ride is one of the reasons that I'm spending my retirement years in North Idaho. A few years before I retired, I planned out a nice century ride from my home in Palmdale, (the high desert north of Los Angeles), to a distant mountain town, Tehachapi. Perpendicular to the wind, so that wouldn't be a problem. Flat across the Antelope Valley, then a moderate, but relentless climb to Tehachapi. Stop for lunch in town, then down the hill and across the valley home. Easy. Or so I thought.

Started out in the morning, made good time across the valley and my first stop outside Rosamond, about 22 miles into the ride. It was a nice, sunny day. But I don't remember it being particularly warm or hot. The little corner market had closed so I rested in the shadow of the nearby wine tasting room. I noticed pretty quickly that beads of sweat broke out all over my arms. "Oh, wow!", I thought. A real world example to use in my "Weather and Climate" class that I taught at the local community college. About how wind evaporates water and as long as I was moving, I was creating my own wind which evaporated the sweat off my arms. "Cool."

I noticed my water was awfully warm too. Almost like drinking watered-down tea. There is nothing more refreshing than ice cold water and noting more disgusting that warm/hot water. Anyway, after eating my little snack, I headed off. After a few more flatish miles, I started climbing through the windmill farm. Not a particularly steep climb, just continuous. As I continued to climb, I started feeling terrible. More and more as I continued climbing.

"Uh oh!", I thought. "Something's not right." "I better turn around and head home, I'm feeling pretty bad." I ended up taking a slightly different route home, one with a lot more little convenience stores along the way. The water in my insulated bottles was so hot that I couldn't drink it. I stopped at every store on the way and purchased something cold to drink. The colder the better.

Along the way, a mail delivery truck came from the opposite direction. The mail lady slowed as she came up to me and asked if I wanted something to drink. I must have looked awful, to have her coming toward me and stopping to offer cold water. She said she carries a cooler of water with her when making her rounds.

Finally limped home and checked the thermometer. It read 104º F. With the low desert humidity, it didn't feel all that hot. But I guess under the cloudless summer sky and pushing a bicycle, it was too much. I spent the rest of the day recovering and re-hydrating. It was also the day I decided that "No more!" I'm going to retire somewhere it doesn't get so hot.

Nixed southern Idaho because it gets triple digits in the summer. Not so up north. I get a kick when people start complaining about how hot it is; and it is only in the high 80s. If they only knew. I do not ride in triple digits anymore. I'm sure that on that day, I was suffering from some form of heat stroke or heat exhaustion. Could have put myself in a coma. I was lucky that day. (And foolish me. I didn't check the weather forecast that day.)