Bonking on the Bike: What Running Out of Fuel Taught Me at 54

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No fuel, loud minds, relentless trail.

We hit Sonoran South and Dixie Mountain this weekend. The elevation profile was absolutely brutal. Just a relentless, unapologetic grind that tested everything we had. To make matters worse, I realized at the trailhead I completely forgot my nutrition. I dropped into a massive ride with nothing but a handful of dates. That’s it.

The trail was jammed with hikers. Some hikers shared the stoke, stepping aside with a nod as we suffered up the grade. Others gave us that look—like we were a massive inconvenience to their quiet weekend walk. You just have to kill the noise. When your legs are tapped out and you’re running on fumes, there is zero bandwidth for shitty vibes.

When the physical fuel runs dry, you rely on the internal soundtrack. I kept a fast, unhinged Slayer album playing in my head. Channeling that old school thrash metal energy. You push through the burn because quitting isn’t an option. We conquered the climb on stubbornness, a few dried fruits, and aggressive focus. The descent was earned. Let’s fucking go.

Picture of Mark Wasyl
Mark Wasyl

Mark Wasyl is 54 and rides the Sonoran desert outside Phoenix, Arizona. At 51 he had a heart attack and a triple bypass. He writes Ride The Heavy about cardiac recovery, mountain biking after 50, mental health, and the days when getting out the door is the entire workout. He's not a doctor, a coach, or a physiologist. He's a guy who went through it and writes it down.

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