Kevin's birthday ride

It was a great idea; celebrate Kevin's 56th birthday by riding 56 miles.

We met 24 minutes before sunrise and rolled out. It was 37 degrees and raining lightly. Six brave souls were out to honor Kevin.

The rain increased and it seemed to get colder. We were riding amazingly slow but our spirits we high. We were exploring a few hills and somewhat circling Lake Washington. I drank my Hammer products and did NOT mix the Sustained Energy with any simple sugars and all was good. THAT is a lesson that can have nearly crippling impacts if ignored.

As the miles rolled on the rain increased and those who had extra layers put them on. We were all flirting with hypothermia and found ourselves happiest on the climbs. With less than ten miles to go the rain turned to hail and my nose felt like it was raining X-acto knife blades.

As we neared the end, for the first time in all my years of ending the weekly ride at the Volunteer Park Cafe, we took a short cut. The road was snowy and when Tom's rear wheel spun out, he stopped, dismounted and walked the super steep climb. A final right turn and we arrived at the cafe. We were all hungry and cold and wet.

Hank was so cold he couldn't get his blue fingers to turn off his blinking light. We stood in line to order food and everything looked good. I wanted to reach over the counter and start eating then and there. I managed to hold off until I reached the front of the line and it was socially acceptable to chow down. 3,800 feet of climbing. It was fun in a type 2 fun kind of way.

My old reliable PI rain jacket kept me dry and the rain beaded up on my arms like a freshly waxed car. My PI thermal tights were almost okay, but it was not a sustainable situation. I could mumble about "micro-cilmate" but all I would be saying was even when I wasn't cold, I was wet. When we stopped, even for a minute to fish out a snack; my legs started to get cold. My Castelli shoe covers kept my feet dry until my tights got soaked and then the water ran down into my shoes. My secret weapon, Hotties Toe Warmers made the first three hours pretty tolerable.

RAMROD 2011 Ride Report

Hank and Evo in... Paradise

Self-serving preamble: When I do these long-winded reports of century plus rides, they are largely for my benefit and so I may touch on some minutia that may be better left unsaid in a more prose-driven medium.

This was my fifth or sixth RAMROD, but it was the first time I didn’t stay overnight in Enumclaw. In addition to saving a few bucks, I figured it would be just as dark in my bedroom at 3 as it would be in a hotel at 4:15. I was right.

Hotel room at 4:15 AM

My bedroom at 3:00 AM

(by the way, as my son Zach says, "All hotel rooms may look the same in the dark, but they don't all smell the same.")

I met Hank at his place and we quickly loaded my two bags and my bike in his car. One bag was for all my ride stuff (helmet, clothes, bar, bottles) and one for the post ride shower (towel, soap, shorts, etc.). The two bag system worked well. Another local rider was joining us and the three of us headed out with the slight hope of finding coffee.

Not a lot was open at 4 AM so we drove straight to the start. There also wasn’t much traffic at that hour, so the drive went pretty fast. Hank secured his favorite parking spot and in no time we were dressed and filling our jersey pockets for the miles ahead.

Fumble, fumble, fumble..

In an absolute fluke, we rolled out at the exact time we had planned to start, 5:45.

We settled into a paceline with some friends Hank knew including two tandems, and although the pace was slower than I would have liked, it was going to be a long day and I didn’t mind saving my bullets. To fend off the morning chill I had arm warmers and a throw away T-shirt over my jersey. To top off the look I had 98 cent cotton gardening gloves. While I may have looked like an idiot, if we came to a spot where we had to stop and pull weeds before continuing, who would be laughing then?

Go tandem go !

At the first rest stop, with 33 miles behind us, I folded the T-shirt and left it for an uncertain future. Leaving the rest stop Hank and I passed the tandems on a rolling uphill and despite not pushing the pace; we didn’t see them again until the rest stop just before the entrance, sixty miles into the ride. At that stop we ate and refilled bottles. I found a home for the cotton gloves and we pulled out with the tandems for the featured event of the day, the trip through the park.

Note the gloves on the saddle..

Entering the park.

As we passed through the entrance to the park, the tandems bid us adieu as we began the 3,500 foot climb to Paradise. Hank, Mark and I were ahead of our group and Hank pulled away. I couldn’t attack with a teammate in the break, so I hung with Mark until he decided to slow it down.

Up we go.

As we climbed up the canyon with the Nisqually River to our right I was still in my big ring and I was just blowing past riders. I wasn’t killing myself, but it was as if the other riders were stopped. In a short time I spotted Hank ahead and steadily closed the gap. I was warming up and rolled down my arm warmers. We chatted and I snapped some pictures. We took turns pulling and when I noticed I had gapped him, I backed off.

Crossing the Nisqually River

At 4,800’ the RAMROD officials stood at the junction shouting, “Right turn, right turn.” Hank and I continued on the gradual left and rode to Paradise, which is no longer on the official RAMROD course. I had harbored visions of having to hide my number and behave like a fugitive, but this was not the case. We caught and passed three other riders and took in amazing views of Rainier.

We stopped at the parking lot and snapped some pics. This detour added 650’ of climbing and a few miles.

Hank is glad to be at the high point.

The descent back to the road was a blast as it is a one way road and you can go apex to apex without fear of oncoming traffic. In no time we were at the next food stop and enjoying more food. We now had 90 miles and 6,500’ of climbing behind us.

Time to fly

My stomach was less than happy and my post ride analysis is that I mixed Hammer products (complex carbs – Maltodextrin) with other drinks (simple sugars) and the resulting combination was not good. I will put this to the test this weekend at our team training camp.

Leaving the food stop we had a short climb that is always confusing. If you expect the climb, then when you do it the climb ends fast and you think, “that was nothing.” If you discount the climb, then at some point you think to yourself, “is this ever going to end?” I was somewhere in between and thought, “that rise up ahead had better be the top.” It was.

The descent was a joy and my ride performed wonderfully. I felt like I could lean over until my handlebars would touch the pavement and not lose traction. There are three 180 degree turns and I just leaned into them and let it fly.

Note the car passing us. We tried to avoid having a "Hoogerland" experience.

I call this one thirty three point seven..

The route here goes north and climbs steadily. I felt strong, but a twinge in my left quad necessitated my letting Hank get away as I just kept it spinning. I unzipped my jersey (full zips are the absolute best) and continued passing riders. There is a water stop four or so miles from the top and on this hot afternoon I stopped and refilled as I was down to half a bottle.

Leaving the stop the road turns west and gets steep. Many riders were weaving as they tried to fight their way to the top of Cayuse Pass. I was surprised to see so many in death march mode. In theory, everyone who does this knows what they are getting into.

The turns near the top hide the actual summit until you are almost there, and everyone who rides up that road is looking for the top. At the top was another checkpoint and I didn’t even unclip. After hearing them call my number, I just rolled on down to the deli stop at 120 miles.

I know you aren't supposed to have port a potties in your pictures, but sometimes you are so glad to see them, they deserve some honor.

Here we ate sandwiches and chips, drank soda, sat down and waited for the rest of Hank’s friends to arrive. Hank and I had shared our undertraining woes and we were not looking forward to the final 33 miles. In addition to a nasty headwind, on our winter forays to Crystal Mountain we had seen huge potholes and cracks in the pavement that we had been dreading for many months.

As we rolled out the tandems took the front. Hank was right behind them, and I was two riders behind Hank. In no time we were going 25 miles an hour. Then the tandems switched and we kept the same speed. Nobody else pulled on the flats. When we hit an uphill Hank would break the wind for one tandem and I led the other. Then back into formation and we flew down the road.

We blasted past four riders from Byrne who jumped on. Ten miles later when we turned off highway 410 and soft pedaled for a moment the four took off without a word. A handful of other riders had also tagged on and they were thanking us as if we had saved their children from a fire. Hank and one of the tandems caught the Byrne riders and let them know a thank you was in order and what they had done wasn’t cool.

In no time we were on 456^th and then making the left turn to the finish line. After showers and food we could once again pass as normal people. I burned 6,000 calories and climbed 10,000 feet.

This was a different RAMROD experience for me. First I didn’t have a lot of focused training for the event, just a decent base and our July 4^th ride. Second I usually cook it the first 60, this time was really casual. Third, I usually climb better than most, creeping by slower riders and getting passed myself. This time we blasted past riders and nobody passed me on an uphill. What is with THAT ?, Fourth, the dreaded parts were easy. The long slog after the deli stop was easy. I remember the miles after the final descent from Mud Mountain dam feeling like forever. This time they were nothing. Fifth, I wasn’t sore afterwards. I wore compression tights for 28 hours after finishing, but I was able to trot up stairs, sit on an airplane etc. with almost no discomfort. I was more sore on Wednesday from my weight workout Monday than I was the day after RAMROD. Sixth, I didn’t overthink it.

Notes to self: Those Assos bibshorts cost a lot and are worth every penny. Don’t mix energy drinks. Arm warmers were nice. Take the little spray sunscreen next time. I think my pedals have reached the end of their life. Skip the hotel, dark is dark.

FISH ON !!

I have perpetrated a terrible joke on a friend. I feel just awful about it. In order to cleanse my soul, I offer my confession and ask that you all absolve me. I am already going to hell, so this is just icing on the cake.

Hottie and I attend a spin class a couple mornings a week and our spin instructor is known to us as Spinner John. We have so many Johns that are connected to biking that we had to nickname them, Spinner John, 2020 John, Crash John (sorry), Front Desk John, etc.).

We all have our faults, and I know I have mine. This is, however, my blog, so while I may feel compelled to confess this sin, I don’t feel like confessing all of them. With that preface, Spinner John while being a nice guy and all really likes to “one-up” everyone. He always wants the last word and is persistent enough that he generally gets it one way or another.

After spinning in his class for several months, he found out I had ridden double centuries in the past, and he invited me to ride with him in the Davis double century last year. His idea of “riding with” happened to be the same as my idea of “starting with.” He had looked upon my Cyclocross addiction as an oddity, yet he signed up and raced four races last year. He beat me by a couple places the first two races and I beat him soundly the last two. He had sworn he would never race on the roads as it was too dangerous, yet he joined a team and has been racing on the road following my race schedule with stalker-like precision.

I better not look over my shoulder....
It could be my imagination, but it seems to that while he doesn’t want to be me, he sure wants to beat me. My road racing this year has generally been in the 50+ category and John isn’t old enough to join my races, so he has been racing the same events with the Category 5’s. The week of the Ronde van Palouse, John asked me if I was going to do a race that was being held down past Olympia. When I told him I was doing the Ronde, he tried to reschedule a doctor appointment for his child to he could go and race it as well. To add insult to injury I told him I had been selected in the lottery to ride RAMROD this summer. He was bubbling at missing the chance to one up me.

The Ronde was a lot of fun and they had something most races don’t; trophies. The cool trophies were captured by Hottie’s camera and were impressive. On the way home from the ride Hottie had an idea and told me to pull over while she grabbed a rock. The basalt rock was the same kind that could be found on the other trophies. The plan was in motion.

After the Ronde I told Spinner John what a great ride it had been. He kept interrupting me to tell me how well he would have done if he had been there. I finally told him that I had won the Most Aggressive Rider award. The MAR is a coveted award that is usually only given in stage races. One day races like the Ronde usually don’t give out such awards and the Ronde van Palouse was no different. There was no MAR award given, yet I was claiming it. Not to worry the prize was in work.

That evening I took a grinder to an old cog and chain ring. A block of wood and the rock mentioned previously. Hottie secured a plaque and we had our creation.

At class this morning I brought the trophy in a musette and put it in front of my bike. John, ever curious if not bordering on vigilant, spotted it and took the bait.

“What is in the bag?” Spinner John asked anxiously.
“Check it out,” I offered smiling.

He pealed back the fabric and looked inside at the trophy. Then, instead of unveiling the piece of work to the whole class, he silently stared inside with a longing that was obvious to Hottie and myself. He then covered it up and extended his hand and congratulated me. “I’m going to do that race next year so I can beat you and get that trophy,” he said to my amazement. Just as I was thinking, “he actually said that out loud,” he set the bag down and walked away to speak to another class member.

Looks real to me..
Hottie and I exchanged glances and I felt like Jean Baptiste Tribout.

Who?
In 1991 an America rock climber named Alan Watts had been working on a new route at Smith Rock in Oregon. Before a climb is completed it is referred to as a “project.” The first person who completes the climb gets to name it. A year earlier a visiting Frenchman named Jan Baptiste Tribout had tried a project that Watts had been working on and did it. Alan Watts was broken hearted. He told the Frenchman he didn’t want a repeat and asked him to stay off his project.

I won’t tell you who climbed the route first, but the climb is named, “I am a bad man.”

I thought I was doing pretty well

A larger (and more moderate) group on a nicer day....
My training has been going better than expected. I am finding that core work was my missing link. I have an amazing habit of thinking any success is just a stepping stone to greater things and then overreaching. Following my Ergomania podium I had a sinus infection last week so I didn't ride much. As Saturday came around I felt pretty good and Hottie and I went for a ride. On Sunday I showed up for the team ride ready for action. Here comes the overreaching...

We rolled out a minute or two late with Hank "The Corner" Tim "Always Fast and my knee is healing so today I am going for it" Brad "The Beast" John "the machine" and little old me. I looked around and realized these were all fast guys. My only consolation was Tom "The Terminator" wasn't among us. After arriving on Mercer I was resolved to hang tough or die trying. About a quarter of the way we picked up Fred "Burn Your Legs Right Off" and after a moment or two of pleasantries the pace ratcheted up. I had made a real effort to relax while everyone greeted Fred, and I think it helped me. We were tickling 25 mph on the rolling winding road.

I found myself leading the paceline as we hit the one major climb and soon we were a tight pack. As we regrouped after the climb I took a spot at the back and hung on. I hung until about two miles from the official "unofficial finish line." I was behind John. John started twitching like Mark Renshaw looking for someone to head butt. Suddenly he attacked and Fred was on his wheel. Tim went around me and started to bridge up. It had taken all I had to hang on, so I let them go and dropped in behind Hank. After a minute or two I took a turn at the front and Hank and I worked to catch the leading trio.

With just over a hundred meters to go I tried to come around Hank and poured it on, but he held me off. We turned around and began to retrace our steps. Tom "The Terminator" was now with our little group. it turns out he had a flat and missed our start.

Having been deprived of the competitive counter-clockwise loop, Tom pushed the pace on the way back until the group splintered. I was first off the back and I was cooked. I wasn't dropping from 21 mph to 18, this was dropping from 23 to 14 mph, and the 14 hurt.

I had my buns handed to me on a platter....
On the final climb before leaving Mercer I spotted Hank coming back toward me and rode the hill with me. I didn't say a word, which actually was saying a lot. At the crest I finally said I was cooked. Hank confessed he too had been unceremoniously dropped and was spent as well. Once back across the bridge we regrouped for the final time. Without saying anything Hank or I led the rest of the ride keeping the pace moderate. Tom noted our slow pace on the return and asked if we were "phoning it in." "Yes we are," was my response in an authoritative tone.

My first road event, the Frostbite TT is only two weeks away. I guess I will keep the platter handy...

Ergomania Maybe I should learn how to row....

Cellphone pic of the spectacle
My Cyclocross team races for the three months of the Cyclocross season. For the other nine months we meet for a social ride on Sunday mornings. That isn’t to say the ride doesn’t often get competitive, but the thing I love about the Sunday rides is the social aspect. By the end of the cross season I find myself looking forward to the Sunday morning rides.

I asked Hank, one of my teammates, what he was doing in the off season. He replied that he had been doing a lot of indoor rowing. I was somewhat surprised that his emphasis was on rowing. I confided that my weight work twice a week contained four minutes of rowing. I told him how far I rowed in those four minutes and he said I should plan on competing in Ergomania. I asked what in the heck Ergomania was. It is an indoor rowing competition. Who would have thought?

Over the next three weeks I increased my rowing a minute a week. Hank continued to encourage (coerce) me to enter, and after sitting on the fence so long it was starting to get comfortable, I decided to try it.

I showed up at the appointed time and this was indeed a total Dorkfest. I spotted Hottie’s cousin Rick, who is an OCD bike rider and rower. Seeing him there confirmed my suspicion that this was a weird event. He was a rower who narrowly missed making an Olympic team once upon a time, and I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to hear that story one more time….

They had twenty rowing machines hooked up to computers and four projectors to show the “race” in real time. There were thirty plus rowing machines for warming up and cooling down on the opposite side of the room. There were five rows of chairs set up for family and “fans” to watch. You could buy T-shirts, food, and what not.

When my “heat” came up, we started and I quickly settled into a pace I thought was smart. Hank had told me that if I could finish in under seven minutes I would be in the mix for a podium position. The metric that you key off of is your pace for 500 meters. If I could row at 1:45 pace, that would give me a time of seven minutes.

Early on I checked my position in relation to those in my heat and I was disappointed to see I was near the back of the pack. I scanned over to the times (the paces for 500 meters) and I was on track, but a lot of guys were faster than my pace.

I watched my pace and kept to my plan. As the “race” progressed my place improved and I thought that more rowers would fade. I hit 1,000 meters in 3:26 which was right where I wanted to be. I was moving up. With 250 meters to go, I was a close fourth and I was gaining on the leaders. I pushed it and moved into, and finished, third. A Podium for Evo!

Hank, Clint (who won my division), and Davo
After the race I went to cool down on the “other” machines. Rick came over and congratulated me and gave me a sincere compliment. “Good job, if you learned how to row you could easily take ten seconds off your time.” He offered some pointers on technique. I listened and tried it while I was cooling down. It probably would make me faster. I'll try it this next week at the YMCA.

I picked up my ribbon and looked around at the spectacle that was Ergomania. I don’t know if I will ever do this, or anything like this again. But I did it.

I'm looking for a frame..

January Rides Reports

Despite the 39 degree temps, peeling down was in order

The plan was to ride a little under 200 miles in January and do weights, core, and yoga. I've got 373 miles and good core and weights, but no yoga. My core is stronger and that is paying dividends every day. On Saturday the plan was to get some easy miles in with some riders from the Y. One thing led to another and it was a throwdown and I was all in. I needed to get home early, so when the we stopped to regroup after the big climb, I asked directions to get back to town and I took off solo.

I felt good in the drops and drilled it back to the car. When my core is strong and I feel loose, it feels like my top tube gets shorter and I settle down in the drops, slide back on my saddle and flip a switch that turns on the power.

A visit from Kyson and company is worth rushing home for...

After hammering yesterday, I was up for an easy spin today. One of my teammates sent out an email last night looking for any takers for a slower than usual pace. He didn't want to be alone if/when he dropped off the pace. Eight of us took off this cold morning, and one thing led to another and Hank and I found ourselves wheel to wheel charging up the hill. I was the lead out man for the official "unofficial" east side sprint and when Scott and Hank came around me, all I could do was watch.

On the return we stayed together, but the pace steadily ratcheted up and when we hit the last hill on Mercer it was on for one last time. Big John took off. Tim, Matthew, and Hank all gave chase and I jumped on too. With unexplained ease, I moved past the three attackers and tried to catch John's wheel. I couldn't close the gap, but I held it up the hill. I looked back to see the three other attackers had all realized catching John was impossible and had sat up. I could feel my legs burning all over. Hamstrings, quads, and calves were all screaming. I somehow took this as a good sign.

The rest of the ride was friendly and we stopped for coffee afterwards.

Smile, we're done !
After cleaning me, my clothes and the bike (in that order) I donned every piece of compression clothing I own and made lunch for Hottie and myself. For your information; I am such a believer in compression clothing, I expect I will be wearing compression Depends one day.

While watching the Winter X-games I heard 2010 was the year of the double cork. I don't have a name for 2011 yet, but I'll keep an open mind and see what happens.

Hottie update

Hottie rolling along

Hottie and I did a thirty mile ride recently. That is a new record since her back surgery a year ago. There was 1,450' of climbing and she didn't even flinch on the steep grade 26 miles into the ride.

Note the guy in the background that Hottie just dropped sitting up and peeling down after trying unsuccessfully to hang onto Hottie's fast moving wheel. It can be a cruel and competitive world out on the trail....

Here we go

If this were a cloud my shadow would be called a "glory."
But it is a train track so we'll just call it a sunny day for a bike ride with Hottie.

What a great way to start 2011.

Summertime Nooner

Distractions abound

Paulo and I went for a ride today around Alki. To welcome the warm weather we took an extended lunch and got in just under 23 miles. I wore a sleeveless jersey for the first time this year and noticed it has a small zippered key pocket inside the right rear jersey pocket. We like those kind of surprises.

The route to West Seattle was true urban grit. Not the downtown with buses and bike messengers and girls with purple hair. This was the dirty manufacturing, with rusty nails, train tracks, loose gravel and zoned for heavy carcinogen production grit.

Then we passed under the spaghetti that is the west end of the West Seattle Freeway and we were smelling the water and feeling the sunshine.

After a long winter and disappointing spring of riding at noon under grey skies on wet roads, this was what we had dreamed of. We stopped and took it all in.

Seattle skyline from Alki.

Paulo looking lean and fast..

Evo
We proceeded around Alki and on down to Fauntleroy. The sun was warm and the road was essentially flat and we were in no hurry to shorten our ride time by going fast. Paul showed me a short cut that avoided the hill before the ferry and after a deep drink of nuun, we climbed from the water to cut across south of White Center to Boulevard Park and then to the office.


Time for lunch. Someone photo-shopped this so I have lines on my forehead and grey in my sideburns. What the heck ?

Davis Double Century Equipment Observations

Don't call me "Spot" The name is TUX !

This is my fourth post on the DDC TOC trilogy. Kind of like how there were five films in the ROCKY trilogy. For those readers who kept close track, there was actually a sixth Rocky movie, and since Stalone is still alive, we need to leave that door open.

Giro Pneumo helmet
Perfect. I am sad they have discontinued the Pneumo. It vents my hot head like nothing else.

Jawbone glasses
Perfect. I used dark lenses and had no problem in the pre sunrise light, and they were great when the brutal sun was beating me down…

Descente Liner sleeveless shirt
Liner shirt in hot weather hard to tell as there was no control group. I was hot, and I was kept dry. Would no shirt have kept me cooler? I don’t know. This mesh Descente liner is a great garment and I didn’t bake. On a side note, I do know that I rode this weekend in a Patagonia Cold weather “CRAFT-like” liner and it felt cold and clammy. Once I got cold in the coffee shop I didn’t warm up until I was home and stripped it off. Descente 1, Patagonia 0. I have been buying Patagonia stuff since 1977 and this is the first Patagonia garment to let me down.

Giro Monaco gloves
The padding was fine, and the ventilation was good as well. I was disappointed the black color seemed to bleed unto the heel of may palms, and the edges of my jersey pockets were likewise showing black stains which I attribute to the gloves.

Pactimo “Hank” Bibs
My first impression when I rode these was that the chammy pad felt like I had four slices of swiss cheese under each cheek. The pad is thick, and I am a thin pad kind of guy. With that said- I had twelve hours of happiness in these. The pad seemed to disappear when I was pedaling. It is between these and my Giordana Red bibs as to which is my best. I guess since I wore these, they win the prize.

Sidi Shoes
My feet felt sore on the bottoms from the road vibration and I feel like I am spilling over the side (suponating) of my left one. So I can’t give these five stars. I will try and put a new insert or similar treatment and see how they do.

Aliante Saddle
I can recall on centuries standing up and reaching back and squeezing my saddle to see if there was any padding, or if my saddle had somehow turned to stone. The Aliante was perfect, no hot spots, no friction, and total happiness.

Brave Soldier chammy goo
This is different stuff. You put it on you and let it dry (sort of) and then bib up. I supplement this with some Belgium Butter and was so happy. The logic is this. When you ride, if your skin is moist it is more likely to chafe and have unhappiness. This is kind of like petroleum jelly, but it isn’t therefore it won’t kill your chammy. It helps the skin be…..tough. Not sure how to describe it. When I supplement with a traditional chammy cream like Assos, that stuff provides the lubrication and the Brave Soldier keep my skin happy.

Belgium Budder Chamois Cream
This is my new favorite. While Assos is perhaps the “thinnest” of the chammy creams and DZ nuts is thicker, the Belgium Butter is thicker still. Still slippery, but I think this stays in place better. Sorry for the extensive diatribe, but to us cyclists, this is important stuff.

Sustained Energy
I had some the other day just to see if it was my error, or if I wasn’t meant to use this stuff. It was my bad. The stuff works and if you keep it fresh it tastes like a cross between toothpaste foam and pancake batter. If it starts tasting like bread dough, spit it out.

Nuun
This is the best stuff. They supported our team and it was appreciated in every way.

Little camera
I have a little Cannon Powershot that I keep in my jersey pocket. It is a great machine and I am glad I brought it along.

Hincapie low cut socks
I wore some low cut socks by Hincapie. They were fine. A little more padding on the bottom might have helped.

DDC TOC 2 of 3 The Davis Double Century Ride Report

Toto, we are not in Washington anymore..

Cautionary Note: I am a selfish man. When I write a ride report for these epic events they serve as future reminders to me of what to do, and what not to do, next time. For this reason I go into details that you might not care for. Deal with it.

The alarm went off at 4:00. I took Tux outside to water the plants and loosen up my muscles as well. The night was dark with no moon and it was cold with a slight breeze. Returning to our room I mixed up my drinks, fiddled with my bike and contemplated taking a shower. Mixing up my Sustained Energy first thing would prove to be a mistake, but I didn’t know it yet. I eventually dressed, donning a long sleeve T-shirt over my wicking top, but under my jersey. This would be discarded at 53 miles when the weather had warmed up.

I couldn’t get the roof rack clamp on the passenger side to adjust enough inward, so I put the bike inside the war wagon and although Tux felt crowded, we all fit in for the short drive to Spinner John’s hotel in downtown Davis. Looking to the east there was no hint that morning was coming anytime soon.


Before the deluge

John was fiddling with his bike in the doorway of his hotel room. Five minutes later we posed for a “before” picture, then we rode like giddy school children the mile and a half to the start. Resetting our odometers as we crossed the start line we rolled out with dozens of other cyclists with similarly questionable judgment. There were all manner of head and tail lights and it was an entertaining parade.

Into the darkness...
In most of the epics that I have done you find yourself on heavily trafficked roads pretty quickly. The DDC, in sharp contrast, has you on quiet residential streets until you find yourself on even quieter farm roads. This gave us the unique chance to have multiple pacelines without having semi trucks whipping past too close for comfort. Leaving town we saw the first hint of sunlight to the east. The roads went north then west alternating in four to six mile segments with ninety degree turns in between. To break up the monotony Joe lost his saddlebag when I was on his wheel. In a few minutes Geoff had a water bottle spit out of its cage into my path a few minutes later. The time spent stopping while Joe, and then Geoff recovered their missing luggage allowed us to catch and pass the same riders a few times.

Sunrise
As we passed farm fields where the farm hands were starting their day, Joe commented that whenever he thinks he is working hard sitting on his bike, he looks over and sees the farm workers doing real work and he ceases his laments.

In no time we hit the first food stop at 23 miles. As planned we skipped it and aimed for the foothills. The sun was up and we were casting long shadows. The air was still crisp and we were tooling along at twenty to twenty three miles an hour. John was leading our group and seemed not to want or need anyone to spell him at the front. When I looked behind me instead of seeing Joe, I saw thirty riders enjoying our pull. The speed would have been a concern, but I was two from the front and I felt the pace was well within my ability.

What a day !!
I felt strong and my methodology for carrying the bags of powder that would provide my nourishment seemed to be working. In my small saddle bag I carry a spare saddle bag made of a lightweight fabric. This bag was employed to carry two ziplocks of Sustained Energy and a packet of sunscreen for later. This “spare” bag was strapped to my main bag and when my pockets would later be empty (at 103 miles) I would put the ziplocks in my jersey packets and empty the spare bag and return it to the inside of my regular saddle bag.

Soon we were cruising along next to Putah Creek and I kept thinking the rollers were tending downhill. I had thought we were supposed to be heading up river so downhills were not expected. I checked my super cool VDO cycle computer for indicated elevation and realized the rollers were gradually netting us uphill progress. Way cool. This road was alos the course of the second stage of the Tour of California (TOC) that would cover these roads in two days. In no time the road turned steep and John took off. I hung behind Geoff and noticed I was getting warm. I was ready to ditch my long sleeve T-Shirt. The view of the water in the dam was nice. A series of long descents interspersed with short up hills brought us to another valley.

Spinner John at the Food Stop
I was expecting a food stop around the next corner and was out of nuun. My Sustained Energy did not taste like its usual cake batter, but I thought nothing of it. I reached into my jersey pocket and took a hit of Hammer Gel. Just as I got the gel back in place I saw the stop at the intersection of highways 121 and 128. This would be where we would be watching the TOC in fifty hours.

I have learned that when you mix Sustained Energy (SE) you put the powder in first and then the liquid and shake and then add more liquid. I opened up my bottle and (here is my fatal mistake) left the little bit of SE in there and added more powder. I got some water, shook it and added more water. Then I pulled off my long sleeve shirt and tossed it into a trash can and after a minute or two of stretching and I was ready to go. Joe told us to head out and that he would catch up later (which meant in Davis) while John expressed plans of his own as well. He was planning on skipping the next two stops and he took off like he was late for the prom. Geoff and I rolled out and enjoyed the beautiful Napa Valley. The sun on my arms felt nice.


My legs felt strong but my stomach was feeling bloated. I kept drinking my SE as I knew I should, but my appetite wasn’t there and I figured this was why the SE didn’t seem to taste as “fresh” as it usually does. In no time we were at the 75 mile stop and I refilled my nuun bottle and topped off my SE bottle.

Fans !
The next stop was at 94 miles and Geoff made it there before me. When I arrived my stomach was really unhappy and I again refilled my nuun and topped of my SE bottle with water and added some powder. For those of you who know, you may now realize that I haven’t emptied out my SE bottle since filling it at 4:10 AM, but have just added more powder and water to the now fermenting brew. If anyone has made sourdough bread and knows what you do to keep the “starter” yeast alive, you may note the similarities between that and what I mistakenly did on this ride.

The Cobb Mountain climb
The approach to Cobb Mountain is on a narrow road that should not be asked to hold both cars and bikes on it. With little warning the road got steep fast, and the turns were tight and relentless. My VDO tells me the grade is consistently seven percent with long stretches above ten percent. At one point it says fifteen percent. My cadence is slow and I commit to using a different cassette if I ever do this again. My stomach is now cramping and I look to the side of the road and contemplate a trip over the edge and down in the bushes. The scenery reminds me of Topanga Canyon in Southern California, except the grade is ridiculous. The heat of the day is upon me and I’m cooking. I seem to recall the high point of this climb is 3,600’ and I can see there is a long way to go. The rest stop at 94 miles was below a thousand feet so I know I still have a lot of climbing to do. I will confess I was pretty discouraged.

Eventually the grade lessens and I hit the food stop at 103 miles which marks the (almost) top of Cobb Mountain. I check the map and the highpoint of the ride and this climb is 3,050’. It wasn’t as bad as I had feared. I pour out my SE and fill both bottles with nuun. I have a guess of what went wrong and I eat a banana. This ride is supposed to have 8,500 of climbing and I have 6,400 of it behind me. There is one more major climb, known as resurrection, and then it should be a cruise into Davis.


Pine trees at the top..

Geoff had left the 103 stop ahead of me while I was in the plastic bathroom. As the real food and unfermented liquid took over my stomach began to feel better. The descent from Cobb Mountain was enjoyable and my bike smoothed out the rough road. I was able to apply some power once again only to battle more stomach cramps and have to back off.

Riparian pleasure
At the food stop at 118 miles Geoff and I hooked up again and I continued to feel better. I knew I was heading down a dangerous road with my lack of calorie intake. To settle my stomach I was drinking a lot while eating very little which was helping my stomach, but I was setting myself up for the bonk of the century (actually the bonk of the double century). Geoff was riding strong and having fun.

Resurrection climb
The resurrection climb is the most overrated climb I’ve ever encountered. It wasn’t that long and it was never very steep. At the top I stopped at the food stop with 138 miles behind me. I was feeling strong and I was able to eat a little while I filled my bottles. I had two huge bags of very expensive SE in my jersey pocket that I had no intention of consuming on the remainder of this ride. If I had it to do over again, I would have tried some to see what happened. I took off before Geoff and assumed he would catch me. I was feeling as strong as I had at six in the morning and Geoff never caught me until I had my aching feet in the wading pool at the food stop at mile 160.

In the morning we had some fog..
I drank a can of coke and figured that was one way to get a couple hundred calories in me. I felt refreshed and ready. The stretch from 160 to 182 felt understandable long. The Coke I drank gave me the flash and crash we’ve all heard about and by the time I hit the stop at 182 I needed a break. I ate some cookies and crackers and had a sip of 7-Up. If I ever like the taste of that stuff I shouldn’t have. I tossed the can in the trash and filled my bottles with water and nuun tablets. There were only 22 miles to go and Geoff was shepherding me along.

Leaving the stop I was in full bonk mode. In retrospect I wasn’t thinking very clearly or I would have carried some food to stoke my engine. There was supposed to be a stop at mile 194 and I found myself watching my odometer for the first time. My legs had been tooling me along all day and my glycogen reserves were long gone. I began cramping and had to stop and stretch to get it to stop. Where was the food stop at 194? With 197 miles showing on my odometer I arrived at the fire station and stopped and stretched just for a moment. Geoff appeared and we rode the remainder together.

Heading for the finish
The last few miles were an alternating mix of easy recovery spin which would allow me to feel better and then I would instinctively speed up and pass people, followed by cramps which would send me back to easy recovery spin mode.


BTB and Tux
Hottie, BTB and Tux were by the side of the road as we approached the finish while the sun sank in the west. Shooting photographs into the fading sun is never a formula for success, but she captured a smiling Evo.

D O N E !!!
With 204.5 miles on my odometer and 8,700 feet of climbing and over twelve hours of riding, I was ready to be done. A simple post ride dinner with John, Geoff and Hottie allowed me some recovery. Joe was still on the course and would be arriving in the darkness.

I showered and after a wonderful massage from Hottie, I put on my compression tights and fell into bed waiting for the cramps I knew would wake me. I wore the tights for twenty four hours and never had a cramp. I didn’t set an alarm and instructed BTB that we would call her in the morning. Tux woke me up and I took him out sometime during the night. I don’t recall what time we went out, but I do remember waking up in the same position that I had laid down in.

Lessons Learned:
1. Keep a timer on your Sustained Energy
2. Pour out what you don’t drink when you refill your SE
3. Consider larger cogs for extended climbs over ten percent
4. The term, “Let’s ride” has different meaning to different people
5. Even if you know the way, a list of mile points where the food stops are is a good thing to have
6. Compression Tights rule the world
7. The Aliante saddle will be my saddle of choice until I die