I arrived in Seattle on Thursday night and proceeded to the oversize baggage claim area. There was woman there with her dog in a crate. We started talking. She told me that she had missed her connecting flight to Portland so she had to find a hotel where the airline would put her up that would take a dog so that she could fly out in the morning. I found it a bit disturbing that someone would bother with the hassles of a hotel and an extra trip to the airport to take a flight somewhere that I would be riding my bike to in two days. There were times when the ride did not seem like too smart of an idea, and that was definitely one of them.
Friday was spent assembling bikes and doing last minute errands-- bike lights, new sunglasses, picking up registration packets. We went for a quick ride to the bike shop which is open continuously the last 24 hours before the start of the ride. (We saw someone run in the next morning around 4:30AM as we started on the ride.) We also wanted to make sure that everything felt good on the reassembled bikes. Seattle is wonderful in that it has lots of bike lanes. The problem is that the quality of the roads is perhaps not all that one would prefer. The cracks running parallel to the direction that the road runs are particularly disturbing. We all went out to dinner to stuff in plenty of pasta in preparation for the big day ahead of us. Josh and Carly, San Diego friends, joined us so I was able to catch up with them a bit. Carly is feeling healthy and is showing a bit. They are looking forward to their last adults only trip at the end of the month.
After dinner, we went to the grocery store to pick up breakfast items and Red Bull. Ian, former Cat 1 cyclist, former room mate of Sue, and the most outstanding support vehicle person ever, insisted on the Red Bull. He said that if anyone thought that it was time to quit, he would have the person first drink a Red Bull and try another 20 miles before giving up. For those of you not familiar with Red Bull it is an energy drink full of sugar, caffiene, tauruine, and other goodies. I was to soon learn that they were not formulated for taste.
It had been decided that we would leave at 4:00 AM from Dan and Peggy's house in order to avoid the crowds. (The official start for the one day riders was between 4:45 and 5:15 AM.) Despite getting to bed far earlier than any of us typically do, the alarm at 3:15 AM was a horrible shock. We shuffled in and out of the bathroom, through the kitchen, out the door, and down the street by 4:15 AM. It was a bit later than planned, but earlier than I expected. We rolled off down the street being joined by more cyclists along the way. The curvy, steep road down to the lake caught my attention. I knew that the day was going to require lots of mental work as well as physical work.
We stopped briefly at Seward Park, around 10 miles into the ride, to see if we could find Beth and Chris who had started from another friend’s house. They had apparently gone on without us and ended up finishing a few hours ahead of us. The relatively flat course and tailwind were ideal for the tandem.
As we were leaving the park, there was a short hill where we lost Dan, Peggy, Bob, and Larry. Sue and I decided to plod along at our own pace. It was going to be a long day. We would all meet again at the mile 53 stop, if not before that.
The reason for getting out early to avoid the crowds became obvious early on in the ride. About 20 miles into the ride, Sue and I saw someone near us fall. From the sound, it seemed like the person must have hit the wheel of the person in front of him, lost control of the bike, and went down taking a few other people with him. Like so many accidents, many of the participants were not at fault and simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Sue and I stopped at the mile 40 rest stop to fill water bottles. We had been drafting off of a tandem for a while and were making good time, about 18 mph. It was a good sign to be ahead of pace so early in the day without feeling like we were going at an unreasonable pace. Soon thereafter, Sue and I joined another rider, Deana, who was doing the ride by herself. It was fun to have one more person along, and she rode with us for most of the day.
At mile 43 we arrived at “The Hill.” (Oh no, not the dreaded hill!!) All I can say is that the people who complain about “The Hill” clearly do not do much riding in San Diego. According to the STP map, the hill is only 1 mile long and according to me it is not very steep. Yes, it is the biggest hill on the ride, but it is nothing compared to Torrey Pines hill or any of the other fun elevation gains that we have here. It felt good to have it behind me though.
The Hill is the first place that I think that I saw the person on the fixed gear bicycle (i.e., one chain ring in front, one in back, like the first bicycle that you had). I was impressed that someone would do such a ride without gears, but he was not the only person that day who would be riding on a bicycle or in clothing that I would never even consider for that length ride.
Mile 53 arrived sooner than I would have thought. There were snacks and drinks and the rest of the group that Sue and I were riding with. I sucked down a goo pack—kind of nasty, but easy to digest—and a couple of ibuprophen. We dropped off our warmer clothes to Ian the wonderful support guy who drove along in a van all day meeting us at the various rest stops, wasted more time than we should, waited in long lines for toilets (for the first of many times that day), and were on our way.
At mile 86, we stopped in Tenino for more snacks and water. We thanked Ian again for his patience in waiting for us at all of the various points during the day. He said that he was more than happy watching all of the freds (i.e., incompetent cyclists) roll through. People had said that on the ride you could actually put on weight if you stopped at all of the possible places. I did not believe them initially, but by that point I did. We were stopping at less than half the stops and taking advantage of the high calorie foods being provided. If you were doing the ride in two days, there would be more than enough time to stuff in enough food to put on a pound or two despite the amount of work.
(I feel like I should be remembering more of the riding than I am, but there were few places that were sufficiently striking to remember. The green was intense, and all of the “real trees” (i.e., not palm trees) were beautiful. When riding in groups, you spend much of your time looking at the wheel in front of you and the quality of the road. You enjoy being where you are, but you do not get that much time to take in any of the details.)
We all rolled into Centralia together—Dan, Peggy, Bob, Larry, Sue, and me. We were earlier than we would have thought despite the many stops that we had made along the way. I was congratulated on riding my first century. The joke quickly became that it was so much fun that I was going to do another one all over again. We ate yet more pb and j’s and reveled in our accomplishments to that point. In addition to the free food for the one day riders, there was a school that was selling spaghetti for a fund raiser. The thought of something warm and acidic for lunch did not seem wise as we still had a long way to go. I was happy to be sitting on the ground as it is much wider than a bicycle seat. I rocked back and forth from side to side trying to distribute the weight across my butt without putting weight in the center. Soon it was time to go. I tucked some fig newtons into my back pocket and took another ibuprophen. Nothing really hurt and I wanted to keep it that way.
Centralia was too much of a zoo to park a car, so we met Ian a few miles later to grab more supplies—goo packs, preferred drink mix—and to pick the next meeting place. Lunch was feeling a bit heavy, but I thought that it would just take a while to settle. It was decided that we would stop at Riverside Park at mile 145. Someone (Dan?) commented that it was flat, so things should go quickly.
Throughout the ride, there were people on the side of the road cheering the riders on. There were kids with lemonade stands and drivers that would wave. It felt good to have their support. There were also people who were less excited to see us roll through their town. There was one place that had scheduled some type of parade for the day. (STP has been the same weekend for many years now, so it was no surprise to the town that about 1000 cyclists would be rolling through that day.) It was more than clear that we were not welcome. We later heard that some riders were being threatened with handcuffs and arrests if they did not get off of their bicycles and walk them across the street. Overall though, it was a positive experience.
I am not sure if the 40 miles after lunch were the hilliest, but they felt that way. Many were rollers. With a bit of planning and a bit of standing, I could frequently make it up to the top of the hill with the momentum that I had built up from the downhill. There were some hills though that were hills only because they were so far into the ride. I started thinking that there should be a “hill difficulty quotient” that took into consideration grade of the hill, distance ridden that day, average number of miles ridden per week, and any of a number of other factors. I started thinking that this might be the beginning of the end. My lunch was going to have to work its way out of my stomach somehow.
There was comfort in knowing that Ian was with us. If I really felt that the ride was too much, I could drop out. I had every intention of doing this if I felt like I was going to be a danger to myself or someone else. Although the crowd was substantially less than in the morning, more than one person would get hurt if someone crashed. Riding that close to that many people on roads that vary widely in quality requires more attention than one might think. If you catch someone’s wheel or a sewer grate the wrong way, it can create a problem. At one point Sue asked me how I was doing. I said that if I hurled I was not going to ride to the next stop. I was just going to call Ian and have him pick me up. Sue was feeling the same way at that point and agreed that it was a reasonable choice.
We approached the rest stop at mile 137. I did not think that it was the correct stop, but I asked anyway. No, it would be another 8 miles, a distance that was suddenly seeming long. When we finally rolled into the stop at 145, I was hoping to get a bit more liquid into my stomach. Drinking had been harder on the last portion of the ride, both because of the hills and how I was feeling. I knew that the food would digest better with some water and that I needed the calories from the drink mix.
Sue and I were not feeling great. I kept thinking that I had ridden twice as far as I had ever ridden in a day. I could not quit now. The end was so close. I was also thinking that I had ridden twice as far as I had ever ridden in a day. I could quit and still feel like I had accomplished something. Ian took it upon himself to make good on his threat of the night before. Before anyone could quit, the person would have to drink a Red Bull and try for another 20 miles. At that point, Sue was feeling worse than anyone else. Ian gave Sue a Red Bull which she obediently drank. We decided that we would stop at the next possible rest stop just shy of mile 163.
We headed off to the next big challenge of the ride, the Lewis & Clark bridge at mile 152 that would bring us into Oregon. We had heard that the bridge was as steep as “the hill” that we had climbed earlier in the day, and that the traffic and quality of the road made it more difficult. The group spread out a bit over the bridge as a single line of riders was formed. I dropped down through my gears and kept a steady spin. People moved slowly along the downhill side cautiously rolling over the expansion joints. This was no place to get a flat tire. As we regrouped, I proclaimed to Sue, and anyone else within earshot “I AM A GODDESS!” Sue, always the level headed one in such things, reminded me to keep paying attention. There was still much of the ride left. I knew that I could make it to the end. It was all gravy from there.
There were more hills between us and the next rest stop. The chain fell off of my bike when I shifted stupidly going up a hill. I managed to clip out and get my foot down rather than falling over, which is what I typically do. I put the chain back on and pushed my way up the hill. We rolled into the next rest stop and found Ian. The time at the previous rest stop had done me some good. My lunch was no longer a rock in my stomach. Although I did not feel like eating, there was plenty of drink mix with plenty of calories and salt to get me to the next stop. The Red Bull had worked wonders for Sue. She was feeling better than she had 18 miles earlier, or even 80 miles earlier. She gleefully poured down another Red Bull. Ian commented that from that point it was easy, if you got tired you could pull yourself along with your lips. This was the funniest thing that Sue had heard in a long time (perhaps years the way that she was laughing). This became the rallying cry, along with the motion that one would make to pull oneself along with one’s lips. We soon pushed off to the mile 176 rest stop with Sue doing much of the pulling.
We did not know until after the ride, but at the last stop Ian thought that Sue and I were ready to call it a day. When he arrived at the 163 mile stop, he cleared out the back of the van, putting away all of the extra clothes and food that people had been accessing all day. Needless to say, he was happy when we arrived at the stop and it appeared that he would be completing the ride to Portland on his own.
The mile 176 rest stop had ham and cheese sandwiches and popcorn. Sue consumed a third Red Bull and I decided to brave one as they were working so well for her. Ian commented that each Red Bull that you drink takes 45 minutes off of your life. Sue was concerned about drinking three Red Bulls in a day and asked Ian what would happen. He said that he did not know. He had never drunk three Red Bulls in one day. Mentally and physically energized, we decided to forgo the last rest stop at mile 188 and push to the end.
We arrived at the edge of Portland. There were mile markers on the side of the road—12 miles to go, 11 miles to go, 10 (!) miles to go…. As we got closer to the end, I got more excited. Dan, Peggy, Bob, Sue, and I were all together. It was hard to believe that we were all going to finish together. About two miles shy of the end of the ride, we were held up at a rail road crossing. When we arrived, there were maybe about a dozen people there. By the time the horribly slow train went by, there were probably about 100 cyclists waiting. Getting everyone started again was a bit of a challenge. There was a recumbent bicycle near the front of the group. Recumbent bicycles are lower to the ground and slow to get moving. There was a bit of shuffling positions to get everyone going again.
Soon we were on our way up a narrow, curvy street in a denser group than we had ridden in all day. We were certainly not elite riders. We had all been out for about 14-15 hours that day, much longer than any of us normally would ride. I am certain that I was not the only person waiting for someone to cause an accident. The next two miles were brutal with lots of people and lots of traffic lights. The inertia of the group was substantial. When we finally rode through the chute that was the finish, right on Sue’s wheel where I had spent much of the day, I was almost surprised to be there. We were handed patches that said “one day finisher” and bottles of water and shooed out of they way to allow others to come through. As we walked away from the finish area, I said that the last few miles had felt like “an invitation to an accident.” Dan, who is in law school replied, “No, if was more of a subpoena.” We were all surprised that so many tired people so tightly packed had managed to run the gauntlet that was the end of the ride without an accident. It was about 7:15 PM.
I was so happy to get off of my bicycle for the last time that day. We hugged, called people, wandered around thinking that we should probably eat something, but not being tempted by any of the options. We finally decided on a beer. We ran into Larry who had hooked up with a much faster group for the end of the ride. He had been there for a while. Dan had gone off to find Gordy who would be bringing Dan’s bicycle back to Seattle. In Dan’s absence, his beer was consumed. Bob commented that it was the smallest beer that had ever had such a strong effect on him. We were all riding high on the endorphins from the day. We were all so happy with what we had accomplished and that the day had worked out so well with the relatively cool weather and the tailwind. We again met Ian at the van. He congratulated us and packed our bikes into and onto the van, and then off to the hotel.
The rest of the evening was spent showering, snarfing pizza that did not arrive until almost 11:00 PM (the saltiness tasted so good), and watching bits of old movies on television. The next morning we ate enough breakfast to compensate for any caloric deficit from the previous day. The ride back north to Seattle took over three hours. It made our efforts of the previous day seem even more substantial. Sunday afternoon at Dan and Peggy’s was a revolving door of friends. Kenny and Annette, friends of Sue’s from cycling, Cathy Hsu, a San Diego friend who recently moved to Seattle and who made us a wonderful dinner that night, Ian and Zanne, Wesleyan friends, Larry Rosyani, another San Diego friend who is soon on his way to Palo Alto, Josh and Carly called to check in, Gordy stopped by, Beth and Chris, who had done the ride the day before on their tandem also stopped in. It was such a treat. Dan, Bob and I stayed up late gabbing. They asked me when I was going to buy a real bicycle, as opposed to the upright, city/commuter bike that I have. It was one more short night as the airport shuttle arrived at 4:15 to take me to the airport for my 6:15 flight. I slept through take-off and did not wake up until we were almost ready to land.
Logistically, the event was a bit of an aggravation. It was a great couple of days with friends that I do not get to see often enough. Will I do it again next year—maybe. The flight is much further and the training season prior to the ride is much shorter. Bob did manage the ride on 35 mile training rides and lots of spin classes. It could be done. He was much more uncomfortable in his saddle than the rest of us, but the distance was not a problem. Who knows, maybe we will all give it a go again next year.
