We hit the road bumps early on in this ride.

Chris and I set out at 7am from a gas station in Bellevue on our way to the first control in Index. We were chatting and catching up, riding towards the farms out past Fall City, when we hit our first road block. The road was closed until mid October. We decided to chance it and ride through. Local construction workers forced us back on a detour through local back roads. All the signs said that the detour went through the neighborhood. We followed for miles and miles. There was about 20 minutes until the control would be “closed” and we had about 3 or 4 miles to cover… no problem. At the very end of the road is when we finally hit another road closure sign. The only way back was out to the main road, about 6 miles back. Between the two detours, we lost 15 miles and rolled in to our first control 30 minutes late.

Chris and I have been working towards a R-12 award, and he needed this ride for the month. I started to get pretty onery about the whole situation. Not making a control isn’t exactly how I wanted our day to roll out. We accepted facts, debated a bit about whether or not they would take an exception, and decided to push on to make the next control. A bad day on a bike always beats a great day at work.

We rolled through quite a few familiar roads much like on the start of the 600k. I took note at how much slower it seemed to go this time. I don’t think that my pace was much slower, time just seemed to move at a different speed. It is funny how these rides can unfold on me. Certain moments of each ride will really stand out while others are lost to an icy glaze and a bit of day dreaming. I do my best to keep safe, but it is hard to not shut out your surroundings once in awhile on a 12-24 hour bike ride.

One of the real highlights of the ride was between the first and second control on the lead in to the tiny town of Index, Washington. The roads got us off of US-2 quickly and on to some back roads headed toward the pass. I think we were passed by exactly 3 cars in 15 miles, one of them a gravel truck working in the area, and another a garbage truck doing its rounds.

There was a (seemingly) long climb with some gravel sections on a windy road into Index. It was really beautiful and peaceful. We rode side by side and talked about whether or not we would lose all of the elevation we were gaining before we got to town.

Surprisingly, we didn’t lose too much. Index is hidden just a mile off of US-2 and has maybe a couple of dozen houses and a general store. The locals were very friendly and quizzed us down about our bicycles and destination.

Shortly after leaving, we finally got to ride on the Old Cascade Highway. It held some pleasant, low traffic roads that snaked around US-2. It was a wonderful alternative to the slow steady (and very high traffic) course on the highway.

Eventually we were dumped back on to the highway to complete the climb. My legs were aching and I was almost out of water. There aren’t any services between the base of the climb and the peak. I knew from experience that the nearest store or rest stop was 15-20 miles downhill. Yes, it is downhill, but it still takes time to get to. Chris helped us find a water fountain tap at the Steven’s Pass ski lodge and we were good to go.

Thankfully, we had enough foresight to put on some jackets and heavy gloves before starting the always fun bomb down the mountain. The second we hit the road, the rain started to pelt us hard. When you are going 40 mph downhill, the rain can almost start to hurt. It seemed to be hitting my eyes directly between my hat and glasses. I had trouble seeing anything, but made it safely down the first steep section. It is always an amazing rush.

Coming down the east side of the pass is more of a slog than it should be, thanks to a few steep inclines and a good portion of hot, flat roads. Chris helped me by setting a respectable pace that forced me to push myself a bit. There is always a section of every ride that my body just wants to slow down. It usually takes about 10 or 15 miles to get over it. Thankfully, I didn’t lose his wheel though.

Chris commented that this portion of US-2 has some of the most beautiful views of the Cascades. There is a wall of mountains right next to you, and a river follows most of the road in to Leavenworth. We pushed on through some bad headwinds to finally turn that last beautiful corner in to town. Chris’ wife Emily was nice enough to pick us up (and drop us off earlier). It would have been a long ride home otherwise.

We clocked almost 150 miles in 11 hours (including stops of course). It didn’t shatter my slow 200k streak, but it put a good dent into those times.

I need to take time off work to ride a bike more often.

I received a call from the doctor that did my surgery last week. He said “Give me a call tomorrow between 9am and 6pm” on the message. Thanks to those goofy doctor/patient codes, he can’t just say, “Hey, you don’t have cancer… but I think you have herpes” on an answering machine. By the way, I don’t have either. Go me.

I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a bit nervous, and I am not a good liar. Our friend Boo once told me, “You’ve met your bullshit quota for life.” I just want things to calm down for a little while. They don’t have to be awesome, just “normal”. Whatever that is…

At the end of the 200k this last weekend, Maggie Williams asked how I did and I was explaining that it was an off day for a number of reasons. She mentioned that she thought I was usually near the front of the pack. I knew that I’ve never been there over the long haul, but I tend to start stronger and finish in a lot slower. I don’t feel like I waste energy, I just tire over the distance. It feels like I slow down to about the same rate regardless of how strong I start, so I might as well start strong and get some miles on the board.

It got me thinking about past rides though. I thought about it enough to actually type it down in Notepad for a little comparison (oh boy, this is sounding a little pathetic now).
100k Urban Popular - 5:50
200k Chili Feed - 11:24
300k Capitol - 19:20
300k Hood Canal - 15:19
400k 3 Passes - 20:48
600k 4 Passes - 35:45
200k Tahuya Hills - 12:31
200k RUSA 10th - 12:10

The reason this is interesting to me is that on rides at 200k and under, I have a pretty awful pace. I’ve had legitimate excuses on each, but that is all that they are… excuses. 100k in 6 hours is nothing to brag about. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not whining about it. It just gives me something to push past.

Interestingly, on the rides that are stretched out, I do much better over the distance. The first 300k is an exception to this. We had a sit down dinner and rode well into the night. Plus, I think that Chris and I wanted our wives to be out in the cold all night since they were volunteering.

On the second 300k, I felt much worse but still finished with a little over 5 hours per 100k. The 400k challenged me with mountains that I had never dreamed of cycling over in the past and I still did about 5 hours or so.

My strongest ride to date was the 600k though. I spent 4 and a half hours at the overnight stop, and still did better than my average 200k.

None of this means much. Just a random observation. My goal at the start of every line is simply to finish, and that will not change. With a little bit more training and possibly a motor, I might be able to pick up that pace a bit.

Friday’s surgery went according to plan. We spent longer at the hospital than I wanted to, but everything came out fine and I wasn’t even really doped up for the ride home. I was sporting a gigantic bandage that wrapped most of my right arm though. The doctor told me, “Don’t shower until Sunday.” With a 200k scheduled for Saturday, I knew it was going to be a feast for the nose.

Sunday morning I ditched the bandage, knowing that it was scheduled to get in to the nineties temperature wise. I would have soaked straight through it. That left the temporary stitches and some of that red/orange iodine pigment to keep it company. It wasn’t looking too pretty.

To keep things completely out of hand, I decided early on to take my Independent Fabrication out fixed wheel. The gear ratio is great on my flat commute to work, but I wasn’t totally sure I would survive on it over 125+ miles of rolling hills.

I set out into the dark to catch the 6am ferry to Bremerton. I saw quite a few other riders, most opting for “normal” jerseys instead of the fashionable wool SIR jersey. Chris and I rode the 400k in wool, saw 100 degree temps up the passes, and lived to tell the tale, but I wanted to be as comfortable as possible.

Matt pulled a Houdini again and managed to be the last guy on the ferry. Once again, we were sure he missed it when he popped out of nowhere to say hello. Matt had talked his friends Dennis and John in to doing the ride with us and giving this randonneuring thing a shot. People were quizzing me down about the surgery and how everything went. I was kind of surprised at how many people actually read this thing. I figured it was just my mom and wife (hey guys!). While in line I had mentioned that I got it done the day before and a woman said, “You had surgery yesterday!?” She turned to her husband. “Well, he is a randonneur. Crazy.” I didn’t have my arm in a sling and I left the vicodin at home (unfortunately).

There were tons of riders at the start. Lots of people that haven’t put many miles in this season were back on their bikes. I said hello to Paul “Dr. Codfish” Johnson and checked out his beautiful Tournesol bicycle. He seemed to be sure that I wouldn’t see him again that day, so we said our goodbyes.

We all got into a nice and steady tempo from the start. I pulled whenever possible because I don’t feel like I’m getting a ton of benefit from drafting on the fixed. My poor legs can only spin so fast. The (overly) large gearing was nice on the flats and descents though. My legs didn’t get too whipped.

I spent some time riding with good folks like Jack Brace and chatted a bit, but I spent a good chunk of time just setting my own pace. There are a ton of strong riders that can take me out over the distance, regardless of what I am riding. It gives me a pretty good judge of how I am doing for the day to see who I am riding amongst. Believe me when I say that I’ve been in every group possible this season.

I managed to reach the second control at roughly 50 miles in just under 3 hours. I was close behind John who was riding strong out of the gates. He looked really fresh most of the day. My plan was to stick it out with Matt for the day. He was nice enough to wait back for me when I was hurting on the last 200k. At this control, waiting was no problem because there was tons of amazing food and drinks.

The volunteers were trying to talk us in to writing out poetry for the poem edition of the newsletter. There was tons of infectious energy coming from everyone manning the controls.

John and I waited a surprising 20-25 minutes for Matt and Dennis to make it in. I found out later that Dennis had missed breakfast and was crashing early. Riding with no fuel is brutally difficult. It is really hard to replace that lost energy on the road while you are already burning it off. Hell, on these rides it is hard enough replacing the calories burn when you have a good breakfast.

Matt put it pretty well when he stated that he wasn’t “looking to win any time records” that day so we all dropped pace a bit and enjoyed ourselves. The first part of the day held perfect weather, beautiful scenery, and lots of shaded roads with little headwind.

The four of us were still in a group when we missed the proper turn for Old Belfair Highway. We took A turn, just not THE turn that we needed to. It looked like a highway. It wasn’t signed (like Old Belfair), and it seemed to go generally the correct direction. We racked up about 14 extra miles on a terrible stretch of road with heavy traffic and little shade. The day was starting to really warm up. I could see the pain on Dennis’ face when we would slow down to check our cue sheets. It was going to be a long day for sure.

Once we found the proper street, it was a short distance to get to the leg burning Bear Creek Dewatto Rd. This wouldn’t have been too bad if I had… well… gears. It was an 8% grade for half a mile and slightly less than that for quite a bit longer than that. I wasn’t running any computers, so I am not quite sure how it all worked out, but I know that my legs were hurting. To make things worse, there tree line was cut back so there was no shade and it was in to the hottest (feeling) part of the day.

John and I found some shade on the descent from the top and decided to wait for Matt and Dennis. We spent maybe 15 minutes but they didn’t seem be coming. A couple passed on a tandem and said that they were coming, but that they were taking their time. We waited a bit longer, but finally decided to push on. We both wanted to get some food in our bellies.

The next control was at a surly looking Texaco that didn’t look really excited to have the spandex crowd sitting on their sidewalks eating chicken strips. We weren’t harassed, but it wasn’t a completely welcome environment. We waited long enough to finish our food for Dennis and Matt, but they were a no show. I know in the back of my mind that these rides are a personal experience, and that people shouldn’t hold you back, but I was really disappointed to lose track of Matt especially. We have been pretty solid riding partners this season, especially on these shorter rides.

We pushed on through some roads that I remember breaking down on at the last 200k. I couldn’t keep up with John on the downhills and he looked strong so I just took it at my own pace. Miles 80-100 were definitely my low point of the day. I couldn’t seem to keep a good pace up, but I knew that it was good enough to make my time cut offs. I am pretty sure that my legs were just worn out. I still felt pretty great overall, just tired.

I ran in to Dr. Codfish as he was coming out of a Chevron a few miles before the Hood Canal bridge. He was completely shocked to see me again. I rode with him a bit, and would have stuck with him if our next stop wasn’t the “Liquid Carb Control” stationed at the Hood Canal Brewery. I had a feeling that Paul would take a short turn at the control, and I wanted ample time to have a beer and some food. I pushed on as quick as possible so I could get some beer in me.

John and I rolled into the brewery warehouse about the same time and I was pleased to get out of the sun. SIR was paying for the first beer which was amazing. I drank it a little too fast but I am sure that it was delicious. Paul was in and out of that control before John and I could even get our butts out of our seats.

Here is when we got word that Matt and Dennis had bailed out of the ride. It had been a really rough day on Dennis and I don’t blame them. We didn’t have cell reception for most of the day so I was having trouble contacting Matt.

After shoving a hot dog down my throat we pressed on for the final 20 miles.

I lost John at a stop light and figured that he would catch up in no time. He looked stronger than me all day, so I didn’t feel too bad about climbing out ahead of him. I wanted to catch up to Dr. Codfish so we could chat a bit about the meaning of life and what not.

Glancing at the clock on my phone, I realized that there was no way that I was going to make the 6:40 ferry. There was no point in rushing to the finish since the next boat didn’t leave until 7:55. I caught up with the doctor and he warned me that I shouldn’t bother waiting for him. He was grumpy and feeling sick to his stomach. I hung back with him anyways. At the very least I could hold off until John caught up with us.

Paul sounded pretty wheezy up the hills but was chugging along just fine. He seemed pleased to have someone to talk to. It was probably a blessing to be riding along with him too, because I almost missed another turn until he pointed me in the correct direction.

Somewhere along the waterfront, we were honked at. Keeping my middle finger in check, I glanced over to see John hanging out the window of an SUV. He was hitching a ride to the ferry! Apparently he crashed hard with only 10 miles left. I felt really bad that I wasn’t there with him. I’m sure I could have talked him out of quitting. Still, he had quite a distance under his belt for the day.

Paul and I putted into the finish for some Belgium frites and soda.

John was on the curb looking pretty wiped out. We both grabbed the 7:55 ferry home and laid out on the benches. It was a long (and beautiful) day on a bike.

I had a doctor’s appointment last week to investigate this bump near my elbow. It is hard and not attached to the bone. I figured it might be a cyst and I’ve been kind of worried about it given my history.

He seems to think that it is no big deal, but to be safe we pushed up my Pet/Ct scan to next Tuesday. I was scheduled to go in around the middle of September. If it is something, I don’t want to wait that long to find out.

I am happy to be closely monitored even if it costs a small fortune every time I go in for the procedure. I am scanned twice a year at this point. I could literally buy a nice custom bicycle frame for what it costs.
Example A:

Example B:

Okay, so maybe not these frames. But the regular steel ones anyways.

I have no symptoms and an general assurance that I need not worry. Still, I am nervous going in to this one.

The lab called to schedule the appointment and they gave me the usual run down of what I can and can’t do.
a) No food for 12 hours going into the scan. Water is okay thankfully. I’ve had scans where I wasn’t able to drink either).
b) No excercise for 48 hours before hand. This one is extra annoying for some reason. I’ve gone more than that without being on the bike without a reason, but the fact that I’m not allowed to really bugs me.
c) Did I mention the no food thing? My stomach groans all damn morning with no breakfast. Weak.

I want to only have to kick cancer’s ass once in my life. No need for a repeat title match.

I have officially gone “out” twice this week. That is completely out of character for a hermit like me, especially this early in to a work week. Monday night some friends came up with their new adorable baby. We all went out for dinner at Moonlight Cafe. I ate about a gallon worth of hot and sour soup. It was glorious.

Their baby Savara (sp?) is pretty awesome. I could tell it got Jane’s mother instinct churning. I think we would make pretty good parents some day. It would be wise of me to cut back on the sailor talk now, so it isn’t such a system shock down the line.

Last night we went out to Shorty’s for beer and nachos with an old friend of Jane’s (from her Hawaii days). We got through like 3 pitchers and had a pretty good time.

I got to ride through rush hour traffic downtown. It isn’t a thrill I get very often. I am usually just trying to not get hit on the south end.

I am wiped out now though. I need to get a hammock installed near my cubicle.

Ugh. Wait… that doesn’t do it justice. SHIT. There you go. That was running through my head all day.

Saturday was the most brutal day I’ve had on a bike in a long time. I’ve had some down moments, like my second 300k, but nothing quite like this.

Going in to the ride, I knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. Chris had mentioned the pain in his legs after riding a 300k version of this route last year. This route covered 125 miles and roughly 9000 (!) feet of climbing. I think I got softened up by STP with its 2000 something feet of climbing over 200 miles.

Chris and I met at some ungodly hour to ride out to the ferry for the start. We got there and met Joby and Matt. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Both Chris and Joby have amazing new bikes that were about to get a working over. Matt was on his light go fast bike. I can tell he is in good shape right now and ready for RAMROD.

Out of the gates, I kept a good (if not especially spectacular) pace near the front. I could feel that my legs didn’t really have “it” though. It was kind of a general fatigue that I couldn’t really shake throughout the day. It wasn’t a big issue though. I was more than happy to let people drop me while I cruised along at my own pace.

The hills were pretty relentless right away. They were short and steep. I actually tend to prefer this style of climb over a long and drawn out mountain pass, but the sheer amount of them wore me down quickly.

Early on in the day I finally met Jack Brace. Jane had mistaken him for me when she volunteered on our first 300k. Thankfully she didn’t accidentally grab his butt at the time. That would have been a conversation piece. I did my best to keep up with him until the first control, but again… I just wasn’t feeling too strong. “No problem”, I told myself. “Just keep the controls short.”

I zipped through the first control and totally missed the fact that Chris, Joby and Matt were waiting around (for me?) because they passed me later on in the section following. Keeping their wheel wasn’t really an option and I just let them go.

I somehow managed to catch up to them at the second control after a nice waterfront stretch of road. The amazing volunteers were preparing sandwiches and had beverages on hand. It was really nice to get some salt and protein in me. Unfortunately, my real troubles also started here.

My rear tire was getting low. I was dumb enough to swap out my old inner tubes on to my newer wheelset from Peter White. They have a deeper rim, requiring a longer stem. Somehow when I installed them, I was able to still get my pump to fill them up. It didn’t seem like a big issue at the time. If the tire blew, I would swap it out. No problem right? Well, it wasn’t a blown tube, just slightly low on air. Every attempt I made at filling it let a little bit of air out. Pretty soon I had a very low tire. Volunteer Robin Pieper gave me a hand in changing out the short stem tube for a long stem one I had in my bag. It took a bit longer than I wanted it to, but everything was on and settled. I was ready for the large climbs ahead.

I spent the next 30 miles riding solo for the most part. I was definitely near the back of the pack at this point. I wasn’t too worried about it, but I knew that I wanted to finish the ride at a reasonable hour if possible. The mental calculations are always churning in the back of my head. “If I can keep this pace for x hours…”

At around 78 miles, there was the Seabeck control. It wasn’t a town as much as a reason to stop. There might have been 4 or 5 stores total here, with an amazingly beautiful view of the Hood Canal. I would have gotten a picture if I was able to think straight. Thinking isn’t my strong suit on a rando ride. To my suprize, Chris, Joby and Matt were all waiting for me here. They played it off like they just happened to want to spend over half an hour at a control… but they can’t fool me. Thanks guys.

After some food and drink, we all started the slog up through Anderson Hill Road and some beautiful sections. Most of the ride was pretty stunning actually. It would have been a beautiful drive (I kid, I kid). After some of the major climbs of the section, I was in the back of the paceline and a ran an actual flat tire. I thought about calling out to Matt, but I didn’t want to slow them down again and thought it would be no big deal. Huge mistake.

I checked out my tube and noted a piece of glass had cut it near the stem. These are almost always pretty difficult to patch, so I opted for my second (and final) spare tube as my first replacement. I checked the tire again to make sure I wasn’t missing any glass. A few riders passed and asked if I had what I needed. I waved them off thinking everything was covered. I got the tube in and the wheel back on. After pumping it up, I went to pull the pump off of the stem and the head blew off. Yet another useless spare. By this point I knew I might be in trouble. I was pretty upset and really considered calling it off. I went as far as to call Peter to see how I could make it back to the ferry if I needed to. Peter gave me the directions back to the ferry. It would have been a long walk.

Bill Gobie and Tom Barocan were nice enough to stop to make sure things were going alright. Bill was on a recumbent with smaller wheels, and Tom was on an upright with short stemmed 26 inch wheels (too small for me). We made some attempts at patching and riding on the tube with a cut and also tried to refit the original tube with a short stem. Nothing was working. It was almost comical at that point.

I called Jane to see where she was at. She had taken a bus to the mall and couldn’t have picked me up for probably 2 to 3 hours even if she cabbed it back home. Amazingly, Tom remembered that he had a long stemmed 26 inch tube in his back still. We managed to stretch it over my wheel and get enough air in it.

I remembered the directions back to the ferry, but with so much going wrong, I at least wanted a solid finish to make up for it. It was probably silly to try and finish off a ride without the proper equipment, but again… thinking isn’t my strong suit on a rando ride. Tom, Bill and I kept close through the next 30-40 miles.

The area is beautiful, but I wasn’t getting a lot of love from the locals. I was taunted more on this ride than on any other. Rednecks were “complimenting” my legs from out of their lifted truck windows and pedestrians were making rude comments all day. I did my best to keep my middle finger in check… I don’t want to give SIR a bad name.

I started to get a bit of strength back after the 4th control and was pushing out ahead of Tom and Bill. There was a noisy stretch of freeway along SR-3 following by a swooping offramp. I looked at my cue and noted the direction. If I were to “bear right” on SW Clifton Road, I would be going to correct direction. Instead, I went left on “Old Clifton Road”… you know… because I love extra climbing. I started left and was immediately hit with a 15% grade for about half of a mile followed by a steady 5% for another 4 and a half miles. I was cursing SIR for putting yet another steep climb so close to the finish of the ride. “They always do this!”

“God, where is this turn? I should have passed it already.”

“Oh dear lord, I went the wrong way…”

I turned around and back tracked. Only 10 miles left.

I’m not sure what happened to my bike, but every major grade on the final portion caused my chain to drop inside my crank. It wasn’t doing it all day, just the final 10 miles when I wanted to finish. Every couple of miles I had to stop, get off my bike, and set the chain back. I was too tired to fix it properly.

Somehow I managed to roll in to the finish without being lanterne rouge. All the volunteers were cheering me on and I had to crack a smile. It was so far beyond annoying that it was just funny. Robin made me a sandwich for the ferry home and filled me up with some water/soda. Everything was beautiful.

I rode the ferry home alone and rode back home.

To top a perfect day, I forgot my keys and had to crawl through my window in order to get in my house. That ripped my SIR jersey.

Awesome.