A short novel by Joe Miller a Benicia Bicycle Club member and ultra endurance rider. The Benicia Bicycle Club encourages you to consult your physician and psychologist before embarking on distance rides of this caliber. We also do not condone or recommend doing rides of this nature nor do we acknowledge that they exist. We are not even sure if Joe exists. He's more of a legend now. There are songs and camp fire stories about him. . .
- Benicia Bicycle Club
Contents
Chapter I - Mulholland Double Century 4/14/2007 (MDC)
Chapter II - Devil Mountain Double: 4/28/07 (DMD)
Chapter III - Central Coast Double: 5/12/07 (CCD)
Chapter IV - Davis Double: 5/19/07 (DD)
Chapter V - Terrible Two Double Century: 6/16/07 (TTDC)
Chapter I - Mulholland Double Century 4/14/2007
I thoroughly despised the dogfight between myself and the eventual winner of the first stage race of the Triple Crown Double Race Series. However, I have carefully explored every possible excuse for my loss, and have articulated them here. In the end, though, the winner beat me by a mere 1/6th of a day (or 4 hours, 14 minutes, depending on how you look at it).
THE TAPER: My taper conveniently coincided with spring break for my girls, and my grandmother’s 90th birthday party / family reunion. On the Friday one week before the race, I arose at 3:00am to complete the last of my interval training, loaded the car and took my family south to LA. The 7 hour drive seemed liking nothing, and we quickly checked into the hotel then dashed over for the first of a series of parties and late nights. But, it was good to see family I hadn’t seen in years, and the late night was worth it.
Saturday I arose at 5:00am thinking I could add a little bit of fitness, and went out for a run. Afterwards, we heard about some great deal at Disneyland for the local folks so my sister and I jetted out there for discount tickets, returned and quickly got ready for the actually birthday party for my grandmother, which was “standing room only” and lasted until about 6:00pm. Of course, back at the hotel the girls wanted to swim, until the pool closed. Well, I thought, I’ll catch up on sleep later.
EASTER: Of course, I had to get up early Easter to hide eggs (are we ever going to get to the ride you ask?) After a quick egg hunt, we jetted over to church (standing, and holding the children) then off to the final party/brunch before most of the family headed back to civilization (it sounds like a wedding, doesn’t it?) We then left in the late afternoon and went over to Downtown Disney to meet other friends for dinner and walking around. The long wait at the restaurant was no big deal, and we finally arrived back at our hotel about 11:00pm.
DISNEYLAND: So, of course, because I spent so much on the 2 day tickets at the happiest place on earth, we were not going to waste any time. We hit the park for the entire day, until late in the evening (by now my eyes were bloodshot) we return to our hotel, exhausted.
I arose very early to load our van with all our goods because we had to be out of the hotel that day, and I had to break down my bike to fit it in our van. Did I mention yet that we do not travel light, and we had about 12 suitcases, all the Easter goodies, and pool goodies, and bikes, and gear, and dolls, toys, pillows, clothes, and on, and on, and on?
But, not too exhausted to outdo ourselves the next day, we stayed well past the fireworks show. We got back to our hotel about midnight, and hopped in our van while I drove us to San Diego. We had places to go, people to see, and the ZOO to hit.
We hit the hotel at 1:00am, and banged on the door for about ½ and hour before the guy woke up and check us in. I was not going to sleep in the mini van.
THE ZOO: Have you been to the San Diego Zoo? Do you like to WALK? Well, absolutely spent from the D place, I proceed to walk what I believe was hundreds of miles thru the park. Then, we went to the home of our friends we met there and had dinner until late (do you seem a theme here?).
DOWNTOWN SAN DIEGO AND BEACH: The girls of course did not want to slow down, so we got up early Thursday and headed to La Jolla and the beach. As it that weren’t enough, we then spent the evening with more relatives in San Diego, and of course one thing led to another, and we stayed far too late.
THE HOSPITAL: My poor grandmother fell ill just after the party, and ended up in the hospital. We had planned on seeing her anyway for lunch, so we stopped by the hospital on the way to our 4th hotel, the Good Night Inn in Calabasas where the race would be held. The visit was good, save the fact that I had to stand for 3 continuous hours (was I resting this week?). We left, and continued our trek north for race check in.
GOOD NIGHT INN: The good night inn is an economy hotel. What does this mean? It meant that I had to single handedly CARRY our what seemed like thousands of bags up flights of stairs. Of course, at this point it was too late to build fitness. I meant to ride, but we’d run out of time. We jetted across the street for an absolutely fabulous dinner, with many other bikers in the facility, and I pounded loads of pasta, and chicken, and pasta, and pasta.
CHECK IN: We returned and I checked in for the race. All I remember is hearing something about “whatever you do, don’t miss this turn, and that turn, and this turn, and the course is not marked, blah blah blah. On, and here is a map (I counted over 60 turns).
I was very concerned about my leave time, and could choose between 5:00am or 6:15am. I had already used my sophisticated calculation to calc out my ride time at 14 hours, 51 minutes, and the guy at planet ultra said “you look like you’re in shape, leave at 6:25, that is when everyone else is) so I conceded, not really feeling good about it.
TIME LIMIT: The course total time lime was 19 hours, but by leaving at 6:15, I’d already chopped this time to 17:45. I was used to riding non-stop, so I wasn’t overly worried.
THE RACE FORMAT: There were actually 2 races being held. The Mulholland Double, 202 miles and 16,500’, and the KOM century series, consisting of 3 century races and 35,000’. The double racers were to leave at 6:15am, and the century racers at 6:45am, and follow nearly to same first half of the route. There were 102 double riders, and 375 century riders..
BIKE BUILD: Now we headed back to our room about 8:00pm. My wife graciously put our girls to bed while I tried to figure out how to re-assemble my bike and rig it with all the bells and whistles I use, and to figure out the gear is was going to bring.
BELLS AND WHISTLES: I carry 5 lights, 3 GPS units, a bike computer, a thermometer, an elaborate tool case, spare identification, tubes, irons, bars, etc, etc, etc. I loaded all what seemed like 15 pounds on my bike, and by 10:00pm I was ready for bed. Then I got up sporadically remembering I’d forgotten sunscreen, Motrin, night glasses, a little of this, that, and the other.
THE RENIG: I tossed and turn all night about carrying my lights, which I’d decided to carry and rigged on my bike, but by 4:00am didn’t feel good about it, so I arose and took them off, and removed my tools, and a spare, trying to lighten things up. Check in re-opened at 4:45am, so I went down there to check my lights, and check the outside temps, which were absolutely freezing. I enquired about coffee, being an addict, but was told there was a Starbucks down the street. With all my early riding I knew they didn’t open till 5:30am.
I noticed I had a terrible sore throat, but let it go at that.
I ended up wearing 2 jerseys, arm warmers, a warm vest, a jacket, full fingered gloves, and thick knee warmers, and warm socks. Then I scrambled over to Starbucks for a large coffee with a shot, and told the barista to throw in some ice because I needed to slam it down. I did and left.
THE GUN SHOT: At 6:15 the riders were ready to go, and the master of ceremonies reiterated all the turns to “don’t miss, whatever you do because you will surely regret it”, blah blah blah. BANG went to gun, and we were off. My heart rate moniter immediately shot up to 175bpm, and the pack was flying. I had hoped to hang with the A ground, but I suddenly realized that I’d signed up for the wrong race. The was a CRIT, not a double. By the first turn 0.5 miles away, a huge pack was hammering and disappearing from site so quickly that I began looking for the B group, then C group, then thought I’d start a new group – the D group.
THE COAST: 9 miles into the ride, my heart rate was still at 175 and I knew I couldn’t keep this up. Everyone was freezing (except me). I settled in with a pack of about 10, but it was tough. At PCH Highway One at Malibu we were greeted with an absolutely gorgeous morning on the coast, though frigid, and turned and headed south for our first climb – Topanga Canyon. It was an 11 mile climb averaging about 10 percent. At our current hammerfest pace, it was tough.
BIG PROBLEMS: By the time I got to the top at mile 25, I had some serious problems. My knee began to hurt so bad that I was completely convinced that my ride was over. I had already gone too hard too soon, and the pain was already becoming unbearable. I rode about another 5 miles, fell behind everyone, and started looking for an easy place for my wife to pick me up. I stopped, took 3 Motrin, and was really about ready to start crying. To make matters worse, and I mean worse, a group of 10 guys flew past me. I had just been passed my the lead KOM century racers. Not good for the confidence.
CP1 (CHECK POINT ONE): I continued pedaling to check point one, roughly mile 40, and my knee did begin to feel better. I had to employ my learned but dreaded pedal technique – do not push, only pull, and engage only ankles, calves, and hamstrings. Things felt ok by then so I continued, and my pace increased.
CP2: By check point 2, was didn’t feel the pain (but still not pushing the pedals) and had made it to mile 50. I had caught a few people so my spirits had lifted.
MILE 98: Things were better until mile 98. As I crossed an intersection, I hit something and my rear tire blew. I told the group of 2 that I was riding with to go ahead (they wouldn’t have stopped anyway but at least they didn’t have to feel guilty about it). The 10 guys I’d passed earlier all passed me. I had just read an article about flats that said “don’t be concerned about the flat but what caused the flat”. So, I carefully took the tube out, found a rather large hole, then located a ¾” gash in my sidewall, all the way thru my tire. I was hosed. I had brought some Tyvek, and put about 3 layers in to boot the tire, and pumped it up with my index size 35 gram pump. The tube bulged slightly and I was down to one remaining spare. After 30 minutes and a rear tire at only 60psi (I found out later that I’d only pumped it up to 60psi) I was just about to depart when sag stopped by. I inquired about more spares, and the bloke sold me another for $2, and I was off!
Though very leery of my repair, I pedaled as hard as I could. It was flat for a ways, then I hit Balcom Canyon.
BALCOM CANYON: Apparently the Amgen tour also road up Balcom Canyon. First of all, it came at mile125. It is steeper, and longer, than Sierra Road. My altimeter hit 24% twice. I only hit 22% at the very top of Diablo. Although it killed my knee, I stood in my 30/34 because I couldn’t keep my front wheel down while seated, and I couldn’t keep the momentum up. No less than 5 times I considered dismounting and walking, which I have never done nor considered on any ride previously. It was steep, and there was nothing funny about it. It was pain in its purest form. But through determination (you know I’m kidding – I’d already taken at least a dozen Motrin, was severely dehydrated, was beat down, and delirious) I finally reach the top.
The descent was well deserved afterward, even though I was still extremely nervous about my tire. I don’t consider myself a fast descender, but I was passing people, and I didn’t know how else I was going to be able to, so I through caution (and good sense) to the wind and flew!
DECKER CANYON: After once again riding along the marvelous coast, we had a strong tailwind to Decker canyon (do I need to mention that I fought the same headwind for hours earlier?) I was stoked to see 20-30 kite surfers near Malibu as he headed back. The next big climb was going to be tough, and the checkpoint at the top had our lights, so I was encourage that if I made it there, I’d be at mile 160.
A NEW DILEMMA: All the riders were complaining of another issue I hadn’t considered. You had to leave Decker by 6:00pm, or you wouldn’t be allowed to continue, and you had to leave CP6 by 8:00pm, or you wouldn’t be allowed to continue. Well, rest stop 6 (CP6) was at mile 180. Even though the course closed at midnight, there was no way it would take 4 hours to go the last 20 miles. They had effectively cut off another 2 hours. Upon realizing this, I was ticked. You could keep riding of course, but you had to obtain a proof sticker at every checkpoint, plus another 2, for a total of 8 stickers. Without getting the 8, you would not be given credit for the ride.
CP5: At the top of Decker, after another brutally long and steep climb, I got my sticker and lights. I was there at 5:50, the stop was to close at 6:00pm. With 10 minutes to spare, I filled one bottle and left in a hurry.
CP6: My spirits lifted (falsely, but I didn’t know) when I arrived at CP6 by 7:30. I was at mile 180. I obtained my sticker, and a quick water fill up, put on my jacket and ear and arm warmers and jetted outa there.
A NEW PROBLEM: Another problem arose I hadn’t considered. I wore my 2 jerseys and vest the entire day. Now I put on my arm warmers and jacket, but all three underlying garments were completely sweat soaked, and I mean big time. Now, it was getting really cold, and I looked like a just came out of a pool with my clothes on. And I was freezing. Soon I turned on my lights, but I didn’t like the feeling.
COLD CANYON: I hit cold canyon, and a 2.1 mile descent in the dark. Descending in the dark is actually easier. Your focus is more intense, and you can feel the bike better. Normally. I was shivering so badly that I had a hard time steering. My back was cramping and aching. I looked forward to the climb ahead to get warmed up.
PIUMA AND SCHUEREN ROAD: What a sucker I was. The next climb was ruthless. 7.5 miles at an average of 12%. It is like climbing Diablo after a really long day. BUT EVEN WORSE, my knee started flaring up so bad again that I was verbalizing the pain on every pedal stroke. I remembered the agony of one legged pedaling, and began to engage, knowing this was the last climb. Two hours of climbing later, in the pitch black lonely dark, with my only companion being another rider who caught me but was complaining that they felt nauseous and didn’t know if they could go on, I made it to the last Sticker stop, at mile 191.3. At this point it was literally all downhill to the finish.
SHIVERING: A downhill would have been nice if I were so absolutely freezing. I had several close calls, being unable to steer the bike because of the shaking. I really didn’t want to break, and pedaling hurt my knee so bad. But, I continued.
UNBELIEVABLE: At mile 199.3 I came across a poor bloke who flatted. It was about 10:05pm, and he was with a friend. The thought of flatting now petrified me. He was ok though, so I continued.
MORE UNBELIEVABLE: Then, I came up on 3 other riders. We were approaching the last turn. 0.5 miles from the finish. I was secretly staying ahead of them by 10 seconds or so to improve my standing, then BOOM, the poor guy flatted. He was so ticked he rode the last 0.5 miles with the flat!
THE END: Then, finally, I crossed the line, at 10:15, exactly 16 hours later.
THE FUNNY PART: I told my wife, and all my relatives, that I calculated my ride time to be 14 hours, 51 minutes, plus stops, which on my training rides, of up to 125 miles, I don’t stop. I checked my ride time: 14 hours, 48 minutes! I beat my pace by 3 minutes.
My non-ride time was as follows:
Tire repair: 30 minutes
6 checkpoints: 4 minutes each, avg. 24 minutes
2 sticker only stops: 3 minutes 6 minutes
10 traffic lights @ 1.5 minutes, avg. 15 minutes
Total: 1 hour 15 minutes
-Not a lot of lolly gagging!
At the end I inquired about the fastest time, which again brought tears to my eyes:
11 hours, 44 minutes!!!!! THAT IS INSANE!
SUMMARY: I was very happy with my time, and is the pace I’ve been riding for 4 months.
Average 16.5 plus ONE minute for every 100’ of climbing.
One down, with the Devil Mountain Double in 2 weeks.
Chapter II Devil Mountain Double: 4/28/07 (DMD)
Highlights:
Length: 206 miles
Elevation: 19,373’
Time: 15:47:10, 20th / 190 riders
Ride time: 15:25:00
Stopped time: 0:22:10 minutes (My boasting Record)
Bike Weight with gear 33.5# (I’m embarrassed!)
Overview: Can anyone say 16 hours of intense pain, suffering and heat?
Fluids consumed: 19 ea (20 ounce) water bottles, 9 ea V8 juices, 1 ea orange juice
Pee breaks: ONE, 2 hours into the ride…
PRERIDE:
As expected, I made sure I got a good nights sleep Thursday night, knowing that I wouldn’t sleep well Friday night, being nervous about the ride. Exactly what happened. Friday night I tossed and turned, and by 2:30am decided to get up, even though my alarm was set for 3:00am. I ate my 1,000-calorie pre-race meal, downed 2 cups of strong coffee, put on my bike gear along with gobs of Bag Balm on my arse, and headed out by 3:30am.
CHECK-IN
I arrived at the Marriott by 4:00am, when the check-in opened. I checked in, got my number (yippee, #1817). I ran into a few people from Mulholland, and ran into a guy from San Jose I’d met for the Mountain Challenge (race up Diablo last year). Ironically, the guy from the Mountain Challenge, among 1100 races, whom I met in the parking lot before the race and showed how to get to the start line, rode in a different wave, finished within 1/10th of a second from me. I finished #123 (59:49:10) and he finished #124 (59:49:10). So, naturally we bonded.
I lubed the chain on my bike (I’d forgotten the night before), pumped up my tires to 110psi, and set up my heart rate monitor and numerous GPS devices. Besides being incredibly hyper-anxious about the data, I also had 2 backup sources of information (more on this later, with humor included).
By 4:45am I was set and ready to go.
THEY’RE OFF
When the “gun” fired off, being that I was in a pack of about 150-175, it takes people a minute to click in. It took me a minute to turn on my Polar 625x, Garmin Extrex Legend and Garmin edge, so I didn’t sweat it. Being that it was still very dark, we looked like a glorious parade leaving the Marriott, and heading down Bishop to Camino Ramon over to Crow Canyon. I noticed quite a few people really had in-adequate (In my opinion, but to be corrected later) lights, but I figured they must have sagged their lights ahead for the evening to one of 3 later rest stops. I wanted to stay with the A group as long as I could, so I made my way to the front, and even lead the pack for a minute or so, here and there.
DIABLO REST STOP #ONE
I had carefully memorized all my milestone times for the route, so I felt pretty good when we hit the base of Diablo at 5:30am. The gate wasn’t going to open till 5:30am, and immediate DQ would follow anyone who hopped it. The actual gate is a couple of miles from the base, so I wasn’t worried. I ended up at the gate a 5:37am. I was with the A group at the bottom, but about 10 guys sort of took off, and basically disappeared from my site. I turned on 4 lights thru the ugly pot-holed section at the bottom, but then turned everything off, wanting to conserve battery life, thinking I’d need everything I could muster for Niles Canyon, Palomares Canyon and Norris Canyon that evening.
My ascent took 1:15, which I felt really good about, especially considering that my mike now weighed 33.5 pounds. I huge mistake that I later regretted. My bike weight for the Diablo Challenge was 19.5 pounds, and what a difference! I missed the view entirely, watching only my heart rate monitor. I wanted to stay around 160bpm, but I was riding at 170bpm.
I came up upon a guy, Jay from Sacramento, who remembered me from the Mount Tam Double last year. He said, “you are the guy that got 7 flats” (he is the only person in the world who didn’t remember me as the guy who ate the sunscreen, which, of course, I had to bring up, which jogged his memory).
I made it a point to not end up at the drop with my clothes drenched in sweat, so I peeled off my vest and arm warmers on the way up. I’ve had uncontrollable shivering on every Diablo descent I’ve done, and was very concerned about this descent. In my seat tube bag I’d packed a full jacket, long fingered gloves and ear warmers, and they were dry. My plan was to descend back down to the junction, to give the sweat a chance to evaporate, then put on outers for the really cold part of the descent.
So, I stopped at the top, filled my bottles, and was off. By the junction, I was plenty warm still, so I zipped up my vest and pulled down my arm warmers, and kept going. The temps did continue to drop, and I started to get a chill, but not enough to want to stop. The high speed descent was probably a bit dangerous, but I had already shaved 15 minutes off my projected time, wanting to leave Diablo by 7:00am, but actually being off the top by 6:45am, and I didn’t want to give that up to stop to put on a jacket, only to have to stop again and take it off.
MORGAN TERRITOY
By now, I was ahead of most of the pack, riding within site of a couple guys, and feeling pretty good. Before getting to Morgan Territory, we had to ride on Oak Grove Road to Ygnacio to Pine Hollow, then thru downtown Clayton, Marsh Creek and finally Morgan Territory, the backside of Diablo with about ½ of Diablo’s 3200’ climb.
However, along that stretch at mile 36.0, a group of about 10 guys rode up going very fast. I thought I recognized them as the Grizzly Peak Cyclist, even though none had on the jerseys. I hopped on the train, and asked a guy in the back if that was who they were, and he told me that some were and some were from Santa Rosa.
So, I hopped in at the back of the pace line, thinking these guys were going to be among the winners of the day, and figured I used their strength to have a good finish. Wrong. First of all, I noticed 3 guys up a guy I’d seen on a century last year. I remember riding at mile 85, doing 22 and pulling another guy, and feeling really strong, when a similar sized group of about 10 whizzed pass, doing 27-29mph. I hopped on with the group, and kept looking to see what animal was leading the pack. I swear, after about 10 minutes I was astounded, noting that who-ever was pulling was still pulling. But then, again, after at least 10 minutes, this guy pulls off the front. Then I saw something that brought tears to my eyes. The guy was on a mountain bike! Fat tires too! That day, I had my first biking hero.
So anyway, I see that guy again, now in this new pack, so I know I’m riding with some studs. After 6.2 miles, I just couldn’t hold on any longer. I looked down at my heart rate, and saw it was at 184bpm. My max is 180bpm!
But then, I saw what I consider to be the highlight of the day. Here I am, riding well above my limit, trying to hang on as long as possible, when I notice it. The guy in front of me is on a fixed gear, single speed, with no free-wheel in the back. You have got to be kidding me! Not only that, but I checked later, and the cat finished in the top 10. That is the most insane feat I am currently aware of in cycling today! This group of riders is now called the supergroup, because there is quite a distinction between them and the A group. I did some quick calculations in my mind, and realized that 36 miles into the ride I’d been passed by the 6:00am starters.
Another amazing thing about the supergroup was the fact that all of the riders, except the fixed-gear superman was carrying only a small wedgy, 2 bottles, arm warmers and no lights. They were riding compact doubles. I was envious. Here I was carrying, on a 21.5 pound bike, in addition to the 3 pounds of water we were all carrying, 9 pounds of gear. It didn’t feel so cool at that point.
Once I saw that, I said “bye-bye”, got dropped, and stopped to take my only pee-break of the day, even after consuming 19 bottles of water, 9 V8 juices and an orange juice!
The Morgan Territory climb was nice. The day was heating up, so the tree cover provided nice shade. Because I had so many gadgets on my bike, the rattling from the rough road was bothersome, but it was still early in the day, my body felt good, and so I continued on.
The second rest stop was among my longest. I dismounted the bike, rolled my arm warmers, knee warmers, ear warmers, night glasses, and vest up and filled seat bag number 2. Then, I filled my bottles with water, grabbed 3 bars, and was off.
A weird thing happened when I tried to clip in as I was leaving. I noticed that my left foot wouldn’t engage. At a closer inspection, I saw that one of the tongs on my egg beaters (pedal) had broken. Since the thing is a big spring contraption, I was nervous that the whole thing would spring apart. My left foot stayed in ok, but I didn’t know what to expect down the road.
The “plunge” – the long descent following the rest stop, was fast and fun. I hit 45.3 mph, and was happy not to have crashed. I didn’t see any other riders from this point all the way to Patterson, except for 2 who passed me.
The ride thru Livermore and up the Altamont pass was basically uneventful. I kept my eye pretty much on my heart rate, keeping it at about 160bpm. The day had warmed up substantially by then, and my water was drained well before I got to Patterson Pass. I wasn’t too worried, because I knew the next rest stop was at false summit on Patterson Pass.
The sweat was pouring by the time I got to the base of Patterson Pass. The climb hadn’t concerned me much in the past, but I was riding at a much faster pace, and my legs began to really feel the pain of the work at hand. I had so much gear loaded on the front of the bike that standing was not very easy, and I could do it only for short periods, usually 30 revolutions, before I had to sit. When I stood, my knees would hit all the stuff on the top tube, which was annoying. I didn’t plan on doing much work out of the saddle anyway, so this hadn’t bothered me on my training rides.
Climbing Patterson was brutal. I was drenched in sweat and noticed a thick crust developing on my black jersey and shorts, which is salt residue from the sweat. I really needed water, and knew that the heat of the day and dehydration could become an issue.
When I finally made it to false summit, the DMD water station was set up, and without unclipping my left foot, grabbed 2 more bottles and was off. For logistical reasons (no place to set up on top), they were perched just below the real summit. The final descent is a beast, requiring standing and pumping out of the saddle. I managed, but not without adding to the pain bank also known as my body.
The following descent is sweet. I flew down it, concentrating intensely so I could get down without breaking. Soon I came to Cross Road, which took us over to Tesla, then Mines Road. I did a quick calculation at this point, knowing that it would take me 10 hours to finish from the time I took the left at Mines Road. I was just under 6 hours into the ride, and thought that if I could make it to the intersection, I might be able to make the ride in 16 hours, and I continued at my near fastest pace. When I arrived at Mines Road, I was about 2 minutes past 6 hours, and felt the urgency to speed. I was out of water again, and knew the next water stop was just ahead and the Del Valle / Mines Road split.
After just a couple miles, I pulled up to rest stop number three. I didn’t unclip my left foot, and grabbed 2 more bottles, a ½ pb&j sandwich, and was off. Now the heat of the day was in full swing. I drained my water bottles pretty quickly, where I had obtained them at mile 91. The next stop was the lunch stop at mile 114.
Mines road, in the heat, is brutal. I was passed by maybe 6 – 8 riders, whom I figured were still residuals from the 6:00 starters. No lights, no gear, compact doubles, and speed. All passed at such a fast pace that there was no way for me to draft behind them, and to each one who passed I said, “hey, c’mon, don’t pass me, you’re making me look bad.” They’d all laugh, but would go ahead and take the pass.
Supposedly there was another race, or what I though must be a century, coming the other way. It wasn’t a race, based upon the spread and type of riders I saw. Most of them looked at me like I was some freak with all my lights, including the still mounted helmet light and battery. But, I had no energy, was dripping in sweat, dehydrated and tired, and all I could do was muster a smile. Additionally, so much sweat had poured off my face onto my glasses that it was hard to impossible to see thru them. Periodically I’d try to clean them on my jersey, but that didn’t work either because of the sweat soaked jersey. I planned to try to fix the problem at the lunch stop.
I thought the lunch stop would never come. The only thing keeping my going was that my odometer was now going to hit 100 miles. When it did, my total time was 7:10, with 9,700’ of ascent complete. I started thinking that I could break 15 hours at this pace. The advertised elevation gain on the ride was 18,700’ so I thought I was just over half way. I was encouraged, and tried to maintain the pace.
The only minor problem was the fact that my body could not maintain the pace. Nope, never. I was dying. I was out of water, with still 14 miles to go to get it. My back was aching so bad I thought it might ultimately become the point of failure. Both of my feet, swollen from heat I supposed, had piercing arch pain for some reason, something I hadn’t experienced before. Since my knees had been feeling better from previous knee pains, I suppose I was pushing on the pedals too much, and not lifting enough, so I concentrated more on lifting and pulling. It helped, like sunscreen helps after your sunburnt. Speaking of which, I hadn’t put any sunscreen on yet, except for on my face at 4:30am, and I could see my legs and arms showing the unmistakable marks of sun exposure. I made it a point to deal with this a the lunch stop.
When I pulled in to stop four finally, at mile 114, I was dying, and could easily have quit then and there. I unclipped, filled 2 bottles, grabbed ½ a sandwich, jellybeans and some bars. I didn’t want to chase around for the other things I I needed, so I pulled out my first aid kit, put sunscreen on my face, took 3 Allieve, 3 electrolytes, downed 3 v8s, ¼ orange, piece of watermelon, a cup of nuts, and was off. My pedal allowed me to clip back in, but I was still nervous about the thing. This was the last time I’d unclip for the day.
I’ve never liked San Antonio Road. Certainly it is beautiful, and you are positive you’ve gone back in time to 1860. But, it really punishes you in several ways. The road, which leads to Mount Hamilton at elevation 4,200’, starts off at elevation 2000’. It teases you by letting you climb, and climb, and climb, all the way to elevation 3,000’, only to drop you all the way back down to elevation 2,000’, just 4 miles from the Summit. Then, you have to start the climbing all over, from elevation 2,000’ up to 4,200’ in just 4 short miles. There is nothing short about those 4 miles.
By elevation 2,000 I was out of water, and dying. I honestly didn’t know if I could make the climb. It was hot. I’m guessing it was low 90’s, since San Jose hit 89 that day, and we were on the hot east side of Hamilton. I kept my mind focused on my heart rate monitor, and kept my heart at 160bpm, but really didn’t have much of a choice because I was deliberately riding as slow as I could, to try to keep my heart rate down, but this was as slow as I could go with the steepness of the grade.
I counted off and shouted congratulations to myself every 100 on my altimeter. I kept telling myself I could go up to 2,200, then 2,300, and so on. I don’t know if it helped.
Then, amazingly, a SAG pulled up and said they knew we needed water. The wonderful driver filled my 2 bottles, while I stayed clipped with my left foot, and I was off. I downed the bottles before the summit, still felt thirsty, but looked forward to the descent.
There is a picture of a guy going over Mount Hamilton in a past DMD, with snow on the ground, and the temp being 39 degrees. That picture affected how I planned the race at hand. How I miss planned! I didn’t need to stop and put on my full jacket, vest, long fingered gloves and ear warmers like I thought. So, right over the summit, without stopping, and onto the high speed descent.
The descent was brutal. My lower back ached so bad already, and trying to break hurt it more. I tried to minimize breaking, but so often you have no choice. About ½ way down, 2 absolute speed demons passed me. I felt bad already for knowing I was way over the speed limit, and performing dangerous, near out of control turns, but these guys were insane. I kept with them, figuring they knew the speeds to hit the blind turns, and it was scary.
A very generous biker opened his house (technically, his garage) to our event. I remember reading stories of praise for this place, and heard how they served hot soup to the weary and freezing cyclists. I passed on the soup, filled my 2 bottles, grabbed another bag of jelly beans, and was off. On to the most dreaded climb of the ride, Sierra Road.
Crothers to Sierra Road takes about 10 minutes. When I saw “Sierra”, I remember having road it several weeks ago, and remember thinking it wasn’t really that bad. Today was a different story.
I had already drank ½ of one bottle, was absolutely sweating profusely, was hot, was uncomfortable, was in intense pain, and was ready to be done. The road wasted no time in dealing me its punishment. I immediately dropped into my lowest gear, stared at my front wheel, and labored. If I could ever hit a flatter spot, I’d quickly take a hand off the bar and nearly lunge for a bottle, and take a gulp. Trying to put the bottle back was difficult, mainly because you had to keep enough momentum going while riding one handed so you wouldn’t come to a complete stop and fall over. If you missed on the stabbing attempt to put the bottle back, you have one last chance to muster another attack of energy to keep yourself going for your second attempt. I never missed more than once. I couldn’t bear the thought. Eventually, probably ¾ of the way up, my bottles were drained. At least I didn’t have to worry about drinking anymore.
I started Sierra at 5:00. I wasn’t sure how long the climb took. I had forgotten to mark the mileage at the bottom, which probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I would probably have been more depressing than anything. Supposedly, the climb is only 3.7 miles. It the end, it was 45 minutes of brutality. I had excruciating pain from head to toe. My arse by now was so sore that several of my typing riding positions were out of the question due to the pain. When I finally hit the top, still clipped in, I grabbed 2 more bottles of water and more jelly beans. I grabbed 3 motrin, and was off.
I looked down at my Calorie’s burned counter and saw that it goes to overload at 10,000. It really didn’t matter, but I was trying to keep track. Foreget volume in / volume out. By now I was easily 6,000 calories in the hole with no way to recover, with another 2,000 deficit quickly approaching, to end 8,000 behind. Where does it all go?
After pedaling Felter road for a ways, I came to Calaveras Road. After a short climb, it goes along the reservoir, and is a gentle downhill, pretty, has some shade, and about 16 miles from Sunol. I did some quick calculations, knowing that Sunol was 2 hours from the end. It was around 6:00pm, and I knew if I could make it to Sunol by 7:00pm, I could make it to San Ramon by 9:00pm, 16 hours. I was elated thinking I could match my Mulholland time on a much harder route. I was bummed about the stupid flat tire at Muholland, and all the time is cost me to fix, then ride the second 100 miles at only 60psi. What are you gonna do?
So, I tried to pick up the pace again. The problem now was that is was so hard to get my heart rate up to even 140bpm. It was tired. I was tired. I think my bike was even tired.
I pedaled as hard as I could for Sunol. A new problem, resurfaced sort of, was that my glasses were so gunky, that I couldn’t see thru them. On every high speed blind turn, I have to tilt my head so I could see out of the tops. Not fun.
Eventually, I made to Sunol, at almost exactly 7:00pm. I rode up to the water station, stayed clipped grabbed 2 ½ potatoes, a cup of nuts, and the lovely helpers filled my bottles. I took more jelly beans, a bag of cookies, which ended up being for my daughters at home, and was off.
Now I was really nervous about flatting. It was still pretty light, and traffic on Niles was heavy. The bike lane was littered with debris, so I took a big chance and road out in the lane. My energy soared at the thought of 16 hours, and I pedaled hard. Niles is only a few miles, and I wanted to hit Palomares as soon as I could.
When I came upon the intersection at Palomares Canyon, I was going really fast. It has a hard right hand turn and immediate switchback climb. I decided to take the turn wide, trying to avoid a huge gravel bed in the middle of the road. At just the perfect time, a car descended and I almost lost it. I was paranoid now of anything costing me time, or finishing.
Palomares quickly zapped all my newfound energy. I tried to keep my heart rate down at 145bpm, but kept climbing up to 160bpm. I had placed my night glasses on now, but they were so dirty that I decided to stuff them in my jersey until the descent, when suddenly I dropped them. Do I go back? Forget it, I thought. I don’t need them. Just then 2 guys at a pretty fast pace passed me. One said that I dropped my glasses, and that my rear seat bag was rubbing on my wheel. Additionally, I had struggled on the lower part of the climb to get my rear light on. It kept coming on solid, and I couldn’t get it to blink. I was afraid if I left it on solid it may run out. So, I stopped, quickly dismounted and fixed the light and seat bag. I just hoped that my pedal would hold. It did, and I continued on. Continued climbing, and continued the torturing pain.
When I got near the top, which positively took forever, it was beginning to get dark. I turned on one of my front lights in blinking mode, and readied myself for a long awaited descent. I had forgotten how long Palomares was. It was no hop, skip and jump. Also, back a Sunol, I thought “just two more hours of hammering” which at the time, especially compared to the 14 hours I’d already pedaled, didn’t seem like much. Well, I discovered, 2 hours of hammering was 2 hours of hammering, and it hurt.
I kept watching the time, and telling myself, “only 75 more minutes of hammering”. It didn’t help.
The descent after the Palomares climb was tough. It was almost 8:00pm, and all the bugs were out. I didn’t have any glasses, and I kept getting bugs in my eyes, nose, ears and mouth. Three times I have to spit our critters. When the bugs would fill my eyes, I had to keep one eye on the road (I was traveling about 30mph) while I removed bugs from the other. Not fun. Later, when I got home, I still had numerous bugs in my eyelashes, eye brows and eye sockets.
Eventually, Polamares dumps you out in Castro Valley. It was a quick jaunt thru town to Crow Canyon, then Norris Canyon, the last climb of the day.
I peeled off on Crow Canyon, knowing that it was only about 4 or 5 miles to Norris Canyon, the last climb of the day. It was dark know, and Crow Canyon’s side lane was filled with debris. I did not want to flat, so again decided to ride out in the lane. It was scary, but short. I was riding as hard as I could, and adrenaline was drowning out much of the pain.
I peeled off on Norris Canyon, geared up, and stood to try to hammer out the last hill. My enthusiasm and energy lasted a good 2 minutes. Then, I realized I was mortal and had to sit to grind out the climb. It wasn’t too bad though, I just had to be patient. And, finally, I arrived at the top. I did sprint the last 100 yards, haven ridding this several times before, and unlike so many of the other climbs, knew the top.
I turned all my lights on full blast for the final descent. I knew one dangerous turn, and definitely did not want to crash. As I approached it I touched the breaks, and once thru it, flew to the bottom of the hill.
I crossed 3 busy streets and 680, and hooked the corner at Bishop. I’d spent lots of time calculating how I was going to turn off all my gadgets for accurate readings. However, as I approached the hotel and finish, I kept staring at my time, trying to hit the 15:45 mark. I turned into the parking lot, passed my vehicle, and sprinted to the finish. Several people stood there, telling me to go down the stairs. I picked up my bike and ran down the stars.
I entered the check in room, blinded everyone with my lights still on, and gave my number. A woman standing by said I was the 20th finisher, which I couldn’t believe. I was hoping to finish in the top 50.
Then, I turned off all my lights and GPS devices, carried my bike out, locked it up in my vehicle and changed. I re-entered the room for my long awaited lasagna dinner.
I felt good. As I partook of one of the better meals I’ve had in my life, I began talking to the guy to my left and to my right. I was in good company. The guy on my left had completed Furnace Creek 3 times. The guy on my right had completed Furnace Creek also, and multiple 600k and 700k races. I felt right at home, and began quizzing them on food, preparation and the like.
I finished my food; drove home, took a hot bath then shower, and admired all the damage to my body, and the sunburn. I could barely walk up the stairs, but I managed, and collapsed in bed.
The next morning I arose at 5:15am, grabbed all my devices, and headed to Starbucks for some post ride analysis and coffee. That is where I came across the most astounding thing for me.
My ride time was 15:25. My finishing time was 15:47:10. I had stopped for a total of only 22 minutes, 10 seconds for the entire day! Each of the 3 units confirmed this, and I was in unbelief.
The record I set for me had nothing to do with how fast I could pedal a bike. I set a new record for stopped time.
Chapter III - Central Coast Double 5/12/06 (CCD)
I was intrigued to ride the Central Coast Double ever since I heard of it, but felt compelled to ride it after I found out that although it would not be one of Triple Crown’s stage races this year, it is on a rotating basis and therefore is mentioned on the Red Jersey I am vigorously striving for, so I must ride it, because I’d feel like a dork wearing a jersey mentioning a ride I hadn’t done.
But, even though the time wasn’t to be counted towards the 3 races, it was still a race nevertheless, with times being kept and a winner.
It was at this event that I performed my charitable contribution to the biking community for 2007 by bringing over a tri-athlete into the endurance cycling fold. The unlucky cats name was Johnny, my best friend in high school, best man in my wedding and world-traveling partner thru many surf adventures in Mexico. Yes, although his longest ride to date was 120 miles, performed a few weeks before the event, he was going to get a taste of 200.
We signed up (him reluctantly), and talked business for several weeks about logistics.
PRERIDE:
The evening prior I arrived in Arroyo Grande at 5:00pm to pay my folks and brothers and sisters a visit, and to celebrate mother’s day, and to see my new 2 month old niece. Ten pm came quickly, and so I was pretty tired, and went to bed, with the full assurance that the alarm clock my mother gave me would wake me. I also set up a second alarm on my watch.
After tossing and turning, I got up anyway at 2:47. At 3:00, neither alarm went off. It would have been ok anyway because Johnny and I had agreed to call one another at 3:30am, and depart for registration by 4:00am.
I tried to make coffee with a paper towel, grounds, and boiling water. It was a disaster and I called Johnny at the appointed time whereby he said he had coffee.
I decided on this ride to change my diet due to all the ultra-endurance athletes seeming to go all liquid, so I had 3 pieces of bread and 2 scoops of Hammer Sustained-Energy. I was a little nervous to be eating so little, but wanted to try this new eating program till it failed to give it a fair go.
I left my folks house and went over to Johnny’s. I checked out his bike, a sweet Trek OCLV weighing only 16 pounds. I was envious. He was going to carry 2 spares, leg/knee warmers, a frame pump, 2 bottles and a t-shirt under his jersey. I thought, well enough and we were off.
When we left Arroyo Grande it was 52 degrees, but by the time we’d gone over to Cuesta Grade the temperature was dropping, until we got to Atascadero where the temp was down to 44 degrees. I had considered leaving my knee warms and arm warmers, but soon bagged that idea. It rose slightly to 47 degrees by Paso Robles, where we checked in at 5:00am.
The check in was uneventful. I was given bib #93. The check in was outside and I was freezing, so I was anxious to go bundle up and get my bike ready. The pre-ride talk was at 5:30, and start time was at 5:40. I put on the rest of my bike clothes, pumped my tires to 120psi, and dealt with removing the tape from the plastic map I brought and re-tweaking our new map that was handed out at check in which differed from the map online. This was a little annoying, but I didn’t want to take any chances with the wrong map.
We locked up and were ready to go. The starting point was the downtown park in Paso, and parking was ample, so we only had to go about 20 feet to get in line to start. I was shocked to see many people in just a jersey and shorts. I had on arm/knee warmers, ear warmers and a vest, and was shivering, though not uncontrollably. Others had on full jackets and what not, and it was cold.
Brian Stark, a previous RAAM rider, gave us some instructions, and at 5:42 fire the gun. We were off.
START TO REST STOP #ONE MILE 30.7:
The beginning of the rides is always really exciting, with the 120 riders taking off in a huge peleton. We rode some rollers for about 10 minutes, and turned off on Adelaida and rode thru beautiful vineyards on twisty rollers with a heavy oak tree cover. We rode over Adelaida Road, Vineyard Drive, Jack Creek road, Your Mountain Road and Highway 46. The day was just barely light, and the fog was fairly heavy, and it was just beautiful. The pace line move rapidly, and we all started warming up which was on everyone’s mind, I’m sure.
The A group started to separate, but I had committed to riding with Johnny, so I stuck with him. He wasn’t slow. He just did the Wildflower last weekend and was in great shape. We had lots of rollers, so it was too soon to do any real drafting, so we trodded along and thought about the first climb of the day, just before rest stop #1 at mile 30. After some more time passed and the utter beauty of the day and scenery and vineyards had fully set in, we were in good spirits, towards the front of the participants, riding alone and really jazzed.
Then we hit some flat sections, so I settled in and had Johnny draft of me, and we cruised along at a pretty good clip. Then some cat came out of nowhere Robert from Madera (which is by Fresno he explained to me). He tagged on behind Johnny, and I pulled the 2 of them for 5 or 10 miles. We hit a climb so he pedaled up to me to thank me and strike up a conversation. He said he had already done Hemet and Solvang this year (the easiest two doubles, if any are easy) and he was trying to break 15 hours today. He said his weakness was that he was heavy (at 200#) and wasn’t a climber, even though he looked really fit.
Soon, we came upon hill one, Santa Rosa Creek Road. It was really steep, but not long, so I zipped up it and stopped at REST STOP #1, mile 30.7
REST STOP #1 TO REST STOP #2 MILE 87.2
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COAST LINE IN THE WORLD
I quickly filled one bottle with Sustained Energy. I had only drunk one bottle so far, because it was so cool. Since my calories came only from fluid, I figured I was a little low, and had been sipping off my highly concentrated Perpetuem in toothpaste like consistency. I was staying at about 250 calories and hour.
Here at the top we were warned of the dangerous descent to follow. Johnny had also ridden thru here and told me about it, so I was prepared to take it easy. After 2 minutes I was ready to go. I looked over at Johnny, and he was devouring the food table with a well-deserved breakfast after riding hard for 30 miles. Of course it took him forever, so I stood and waited another 10 minutes, then he had to hit the rest room, so I ended up waiting another more, and then we were finally off.
The descent was ugly from huge ruts, steep twisty turns, big ripples in the asphalt from shifting topography underneath. It was ugly, in addition to the fact that it was a really dark canyon with all the tree cover, and still early in the morning at about the coldest time of day. I hit one ripple and flew thur the air like I was mountain biking (ok, I was also going too fast). At the bottom we had to go about another 7 or 8 miles into Cambria, and the road was still pot holed and chewed up, so Johnny and I rode a bit slower, being so tired of the body jars from the pavement. We chatted about old times and looked forward to being in Cambria.
Then, 3 riders passed us quickly, apparently paying no attention to the ruts. I yelled to Johnny “let’s go” and we hopped on the back and picked up the pace. One of the riders was Madera (Robert from Madera). After about 5 minutes it was my turn at the front. I felt really good, and we had been riding at about 22. I stepped it up to 25 and we were flying. I pulled us into and thru downtown Cambria, a quaint little boutique city on Highway One along one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world, bar none.
When we hit the coast, the view was absolutely surreal. There wasn’t a lick of wind, the fog had lifted, the air still had the frigidness of morning, and it was dead silent, accept for the seal gulls. Johnny and I had feared this stretch because it was notoriously windy, and we would be heading north as opposed to everyone’s favored direction, south. So, I kept pulling the 5 of us, and after a few minutes, we overtook a couple of riders who must have been doing about 15mph. One of them yelled “holy crap” (at our speed) and hopped on the freight train. So now we were 7 strong and flying. I dropped to the back for a rest, and we hammered.
Everyone was just mesmerized at the beauty of the day and coast. The leg we were on took us 21.9 miles to Ragged Point, then another 20.4 miles along the coast until we reached the dreaded climb of the double, the Nacimiento-Feruson Road climb.
In the paceline a followed this cat who I swear was the most stylish riders I’ve seen. I envied his physique and his style, his bike and his wardrobe. He took a long pull, then it was my turn. I kept the paceline over 25mph for 10 minutes (but whose staring at the clock at those speeds?). We came upon other riders, and kept growing stronger. I wanted to use this ride as a training ride anyway, so the effort reminded me of last weeks time trial. I figured if I could sustain a red-line heart rate for 29 minutes, certainly I could for another 10.
After 10 minutes, I retreated to the back, and followed my new idol. I rotated thru one more time for my third 10-minute pull. The day was magic. We were flying up the most beautiful road along the ocean I’d ever been on, the Big Sur Coastline. It was just fabulous.
I was the last pull before the Ragged Point rest stop. We all stopped. I looked back and found that over half the people had dropped for the group, not being able to keep up. Johnny was dying and said it was all he could do to hang on.
REST STOP #2 TO REST STOP #3 MILE 113.3 LUNCH STOP
Both my water bottles were empty, so I filled #4 and #5, grabbed a goo because they looked so good, and was ready to go with one minute. BUT, Johnny need a break, removed his shoes, went over to the food table, and prepared for a much needed brunch. He filled his plate with all the goodies, ate a heart meal, then headed over to use the rest room, all in a record time, about 15 minutes. I stood at my bike and waited.
Meanwhile, Jay from Sacramento walked up and said hi, and said he thought he recognized me. He was the guy at the DMD who remembered my 7 flats from Bay in a Day (and not my sunscreen) and who had pulled me much of the way on the Mount Tam double last year. We discussed the DMD, and the poor guy sagged at mile 160, the bottom of Sierra Road, because of severe cramping due to what he guessed must have been from dehydration. It was good to see him, and he was off.
The Madera Robert arrived; being one of the people we dropped up on the first stint up highway one. He was upbeat, but said he just couldn’t keep up with us.
I was encouraged though that Johnny held on, knowing that he’d be a liability all day.
Finally, Johnny was ready to go. By now our stopped time had reached 45 minutes, and we were at the second rest stop (remember DMD – 22 minutes total in 16 hours!). Well, what are ya gonna do.
I was happy at this point that the Hammer Sustained Energy seemed to be working, as I’d only consumed 3 bottles and a goo, aside from 3 pieces of bread and a ½ bottle, the entire day.
We took off and soon caught up to Style Man and his riding partner. We hopped on again, but this section had heavy rollers, lots of twisty climbs, and unbelievable views - postcard kinds of views. Jagged Point was properly named. The coastal range on one side drops vertically to the ocean below. We rode across three different bridges that were an engineering feat to build. There was still no wind on the water, no traffic, the day was early, and the beauty was radiating.
I could tell that the pace was going to be too much for Johnny, so I told him to back off and we let those two go. We rode together, admiring the beauty and heading toward rest stop number three, Mill Creek at mile 87.2
When we finally arrived, and I was in no hurry, I’d consumed another 2 bottles, but filled only 1 (#6), because of the dreaded climb. Also, I was told that there was a water stop at the top, so I wouldn’t have to wait to lunch, 26 miles away, with a 2300’ hill in the way.
The ugly climb, Nacimiento-Ferguson Road, climbs 2300’ in 7 miles. It is intimidating from the bottom, and the climb starts immediately. My knees were already a bit sore, so I didn’t waist any time dropping into the triple, for this was the only climb I brought my climbing bike for. Johnny kidded me for being in the triple. I barked back “well, lets just see if it works) and I left him, intending on meeting him at the top. There were plenty of other climbers, and I wasn’t worried.
I passed lots of people, and finally caught up to Style Man. I pedaled up next to him and struck up a conversation. He was from Toronto, but was living and racing in Huntington Beach. Recently his wife had graciously allowed him to compete in a European stage race, I thought in Portugal. It was an 800K 7 day race with one or two time trials. It was cool to ride with this guy, then we made it finally to the top to the water stop. I dismounted my bike, filled only one bottle with water (#7) and waited for Johnny.
The climb had been very similar to Diablo. The miles were shorter, and the grade was about 1-2% steeper. It was ruthless – I’d rank it about #10 in the climbs thus far amongst the Triple Crown Climbs to date from Mulholland and Devil Mount.
While killing time waiting for Johnny, I chatted with the volunteer taking numbers. He said that I was in the low 30’s overall, of about 120, and he mentioned that the first guy thru was Robert Choi. I didn’t know he was riding this event, but this is one fast super cat stud. He finishes in the top 3, and has for the last several years, on all the doubles. Last year he won the Stage Race Series. I’d always wanted to meet this guy, but have never caught him, even though I believe he exists.
After 15 minutes, Johnny arrived. He took a short break (short on his terms – another 5-7 minutes, then we were off on what I thought was a long downhill to lunch, 19.3 miles away.
We were treated to a sweet downhill. The temperatures had warmed up considerably on the east side of the coastal range. The 6 miles to the bottom were fast, sharp, tree covered with Oak trees, and really fun. The road twisted and turned, with lots of creeks and streams cut into the hillside on the steep road down. Johnny is a really fast descender, partly from skill, partly from his bike, and he always coasted past me on the downhills.
At one point, I was flying maybe 45mph taking a turn hot and on the outside (I had seen any cars recently – there were maybe a few back on the coast and none once we turned inland) when a pack of about 15 motorcycles came around the corner the other way. It was scary for a millisecond, but I just missed them and immediately hoped Johnny could do the same. He did, and thought, “strike that one up as a close call.”
Once we got to the bottom we were in chaparral. It was hot. There were very few trees, and the grass was overgrown and brown. But worse, there was a strong, strong headwind with 13-1/2 miles to lunch at Fort Ligget. Yes, this is that wind you get on 101 when you head thur King City. Hot, strong and nasty.
I sunk into the grind position, and had Johnny get tight on my wheel, and began laboring against the wind, which was blowing straight on in the low 20s. It was ugly.
We passed a couple of other riders who decided to take advantage of me, so now we were 4 strong, with one guy pulling, yours truly. After an hour of my labor, we reached the lunch stop.
I quickly hopped off my bike, filled 2 bottles (#7 and #8) applied sunscreen, and was ready to go. The goos looked yummy, and even though I didn’t feel hungry, grabbed one for my jersey. Within 2-3 minutes, I was ready to go.
I looked over a Johnny, and thought he must have made a reservation. He’d taken off his helmet and shoes, filled his plate with tons of yummies, and sat down to partake in utter gluttony. I yelled, “cmon old man, we are burning daylight”, but I remembered I wanted him to have a good time, so I spent the time discussing pedal technique with one of the volunteers who was having knee problems.
After a least 30 minutes I convinced Johnny, now the old man, that we really should be going, and we did. I was also anxious to take advantage of the strong winds, thinking we had gone as far north as we were going, and that we’d be turning south.
But, I was corrected, and told we had to go another 40 miles due North, straight into the wind. YOU ARE KIDDING ME!
So, we headed out, straight into the hot, dry wind now hitting in the low 30s.
I could write an entire essay on how long it takes to ride 40 miles into a 30 mph headwind. I won’t. Suffice to say it was long, painful, and it was the point at which (it happens on every double) “why am I doing this?”
At one point, and we still hadn’t seen cars for hours, save the motorcycles, we heard sirens. Then we saw 2 fire trucks heading at us, CDF, and truly using excessive speed. And, the truck in front was carrying a large dozer on a trailer, and both we going right down the middle of the road. Johnny stopped and hopped on the gravel on the shoulder, utterly amazed at what just went by us. And, to top if off, the truck with the trailer and dozer had that trailer gyrating all over the road. Ugly.
After immense time and pain, we hit our destination – the hook from NE to SW. Once we did, our speed immediately jumped up once again to 24.5 miles per hour, and I kid you not, was without pedaling. We were being blown home. I could have road like this all day. Trouble was, it only lasted about 15 minutes.
We were caught by another cyclist – Polka Dot from the San Luis Obispo cycling club. He’d only been cycling 3 year or so, averaging 11,000 miles a year. He took up cycling after burning out from ultra-running the last 20 years. He’d done Badwater, Furnace Creek (the run), Mount Whitney (the 50 mile run, I think, to the top and back), the Western States, just to name a few 100 milers. Suffice to say, he was and iron bodied thin man who would finish this event for sure. We chatted, then he mentioned he had brought lights and hoped to finish in the light (no way).
We finally made it to rest stop number 4. Since I didn’t know how fast Johnny would ride, I had our lights sagged here. I filled water bottle #9 and #10, put on my lights, and was ready to go. I looked over, and Johnny had taken off his helmet and shoes, and was looking for, and found, the buffet line. Here we go again. Another 20 minutes or so clicked off the clock, and he was ready to go. In the meantime, I decided to replace the map on my bars, since now I had lights on. I tried a few things, then gave up and just stuck the map in my jersey. Johnny was familiar with this section of the course – he’d been up here the previous weekend for the Wildflower, and he said we would be reverse riding ½ the bike course of the ½ ironman. He dreaded the climb though, telling me how everyone hits 60mph on the long, steep descent.
We were off, heading towards the start the climb on Interlake Road. We caught up to several riders and started another paceline. When I got to the front I stepped it up, trying to make up lost time. But, I looked back and everyone had dropped, so I slowed down and grinded in out with the rest of them to the bottom of the hill.
Apparently on this 60 mph descent, there are 3 sections, with curves in the middle. Each one has this huge ramp, then turn, then ramp, then turn, then ramp, then the whole thing bottoms out and turns into a short ascent to slow you down. It looks sweet. Johnny says the people that come from the Midwest freak out and break from fear, not having hills back there.
After a good hour grind, we made it to the top, with fabulous views of San Antonio Lake to the Left, and Lake Nacimiento to the right. The landscape is hot, brown and dry, the view one gets from 101 thru King City looking West. After a sweet descent, we once again encountered the wind, another strong side on wind, and once again had to grind out 8.8 miles on Nacimiento Road to Bradley (ask me later why real estate is cheap in Bradley).
But now the fierce winds had caused the temperatures to drop, and they were dropping quickly. Johnny wanted to stop and put on clothes, but I made him push on the Rest Stop #5 in Bradley. The headwinds were so strong once again that I thought if we stopped, we wouldn’t be able to get going.
We reached Bradley just before dark, and it was now truly freezing. I dismounted my bike, filled bottles #11 and #12 (and of course added Hammer Sustained Energy, put all my clothes back on, and was ready to go within about 3 minutes. I looked over at Johnny. Shoes and helmet were off. He was truly enjoying the hot soup, hot chocolate and hot dogs they were serving. He had what I think was a full dinner, and was in no hurry. I waited patiently, then started harassing him to get going. We had one climb left, one rest stop left, but still 31 miles to cover, and I was anxious to get going.
While waiting I ran into a lady, Skinny Ventura (she was skinny and from Ventura which is all I remembered) whom I’d seen at Mulholland. If fact, the last time I saw her we were both climbing the last climb of the day down there. It was freezing cold, pitch black and I was agonizing over severe knee pain. As we were riding then, she commented to me that she thought she was going to be sick, which is what happens I’ve found when your body reaches the point of total and utter exhaustion. You get this warm feeling over your body followed by nausea. Well, I didn’t think this was a good time to bring THAT up, so we chatted but she was in a hurry to get some of the soup.
Finally, I got Johnny up and going. It was cold, it was windy, and it was nearly dark. I didn’t want to mess around.
We left Bradley and soon hit our final climb of the day – Hare Canyon Road. It was slow. Every time I turned around, poor Johnny was way back and I’d wait for him. He was beat. I tried to encourage him and move him on. Hare Canyon was 6.5 miles long, and took about an hour. We kept out lights off for the climb, but now needed them for sure for the descent. The descent was 8.8 miles to rest Stop #6.
I did several calculations, and realized that we would be very close to the 16 hour mark, but I was committed to being under. The descent helped big time. Not only was it downhill, but once again we had a tail wind. We kept our speed between 25 and 30mph, and pedaled furiously toward the rest stop. By now I had to start memorizing the turns, 3 at a time, because we were riding fast and I kept the map in my jersey. Finally we arrived, but I knew we didn’t have much time.
At the stop, the poor cat was standing outside in the cold, and wind, and serving hot chocolate and soup. He said we only had 12 miles to the finish. I told Johnny that we couldn’t stop, AND, that there was a lasagna feed at the end. He finally agreed, and we were off.
By now, the time was around 9:15pm. We hammered. We still had the tail wind, and we stayed close to 30mph the whole time. The roads we were on were descent, but there still were potholes and other debris we had to watch out for. Additionally, since it was farmland, farm irrigation systems were running, and completely hosing the road because of the wind. I got soaked a couple of times. It was not a welcomed cooling.
Both of our hearts raced as we pushed to mark our mark, 11:42. I told Johnny that as long as we finished in under 16 hours I’d be happy. When he realized the importance of the next 12 miles, he did not let up or let down. He hammered.
The last three turns may as well have been a criterion. We had to cross 101 via a bridge off a sharp right hand turn, then go up 4 streets to park and bank a hard right, then go one block to the finish. As we pedaled furiously, we encountered traffic for the first time really. We both got out in the lane, and sped with traffic toward the fourth street and left turn. Turns out, Park Street was a signal. As I thought for a second, I realized that this was the first signal we’d come upon the entire day! AND IT WAS GREEN! We banked our hard and fast left turn, and could see the finish. We B-Lined to the finish table, and called out our numbers. I immediately asked Brian Stark if he had the time. He said it was right there and pointed to the downtown clocktower. I looked, and it was 9:41. We had beat our time by one minute.
The hilarious thing too about the time is that I told everyone concerned about the ride that I had calculated that we would finish at 9:40, and not knowing that we would start 2 minutes late, which would then push my calculated time to 9:42.
The 3 volunteers congratulated us, and told us the lasagna feed was 3 blocks down, upstairs at a church. Johnny asked if we were riding, and I said NO.
I quickly called my wife then folks, and changed because we were freezing (I didn’t check the temps but I’m guessing high 40s). We headed over to the feed.
I actually wasn’t hungry, but the lasagna looked really good, so I indulged.
Then I saw this cat who was driving sag today, whom I also saw driving sag at the DMD. He has built a reputation for driving his van and blasting music at the riders. When I climbed Diablo 2 weeks ago, I did it to the beach boys compliments of this cat. I told him how much I appreciated him, and how I see him everywhere. I hear his music all the time on these rides.
I inquired about the status of the riders who hadn’t finished, and I asked about Robert Choi. He also said he knew the name, but hadn’t met him. We are both chasing him. He said there was a final group of about 30 riders 45 minutes this side of Bradley. I figured they were about 1-1/2 hours out.
He said he wouldn’t be at the Terrible Two though, which I was sad to hear. He said he was driving support for RAAM. My ears immediately perked up. I told him that it was my dream to do the 508, and ultimate dream to ride RAAM. He said that in his opinion, the people who ride RAAM solo need a lobotomy.
I thought, where do I sign up…
WRAP UP
Johnny and I check into our Motel 6 about 11:00pm, took quick showers and were ready to hit it. We were out by 11:30. Sunday was mothers day, and I had to get home. I arose at 4:15am, dressed, fueled my vehicle and bought coffee, and was on the road at 4:45am for a day of Mother’s Day festivities.
I hope to get to bed early tonight…
Next Saturday is the DMD, and Johnny had signed up before I talked him into the Central Coast Double, so it will be another weekend of adventure…
Stats:
Ride: 209.5 miles
Elevation Gain: 13,700’
Ride time: 14:13
Stopped time 1:46
A word about Hammer Sustained Energy:
I’m now hooked on the liquid diet. I drank 12 bottles with 2 scoops of non-flavored sustained energy, ate 3 Goos, plus 4 additional servings of Sustained Energy in a high concentrate consistency to make up for those 4 hours when I didn’t drink enough due to the cold temps. I felt energized the entire day, and my stomach was always numb. I didn’t feel any hunger pain, never felt full or bloated. My tummy stayed really soft all day. Sustained energy at 250 calories an hour delivers consistent food without any highs or lows. I notice with Johnny that before rest stops, he would literally be overcome with hunger, then he would have to pig out at the rest stops to try and get calories in. He then was bloated and full from the meal. Liquid diet is the only way for me now.
Chapter IV - Davis Double: 5/19/07 (DD) or Whistling Dixie on my Fixie
I’ve made some bad decisions in my life (beginning road biking being one of them) and Friday’s decision to try a fixed gear on the Davis Double was one of those bad decisions. For those who may not know what a fixed gear is, it is bike with one gear (I rode a 42/16) with no freewheel, like a kid’s tricycle. You cannot coast, and the pedals never stop turning (please do not ask the question why). I had ridden a fixed gear for the first time the day before, Thursday, for a little over an hour, and the experience was not noteworthy, other than to mention that I nearly crashed once while standing when for an instant I attempted to rest. Since you can’t stop pedaling, this throws the bike into a nose wheelie. Well, I nose wheelied on First Street in Benicia, bounced 2 or 3 times, then regained control, petrified. Ouch, I did not like that. The sensation is exactly like jamming on the front brake on my mountain bike while riding and being pitched forward, done to initiate a nose wheelie, but of course, you would stop pedaling in the air and try to balance the bike. Suffice to say, a very foreign and odd dilemma was in place on the fixed gear.
The reason I decided to ride the fixed gear as I was driving home from work Friday, in traffic and on the Benicia Bridge, was not clear. Johnny was on his way up from San Luis Obispo, and we had always intended on riding the Davis Double together, long before we decided at the last minute to ride the central Coast Double last weekend. I wasn’t sure if he would be up for it. He was, and additionally encountered a huge fitness boost since last weekend.
Prior to his committing to riding the double, I had set a goal of breaking 12 hours on the ride, but didn’t think this would be any fun for Johnny, so I needed some other challenge for the ride. I wasn’t looking for an easy double. So, I figured the fixie would provide enough of a challenge, and I was set on it, Friday afternoon.
Pre-ride Preparation…
I had hoped to drive up to Davis, about an hour away, Friday night and attend the free pasta feed in downtown Davis and perform our Friday night check-in. But, Johnny didn’t arrive until just before 6:00pm, so we bagged that idea. We grabbed dinner in Benicia, then did some last minute gear preparation, and by 9:00pm were ready to hit the sack. I offered to have my wife go out to a movie that night, to try and pay her back for her efforts, so I put our girls to bed then hit the sack.
I set my alarm for 2:45am, but as always seems to be the case, I arose just before, at 2:30am. I took a quick shower, and headed downstairs to make coffee and wake Johnny. I had a light breakfast – a 1/2 bowl of oatmeal, ½ cup of yogurt and ½ cup of cereal, and a piece of bread, about 450 calories. We loaded the truck and were off by 4:00am.
We arrived in Davis at the check in by 4:45am. Already I’d seen hundreds of riders on the road, even though the official start time was 5:15am (first light) to 5:45am. I didn’t want to start with lights, so had planned on leaving by 5:15am. We were greeted by lots of Davis volunteer’s everywhere, directing traffic and helping with anything. The ride schedule listed 850 signed riders for the event, and there must have been the same number of volunteers from this great club, honest. We checked in, got our maps and stuff, and tried to be ready to leave by 5:15am. It took a bit and longer to get ready, it was dark, and I couldn’t decide on the lights, not having any idea how long it would take on the fixie. There was only one option for a drop location, which was to be at mile 160. So, we wrapped it up and were off at 5:30am.
Start to Rest Stop One…
The course from the start to rest stop one winds thru Davis and is dead flat. With so many riders, there were huge pace lines everywhere, growing all the time. We hopped on the first one, and b-lined at 22-24mph to the first stop at mile 22.8. I was very apprehendsive about the fixie, but found it was really easy to pace line with and so I was pretty stoked.
As we entered a little street leading up to rest stop one, bike traffic was heavy in both directions. All of a sudden, 2 guys in front of me decided to u-turn. I swerved to miss the first guy, hit and the second, and we both headed off the road into the canal. Just as I was going off the side, I instinctively stood to prepare for the run onto weeds and into the canal just beyond, mountain bike style. You can guess what happened next – the bike bucked, and I “el rollo’d” over the front, landing in the grass on my shoulder and back (I’ve actually done this many times on my mountain bike). I landed, still clipped in with one foot, laying on my back and holding the bike over my head by my foot. Wew, the bike was ok – no scratches. The guy apologized profusely. I dusted off and went over to fill my water bottles.
The line for the restrooms was about 50 deep, and the line for water was about 10 deep. I waited, filled one bottle, added hammer, and prepared to leave after 4 minutes.
We then learned that there was a fire somewhere, and the route was being changed. Time to throw the map away.
Rest stop one to rest stop two…
We went thru Capay and Capay Valley on our route. I was familiar with Capay in name only, and found the place to be quaint and beautiful. The day was just waking up; it was calm, and peaceful. We were heading north, going from flat roads in Davis to gentle rollers with lots of trees and shade, and orchards. The hills surrounding Berryessa were on our left. The roads were in good shape, and our spirits were high, and we were fresh.
We hooked up with 3 riders, 2 gals and guy, who quickly became annoyed that they were pulling Johnny and me. Actually, since they were only going 16mph, I didn’t consider it a pull, and I was busy absorbing the wonderful scenery and riding single file. So after a few comments about my laziness and me. I rode to the front, set my cruise control on 20mph, and pulled. After about 10 minutes the girl who was on my wheel said loudly, ”hey, you don’t have any gears!”. I was appreciative of being informed about this, thinking I might really need to know this later. After a short while, we came upon rest stop three, but not before passing the coolest dad on a tandem with his 10-year old daughter on the back. It was a pretty sight. Way to go Dad.
As rest stop 2 I filled one bottle, added hammer, and was ready to go in about 2 minutes. It is tough at these rest stops with so many people to go quick because of the lines and commotion and bikes laying everywhere. Johnny too had realized the importance of quick stops, and he too was quickly ready to go.
We were off, and started our climb up Cache Creek Canyon. This was for me the highlight of the ride for scenery. With the sun to our backs and the creek flow high, we traversed the climb thru the canyon during the calm, quite and peaceful morning, and admired the beauty of the flowing water, waterfalls, several bridges and rock formations. It was a site to see!
The climbing wasn’t bad on the fixie. The grade must have been about 5-6%. I could choose between sitting or standing. Everything felt good. Johnny was riding strong. It was a good day.
After reaching the top, the first of three descents followed. I hit 25mph on the first, with a cadence of about 120. On the next, I hit 28 with a cadence of about 140. On the third, I hit 30.3 with a cadence of about 160. I was happy to find that the fixie had a nice range, even though riding with a 160 cadence required concentration. I reminded myself, whatever you do, don’t stop pedaling.
A short distance later I came upon a little lip between the road asphalt and concrete for a bridge. In the past I always bunny hopped these lips. I reverted back to coaster style riding, stood, set up, and then bang, was into a nose wheelie. I regained control, and once again nearly swallowed my throat. BE CAREFUL I kept telling myself.
Just before getting to the third stop, we came across an accident. We talked to the victim later that night back in Davis. Apparently, a horse trailer decided to u-turn, so they pulled off the road on the right hand shoulder, right in front of a pace line. The cyclists were scattered, everyone trying not to crash. But, one cyclist hit another, then another, and this poor cat went over the handlebars, landing on his shoulder and dislocating his clavicle. Fortunately he was ok, but his ride was over. I never did see the horse trailer.
As rest stop 3 I filled 2 bottles and added hammer, and within 2-3 minutes was ready to go climb Resurrection Hill.
Resurrection Hill was about the limit of my climbing range. I could still sit or stand, but because of the length and grade, had to concentrate and employ quite a bit of physical strength. The climb probably took 45 minutes or so, and I was thoroughly glad when it was over! Usually when I climb I rotate between low gears and spinning and high gears with out of the saddle grinding. With the fixie I wasn’t afforded that luxury, so everything was one cadence grinding, while seated or standing.
After the climb we experienced some rollers before coming into Clearlake and rest stop four, the lunch stop at mile 85.
When we arrived, the place was just packed with people. Since we would be returning later due to the changed route at mile 115 (we had 15 miles to go to the turn around point on the backside of the peak on Cobb Mountain). Johnny said he’d catch lunch on the return. I filled 2 water bottles, added hammer, and after 5 minutes we departed towards the dreaded Cobb Mountain, where, indecently, I had been told I probably couldn’t make the climb on the fixie.
After leaving Clearlake, we began our easier portion of the climb up Cobb Mountain. But, the hill grew steeper and steeper, and before long, I found I could only climb if I stood. At 71 gear inches, I just could not keep the bike movin