Prelude
Post-Arizona, weather in Minneapolis took a turn for the
frigid. Sub zero lows (and highs) were
rampant which is unusual for February.
Lack of snow and only marginal amounts of light leads the average
Minnesotan to look and feel as though the walls are literally closing in. People snap like so many icicles hanging on
eaves. I took a yoga workshop in the
hopes that conquering the elusive forearm headstand might thaw the blood
slushing its way around my brain.
So of course, I had to start planning a 400k in a warmer,
sunnier climate; this is a PBP year. At
first, my plan had been to return to Arizona and do the Around the Bend
400k. I had done the ride with Pecos
Lara a couple of years back and knew the route, but this year, there were fewer
people I knew riding and logistics were not working so well. It was going to require rental cars, hotels,
plane tickets, coordination – all those things my frozen brain didn’t want to
do. Then I got an email from Lisa who
had elected to do Brevet Week in her hometown of San Diego at the same time.
I hadn’t been to San Diego in years, but I recalled being a
child there and doing a 10k running race through the mountains. I also recalled being dead last and deciding
Mt Everest probably had less elevation and that I would never do such a thing
again. During the Gila Monster,
conversations with Lisa made think that, for once, my younger self had not been
far off in perspective. Clearly, riding
in San Diego could be lethal.
So as I looked at the 2,800 feet of climbing in Around the
Bend next to the 12,000 feet in the San Diego 400k and assessed my options (not
to mention my pasty, white thighs), it was just obvious that I should buy a
ticket to San Diego. And while I was at
it, why not get my 200k PBP qualifier done too (that ride only had around 5,500
feet of climbing). I had the Sunshine 1200k to do in May and
watching four seasons of The Golden Girls was probably not going to be adequate
preparation for Florida anyway. The
masochistic region of my frontal lobe just quivered with anticipation.
And I would not be alone either….
The original plan was to ship my stuff to Lisa in advance,
fly to San Diego on Tuesday, do the 400k and Wednesday and the 200k on
Friday. So of course Winter Storm Thor
blew in to San Diego for Sunday and Monday (while she was doing the 200k and
300k) and then clocked my flight in Minneapolis on Tuesday. When Lisa picked me up at the airport, I was
already bonked and frazzled. And her
bike was in the shop after catastrophic brake failure on Mt Palomar during a
sleet storm had derailed Monday’s 300k which had an impressive 75% DNF rate. Clearly, neither of us was prepared for a
400k. So we opted to switch the rides
and do the 200k as a shakedown/recovery ride on Wednesday and tackle the 400 on
Friday. We dutifully notified the
organizers and proceeded to start eating.
The 200k Taco Ride
A start time of 5:00AM has advantages and
disadvantages. The advantage was that 2 hours of jet lag made
waking up at 3:00AM easy. With bikes loaded into the mighty Mazda, we
ploughed through the already-starting-to-be-busy San Diego rush hour at 4:00AM
towards the start in Poway.
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| Typical Pre Ride Conversation - Tom and Lisa chatting away |
There, to my great surprise, was another familiar face, Tom
from Alaska, who I had ridden with at LEL in 2013. The rando world is smaller than one can
possibly imagine. He had also downgraded
to the 200k and would be another companion.
The disadvantage of the 5:00 AM start was that even the 200k
would start in darkness. We left a touch
late after finding out that Monday’s monsoon had also left just enough water in
Lisa’s light to require going to a backup.
The structure of the routes was in loops, so I would be
riding the first 10 miles of this ride a total of 3 times for the week. Rolling terrain with just enough traffic and
traffic lights to prevent reaching a tempo made the route feel choppy for my
insipid legs as my brain tried to absorb the rest of morning coffee. I also eventually realized that the front
brake was rubbing - a problem I would
struggle with all week.
We paused at the bike bridge at Lake Hodges. The residual water from the storms had
coalesced as mist on the lake and surrounding wetlands, visible now in the
incipient dawn. The effect was ethereal
and I might have upgraded it to magical except for the busy 8-lane interstate
running through it - welcome to California!
All the same, it was worth the time to take some pictures.
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| Traffic and Mist over Lake Hodges |
At Bear Valley Road, the awesome power of California traffic
reared its ugly head. My first San Diego
rush hour was to be a somewhat grueling 4 mile climb with fast moving traffic,
construction and an erratic shoulder. Lisa is a better climber than me (she has
museum grade thighs) and I found myself spinning more rigorously to keep her in
sights; this also got my brain and metabolism fully engaged.
The combination of traffic lights, a late start, hills and
fiddling got us into the first control at 15 miles with a mere 10 minutes to
spare! But Tom and another man, Alex from Canada, were still at the control
eating. Both Lisa and I have gravitated
towards improving nutrition while riding.
I have too many digestive diseases and she is just smarter. I had contributed my rando-improved
panellettes (Spanish almond cookies).
She had contributed some rice/chicken bars. We were thus able to blast through controls
very quickly and I picked up a couple bananas to get my receipt. It is also curious that 7-Eleven, which
served for most controls, does not have public restrooms. Without the ability to use restrooms or the
need to buy and eat food, controls got really fast.
The four of us pulled out together into full-blown rush
hour. Cars weaved in and out of lanes,
stopped suddenly and had a habit of taking right turns very unpredictably
regardless of whether or not a bicycle might be traveling alongside. For the most part, there were bike lanes in
this area and I was thankful for that. I
hadn’t ever been on a brevet quite this urban before and the number of stops
for traffic lights was impressive. It
didn’t help that none of us had a four-leaf clover – we pretty much hit every
red light for about 40 miles. The
full-rush on San Marcos at Palomar Airport was a long, fast descent with 6
lanes of traffic and a left-turn halfway down.
We opted to simply pull over to the opposite corner and walk the bikes
across the traffic. I was thankful for
my years of bike commuting in downtown Minneapolis; the ability to play in
traffic was key for this ride.
Once we were out of the airport area, we descended to the
Pacific Coast Highway with the ocean stretching out like a vast, blue
carpet before us. We stopped for the first info control and began shedding
layers. Temps had started down in the
low 40s to mid 30s and were now rising rapidly as the sun climbed to
mid-morning.
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| Stop along the PCH |
The next 20-odd miles to Oceanside were all along the
PCH. The waves were impressive on the
left hand and I spent lots of time staring into the blue of the ocean that I
have always found oddly comforting. The
urban jungle continued with yet more traffic sponges in the towns of Encinitas
and Carlsbad. Despite the lost time
spent at lights, I got to actually spend time looking at the many interesting
businesses and landmarks of Californian towns.
The area has a distinct flavor with few recognizable chains and many
hand painted signs. Leucadia will be
taking prize for most distinctive with its proud motto “Happy the Funk Up”. Sculptures and gardens dotted the concrete –
green emerging into the otherwise grey sidewalk. Tom and Alex got ahead of us during this
stretch as we were delayed by a truck literally backing into us.
At Oceanside, the traffic finally calmed as we entered Camp
Pendleton, a large military base.
Normally, riders have a choice of riding on either I5 or through Camp
Pendleton, but major traffic on I5 had led to no options being available and
who wants to ride on an interstate?
The few miles through Camp Pendleton also had a great deal
of construction, but it was manageable.
It was also very open and pretty with views of the mountains and the sea
as well as what I presume to be remnants of old farms - and the occasional
tank….
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| What kind of a draft would it be? |
The final 12 miles to San Clemente were all through a park
on a bike trail. Campgrounds were still
closed for the winter (Road Pixie laughs at the use of the word “winter”
associated with highs in the 60s). A
gentle breeze was blowing since it was now about 10:15. Surfers on bikes and skateboards started
appearing on the path. I hadn’t ever
seen someone carry a 6-7 foot surfboard while skateboarding – it’s a sight to
behold.
Lisa and I got to the control just on 11AM to find Tom and
Alex relaxing. Alex was on the 300k and
wanted to move on, but Tom elected to stay with us and have lunch at a taco
shop that Lisa knew of. The three of us
detoured slightly for the visit. No one
was really interested in pushing the pace or shortening the day. I suppose we could have been channeling the
surfers.
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| Skateboarding with surfboard, I can't even think of doing this |
The taco shop was GREAT!
Minnesota is not known for latin food (ketchup is categorized as a spice
here). I ordered a large bowl of
guacamole to share though I am pretty sure I could have eaten the whole thing
myself along with my tacos. We sent a photo of the remnants to Shaun who
responded with something like “hey, you missed a chip! Don’t you know there are starving children in
Ethiopia – go back and dig it out of the trash at once”. It’s so very nice to find humor in the Oscar
Wilde class.
 |
| At the taco shop |
During our hour-long laze at the taco shop, a big north wind
had cranked up. Now we had 40 miles of
tailwind back along the ocean. There is
nothing quite like cranking along at 18-20 mph without really working on a
beautiful, sunny day next to the ocean with friends.
 |
| Tailwind! |
There must have been some flowers blooming
somewhere too because the smells along this were amazing: perhaps jasmine or
maybe sage? Whatever it was, as we
passed back through Pendleton, the air was suddenly full of things that felt like
gravel. This turned out to be a swarm of
bees! It took me a full on 30 seconds to
realize what they were and that, more importantly, they were still stuck to
me. We all pulled over and just as Lisa
remarked how amazing it was that no one was stung, one fell out of my helmet
onto my leg and stung me right on the thigh.
Ouch! That was going to hurt.
We fully divested from the bees, who presumably returned to
the flowers, and continued on. Traffic
was a little better and we seemed to make quite a few more lights returning
south. We stopped at a coffee shop
somewhere along the line for a break and prepared for the last 30 or so
miles. I was feeling so relieved to be
doing 200k instead of 400k that day.
Spending a carefree day with 2 fun people was something I would not have
wanted to miss.
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| Lisa, Tour Guide Role |
 |
| Tom from Alaska |
The final big climb up the hill at Del Mar was another fun
one with traffic and as we crested the hill, there was a sudden crunching sound
and I rocked back on my seat. That
turned out to be one of my seat post rail bolts suddenly giving way. The other one simply couldn’t hold it in
place. The seat was now pointed up at a
45-degree angle.
I made it down the back of the Del Mar climb and we pedaled
to the final control on Carmel Valley Road.
There I assessed the situation (and some other things). If I tried to right the saddle and something
didn’t work with the other bolt, I would have no seat at all. As it stood, at least the saddle wasn’t
moving. We were only 15 miles from the
finish. How bad could 15 miles be?
I had just gotten all the feeling back in my left glute
after 6 months of acupuncture and physical therapy. Now I was faced with trashing myself again –
who knew where the needles were going to have to go to fix me now! Fortunately, Lisa had the answer, which was
not to worry the only point down there is apparently for reviving a drowning
victim. At least I wasn’t going to drown
on the ride.
The three of us left the final control and left for a lovely
bike trail through a canyon to head back to Poway with Lisa, our local guide,
leading the way. With the seat pointed
up, my quads really couldn’t be used so I was slower. Had I been a man, my voice might have been
several octaves higher as well. We
passed a beautiful stream where a mother and her son tossed breadcrumbs to
ducks and turtles (yes turtles).
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| The 56 Trail |
The trail led around and up and finally we crested onto a
beautiful ridge where we turned down towards Poway.
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| On top of the ridge |
Unfortunately, it was a busy road and now we
got to experience rush hour all over again.
Crossing I15 was a real treat and I wondered if we would ever get across
the exit ramp. Happily, in California,
there are polite people who stop in the middle of an exit ramp to let cyclists
through. I had a near miss with a
truck/trailer combination, but fortunately the only stars I would see on this
ride were due to the chaffing.
The last stretch into the Best Western was the single
longest 5 miles I’ve ever ridden and that is saying something. I simply stood and pedaled at top speed for
about half of it. I got off my bike,
used my inhaler and walked around bent over for a few minutes.
Many thanks to Tom and Lisa for a wonderful day of riding in
the sun. Good company makes all the
difference. Thank goodness it wasn’t a 400k.
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| Ouch! Just looking at it takes me back.... |
Back to the Fish Bowl
A little known fact of nature is that Road Pixie is in fact
a Pisces. So are both Lisa and
Shaun. One house with 3 Pisceans should
probably be considered some kind of fish bowl.
Just think of the creative things we could come up with if locked up for
long enough….
At that point, we were too starving for doing anything but
wanting to eat. So we all went for
Vietnamese, a personal favorite. Many
hours of chatter later, we got a nice and well-earned sleep. It appears that I need substantially more
sleep during my winter hibernation phase.
The following day was spent resting up. I’d
like to say that I spent it diligently organizing, planning a strategy and
working on my bike, but frankly, I didn’t get out of my pajamas until after 3
pm.
The 400k - Do I have
a metaphysical twin?
It has been said that the 400k is the ride that is most
feared. At 250 miles, it is the longest
distance without a sleep stop. And let’s
face it, 250 miles is generally enough to elicit the “God, I don’t even want to
drive that far” response from the general public. But for some reason, it’s always been my
favorite ride. On a 400k you experience
pretty much everything: day, night, hunger, sunrise, sunset, etc. It’s the first distance where you really
start hitting your limits and finding your stride as a randonneur. It is a sublime distance.
This 400k was different from any that I had ever done. It was 2 rides sandwiched together: a 200k
out and back to Lake Elsinore (which I had never seen) followed by a repeat of
the 200k I had just finished. This time,
I would see the ocean at night. And the
day had quite a bit more climbing and less in the way of urban jungle.
So once again, Lisa and I found ourselves lined up at 5:00AM
in Poway. We left a bit of food in the car, but the forecasted
70-80 degree temperatures limited what we could stash. Tom
was not returning for the 400k and I can’t recall how it happened, but the two
of us were left alone in the darkness very quickly. We had never ridden longer than 300k
together; would the same similarity of pace hold in a 400k that had in the Gila
Monster 300k? Whether the rando
community wants to admit it or not, riding with someone for 24 hours has a
certain “intimacy”. One can make friends
that last a lifetime doing this stuff or annoy someone to the point of agony.
We returned along the same streets as the previous morning
and descended to Lake Hodges slightly ahead of the previous day in pacing. Though the sky again had a fuzzy peach
quality, the mist was nowhere in sight as we passed over the pedestrian bridge.
We did not pause but instead enjoyed the freedom from traffic and a lot of
frogs also welcoming the sun.
As we came off the bike path, we met another rider from
Philadelphia who was happy to find local knowledge. The two of us owe Lisa for keeping us on
track as we weaved through the various bike paths in a park-like setting off
Bear Valley Road. She has an impressive knowledge of the roads around San Diego
and was happy in the tour guide role.
Unlike the previous day, this route would take us through
the inland north to Temecula, which has a considerable number of wineries. There were far fewer traffic lights to stall
us out once we passed Escondido and the terrain was marked by long, semi-gentle
climbs. Rush hour finally ended another
cycle and our Philly companion disappeared up the hill, he was only doing the
200k anyway. At this point, yet another
rider came up behind us. This turned out
to be, Hector, a friend of Lisa’s who had started late. The two of them floated ahead while I
realized that I had not done a 6%, multi-mile grade since last summer. Though I dropped off a bit, pacing behind
them kept me working and by the time we reached Deer Valley, my legs had a
vague recollection of what actual climbing was like. I’m not a particularly good climber and one
reason is that I lack the ability to really pace myself well on a grade as it
changes, to conserve when I need to and push when it yields the most gain. Those are skills that one has to practice and
learn. You can learn a lot by following
someone who has the skills already but they can’t be so fast that they simply
dust you. You don’t get stronger riding
with faster riders; you get stronger by riding with slightly faster riders.
Climbing behind the two of them definitely helped me become a stronger
rider. I also realized that the new seat
post wasn’t set up quite right and my butt and back were slightly sore. Bother!
As we descended to the first control, Lisa was ahead of me
and started shaking her head. It turned out that we would
have matching bee stings for the week.
Unfortunately, the bee was still attached to her, trapped in the arm of
her glasses. It took a few minutes and
tweezers to remove the poor thing that met its ignominious death on the
pavement. There were no issues with an
allergy, but a full dose of venom to the temple was not going to be any more
pleasant than one to the thigh and perhaps a bit worse.
The delay ensured that the many riders at the control would
all leave before we did. The next few
miles were up Rainbow Canyon Road, another long, 6%-ish climb featuring a
lovely headwind. Fortunately, it was
also particularly beautiful and I again pushed myself to nearly keep up with
Lisa. As we got closer to the top, the
wind became a bigger issue than the climbing.
It turns out that living in the Great Plains does have some advantages
in that when it comes to headwinds, I am in my element! This wound up being the best of both worlds
for both of us as the day continued. But
it was still actually uphill all the way to Temecula.
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| Temecula from the Descent |
The descent into Temecula offers a stunning panorama of the
valley with 2 large snow-capped peaks in the distance. It’s a fun, swooping descent that brings you
to a golf course and finally into the town.
We passed underneath the I15 for yet another traffic adventure, stopped
for batteries and continued on. Historic
Temucula is fitted out like the old west and in addition there was a classic
hot rod show going on leading to hundreds of restored classic cars parked and
cruising around town. On the other side were
modern Temucula and Murietta more strip mall sprawl than Wild West and pancake
flat too. Flags were limp as we moved
through unremarkable strip malls but the greenery of the surrounding hills was
still striking, likely the result of the previous weeks’ storms.
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| Entrance to the Historic Downtown |
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| Hot Rod Show |
As we closed on the final 10 miles to the turnaround, the
wind took a decided turn for the ugly from the northeast. I had lots of fun pulling us through the
wind – a skill I picked up in the many prairie permanents that I ride at
home. Beating the wind is a game in
itself. Though she professed to hate
the wind, we again stayed together and I had a certain sense of symmetry:
clearly we were both leveraging each other’s strengths. We saw 3 or 4 riders on the way back, who had
already made the turnaround.
We pulled into Lake Elsinore sometime past 11. The tiny 7 Eleven had no food at all and I
was thankful we had largely brought our own lunch. My digestive system is finicky, but today my
stomach was capacious and I basically ate everything I could get my hands on
and then some. We both picked up
receipts by buying the same ice cream sandwich using the same logic: by
choosing the highest calorie count that we could find in the tiny case. Really, only light ice cream? Wisconsinites would cringe at the thought!
After the windy slog up, the giant tailwind was certainly a
help going back. For 20 miles of
flatlands, we sailed along at about 18-20 miles an hour held up only by the
traffic lights of Murietta and Temecula.
The heat of the day was upon us and the wind was hot and dry, a full on
Santa Ana wind. As a Midwesterner, I find
it humorous that Californians are excited by high humidity while we eschew
it. The grass is always greener on the
other side of the fence.
It was about 3,000 feet of climbing in 40 miles from outside
Temecula back to Poway. With the
tailwind, the climbing was distinctly hotter and I found sweat draining into my
eyes. I managed to actually keep up for
a little bit too! Rainbow Valley Road
was a fun descent, more than making up for the toil it took on the way out and
we pulled into the final control on this leg for more ice cream. The next hill and the Deer Valley climb were
both better than I thought they would be.
I could definitely feel my legs getting more used to the elevation. I also had some nice conversation to take my
mind off the heat (wow, was it hot for someone who was used to sub zero
temperatures). I ran myself out of water in Escondido, but
with only 15 miles to go, we decided against stopping – we’d be stopping at
Poway anyway.
We got back to the bike trail and Pomerado Road at 3:30. The road was clogged with rush hour traffic,
but I hit some kind of mini-energy bubble and this was a somewhat decent
section for me. The terrain is large
rollers, a little like Hills of Wisconsin.
We pulled into the Best Western to end 200k at about 4:40. I was
absolutely parched, but no water or bathrooms were available. I would be waiting for those two amenities.
Cards signed, we went to the car for a bit of food. As expected, rather hot in there. We pulled out quickly and headed for a
grocery store. I stayed outside with the
bikes while Lisa went for water and some yogurt. All in all, about 20 minutes to get through
the line, drink and fill bottles, etc. I
chomped on dried mango and had both of my chicken-rice bars. That was just going to have to hold me. We departed on a repeat of Wednesday’s 200k
at 5:21.
The traffic was no better in the opposite direction and I
was relieved to once again be on the bike trail at Lake Hodges. We stopped to listen to frogs and prepare for
the night, donning leg warmers, base layers and reflective gear. There were many out enjoying the trail at
dusk. Californians appear to not sleep;
there were people to be found on the street all night long.
The climb up Bear Valley Road in rush hour #2 was no better
than #1 on Wednesday, but I was better prepared for it mentally. We returned to the 7 Eleven on Grand and
paused only long enough to buy a bit of water.
The next 15 miles to the PCH were grueling. It was dark, there was too much traffic to
chat and I had the sense of being in an enormous game of Centipede. I am used to riding rush hour in downtown
Minneapolis, this doesn’t even compare.
At least the bike lanes made it manageable and by the time we made the
descent at the airport, traffic was dying at least enough to get into the left
turn lane. I had an immense sense of
relief when we hit the info control, counted zip ties, and continued onto the
PCH. Big surprise- both of us get very quiet when we are
stressed; the conversation picked up a bit after PCH, though it would not be
until Oceanside that we could really talk to each other.
As we finally came into Oceanside, it was getting on 9
pm. Being in a different time zone, I
was hit by a sudden wave of fatigue, it being past my bedtime. Not wanting to be unsafe, we pulled into a
Mobile station and Lisa bought some coffee, which I supplemented with Starbucks
Via. Some bugles, a little eating, a
caffeine pill and some anti-fatigue capsules later, I was feeling quite a bit
better and we pulled back into the now final throws of traffic once more.
Back on the base, there were few buildings, few cars and
time to chat and check mental state. To
tell the truth, this was a fun part of the ride and it passed quickly as a
result. We were now approaching 300k –
still on the same pace, now both getting hungry and the taco shop closed. No
surfers to slow us on the trail and we rode into San Clemente to crowded bars
at about 11 pm. Both of us were looking just about the same
amount of tired and we ate as much as was appetizing. The cold concrete outside the 7 Eleven was
unpleasant so at least we didn’t waste much time. The winds changed to an easterly direction
and cranked up to about 15 mph. Unusual
and we would now have a headwind for most of the rest of the ride.
The night ride back Camp Pendleton was in a league of it’s
own. On the one hand, the sound of the
ocean and the emerging moon glinting on the ocean was both beautiful and
comforting. On the other hand, the
standstill traffic on I15 and the vast construction going on was like a
mini-Atlantis in places. We paused at a
lonely spot near a gate in the park to rest for a moment only to be surprised
by a lone white pickup truck with two men who looked at startled as we
were. I can only imagine that they were
construction workers using the road to access the back of some of the
construction. The 4 of us stared at each
other without saying a word - a surreal experience indeed.
By the time we got through Pendleton and back to Oceanside,
it was after bar close and the streets were completely deserted. The now sleeping jungle was completely
different without cars and most of the traffic lights were stuck to green
making progress much quicker. We chatted
most of the way back riding side by side wondering if the moon would get close
enough to the waves for a picture.
Another rider, on the 600k came up behind us and chatted awhile. He had taken a sleep stop at Oceanside and
was now headed back to Poway. We stayed
together for a few minutes chatting, and then he peeled away into the darkness
around Leucadia.
I had to admit that by this time, it was about 3:00 AM and I
was tired and so was Lisa. We stopped at
the intersection at Poinsettia where we had turned onto the PCH 6 hours
earlier. It wasn’t cold, but the wind
made it feel much colder and we stopped at a park for a short nap in the shadow
of one of the buildings. After 15
minutes, a park ranger pulled up to what was probably an odd sight of 2 women
with legs flailing in front of them otherwise trying to conserve heat while
unconscious. Must have been the high end
bikes with lights on, or perhaps this is just California and such sights are
common; she just rolled by and left. We got up, ate a little more,
and continued on, only 25 miles to go.
Past Solano Beach and Del Mar we went, the ocean and the
moon in somewhat of a dance, so near and yet so far away. At the turn to Carmel Valley Road, I was a
little sad to say goodbye. I don’t get
to see the ocean very often.
At the control we ran into the rider we had previously seen
in Leucadia. We picked up receipts and
left quickly after eating a little more: only 15 miles to go, but mainly
uphill. There was no way for this not to
be better than my previous experience since my saddle was not pointing straight
up. But it was very cold as we passed
along the canyon and alongside the stream, no ducks or turtles in sight.
The gentle climbs back to Poway on the 56 trail were another
interesting part of the ride; after Wednesday, it was simply going to be 100
times easier for me. By this time, the
sun was coming up and we were to be treated to our second sunrise of the
ride. But the last climb was somewhat
long and tedious and I could sense our pace slowing. So I did the only thing a real Pisces would
do in such a situation, I brought up a subject to discuss that would get the
blood going: medical politics and weddings.
Sure enough, we were quickly on the top of the ridge looking at a
beautiful sunrise to Lisa’s great surprise, “I missed that whole hill”. And they say I can’t motivate people!
We both just wanted to be done and darn, it was going to be
rush hour, AGAIN. Fortunately, this was
a Saturday rush hour and not nearly so painful.
The last 5 miles were ones that we just wanted to be done and it was a
relief to finally finish at the Best Western with a full hour in the bank; not
my fastest 400k, but certainly both the hilliest and one of my favorites.
Epilogue
We realized at the finish that we had inadvertently been
given the wrong pre-printed cards. After
much organizing of receipts and artwork on the cards we had, we finally came up
with something that we hoped would work.
Frankly, we were fading a bit.
Getting the bikes into the Mazda was an adventure.
My great thanks to Dennis Stryker and Greg Olmstead for
organizing so many rides in one week.
Brevet week must be at least as stressful for an RBA as it is on a
rider. Lisa participated on every day of
brevet week, riding almost 1000k in terrain much hillier than PBP, finishing
with the hilliest 400k I have ever had the pleasure of riding. Wisconsin, bow down to the superior climbing
landscape! My great thanks to Shaun as
well, who is super cool for a guy and put up with a strange woman monopolizing
his wife for 4 days. He and IronK are
destined for a night on the town. Lisa and I both owe a great deal to the supportive spouses that keep us going.
Needless to say, this ride was a joint effort, each of us
helping each other get through the many challenges. In the middle of the night, when strange
pickup trucks park nearby or when it is cold and doubts creep in, having a
friend to share it with makes all the difference. I’ve not found anyone else with so similar a
style to my own or a better friend in the night and who else would risk their 400k on someone who could only train on a spin bike for a ride like this? Perhaps I do have a twin.
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