Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Grand Safari in the Urban Jungle – Brevet Week in San Diego

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.
 
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.
 
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.
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….
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.
 
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.
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).
The 56 Trail

The trail led around and up and finally we crested onto a beautiful ridge where we turned down towards Poway. 
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.
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.


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.
Entrance to the Historic Downtown

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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