Dumbest funnest ride ever

Well, we needed to do some heat training - and Humboldt County is no place for that. And hill training. So - why not put them together, right? There's some very hot, hilly country between here and Redding, and that's where we headed. We found it, and took full advantage of its charms.
We packed a cooler full of all sorts of good things and headed out with the dawn to Hayfork, CA. The idea was to go to the fairgrounds, ride a 70-mile loop, and return to the car for a nice lunch before heading out to do a second, shorter, easier loop.
Great plan.
We were slowed slightly at the start by Bill's headset, which wanted a bit of tightening. He managed that with great effort marred by a lack of tools (memo to self: we've got a good-sized truck at our disposal, might as well bring a tool kit...). But I figure it wasn't much past 9:30 by the time we took off.
Five bottles between us - a little short, but - should be enough, and we'll find more along the way. You always do, right?
We were dinking around on the road to Hyampom - enjoying the warm-but-not-hot sun and the spectacular views. Few if any cars, one construction zone (no one working on a Sunday), and one moderate climb put us in the settlement of Hyampom. I spotted a lot of birds. I meant to take some pictures but I got sidetracked, enjoying myself.
I am guessing that "Hyampom" is an old Indian word meaning "many tiny rocks" because the road surface was peppered with gravel for much of the ride. To make things trickier, the rocks were exactly the same color as the surrounding (generally very good) pavement, so you had very little warning if you were traveling downhill at any speed. Both Bill and I had near-misses with the gravel on inside corners early on, so we dialed back the descents (bummer).
The route did not dial back the climbs! After Hyampom, the first "real" climb came on - 2700' in a bit more than 5 miles. For those who are keeping track, that's almost a 10% average grade. If this sounds a little bit like a great training hill for Townes' Pass, well - Bill will be racing FC508 this year with the coolest totem ever: Pirate Fish. 
For those sports fans who are trying to envision poor ME slugging up a hill that's a great training hill for Pirate Fish's 508 - have no fear! I actually did pretty well. Typically grades like this would have had me walking - but the Pink Catillac ate it right up. At the bottom of the hill, Bill tried to bright-side the upcoming adventure: "Well, the next 6-7 miles are at mostly 8% plus..." neatly avoiding the reality that the cue sheet clearly stated 8-12%, as in - "actually, quite a bit of 12%, and the 7% bits will feel like relief".
The gearing on the Cat was near-perfect. I used the 36/36 a fair bit, but I was able to punch it up a gear or two from time to time. The handling was SO stable that I was able to reach for my water bottle - something that has always been a chore on the Carbent no matter how diligently I practice.
So reach I did. Over and over. Right up to the point where the reality hit me: we were going to run out of water. There were no two ways about it. Bill had three water bottles, but that was just putting off the inevitable. It was going to require some tricky calculus: what is the optimal speed to ride which will minimize my water need but still get us back to the truck before sheer exposure takes its toll?  I made my best WAG and settled in, knowing that Bill was quite a ways ahead of me, hopefully doing the same math and coming to similar conclusions.
Within a mile of the top of the hill, I shifted into the biggest rear cog for some 1:1 climbing action, and - drats - overshifted, jamming the chain between the spokes and the cassette body. This felled me like an ox, and I was more than a little pissed off. By this time I was hopeful that Bill had gotten tired of waiting for me at the top, and would be coming along to see what was wrong. Sadly, he is a very patient man...so I got to fix the problem on my own. Took some doing to extract the chain, get everything reset, and back on my way. About the time I was starting up again, a guy came by and started peppering me with questions: "Is that another one of those laydown bikes?" " Is it hard going down hills on them?" ...
Just as I was underway and doing well again, here comes Bill - I'd finally worn him down, and he was starting to worry. One look at my grease-covered self told the story.
When we got to the top, Bill asked me how I was doing for water, and topped up my second bottle. Except - it wasn't the top - it was a saddle. We still had quite a bit of rolling uphill climbing to the real summit. We poked along - I was in serious conservation mode. Can't risk a cramp if you don't have water. Cramps require salt, and salt requires water, and water's what we don't have. Bill would edge ahead and wait. Once, he came rolling back at me, arm cocked. No - seriously? Yep - he threw a snowball at me! There was snow. Why we didn't think about it at that point is beyond me, except that we were still in a "well, we've got SOME water" denial.
At the turnoff to FR16 we met a passerby in a minivan. She was happy to give us all the water she had - about half a bottle's worth - and urged us to go back with her to her cabin to refill, but it was quite a ways backward and - brain-addled, dehydrated optimists that we were - we were confident that we would be Just Fine....
After a bit of a descent, we started another major climb. Although this one wasn't as steep, it sure was LONG. By now we had something like 18 miles to go, we were totally out of water, and we'd come here for - remember? - HEAT TRAINING, which turned out to be the wildly successful part of our plan(though at the upper elevations it honestly wasn't so bad). This hill was NOT ending. I could see Bill ahead of me (good news, either I was speeding up, or he was slowing down, or maybe a little of both) and that gave me some gauge of where the road was going. I could see ahead to where the road crossed a smallish creek. I started fantasizing about the cool water that we'd find there. Giardia be damned!
Bill and I were riding together when we got to the creek. We looked at each other - both thinking the same thought. The water wasn't exactly INaccessible, but - quite a scramble down, then quite a scramble back up. Between one thing and another, the risk of injury was there. Surely we were almost at the top of this sucker...
Well, "almost" is a very subjective word, but I'd not say we were "almost" there - a couple more miles of "can this be for REAL???" climbing ensued before we were at the top. Somewhere in there, the thought hit me that - hey - it's been a while since I've gotten any MORE thirsty, so maybe we're going to be okay here. Within minutes after that thought, I started to get a pretty wicked headache, which I knew was the dehydration talking. Crap! I remembered Bill's snowball. If we got lucky, we'd find a patch of snow in a shady curve somewhere along the way.
Very near the summit, we got lucky. Snow cones at 4500' on a waterless heat training day is good eats, folks!  We passed on the flavored syrup, though I realized later that I could've pulled a peppermint stick GU out of my bag. I was happy to trade in the dehydration headache for brain freeze.
After we got enough in to be more or less out of the woods, we filled our water bottles (this is the part where I get to feel smart for bringing one non-insulated one so the snow would actually melt), popped over the summit, and headed down the other side. When we hit Big Creek, we were finally able to sustain some speed. I was really happy to see that even after the long draught we both had some pretty good looking legspeed. We hit the town of Hayfork like a tornado - kids and pets staring shamelessly at the parade, us grinning like the idiots we were at having cheated death and had so much fun doing it.
We got back to the car and packed it in. The second loop would have to wait for another day. We had a great tailgate picnic - sandwiches, potato salad, cantaloupe, and a lot of fluids had us feeling pretty chipper.
As a measure of the success of this ride - I was feeling pretty stoked that in my mind the first major climb was "probably as hard as Panther Gap" - the first really big climb on the Tour of the Unknown Coast, which I can manage on the Carbent, but with difficulty. When we got home, Bill loaded up his Delorme Topo and compared the two. The Hyampom climb averages about 2% STEEPER, and I had done it with less effort than I typically use for Panther Gap.
I'd say that the Pink CATillac gets some serious props as a climbing bike. Sure, she's not the lightest kid on the block, but balance, handling, and attitude are all working for her.

A Little Bit Big Cat, a Little Bit Hello Kitty: Meet the Pink CATillac

After three years riding ‘bent, I’d never tried anything but a Carbent. I’ve been itching to branch out. And I’m a sucker for small-run, American-built bikes. I like the knowledge of the honest work that goes into them. In addition to my Carbents, I’ve owned two Cannondales, a Teesdale, an Ibis, and a Chris Chance. Yes, Virginia – once upon a time, Cannondale was a small company that hand-built its bikes! Being part of the craft process of bike building was the lure of working for Bike Friday, for sure.

And…kudos to those fine folks in Marketing! Something in that teaser video just got my attention and wouldn’t let me go. Was it the taiko drums? The dynamic tension created by the blowing leaf at 1:06? The checkerboard socks? I’ve never been a hands-off gal, but – if the bike’s that stable, shouldn’t I at least give it a whirl? Whatever it was, I was hooked.

So I started my inquiries. But it turned out that I was TOO LATE – the CatBIKE Musashi was going out of production. Aaaah. Then, unthinkable grace: one more production run! Mark Egelund very generously offered to put a bike in the queue for me. I jumped at the chance. The only question was COLOR.

It had NOT escaped me, sports fans, that one MORE nice thing about the Musashi was that I could pick a color. My Carbents came in any color I want – so long as it was black. Other brands have few or no color choices (even if you like orange, apparently it is not an option…).

I LOVE baby pictures - this is my frame being welded.

So – I like pink. It’s not that I like pink to the exclusion of all other colors, or even that it’s my “Favorite” color. But pink and me, we go ‘way back. Here’s some takeaway advice for you: if you’re getting a bike built, and you can have it whatever color you want, it’s not a time to dream small, or dream safe. And if your jersey collection happens to look like mine, you’d best get the pink bike:

Turns out I was doubly in luck on the pink front. Not only does Catrike make a pink bike, but – they were making a run of “bubblegum pink” bikes –a paler shade of pink that I thought would be absolutely smashing. Did it hurt one bit that I’d just scored a great price on a set of bubblegum pink Velocity training hoops on eBay? No, it did not. So – Bubblegum pink it was. It would take a couple of weeks to get the frame built…and a couple more waiting for finishing touches. If you’ve ever had a bike built just-for-you, you know that’s a pretty fantastic turnaround.

The final frame color was even a little bit paler than I’d imagined – I love it! The first time I saw it, it reminded me of something…but I couldn’t quite place it. Then, during an incredibly sleepy drive up the 101, Bill cranked the tunes to keep us awake. Wouldn’t you know it – the first song that came up was The Boss: “Pink Cadillac”. THAT’S IT!! The bike is the color of a 1950’s Cadillac. How cool is that? 

And so she became the Pink CATillac. Once I got (ahem) rolling on the “Pink Caddy” theme, it just kept getting better. A couple of Cat cages, painted metallic silver: dual exhaust pipes! I repainted the boom and handlebars white because I thought that would look cool. Memo to self: it does.

Pink CATillac before parts installation. Click on arrow below for theme music!!

I started accumulating parts in anticipation of the frame’s March arrival. The parts mix runs the gamut from indulgent to practical. I put on an FSA K Force Light crankset, with an unusual 52/36 chainring set. 50/34 would’ve been stock on the bike, but I wanted a little more top end. Since I NEED more low end to make it up some of Humboldt County’s more famous hills, I stepped it up to an 11-36 cassette. If I need more than a 1:1, I’ve got no one to blame but me, right? A SRAM X0 rear derailleur isn’t really a luxury item, but finding it in pink takes some doing. Ditto for the KMC “Pink Lady” chain(s). I’d also like to give a shout out to Crankskins.com – they make color-matched decals for cranks. I had a devil of a time finding the best front brake – there was more drop on the fork than I anticipated, so I needed a fairly long reach brake. I found it – in white, no less. Thanks HoosierBike!

mid-build. Getting closer...

The front derailleur is a DuraAce that I had lying around. And I’m driving the whole works with Ultegra barend shifters, set to friction mode –again, something that I kinda just had lying around. Yes – Shimano and SRAM. Ebony and ivory…together in perfect harmony. I had a bugger of a time figuring out why it didn’t work at first –the same setup works perfectly on Bill’s bike. The relevant difference was that Bill’s bike has the shifters mounted on Paul Thumbies (see Larry Varney’s excellent review here). It turns out that the SRAM shifter takes more pull than a Shimano does, and what limits the pull on a Shimano barend shifter is hard interference with the shifter boss…so moving the shifter to a thumbie makes it cross-compatible with a SRAM derailleur. Who knew? Bill just got the Thumbies because they’re comfortable.

extremely gratuitous dog shot - say Hi, Cog!

white cockpit. 

crankskins.com

The Pink CATillac

here's what's goin' on in the back...

if it's worth doing, it's worth OVERdoing....pink derailleur and chain. 

pink and white goatskin leather - heated leather seats, anyone?

Bike setup is is incredibly straightforward. The chainlines are good, and the cable routing is clean. For some reason I was thinking that I would be using a few links less chain than I do with the Carbent; turns out that I use a couple links more (good thing I got the light stuff, right?). The seat – wow. Very, incredibly comfortable. The only “problem” I had with the seat, if you can call it that, is that it is so transitionless that I couldn’t decipher where to plunk my butt down at first. With a hardshell seat, yeah, you’ve got options, but you’ve also got...guidance. The first time I set the bike up, I ended up perched on the edge of the seat, so I had the boom extended out further than I needed. When I brought it back, I was more “in” the bike. Nice!

The headrest is nicer than any other that I’ve used or seen. It’s light, easy to adjust, and well-padded. And it’s pink. Apologies in advance to Mark for ratting him out…these really only come stock in black and it’s extra nice of him to get one done up in pink. Please, please don’t inundate him with special requests. But mine is cool, huh?

Fit-wise, like on most recumbents, there’s a dynamic connection between knee clearance, sight lines, and arm reach. I solved the equation by using an extra long tweener bar and a very long (135mm!) stem – so the front end goes OUT a long way to accommodate my knees, and BACK a long way to make a comfortable reach. I was fitted to the “small” frame. My X-seam is a paltry 41.5, but it’s complicated because I have cruelly long femurs – which means extra tweaking to keep my knees off the bars. With a small front wheel, there’s no issue with sight lines – I’ve got a great view of the world in front of me.

So – after all of that, it’s time to actually ride the thing, right? Oh, my my, Oh heck yes! The ride is sweet. After a few shorter rides, I took the bike on the local Latte Warriors Sunday ride - a group ride to Trinidad and back. The low-speed handling is exceptional - no "slow wobble", and the descending speed and handling are better than I expected (and I expected a lot). And the bike eats up Humbolt County "pavement" - a gritty, gravelly network of potholes loosely bound by cow flop - like nobody's business. Who says aluminum can't be comfortable? 

After a Latte ride that was as much birthday party as anything Bill and I took off for a side trip to one of Humboldt County's more famous hills: Fieldbrook. Fieldbrook isn't the longest climb around, nor the steepest, but it's the modal local hill - nearly everyone climbs it often, and it's enough of a challenge to be representative of "climbing". The Musashi weighs a bit more than the Raven - I've got it dressed out something north of 25# as opposed to the 19# Carbent. So far the climbing speed is comparable, though. The Musashi responds very well to being pushed on at low cadence - a habit of mine that the Raven clearly resents. Although I don't have a definitive time, I wasn't as far behind Bill as I usually am - though he could have been dogging it. 

He was NOT dogging it on the way down Fieldbrook, though. The descent off the far side is the local measuring stick for descending speed. Again, I didn't have a cyclometer up and running (mine is still set for a 700c front wheel), but Bill set his personal PR of 60.0 mph - and I was gaining on him at the time. That compares favorably to my personal best of 56.1 on the Raven, and I never felt like I was approaching the edge of comfort.

The next ride was a legit century down to the Avenue of the Giants. In addition to having a great time and really enjoying riding the bike, we got another chance to test out the Musashi's stability. A big truck close-passed us along 101; at the time we were hauling along pretty good and were mainly staying ahead of a bit of a crosswind. Bill was (aHEM...) behind me at the time, on a high racer - one of the most popular Blue Bikes out there. He felt the truck buffet him and his bike gave him a slightly disconcerting shudder. Not a huge one, but noticeable. He was however alert enough to notice that my bike didn't budge when the truck came roaring past. Yep - I felt it, too...but the bike just didn't seem to care. It just kept on doing what it was supposed to do. That impressed both of us. 

The bike felt ridiculously low at first – I find myself working extra hard to make eye contact with drivers, just to make sure that they see me. Which should not be a problem – it is really, really, REALLY pink. I have noticed that, despite the bike industry’s fascination with “Screaming Yellow” (this is an actual Pearl Izumi color name!), PINK is a lot more visible to drivers because it is the epitome of “unexpected”. If there’s a pink-jacketed, pink-helmeted, pink-shod (yes, really) woman out there on a pink bike, it gets noticed. I’m reminded of Chris Hopkinson, who was pinked-out to the max for the Ring of Fire timetrial a few years back. Someone asked him if he was cycling for, um, you know, “awareness” – to which he replied, “Yes. Awareness. Of car smashes.” Hey, maybe pink IS my favorite color….

   

Happy Valentines' Day from the Luckiest Person in the World!!!

Bill is the "woo" in my "woo-hoo"!!! 

One Fine Day, Reprise - UMCA 12/24 Hour Road Record Attempt

The attempt was done on a course that had been set up and certified by Chris Ragsdale. He’d used it for a 1000-kilometer attempt last year. And - photo credits to Duncan Watson and David Bradley. 


We arrived in La Conner on Friday afternoon. We expected to have to do some digging to find the survey points, but everything was there and clearly marked, leaving nothing to do but sweep the course, and send me out on a test lap while the crew inspected the course for debris. 

Bill and John sweeping the course Friday afternoon

One unanticipated bonus feature on the course was a portable toilet that was (a) open, (b) freshly serviced, and (c) right on the course. Although it may have been faster to pee roadside, I decided that the available facility was a great compromise: it looked like what traffic was out there was going to be tourists, and I’m likely not the scenery they were looking for.

"my" Honey Bucket! 

We also checked in with the folks at the Queen of the Valley Inn – the bed and breakfast inn at the start/finish. Yep – this is a very civilized course! We had rooms there Saturday night, but for Friday we were fortunate to have a homestay with local ultracyclist Scott Youngren. After checking out the course, we got dinner, did some shopping, and turned in early. I slept about as well as I normally do the night before a big event.

Queen of the Valley Inn

We got underway at 6:40 AM. We’d been shooting for 6:30, but – a day’s a day, and that last trip to the porta-pot was worth every minute.  Early weather was cool (low 50’s), cloudy, and relatively calm. I knew I would have to make very good time in the early going, as we anticipated that the wind would increase during the afternoon.

John,  shortly before the start

My focus early on was steady effort and rock-solid cornering. The 10.8+ mile course has six corners plus a traffic roundabout. Over the course of 24 hours I would be doing a LOT of cornering, which means I had far too many opportunities to ride extra distance without credit. The traffic roundabout was a nice feature, actually, even though it slowed me down a few times. The survey map makes it look like you can pick a straight line through it, which you can’t, quite. Making a game out of seeing how fast I could exit that roundabout was a great motivational tool. On a course that was pretty static otherwise, it might have actually have been a benefit to have a challenging section like that. 

UMCA official Elise Ross notes my lap split

As I usually do, I got a cramp in my left adductor about 4 hours into the race. We spent a minute sorting that out. It just seems to happen with hard efforts, and this was a hard effort. By that point, the wind was definitely picking up, and I knew that I’d been smart to get well ahead of pace. Although the wind wasn’t raging as much as it can be through the valley, there was enough to make it a factor. The most annoying thing was that it was never consistent from lap to lap. Winds swirl through there quite a bit, affected by the Sound, the foothills, and thermal gradients. One lap I’d attack the northbound leg into a headwind, have a tailwind on the eastbound leg, a mild crosswind down the south leg, and a stiff headwind on the westbound…make the corner braced for more headwind, and find myself mysteriously riding along at 24 mph…Next lap, I’d do the same leg at 18 with a headwind (or, as I prefer to think of it, an “in-your-face tailwind”).

what goes around, comes around....same ol' thing

Shortly after the winds came out, the fans came out as well! I was amazed to see Mick and Martha Walsh, Tim Turner, and a bunch of other folks, including a lot of the Seattle International Randonneurs club. Guess what? Having people out there cheering really makes a difference.
Coming in toward the start/finish I could see that someone had chalked the pavement. From a recumbent viewpoint, that’s really hard to see on flat ground, so I had to piece it together just a little bit at the time. “We’re…something”. Crap. Missed it. Next lap, I'll try again! Seventeenth lap, I finally got it: We’re the luckiest people in the world. Thanks, Mick!!! I made it a point to go faster over that spot for the rest of the race.


Early in the second six hours, I got my only flat tire of the day. Despite all the work by the crew to get debris off the pavement, I’d picked up a wire fragment, probably from a car tire. We were on our way quickly, but I spent a couple of laps without the disk wheel while the problem got diagnosed and fixed. We changed back to it at my next pit stop. I'd been working a little harder to maintain the speed without the disk; it was nice to have it back. 


A couple of times I was called upon to prove that I am, indeed, faster than farm equipment. I would like to think that I rose to that challenge, though I am told that I scared the bejeebers out of my crew with one pass.

hang on to your bejeebers, lads - she's gonna pass this behemoth!

The crew was excellent at keeping me on track for nutrition. We went 24 hours without a single missed (or even poor) handoff, which is a testament to how invested everyone was. Race fuel was my usual mish-mash: York Peppermint patties, Boost, Los Bagels fare, stroopwafels, pizza, mashed potatoes, soup, and one stray corn dog. Food logs show that I averaged 250 kcal and 12 oz of fluid per hour. The fluid value is low, but the weather was very moderate and nearly all overcast. Ibuprofen was doing its job keeping my hotfoot in the manageable range. I kept the left shoe loose, and I seldom felt that I was throttling back the effort to manage my foot. The shoe was so loose that I had trouble clipping out – the shoe would eject my foot before the cleat disengaged – but that was far better than letting a tight shoe force me into soft-pedaling. 


I was closing in on the 12-hour record when I got a second leg cramp. This time, my right sartorius seized up. Big cramp – end-to-end of the muscle. I really didn’t have the time or inclination to stop, so I continued on. A few minutes of very stern concentration later, I had successfully banished the cramp. This was the first time I’d been successful at riding through a significant cramp on a recumbent; it's extremely difficult to find positions that stretch a cramping thigh muscle. I guess that’s an accomplishment, though one I’d rather have saved for a training ride.


At the 12-hour mark, David, the head official, counted me down. Our arrangement was that I would squirt water from my water bottle straight down at his command; this would be the location that he would mark for the record distance. It might be conservative by a foot or two, but I was fine with that. Except that my water bottle was full of Coke: somewhere in La Conner, Washington, an ant is smiling right now. I sped up a little bit for the countdown, but I didn’t knock myself out – still 12 hours to go. 

Early in the 2nd 12 hours

As we got closer to nightfall, the winds did die down a bit, which was much appreciated.
Laps kept coming around. I’m told that the innkeeper shuttled cookies out to the officials and crew. I saw one deer cross my path. I had an iPod loaded with some pretty good riding music.
I was riding steady at night – but overall a little slower than during the day. I was fine with this. I’ve never been a negative split rider under the best of circumstances, and having put the pressure on to hit both the 12 and 24-hour marks had meant that I probably did more work early than I normally would. My “A” goal of 462 miles was clearly out the window, but my “B” goal of 440 was solid. Just stay on the bike.

keep...

....going.

More time. More laps. Caffeine gum to keep me alert.  We’ve got two flavors of military-spec caffeinated gum; both taste awful, but that’s okay because they’re doing the job. I’ve affectionately named them “Bitter Red Hot” (cinnamon) and “Disappoint Mint” (mint).
Although I couldn’t see my speedometer well at night, I could tell when I was slowing down: “Time for your caffeine treats!” as Mark’s disembodied hand reached out the window.


About twenty-two hours in, the unthinkable: I accidentally swallowed a good-sized bolus of air along with some killer-good mashed potatoes. I could actually feel the air bubble travel down the pipes and – I swear – bounce. I could tell right away that it wasn’t a happy event. Mind races:“OK, it feels gross. But it may go away. Keep pedaling. OK, it won’t go away. But you still may not have to puke. OK, pull over….” A couple of moments lost to the heaves, then back on my way, now packing a water bottle full of ginger ale.


At this point, I’m a little bummed. I know from experience that it usually takes a couple of hours of hard work at slow pedaling to bring a stomach around – and that’s all the time I’ve got. So the best case is probably that I can keep it moving forward slowly, and hopefully I can speed up toward the end. I don’t need a permanent fix for the stomach – just a truce that we can both live with until 6:40 AM.


Riding along. Sipping ginger ale, which I’m carefully swishing around in my mouth to destroy any and all traces of bubbliness. Every so often I tested the system, bring the speed up above 15 mph – nope, not yet, keep that up and you’ll heave again. Drat. We came in to the start-finish at just around 6AM, and as I rolled through I informed the officials that I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t quite complete the next lap, as much as I wanted to. They were prepared either way.


It feels like I’m CRAWLING the last lap. But we’re making distance, and distance is what we need. I figured that I need around 7 miles to go over the 440 mile mark, and I know that double-digit speed is pretty much all that’s required. Ride steady. Sip ginger ale. Don’t push. Don’t barf.
With 10 minutes to go, I was pretty sure that I’d made it. The rest was gravy. I nudged the speed up a bit. When David started counting down the minutes at 5, I sped up more.


On his count, I squirted the pavement again to mark my finishing spot and coasted ahead to the nearest safe pullout, just around the corner. I came closer than I figured I would to finishing the last lap – less than 2 miles out.

I. Am. Toast. 

I was sufficiently spent that it took some time and tactics to remove me from the bike. Once extracted, I spent the next few minutes decorating the hood of the follow vehicle with ginger ale.
After the officials marked the finishing spot, we all piled into vehicles and drove back to the inn. After a very short catnap, I eased myself into, and eventually out of, a sunken Jacuzzi tub - no mean feat - and headed into the gathering room. The innkeepers put together an amazing farm breakfast for us; it was so nice to not have to go anywhere, or for that matter even think about what we’d do for breakfast.

The team waits for me to come around at the B&B. 

As ever, there’s a very long list of folks who contributed to this effort. I owe each and every one of them a debt of gratitude. In addition to a lot of well-wishers and cheerers…

• My crew chief and biggest fan, Bill Spaeth
• John Vincent, who agreed to come crew on very short notice
• Scott Youngren (and son John), who came on for the night shift and gave us a warm welcome on Friday
• Mark Biedrzycki – workin’ on the night crew
• David Bradley – head official
• Elise Ross and Duncan Watson – officials
• Queen of the Valley Inn – hospitality above and beyond
• Los Bagels – amazing bagels, spreads, and cookies
• Bent Up Cycles – makers of the Carbent Raven

Equipment used: 

• Carbent Raven
• Wheelbuilder wheel covers (rear) 
• Mavic Cosmic Carbone SL (front)
• Michelin Pro 3 Race tires (pink!)
• Nutrition - mixed sources, 6400 kcal
• Hydration - mixed sources - 278 fl. oz.

Hasta la proxima!!!!

24 Hours of La Conner - the waiting is the hardest part

We're making final preparations. Bikes - check. Spare wheels - check. Shoes, helmet (yay! New pink helmet!), food, drink, stopwatches. A UMCA record is a serious undertaking, and we're taking it serious to the max. David is verifying the calibration of my Oregon Scientific clock. In theory it can't be off, but the rules require that an official verify the timepiece, so that's what we're doing.
I'm nervous - a little - and part of me wishes that we were at it, already, so that I can get past the waiting.
I'm supposed to be tapering. I'll not count the spin class that I taught last night...surprise! Well, if the regular instructor's sick, someone needs to fill in, and I've called in my fair share of favors. Now I'll just do a couple of test rides from here out. My legs will hate me for that, but it's what I've gotta do.
Watch David's twitter feed for course updates: @drbradley.
Tailwinds,
Sandy

It's Not About the Pony - Race Across Oregon 2011

We had a fantastic race – reasonable weather, fantastic crew, good racing, and a nail-biter finish. And yet, as we were mugging for pictures, wearing big grins and finishers' medals, David couldn't help but put in, “now when you write this up, please remember something else besides the pony”....

So I'll put it out there, right now: This Was Not A Race About A Pony. The pony was strictly not necessary to our success. It was found quite by accident, in a parking lot near where we were to pick up David from the parade start. Both racers were supposed to ride the parade together; I gave David my slot since I'd already seen this stretch – and it's so awesome that I wanted to be sure that he got a chance, too.

Still, you don't just leave a pony lying around. And he fit rather nicely on the roof rack: one front hoof hooked over the front wheel tray, and one rear fetlock clasped by the rear wheel strap. We collected David, helped him find his shoes (-:, and spent a couple of minutes finishing the pony installation with zip ties. That couple of minutes meant that we were the last team in the parking lot when it became clear that Cheney – the poor, long-suffering bastard who'd driven late into the night to get here due to a car breakdown – had not been picked up by his crew. We ended up driving him to The Dalles to meet up with his crew, who were a little surprised to find him missing. I don't know where they expected him to be...

the team pony - name TBA

We'd previewed the first 20 miles of the race yesterday, so we knew (A) that Bill wouldn't get lost, and (B) Bill had a heck of a warmup hill in his first pull. After picking up Cheney, we made a quick stop at the Fred Meyers (just north of the meetup point, on Cherry Heights) to pick up the few supplies we'd missed getting yesterday. We did a good job of using available time: by the time we got parked, I had just enough time to check over my bike and take one last pee (memo to self: peeing in the bushes + fluorescent helmet = not so stealthy), the first racers were appearing. Moments later, here's Bill! He did a great job of putting us right in the thick of things. I gave us a 2-second advantage on the rest of the crowd by being the first rocket scientist to figure out that the best place to make our exchange might be AT the stop sign, instead of 20 yards past it.

Off I went, through the heart of The Dalles. Lots of stop signs, so I was on the DF (easier to get it up to speed quickly). Before you know it, I made a couple of turns and headed up 197 toward Dufur. The sun was shining, and I was feeling pretty good. And just like that, it was Bill's turn to race again.

Ian and David racked my bike, and I hopped into the van to recharge. Job #1 is to leave a message for Bill. When David and Bill did RAO together (2008), Bill's one comment was that he'd been a little hesitant to go all-out because he didn't know how David was feeling. We decided that we'd use a white board to leave each other updates on how things were going. My first update was pretty businesslike:

“Intensity 8.5. Feels good. Watch heat: I think it's gonna get warmer than we think it's gonna get”.

Then – hydrate-hydrate-hydrate, grab something to eat (I thought I'd had a good breakfast, but I'd clearly run right through), and get ready...

'Cause here I go again. On into Dufur and a bit past before Bill took over. I got into the van. “Intensity is GOOD. Did you sunscreen? XOX”. Bill was doing well! As a matter of fact, I did sunscreen – but I'm glad he asked; I'm a lot more likely to forget than he is. “Yep – sunscreen. Horchata + Power Recovery = awesome. You look great out there!”

Bill relaxing(?) in the van.

Bill rounded the turn onto Dufur Gap. I got a good chunk of this part, then Bill punches it over the top and onto 197. We race down the hill in the van and barely get set up in time for me to take over at the turn onto 216. “Woo-hoo! Awesome riding!”. I'm flying along 216 – I've ridden this stretch a BUNCH of times for Ring of Fire and I know every little bump. I got enough steam going to roll “12 Mile Bump” (because it comes at mile 12 of the Ring of Fire loop) very nicely. I slowed down just a touch for 15 Mile Bump and headed down to the river with as much speed as I could handle. Somewhere in the turn at the bridge, it occurred to me that I wasn't 100% certain that I'd seen the van go past...and I hadn't. They'd underestimated my speed and were behind me; as I pulled over at our designated meetup point (hey, it's a porta-potty and I was NOT going to be denied) I could just make out the van in my rear view mirror. That was a nice pull!

motorin'!!!

Back in the van. Now it was Bill's turn, up a steep hill without any pullouts, so he was on his own. He's taken water and food. We would be able to support him in about a half an hour's riding, so we spent a few minutes reapplying sunscreen, washing up a bit, and making sandwiches. I got into the van. By now, the first thing I wanted to do when I got off the bike is to get my hands on that white board! “Worked pretty hard that last pull. Legs a little twitchy.” Bill HAS been working hard. I was glad that I pushed hard on the last pull; it made me feel more like I'm being the teammate he deserves. “Feeling good, last pull 9.0 and lovin' it. Keep drinking! XOXOX – PS Can I keep the pony???”

exchange between Tygh Valley and Grass Valley

David dumped me out at the top of the steep section. A little more flattish climbing on the 'bent and then it's going to be rollers for a while. I took off, working hard. Half an hour (or so) later, back in the van: “Of course you can keep the pony! What's its name? Maybe we can stable it at Rick and Wendy's?” OK, now we're starting to get silly. But I LIKE silly.

Moving right along...Moro (time station #2). Here's Dierdre! Woo-hoo!!!! Bill made the right-hand turn. We kept going. More racing. More passing notes on the white board. “Flat tire was a piece of tire wire – be careful out there!” Sometimes I'd get in the van and just start cracking up. “Anything you'd care to share?” asked David, expectantly. Sometimes yes, sometimes...nah. I considered taking photos of the white board comments, just for the record. Then I decided that what made them cool was that there were temporary. David started referring to them as our “analog Twitter feed”.

Gassed up in Condon. I headed through town and off toward Heppner while the van re-fueled. They brought me ice cream. I was happy: the sun was shining, we were racing, and I had ice cream AND a pony. Can't hardly get any better than that.

David gets his photo in the blog because he got me ice cream - twice.

Up and over the next big hill. We took turns as best we could. Bill was riding a lot faster uphill than me – but we expected that. Approaching the top, we made one more swap: I'm going to take the DF up the last bit and then down a ways. Just before the summit, my right pedal felt weird. Really, really weird. Then it felt even weirder when the pedal body ejected off of the spindle. That necessitated a quick bike/rider swap while we sorted out our options. Fortunately David and I wear the same size shoes, and even more fortunately, he'd brought shoes and pedals along just in case he'd been able to squeeze a ride in while we were traveling. I was a little grumpy that the pedal had decided to give up more or less at the top of a hill.“Sure, you get a great descent, and all I get is a busted pedal”. “STOP BREAKING THINGS!!! xoxox”

Between flat tires, pedal shenanigans, and our general pace of operation, we were going to be a few minutes shy of getting to Heppner by 7PM – the start of mandatory night follow - so David took the van ahead to refill gas while I plugged along. Since we'd just gassed in Condon, it was a quick and easy trip. Final descent into Heppner. Lights on – check! Music – check! I thought it was amusing when we played “Horse Power”...”The pony's talking to you! GO BILL!! WOO-HOO!!!”

At dusk, the owls came. I have seen owls out on the course before – but I've never seen them be so numerous, so concentrated, or so determined. There was at least one family of parent and owlets, teaching the young ones to hunt. I guess that something big and slow, like a cyclist with a fluorescent pink helmet, makes a good training target: I was dive-bombed at fairly close range. “Maybe I shouldn't have polished your helmet with mouse-scented Pledge...” I heard that other racers were being menaced by cougars; I had my hands full with the owls...We keyed them out afterward as being (most likely) short-eared owls. This photo essay makes me very glad to not be a mouse!

http://www.utahbirds.org/featarts/ShortEaredOwl.htm

Battle Mountain – businesslike. We got it done. At the top, Bill is going to get the long pull down into Dale. This seems sort of backwards to me, but – hey, we're a team. I rolled up onto the bunk and pretended to sleep. “Sweet Dreams, Overlord!” (this is a reference to my RAW crew shirt, which lists my team role as “Overlord” - I did not complain at the time, and “sweet dreams, Overlord” does have a rather nice ring to it).

Bill flies toward Dale, OR!

Bill actually rolled a bit past Dale, almost to the top of the next steep pitch, before I took over. Lots of climbing. It's the middle of the night. I was doing my best but I didn't feel quite right. Breathing wasn't where I expect it to be. But this was Bill's only chance to sleep, and he's one racer who does MUCH better if he gets sleep – so I'm going to suck it up. “Be the teammate he deserves” was my mantra for this stretch. I got us to Long Creek, then made the turn toward Monument. By now the breathing was really bothering me. I considered cutting it short, but I didn't. I wasn't going to be able to completely polish off the Monument climb; I left some of it for Bill. Despite our pact to be honest with each other about how we're doing, I made sure to get him on his way for this pull without letting him know that I was having problems.

He knocked off the rest of the Monument climb and we had some relatively easy miles (in theory) racing in to Spray. My breathing, which had been crappy on the upright, was atrocious on the recumbent: gravity is working against solid chest expansion. I had to force myself to remember good breathing technique – expand from the diaphragm first, forcefully, every breath – just to stay in the game. I gave what I could for a pull and got back into the van. Reluctantly, I grabbed the white board...”Some trouble breathing, working through it, mainly okay...”

Turns out, Bill was having some of the same issues – fortunately not quite as bad as I was. We're pretty certain that pollen was to blame. Spring had come late and there was a lot of blooming going on. I remember how lovely the sage smelled....

Just short of Spray my digestive system woke up and decided that it was time to get to its daily work. I really didn't want to force another stop during night follow hours.... We were very lucky to find a restroom at...7:01(???) - Muleshoe Recreation Area. Good vault toilet, will be in the route book next year! This is the second race in a row where Bill has been abandoned right at 7AM to expedite a restroom mission.

By the time we got to Service Creek, it was clear that it was going to be warm. “Glad we'll be done with Clarno before it gets TOO hot!” Up and over Butte Creek, then Bill headed down the other side. I took off out of Fossil. We ran into some touring cyclists on the Fossil climb. They'd been out on tour for about a month. We did some shorter pulls to get over that summit, sent Bill down the other side, and headed back up again.

 

they've been touring for 30 days now!

We settled into a rhythm of shorter pulls on the climbs. It seemed to speed things up a little bit – if nothing else it made the time go faster since we got to send notes to each other more often. My breathing was still a little weird, but becoming tolerable. I learned to concentrate on deep belly breathing, and to forcefully exhale through pursed lips.“Make sure David gets ice cream in Shaniko!”.

Onward – and upward. Over Clarno. I actually got to take the descent down to Antelope. I made the turn in Antelope and handed off to Bill.

Bill took a pull and the plan was to relieve him quickly and have me take the last bit into Shaniko. Then Bill would get on the course at the turn and head toward Bakeoven. The road did not cooperate; we had about 2 miles of no pullouts whatsoever. Finally we found one and I'm off. I polished off the last 2 or 3 miles as best I could. When we got to the gas station, we discovered that there was no gas – the place turns over often, and the current management must feel that they're doing just fine selling smokes, cokes, and beer.

We've got plenty of gas, so this wasn't a problem – just means one more thing for the crew to do in Maupin. We were hoping to lighten the crew's load a little bit there so that they could enjoy some of the Imperial's fine hospitality. Instead, we had to settle for “just” ice cream in Shaniko. Strawberry for Bill (no surprise there) but I had to pick...drawing a blank...too many choices....OK - mint chocolate chip!!! I can't remember what David and Ian had, but it looked good. For some unfathomable reason the clerk thought to mention that perhaps she should include a pickle with Bill's ice cream. We thought otherwise.

We caught up to Bill just short of the Bakeoven Summit, and let him go a little bit past until we found a reasonable turnout. The first miles out of the summit are flat-to-rolling – so finding a turnout where he'd be losing speed was not that difficult. Then I was off to the races for a fairly long pull, which I thoroughly enjoyed. There were some headwinds, but they were fairly light. In 2009, the wind had been so fierce that I'd crawled down this slope at about 12 mph.

David pulled me in to get a short rest. The guys must've mentioned the pickle incident: “Glad there's no pickle in the ice cream!” (Well, me too!) I would take the last 9 miles down to the Maupin. David would leave Bill and his DF there, go into town to get gas and ice, and return to pick me up. They hoped to get back before I did. I hoped they wouldn't – because that would mean I was going faster!

I pushed as best I could heading down the hill. I always fight to not be too conservative on the switchbacks leading into town – imagine Wile E Coyote going over a cliff and you'll have a pretty good idea of the consequences of a mistake in this section. I didn't exactly air it out, but I did have more fun than I've had before.

Bill was waiting for me when I got there – big smoochy sendoff, and he was out on the next climb. I had a second to grab (but not eat) a sandwich, and say “hi” to Rob and Deirdre before David and Ian came rolling in for me. We racked the Carbent and headed up the hill after Bill.

The plan was for Bill to take the steep part of the hill, for me to take the flat part, and for Bill to finish and take the downhill to Tygh Valley. By this time he was almost feeling sheepish about getting yet another downhill – if one were keeping strict score, he was significantly ahead in the downhill miles department – but I held firm on this one: it's very sweet and I've done it a bunch of times, so it was a good one for him to get to try. “Woo-hoo! Enjoy this descent!!”

Sadly, what goes down must...come up. The climb to Tygh Ridge Summit was a bear: hot, exposed, headwinds. I did my part, but Bill did more. When we got to the top, David was going to let Bill take the descent, but Bill was having none of it: “Sandy's fresher – send her”. This was smart racing all around – Bill needed to get back into the van for some cooling – because the descent was quite a bit harder than it looked. Despite the great gravity assist, I could only manage 25 mph. There was a lot of headwind slowing me down, but every once in a while it would become a nasty crosswind, or mysteriously disappear altogether. With the swirling wind, it was difficult to predict where the bike would go if I put serious power down. A couple of times I ran afoul of the gust gods, and the bike lurched into a sudden lack-of-crosswind, so I did my best to concentrate on smooth riding and keeping the pedals moving.

By the exchange, the crew must've known that I was at my limit; they were cheering and whooping and hollering up a storm. Ian even did some kilt-twirling! At registration, Deirdre asked him what he was wearing under his kilt, to which he replied, "shoes". He was right.

Sorry, sports fans - what happens at RAO, stays at RAO.

Once we moved off of the highway, Bill took over again. We were on the final assault now – heading toward FR44 and ultimately the downhill finish. The 3000' of climbing between here and there – well, we'll get it done somehow. Smallish detail.

Once the climb began in earnest, we did shorter and shorter pulls until we got to the top. I was really feeling the climbing and the heat. At one point, all I could think of to write was, “I AM (picture of a slice of TOAST)”. Bill started working harder to get us to the top. “Can you smell the barn?”, he wrote. “I'm pretty sure the barn can smell ME!”, I answered....

Bill is riding great!!!

As we got close to the top, it was clear that the last 4-person team, Team AARP Approved, was catching up with us. I figured that was okay – at this point we knew we were going to come in at a decent hour, not totally kill ourselves, and meet our goals. But getting passed so late in a race kind of hurts, you know? They did pass us just before the final summit, and made their escape toward Hood River.

I. Am. Toast.

After my “toast” comment, Bill was figuring that he might have to finish the race on his own. I knew that once we got off the climb, things would get better. How much better, I could not have guessed....

We put Bill out on the recumbent for the first descent – down FR44 to Hwy 35. We lost a minute or so here because when the guys pulled it off the rack, it had a flat tire. Augh. It was faster to change his wheel than to haul me out of the van. Finally, he was off and we flew ahead to the next turn, to set me up.

A nice, non-technical descent – definitely my terrain. I spun up the Carbent as quickly as I could, settled in, and enjoyed the ride. David tells me it was mainly at 50+ mph and I don't doubt that for a minute – I was working hard at maximizing speed by applying force where it would be helpful, and by being as aero as possible when further application of force wasn't productive. After several miles, I thought I saw a bike ahead. And then I was SURE I saw a bike ahead. And then it dawned on me – AARP! I was going to catch them. There was no holding me back at that point. What breathing problems? Hell, you hardly need to breathe to pilot a recumbent rocket down a mountain...when I was sure I was going to pass, I sent the team van around to set up an exchange, put the hammer the rest of the way down, and hung on until I got some relief. It took a LONG time to get to the exchange – but David had had to go a long way down the mountain to get to a point where he knew he was far enough ahead to make the exchange without losing time.

Bill took the small grade reversal on his Cervelo at about 6:55 PM. David decided that the thing for us to do was to get him to the top of that hill, where he'd arrive at almost exactly 7:00, and the two of us would ride the rest of the way down, together, on our recumbents. Since night rules were coming back around, this was the only way to get both of us out on the course to finish together without a full stop. And – we're racing!

From the top of FR44, the view is amazing!

We managed both exchanges without catching sight of AARP. Now Bill and I were careening down the boulder-sealed highway toward Hood River and the finish line. Bill dropped his chain and for a moment I forgot about the night follow rules, and headed on without him. Fortunately I figured it out and slowed, so that when he got his chain back on, he didn't have to sprint too far to bring us back together (OK, he may think it was 'too far'!).

Down, down, down...pushing each other, having a blast. Eventually David lets us know that there's no further threat from the rear, and we can take it down to a reasonable pace for the last couple of miles, and so we do. We rolled across the finish, photos, medals, smiles...woo-hoo!!!
Oh, yeah. And a pony.

Woo-hoo!!!!

Thanks again and again to David and Ian for amazing crewing, to Bill for being the best teammate EVER, and to everyone involved with RAO. We had a blast and I'm already looking forward to next year. 

We've got one T-shirt left from the party. They're very cool. (See David's photo above). It could be yours!!! Best pony name wins the shirt! Enter by email or by comment on this blog.