John’s Ramblings

I have posted my account of my STP ride over on BikeHugger.com. Herein lies a little more personal account of the journey.

Having last year’s RSVP experience under my belt, I set a few basic parameters as I approached my Seattle-to-Portland in 1 day attempt.

• Be more physically prepared, with as much saddle time as possible (196 hours in the saddle, riding and spin class. 2,365 road miles).
• Be more mentally prepared, by taking a day off work beforehand in order to pack, prepare the bike, measure out drink mix, and relax.
• Be rested, by napping during the day before. I get pre-ride jitters and won’t sleep more than 4 hours or so on the night before the big ride, so instead of forcing myself to try to get a full night’s sleep I tried to rest as much as possible in the 36 hours beforehand.
• Be organizationally ready, having everything I need days ahead of time. This is the one area that I fell slightly short on, as I had to run out on Friday on a quest for Chamois Creme.

This approach seemed to work pretty well, as when my peepers opened before 3 AM on Saturday, I could take a methodical approach to my preparation and breakfast, and still have time for a 20 minute power-nap before heading out the door before dawn.

I avoided the hassle of driving or getting a ride to Seattle by starting from home. My house lies about 150 yards west of the route where it crosses the Auburn City Limits. By starting from home and heading north first, I devised an early morning route utilizing the Green River and Interurban trails that would drop me down onto the STP route in Kent, with enough mileage that I would crack the 200 mark before day’s end. It was cold and dark when I left home, and after an initial climb off my street, there was a chilling little descent to the valley. I crossed the STP route with no cyclists in sight, and headed over to the trails where I’ve spent so many hours over the last couple of years.

I was anxious about the day, still a bit sleepy and lacking the adrenaline that lining up with 9,000 other riders might have provided. I had my doubts about my preparedness, and wondered to myself whether this was a foolhardy venture to do this ride for the first time, in one day, all alone. After I had turned onto the Interurban Trail, I remembered that I had picked up my iPod Shuffle on the way out, thinking that if I end up abandoning the attempt somewhere, I’d have music to pass the time while I waited for rescue. I had no intention of using it on the road for the safety factor, but I was very much alone on the trail, so I stopped long enough to pull it out, put in the earbuds, and hit play. I was rewarded with a rousing rendition of “Elevation” by U2, and it did the trick of getting my motivation and cadence up. I listened to several songs, then put it away as the sun rose and as I figured that I would start encountering other riders and the early morning exercise crowd.

I rode past the REI food stop despite the rave reviews it has received on other riders’ reports. This is where I started to encounter other early bird riders, as we headed south through Kent, Auburn, and Sumner. This humble house along West Valley Road near Sumner had several goats in the yard, and this little fellow leaned up against the house near the front door.

The ride through Sumner and Puyallup were uneventful, and the police were stationed at a few critical intersections to wave us through. More and more faster paceline groups were passing me at this point, on the run up Pioneer Avenue and approaching “the hill”.

I knew exactly what to expect for the hill that many folks seem to dread on this route, having ridden it twice this year. My tactic was to take it easy and conserve my energies for the long day ahead. Therefore, I rode very slow, spinning my way up in my lowest gear and watching the world go by, calling out “On Your Left!”. About halfway up, I was passed by a group of friends from my local spin class in Auburn. These folks were riding together as a team, pacelining at 18-20. They passed me six times during the day, and beat me to Portland by 30 minutes.

It stayed relatively cold and cloudy the entire way to Centralia, the mid-point. I stopped at the Spanaway food stop for a sandwich, refill of my bottles, and to use the sani-can. Of note is that although I felt like I was drinking frequently, I didn’t have to pee again until about 54 miles and 3+ hours later. I don’t remember that I ever “went” again until in my hotel room in Portland. I thought I was drinking enough, but that kind of timing tells me that perhaps I was a bit shy on my hydration.

When I was at the main stop in Centralia I ate another sandwich and a creamsicle, filled bottles and mixed in my eletrolyte powder. I also slathered on a fresh coat of sunscreen, as the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. My total stop time in Centralia was probably no more than 15 or 20 minutes.

I was having a little bike-fit issue with my handlebars, which was causing me discomfort and occasional pain in my left wrist. In hindsight I probably should have paid a quick visit to the first aid station for a little ibuprofen for my wrist, which was getting quite painful. I found that if I was “lazy” about the position of my hands and wrists on the handlebars, keeping the wrists bent, this aggravated the condition. I had the least discomfort by keeping hands on the brake hoods, wrists straight. This was somewhat limiting in the number of positions I could ride in, but that was better than the alternative.

I did the aforementioned peeing at a park restroom 7 miles past the Centralia stop, thus avoiding the long lines for the sani-cans. As I left Chehalis, crossed under I-5, and headed out into the countryside, I was inspired enough to take another picture, which proved to be my last for the day. The morning had been quite gloomy, and the afternoon became such an endurance-fest that I never even pulled the camera out again after this point.

The crowds were somewhat diminished after the halfway point, but not nearly as much as I expected. It felt like there were far more riders still on the road than I had seen during most of the RSVP last year, which was around 1,100 riders. That’s a lot of folks riding 200 miles in a day! We all were forced to walk out bikes through the town of Napavine, which was having it’s annual summer parade on the only road through town. We also were stopped briefly by the passing of the Amtrak Coast Starlight heading south. After you pass through Napavine, you have rolling terrain that will take you to 30+ mph, then drop you down to 7 over and over. I found that I had to really ease up on the climbing portion of this program, as pulling on the handlebars would really tweak my wrist.

I rolled right through Winlock, and didn’t see the World’s Largest Egg. I think it was akin to not taking out the camera, I just wasn’t in the sightseeing mood at the moment, which is really a pity as I love to watch the world go by from the saddle. I made a mercy stop at a little store outside Vader to buy ibuprofen. It was 1PM as I recall, since I had to remember the time for the purpose of future dosing of painkiller. I’d get one more dose somewhere in Oregon (if I made it that far), and a final one with my martini over dinner (I was actually fantasizing a really fat, juicy hamburger. It had cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomato, mayo, relish, pickle, coarse brown mustard, and just a dash of ketchup [I'm a Heinz man], and make sure the french fries are FRESH, and they haven’t sat under a heat lamp for more that 12.4 seconds, thank you very much).

Vader had a rest stop, which I skipped since I had just stopped 5 minutes before I reached it. You climb out of Vader with the sun on your back, a steep little ditty in the 129th mile. This is where the 20-something biker-boys passed me, making comments about having to pass “steady-eddy” once again. That’s one part of bike sub-culture that I have a hard time with, when folks consider their way of riding the only way of riding. I’ve had friends that were counseled to find another sport if they couldn’t climb Mt. Rainier on a bicycle. Absolutely silly attitude, if you ask me. Everyone can find their own “bliss” within any given venue. Why do some people have to judge others in order to feel better about themselves? But I digress…

I stopped next at the Castle Rock High School mini stop to refill bottles and to stretch my back a bit, the lower half of which was showing signs of fatigue. I also was inspired to hold my head under the water faucet for a bit, an operation I would repeat at all my remaining stops in order to keep cool.

Details about this stretch elude me now. It had some roll to it as I recall, but I was completely focused on making it to Longview. I was just ticking over the pedals and looking at the asphalt. The main food stop outside of Longview was less than 10 miles after my last stop, but I pulled in to get more water, food, and to put some ice on my aching left wrist. I procured the ice pack from the Group Health table first thing, then ran into the gym group as they were pulling out. I was fortunate to have some nice human contact as well, as the spouses and significant others of the gym group hung out with me for a bit, which was a nice lift. I must have spent 40 minutes or so stretching, eating a ham sandwich, drinking, and icing down the wrist. Longview had been fixed in my mind as the decision point on whether I was going to make the entire journey in one day. Terri was leaving Auburn mid-day, so I knew that she and I would be in this general vicinity at the same time. I felt revived enough at this stop that when she called and reported that she was in Kelso, I told her to go ahead to Portland.

The worst stretch of the whole trip was the next 7 miles through Longview against a headwind, and the Lewis and Clark bridge across the Columbia. The shoulder of the bridge is narrow, with huge expansion joints and steel plates that are quite jarring on the descent. Unlike the riders around me, I rode my brakes a bit on the way down to reduce the chances of a pinch-flat or other nastiness. Then it’s through the interchange and on to Hwy 30 eastbound. 50 miles to go.

Inventory at this point:

• Wrist was feeling better, although I was nearing the end of my 4 hours dosing cycle for ibuprofen.
• Tush was good, my preparation routine of a good layer of Bodyglide on my “contact area”, along with a healthy dose of chamois creme worked directly into the chamois seemed to alleviate any chafing and saddle sore issues.
• My legs felt tired, not overly so. On the flat or slight incline, I could cruise along at 17-19 mph. I was getting weaker and weaker on hills however.
• I was psychologically healthy, and I knew that I would be able to complete the ride to Portland as long as I stayed out of trouble.

At the recommendation of my Ride Leader friend Albert, I stopped at every rest stop along Hwy 30. They weren’t long stops, only 10 minutes or so to dunk my head, refill, and stretch. It helped to keep me out of the fatigue-fog, though.

With less than 10 miles to go, I was passed by friends Lee and Rod, the couple I had climbed Cabbage Hill with over Memorial Day weekend. They were pacelining with another of their group, Bob. Lee invited me on her wheel, and I had to stand and accelerate to catch up and get in the draft. The brief sprint paid off, as I was soon on her wheel and we were blissfully cruising along at 24 miles an hour. This moment of bliss was shattered just a mile later, when Rod picked up a large staple with his rear tire. They stopped, and gracefully allowed me to return to “steady-eddy” mode for the last few miles.

One nice fellow in a support van for STP then started appearing before me on the route at several intervals, cheering me on and counting down the mileage for me. Another nice lift at the end of a long day. After some winding though city streets in Portland, I rolled up on to the Broadway Bridge, and was able to meet fellow cyclist and blogger Scout, who was tending the bridge on that day. After a few minutes of meet and greet, she shoo’d me off to the finish line.

I didn’t see much of the finish line festival as I rolled through, heard my name announced, picked up my one-day patch, and kissed my wife. Then it was off the bike, to the room for a shower and a celebratory bottle of Dry Creek Reserve Cabernet, 1994. We ate dinner in the hotel. I didn’t get the cheeseburger I had been fantasizing about all day, but opted for potato crusted halibut instead, and some evil chocolate dessert spoon bread thing.

After dinner we ran into the gym group, and traded handshakes and hugs of congratulations. My eyes closed as soon as my head hit the pillow.

2,553 miles ytd.

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