My nephew Kevin arrived at my house Saturday at 7 a.m., and we were underway shortly thereafter.  We were clipped in and beginning the climb at 8:20 a.m.  A couple of my friends profess that “climbs don’t get easier, you just get faster”.  I’d beg to differ after yesterday.  Don’t get me wrong, it was still work.  But I never once had to stop to rest or stretch, and I never had to resort to the granny-gear-and-spin mode that got my ass up this 2,800′ climb in years past.  I had a great ride, and while much younger and more of a climber, I think Kevin enjoyed the ride and the spectacular views.  As I look back at the three times I’ve done this ride, the big improvement this year is directly attributable to the weight loss and strength training.

Comparison of climbing time:

• 2007: 2 hrs 10 minutes / 6 stops
• 2008: 2 hrs / 5 stops
• 2009: 1 hr 46 minutes / 0 stops

The downhill portion?  34 minutes of free-falling bliss!

A few of the views from the ride:

Now the Green River Riders, being the eclectic and free-spirited little group that they are, don’t necessarily jump out of their chairs when someone says “ride!”.  Out of the maybe 15 or 20 folks that are loosely associated with the GRR’s, 4 showed.  Granted, one guy just had shoulder surgery and two are on an airplane returning from the right-coast of the U.S., so they get a pass.  The rest of You’s?  What do you need, an engraved invitation??  50 miles, brisk pace, lovely warm weather, and the opportunity to bask in the presence of Dale, Russ, Marshall, and yours truly.

The appointed hour and locale was 9:41 a.m., at Cycle Therapy in Kent.  Yes, 9:41.  I told you ECLECTIC, and I meant it.  Then the person who posted the ride was 10 minutes late.  Go figure.  We got rolling shortly before 10.  North along the Green River Trail:

We made a comfort stop at Christensen Park (a.k.a. Bicentennial Park) in Tukwila.  Dale had brought his single speed Specialized Langster (Seattle Edition).  After a whopping 7 or so miles of 17 mph, he felt confident enough in his (and most especially, our) ability to set and hold a pace that he flipped his rear wheel from “freewheel” to “fixed gear”, meaning non-stop pedaling for him.

Warm and humid, it was, so we were far better off moving at the proscribed pace than stopping and steeping. The rest of the venture north was rather uneventful (except for the dude in the Hummer that couldn’t see the Sharrows symbols over the hood of his fricken vehicle. Thanks for waking me from my cycling reverie with a near miss with your right hand mirror. I needed that +20 mph sprint for a mile or two into a headwind to try to catch your sorry ass. I assume it was my kettlebell-chiseled physique that made you speed away, turdball).

We stopped for refreshment at Alki Bakery. I went with the bran muffin and lemonade option. Russ was feeling a little carbo-challenged, so he went for the glazed cinnamon roll the size of his head. His head isn’t huge, so I think it wasn’t a problem.

The ride home was even less eventful that the nearly uneventful ride to Alki. We were all a little overheated, and we all went our own way to seek a malted-barley recovery beverage. Mine came in the form of a large mug of hefeweizen at the Ram, along with a shrimp-and-crab corndog appetizer. YUM!

Once you transition from headwinds to sidewinds, then you do some climbing that, while not long, still get your attention.  On the steepest part, I was feeling that my strength and core training were paying off, as the hill was less significant than I thought it was last year.  Soon after this, the 55 mile route turns right, away from the Century route.  Gifted with a long slight downhill and an 18 mph tailwind, your author ran out of gears trying to make up the time I lost in the headwinds section.

Soon I was approaching rest stop #1 (for the 55 mile loop, #2 for the 100), just about 20 miles into my ride.  It appeared from the distance that all 8,000 riders were at this stop, trying to get water and to pee.  I pulled out of the line a block ahead of the stop, however, for a planned rendevous with my ex-neighbors who were staying in an RV park about 1/4 mile down this road.  They brought me a fresh blended smoothie, and took my arm and leg warmers so I would not have to carry them.  Refueled, and with a slightly lighter load, I rode on past the rest area and continued South on Dillon Road.

As you head south along the eastern edge of the Coachella Valley, you have some lovely views of the lower portions of the valley, and the snow covered mountains beyond.  It wasn’t too long before we again left the 100 mile route by turning right, and beginning a long descent into the valley.

I stopped at the rest area at mile 33 for some of the M&M’s that I had missed last year (never quite made it over to that table, but saw the pictures later). Teenagers were staffing the rest area under the supervision of a few adults. This fine looking group were stocking the M&M cups.

The views to the Northwest were quite striking.

The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful. A few miles after the rest stop, we crossed back over I-10 to the more populated side of the valley. To avoid a plod through the traffic of Hwy 111, we zig-zagged up the valley on less trafficked roads.

I crossed the finish line around noon, through the balloon arch and the cheering cheerleaders.  Youth charities benefit from this ride, so all the schools and youth groups volunteer.  It’s a nice finish to a nice morning in the saddle.

This is a nice ride, especially when you have been living in rain and snow for a few months!  What a beautiful change to be able to pedal all day without looking out for the next weather system!!

The ride is well supported (good rest stops, patrolled by SAG vehicles and motorcycles), and has the assistance of every local law enforcement agency who’s jurisdiction you ride through.  That really helps when trying to get several thousand cyclists through a blinking 4 way stop!

On the downside, there are thousands of riders which can make the riding a bit congested at several points along the route.  It’s very much like the crowds one encounters on the Seattle to Portland ride.  Missing are the Ride Refs that STP has, semi-official riders that help limit the yahoo’s passing on the right, etc.  I tried to pass along my riding etiquette tips to these folks, but I didn’t get too far.  One guy didn’t speak english, and the rest were apparently hard of hearing.

I’ll likely be back next year, and the goal will be to have my 100 mile conditioning back.

Polar HRM curve

Several of the other Green River Riders also put this ride on their to-do list, and opted to camp/RV in White Salmon, Washington.  Terri was willing to do another 4 hour drive to one of my bike rides, but as compensation we would not rough it as far as accomodations go.  I’d call that a fair enough trade, with the bonus that I wouldn’t be camped on a small patch of grass nestled between Hwy 14 and the Burlington-Northern/Santa Fe Railroad.  We stayed across the Columbia in Hood River, Oregon.  I picked a Bed and Breakfast called Villa Columbia, solely from their website.  Great choice.  The house is beautiful, and the hosts are very nice.  After checking in to our room, we refueled at the Full Sail Brewery and Pub.  Hood River isn’t the cheapest city to eat and lodge in, but we loved the small-town feel with big-town amenities like 3 brewpubs, several wineries, and great dining options.  I would strongly consider a return trip to spend more time exploring the town, and the road cycling possibilities.

Saturday’s forecast for Trout Lake was for 98 degrees Farenheit, so I wanted to make an early start to the day.  Since we were staying 35 miles away, this meant leaving the B&B before 6:30 a.m.  Breakfast (the second “B” in “B&B”) isn’t until 8 a.m., Boba (the owner) made us a breakfast to go, and stashed it in the fridge for us.  We made it to Trout Lake shortly after 7.  We were told that the second of the two 50 mile loops, the “Forest Loop“, was closed due to heavy snow on the road.  You could still ride the route, but it would be 15 miles up, then back.  They were also recommending that riders do the “Valley Loop” first to avoid the heat at the lower elevations later in the day.  Not having heard from my Green River Rider compatriots, I opted to start the Valley Loop with Terri, thinking that they would eventually catch up to us.  Terri and I assumed that at some point we would split up due to our different pace and mileage goals, and that I would end the day riding with the faster group after a more leisurely pace in the morning.

The morning was beautiful, and we enjoyed our leisurely spin through farm and ranch land.  Temperature at the start was somewhere in the low 60′s and the sky was crystal-clear.  It was more than one occasion during this stretch where you would have a view of Mt. Adams on your left (like the one above), and a view of Mt. Hood on your right (like the one below).

After five miles or so, we turned left onto Hwy 141 for a long descent to BZ Corner. From there we turned left and began to pay for all that descent. The first climb was about 3 miles long, where it flattened out for a mile before kicking up again for 2 or so more miles. Terri completely bonked on the climb, and ended up walking to the rest stop at the top. Knowing that the situation would only get worse as the day heated up, we called her riding day complete. The problem was that the SAG support on the ride was practically non-existent. In order to get her from back to the start, I rode back down to BZ Corner, then back up that long descent to the car, for about 12 “bonus miles” for the day. I loaded my bike, drove to the rest stop, unloaded my bike, loaded Terri’s bike, and rejoined the route about 2 hours after I had left it.

The rest stop, by the way, had the following:

• 1 porta-pottie
• a plate of cookies
• mini bagels with peanut butter (smooth), no jam
• boiled potato hunks
• 2 thermos jugs of cold water

Hey John, didn’t your muscles tighten up during that whole driving the car thing? Why yes, they did.  And no, I didn’t stretch before or after my “rescue the damsel in distress” moment.  But John, wasn’t it getting pretty dang hot by now? Absolutely.  Hey genius, wouldn’t a rational person decide to just call it a day at this point, knowing it was going to get close to 100 degrees in a short period of time? Yes, a rational person would.  I was obviously already suffering from cloudy thinking at this point as I clicked back in to the pedals with just my two water bottles.  Didn’t you start the day with your bottles AND a Camelbak? Yes, but there would be plenty of water stops along the route, I thought, so I left the Camelbak in the car with Terri.  Bad move.  The next water stop was a mile or so after the top of the next climb, an unmanned stop.  As it turns out, the stop was not only unmanned, it was unwatered as well.

I consumed one entire bottle during that second climb, so I then had to make 1 bottle last for the next 16 or so miles until the next rest stop.  While the scenery was lovely, the temperature continued to climb past 100 degrees.  I saw some riders stopped alongside the road, sitting under a tree.  As it turns out, they were waiting for a SAG wagon to pick them up, which never arrived.  In fact, I only saw a SAG wagon (unmarked) once, and that was on the last hill of the day.  This couple ended up getting rescued by the personal support vehicle of my friends the Green River Riders!

The second staffed rest stop had water, cookies, bagels, and a hose which I used to spray my head and face with cold water.  They also had sample-sized Larabars which I no longer had the hand-strength to open, apparently.  Some old dude offered to help me by pulling a wire clipper out of his pocket and snipping the package.  As I put the morsel into my mouth, he announced that wire clippers were handy for everything, including clipping his fingernails.  Thanks for the additional info, and no, I don’t want to know what that crunchy-bit was that I just swallowed).

The last 10 miles were brutally hot.  The maximum air temp as measured by my Polar HRM was 107 degrees.  Due to the position of the sun vs. the direction of travel, “our” side of the rode had zero shade, but the opposite side had maybe 30% shade.  Most riders opted to ride on the wrong side of the road, only venturing to the proper side when you heard the occasional vehicle approach in the distance.  I knew that I was approaching my limits to deal with the heat and the hills, so I stopped at least once in the middle of each climb to stand in the shade and let my heart rate come down (which took longer and longer to come down with each hill).  Once again I made it to the finish line, but it was far from pretty.  I finished at 2:30 p.m., 66 miles and 3700′ of hot climbing later.

This is absolutely beautiful country, and the roads are in splendid condition.  There was only one stretch of a mile or so with chip-seal pavement.  If the weather had been a little less extreme, I would probably have come away from the ride with a more favorable view of the event.  I was disappointed that the organizers made no effort to at least post on their website that half the course would be closed due to snow, which sounded like it was going to be the most scenic half.  More disappointing was that the SAG and water support were inadequate.  They have no control over the weather, but they do have control over their communication, and the support that they provide (or not).  As we debriefed that evening over a beer, one of my astute colleagues made the observation that rides organized by bike clubs may have a distinct tactical advantage over bike rides organized by business groups (this ride is put on by the Trout Lake Business Owners Association), by virtue of having a better understanding of the needs of cyclists, especially under extreme conditions.

I’d love to ride this route again, but it would have to be with better support.

Day 0 – Friday

I left Auburn at 10 a.m. on Friday, having taken the day off from work. Terri had spent the week at a conference in Spokane. She rented a car, and drove a route to intersect my path in Tri-Cities. After we checked in the rental car and consolidated baggage, we proceeded to Pendleton. We stopped downtown at the Central Pacific Cafe’ to have a glass of wine with a friend from my banking days (20 years ago, yikes!) who now lives in Pendleton. Around 5:30 we headed over to the Convention Center for registration and orientation. Here I ran into Jim Carson (back for his second CROC), as well as part of my “posse”, Bruce and Dee (acquaintances from my spin-class-at-the-gym days). Not yet present were riding partner Kevin, his wife Nina, and Rodney and Lee from the Green River Riders. Work schedules dictated that they leave Seattle later in the day. The CROC folks were quite accommodating, and I was able to register my absent friends and pick up their packets. This would allow us the luxury of starting the day 1 ride from our downtown hotel, saving a drive to the “official” start line. We checked in to our hotel, met up with Kevin, Nina, Dee and Bruce, and headed for a sumptuous dinner at Raphael’s. Dinner was great, and Kevin took a dare from Nina and had the rabbit & rattlesnake sausage appetizer (tasted like chicken, if you ask me). Rod and Lee arrived at the hotel shortly after we returned, and I gave them their packets so that Rod could fulfill his desire to study the route maps. This would be a fortuitous move come Saturday.

Day 1 – Saturday

After a restful night’s sleep at the Rugged Country Lodge, we convened our little troupe in the “Rooster Room” for the complimentary continental breakfast at 6:30 a.m. The event actually provided a full breakfast at the host hotel (The Wildhorse Hotel/Casino), but that was 5 miles away and it seemed an unnecessary trip, especially since the day 1 route passed directly in front of the hotel. We reconvened in the parking lot at 7:30 a.m., and rode out as a group.

After a brief rolling tour of downtown Pendleton (not all that large), we headed out the old highway along the Umatilla River. The road meanders next to the river, with rocky cliffs along the right side and the valley to the left. They had swept the road clear of rocks the day before the ride, but there were still occasional rocks in the roadway that we had to steer around. Terri and I drove this same route on Tuesday in the car, and there were hundreds of rocks on the road, far more than was the case on Saturday.

The first formal rest stop was in the town of Echo, and featured Hawaiian decorations and was staffed by volunteers in grass skirts and coconut bras. In the prior two years this stop was at a wide spot in the road, about 5 miles earlier. The new location was a vast improvement, allowing for real plumbing and a lovely grassy park to stretch out in. Food is the usual assortment of bagels, peanut butter, cookies, etc., with the addition of baked potatoes. I opted for a third of a spud, and half a bagel. This stop also served as the turnaround point for the metric century. Lee and Dee decided that they would leave us guys to our own devices, and head back to Pendleton. We said our goodbyes, and headed west toward Hermiston.

The route was planned to lead us around the town of Hermiston itself, in favor of the empty backroads that are the signature of CROC. This plan was thwarted by a train stopped on the tracks, so long that we could see neither end of the thing. Rod was ready for this moment, pulling out his map and coming up with a re-route before I had even finished taking a picture! Note the multitude of cyclists milling around in the background. A few of these folks would opt to climb over the train, a decision worthy of a Darwin Award had the train suddenly moved while they were wrestling bike or body between cars.

We backtracked to the last turn, and headed through Hermiston (didn’t take long). We rejoined the CROC route without seeing any other riders, indicative that our decision to ride around the obstacle rather than wait was the correct one. We were now riding parallel to the Columbia River, along the same route I had ridden last August on the last day of the Ride Around Washington. Lunch was at Hat Rock State Park. The theme was “white trash”, and the decorations were very much in keeping with that theme. Susan Kelley’s famous cheesy grits were served, along with all the usual rest stop chow.

After Hat Rock, we do a long climb away from the Columbia, and head down Cold Springs Road through more rolling wheat fields and ranch land. As was the case last year, we passed a ranch where the owner has shot and hung three coyotes from the fence. I presume this to be a warning to other coyotes, but I’m not sure how well it works, given he still had coyotes to shoot.

The day was getting warmer, and the road was consistently gaining altitude over this 20 mile stretch. By the time we hit the last rest stop of the day (Susie’s Diner), I was too tired to even pull the camera out. Jim Carson appeared to be fresher than I because he took a few. I was completely focused on getting back to the hotel, but I managed to find the time to scarf down one of the cheeseburgers offered. I rolled out of the rest stop and immediately got a flat tire (riding through the gravel parking lot, bad idea). After a quick tube change, we were on our way back to town. Final mileage for the day was 90 (slightly shorter than advertised, since we rode from the hotel).

Day 2 – Sunday

I hear it was hard. I didn’t ride it, nor did any of my cohorts (with the exception of Jim Carson, who apparently likes to get wet even when on vacation). The hill was shrouded in rain clouds, and slogging our way up, to be followed by a dangerous descent, seemed unattractive somehow. We lounged instead, and capped the day off with a trip to Walla Walla for a pulled pork sandwich at Mr. Ed’s. The weather forecast for Monday was slightly better than Sunday, so we were hopeful that we’d get one more day of riding in before heading home on Tuesday.

Day 3 – Monday

Patches of blue sky! WooHoo!! We had a nice ride out to the Bar M Ranch, where rest stop #1 was a tribute to the USS Abraham Lincoln. A few of the sailors on this aircraft carrier were “virtually” riding with us on CROC, but doing so in the ship’s exercise room on spin bikes. After resting and snacking a bit, we headed back down the valley, then turned up the hill at Thorn Hollow, a lovely little stretch of valley with rolling hills and horses dotting the hillside.

At the top of the climb we had a few miles of slight downhill and beautiful fresh asphalt to the next rest stop, which featured chili and cornbread. Refueled (and burping onions), we rolled into the town of Adams. I was a bit disappointed that the local store was closed for Memorial Day, as I wanted to see if the inside was even half as cool as the outside was.

The group split in Adams, some going the full route and a few heading back to town via a “shortcut”. I opted for the shorter ride, as my legs were pretty well spent. We took the old Adams Road along Wildhorse Creek, a pothole-rich cycling environment that took a lot of concentration to navigate. I ended the day with just less than 65 miles.

Pendleton isn’t exactly in my back yard, and sitting in a car hour after hour is an activity that I lost my love for back in college. But to experience the “big sky” and open roads of eastern Oregon in such a well organized event is, in my opinion, and opportunity not to be missed. So unless I’ve moved to another part of the country, I’ll likely be back next year. Maybe even if I have moved.

This is a well supported event, with food stops at approximately 25, 37, and 50 miles. Since the route from mile 25 to mile 50 is essentially out-and-back, you (may) visit the first two rest stops twice if doing the full 100 mile route.

We did not. A combination of fatigue from the “character building climbs” and the cold temps we experienced since 7 a.m., we opted to do the “Metric Century”, which ended up being about 76 miles and 2,600 feet of climbing.

The route had it’s challenging sections, to be sure. For example, they route you up and over the hill at Milton, rather than around the south end of the ridge, a far flatter route. It was clear from the ride publicity that there would be plenty of uphill to contend with, so there were no real surprises (with the possible exception of just how steep some of these suckers were!). From Milton we passed through Sumner, then joined the Daffodil Classic / Buckley route that I had ridden three weeks prior. This of course meant another dose of “character building”, this time with the steep little climb near Victor Falls. Not having any women or small children in my vicinity during this portion of the program, I availed myself of the opportunity to let the road engineers, route planners, and the asphalt itself know just how I felt about doing this sucker for the second time in just a few weeks. It was easier this time, by the way. One rather large fellow riding nearby stood up out of the saddle, started stomping the pedals and shifting at the same time. [Insert loud metallic breaking sound here]. He managed to get to the shoulder of the road, and was looking at his rear wheel and scratching his helmet as I looked over my shoulder rounding the turn. I think his day was done, having learned a valuable lesson about pedaling lightly when shifting. SAG vehicles patrolled the route every 30 minutes or so, so he would not have to wait long for a rescue mission.

The 25 mile rest stop was at the park in Downtown Orting, and featured Ding Dongs along with the usual assortment of fruit and bagels. From Orting the route followed the same roads as the Daffodil until the junction of highway 165 and Lower Burnett Road. From there it was a right turn, and a few miles on the highway shoulder to the second food stop at Wilkeson. Same food choices, with Twinkies taking the place of Ding Dongs.

The allure of Ho Ho’s at the 50 mile stop just wasn’t enough of an enticement, as we opted to turn for home. We wound our way down Johns Road, back through South Prairie, then Orting & Puyallup via the Foothills Trail. Once in Sumner the sunshine started to break out, and we stopped in beautiful downtown Algona to shed a layer or two of clothing before tackling the “Little Italy” climb. We climb Little Italy with a fair degree of regularity around here. In fact, I had pedaled my Clydesdale ass up this gem just a few days prior, completing the task completely in the middle chainring (a first). Such was not to be the case on this day, the net result of beginning the climb at mile 68, rather than mile 8 of a ride. I made it to the top just fine, but the deep fatigue and stiffness in the lower back were really beginning to set in at this point. Fortunately the remainder of the ride was fairly benign. The ride ends strangely, the last mile having to be completed on the sidewalk due to the extremely heavy traffic in the Federal Way/Twin Lakes area where the ride originates. I’m not quite sure how this could be avoided, but there has to be a better way to end a big ride than sharing a 4 foot wide chunk of concrete with joggers, dog walkers, and strollers. Dispensing with the Hostess bakery theme at the finish line, they serve up pieces of pie to the arriving cyclists (apple and coconut cream). Bonus points for serving the pie inside the neighborhood pub, where ice-cold malted barley recovery beverage awaits.

A good ride, one that I would not hesitate to do again unless the weather was prohibitive.

I left my house at 8:30 in the morning. It was sub-40, but I warmed up quickly with the climb that I have to do to leave the house. It was partly cloudy, with a moderate little wind out of the south that had me second-guessing the wisdom of starting a 100 mile ride with 38 or so miles of tailwind. No one is lucky enough to have the wind turn so that they can have 38 miles of tailwind on the way home as well, especially me. I did a little creative detour off the Interurban Trail in Auburn, and was rewarded with this picture of a Great Blue Heron perched over one of those little manufactured wetlands that they are putting all over the valley. The theory is that it’s o.k. to put up three ginormous warehouses if you dig out a pond and stick some dead tree trunks in it.

So the first 38 miles went swimmingly, as you might expect with a freshening tailwind to hustle my ass along the road. The sun was present on occasion, but the ambient temperature maxed out around 11:30, when I made my stop at the Great Harvest Bakery. I wasn’t paying as much attention to eating and drinking up to this point, so I snarfed down a sticky bun to keep me rolling. Back on the trail in short order, I continued on the Sammamish River Trail through Redmond. Just about as I was even with the Red Hook Brewery, my rear tire began a distinct thump-thump-thump. I stopped to inspect, thinking I had maybe picked up some glass or other debris. Instead, I discovered a two inch long bald spot, a little kevlar-belted grimace reminding me that I should have bought new tires for the new season.

I marshaled on toward Redmond, knowing that Sammamish Valley Cycle was located there and could probably hook me up with a new tire in short order. I called 411, was connected to the shop, and was given some rather vague directions. I exited the trail a bit too soon, but was able to locate the shop without much difficulty. They sold me a tire, mounted it, adjusted my rear brake, and lightened my wallet. 10 minutes and I was on my way again.

I had been fighting a fairly strong headwind since Bothell, and it gave no signs of letting up as I rode south along East Lake Sammamish. I was pretty sure I was starting to bonk, not having paid attention to my eating and drinking. My goal at this point was to make it to Issaquah, get some food and drink at a mini mart, and then consider my options.

When I stopped, I sipped some Powerade and took inventory. My lower back was quite fatigued at this point. Doing core training at home on my own sounds like about as much fun as a root canal, so I never seem to get around to doing it. This is about the point where I curse my own lazy-assed tendencies, and pledge to do better. Legs were fatigued (I was at mile 66, after all), but knees were fine. Toes were a little cold, as was my body when I was stopped or going downhill. 2/3rds done, and some pretty good climbing to go. I decided to ride on (like I had a choice, other than catch a bus), and make a bail-out decision at Cedar Grove Road. A right turn there would bypass all the big rollers through Hobart, Ravensdale, etc., and after a tamer climb over the ridge I would end up on the gentle downslope of the Cedar River Trail.

I stopped and stretched at Cedar Grove Road, and decided that my lower back would thank me later if I made the right turn. I was disappointed, as I figured I was going to significantly shorten my mileage for the day. Not so. My total mileage ended up being just about 2.5 miles shorter by cutting out the Black Diamond section.

My day ended with one more steep climb, to the housing development where I live. It had started raining about 30 minutes earlier, adding damp to my other list of discomforts. My right calf also started protesting at about the Kent City Limits, so I completely focused on my left leg for the final hill. The individual leg training intervals from this winter’s HIT sessions paid off!

97 miles for the day. Close enough for this cyclist. I have no idea what was going on with the right calf, other than perhaps some kind of dehydration thing. It went away pretty quickly.

I’m starting core work tomorrow. Really.