I stayed in Yreka the night before the ride at Jen's house. Two years in a row now we were supposed to do this ride together. Last year I busted my knee and she rode the 46 miler. This year I did the century (advertised at 108 miles) while she worked. As I left the house at 5:30 am, she gave me a hug and said next year we'd do it together.
There had been rain surrounding the day of the ride, but it was not supposed to rain the actual day of the ride, according to the National Weather Service. I also checked AccuWeather, and there was a chance of showers and thunderstorms in the area.
As I drove the hour and a half to the race start, the sky was clear and the sun began to shine on Mt. Shasta.
I finally arrived in Tulelake, just as it was starting to sprinkle. Grrrr.
I'm a runner. I've never done any sort of cycling event. It's a little foreign to me. But I get the gist of needing to check in, find out about the course, and grab any food available. I had read that there was plenty of food, so I had only eaten a small amount of rice as I left Jen's, and grabbed a Cliff Bar to stuff into my jersey.
I checked in, they handed me my goodie bag, instructed me to grab a bag of potatoes and my t-shirt and jersey.
There was a bag of potatoes on the table. I was a little confused. I gave the potatoes a squeeze, wondering if they were cooked. A 5 pound bag of potatoes might be a lot to eat in one ride, but maybe I could bring a few.
They were raw. I grabbed the bag and went to collect my jersey and t-shirt, all the while trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing with a bag of potatoes. I thought they upset your stomach if you ate them raw?
I went to ready my bike for the ride. People were milling about, getting their bikes ready. I asked the guys next to me if they were bringing their potatoes on the ride, with a joking tone so I wouldn't look stupid. They laughed and said no. I put them in the jeep and continued to get ready.
When I was all set, I went over to what I thought was the start. There were pastries on a table and I hovered over them trying to decide. The lady behind the table set out the price sheet for them. Ah....I had no money. I was apparently not getting anything else for breakfast. Well....onward.
People were allowed to start the ride at anytime, and I heard a guy asking where the start was and if the course was marked. They pointed him in a direction and off he went. I had a map, and decided I'd head out with him since it was now drizzling a little harder and I was already cold. I had a yellow wrist band on, and the highlighted route on my map was yellow, so I figured I'd just follow the yellow arrows and be good.
I rode up beside the guy and asked if he was doing the 108 miler. He said he was. I rode with him a couple minutes but then got really cold, so I took off a little faster. I came to the first intersection that had a sign with a red arrow and a blue arrow. Hmm. I pulled over and took out my map. A group went past me going left. I hopped on and followed.
It was windy and still drizzling. This was going to be miserable. I saw a bike tire edge up out of the corner of my eye. A guy with aero bars and an aero helmet cruised past me. He looked like he was doing an ironman. I watched him disappear into the distance.
Another bike came up on me. The same guy I had started with.
"You wanna work together for awhile?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure!" I said back.
He pulled directly in front of me and I planted myself a few inches off his back tire. Immediately my effort level dropped and I could almost stop pedaling all together. Cyclists can take turns "pulling" each other this way, using the eddy of air behind the first cyclist to pull the other one along. The benefit is even more pronounced when you have a head wind.
It rained harder and the wind blew mercilessly. We switched off pulling every few minutes and tried to shout a discussion over the wind. Jim was a runner who injured his achilles tendon and found his way into cycling. He had done a number of centuries over the years. We were averaging 18-19 mph. I was a little worried, as this was well above my regular pace for a distance ride. But I didn't want to be left alone. This ride was in the middle of nowhere, longer than I'd ever gone, rainy, and windy.
We came to the first aid station at about 25 miles. We each got a granola bar and a small baggie of trail mix. Not the food I was expecting. Jim asked if this was all they had. Yep. Next aid- another 25 miles. Hmm.
We set out again. The rain let up, and the wind did too. We rode side by side and talked about everything under the sun....including where the hell we were going. We were still only seeing red and blue arrows.
At about mile 48, we hit the second aid station. Same granola bar and trail mix. I was disappointed and a little concerned. I eat more than this when I'm not exercising, let alone while riding over 100 miles on my bike. I was going to have to eat a lot of these granola bars in order to make it. I suggested maybe a Burger King in the next town.
"There's nothing in the next town" said one of the locals. Oh boy.
Off we went. I was starting to get tired. Jim was a much more experienced cyclist than me and we had been going hard all morning. We were about halfway and my energy was starting to wane. He'd pull ahead a little and look back to see if I was ok. I told him he didn't have to stay with me. He said we'd re-assess at the next aid station.
At about mile 62, we hit the next aid station. The sun was out, and they had muffins, protein bars, and apple juice!!! Muffins!!!! Giant ones!!! I ate a big poppyseed muffin and watched Jim down two giant muffins. I drank an amazing little can of apple juice while a park ranger pointed out that we were standing at the site of one of the Japanese Internment camps. He told us the story as we snacked, and then everyone dispersed again. Jim said he'd go ahead and go on without me. I said I'd see him at the finish.
I was finally free to take my time, enjoy the sunshine and take some pictures. I hadn't taken a single one on the ride. The ride straddles Oregon and California and goes past the wildlife refuge, Lava Beds National Park, and lots of historical markers. It was also out in the middle of nowhere. This is the only shot I got:
I don't know what that little piece of geology is, but it had a cross up at the top. Middle. Of. Nowhere.
It was getting warm, so I pulled off my fleece arm warmers from underneath my windbreaker. Not long after, I had to remove the sleeves from my convertible jacket. I meandered along at a much more practical 15 mph pace.
I do have to say though, that occasionally I hit patches of road that had these horrible little gaps in them every 20 feet or so. Twenty feet is too close on a bike to lift my butt off for each one, so my pelvis sustained some considerable impact from these things about every 20 feet or so. I was starting to get tired and irritable. A group I had been leap-frogging with pulled up behind me and one of the guys came up and talked to me as we rode.
The two guys behind him were ER doctors. I commented how great it was to be followed around on this thing by two ER doctors. We chatted until we came across the next aid station, just before 80 miles.
They had rice cakes. Not the kind you buy at the store. The kind that is actually just cooked sticky rice shaped in a bar. It was apple cinnamon. Awesome. Apparently we missed the pancakes, but that was fine. My body didn't want anymore sugar, so I took a handful of chex mix and a banana. I commented on how amazing the chex mix tasted and asked what sort of seasoning they had used with it. They laughed and showed me the bag of plain chex mix. Dude. It was delicious either way.
Off we went once again.
At the intersection was a sign with a red arrow, a blue arrow, a pink arrow, and a yellow arrow. Hmm. There was the yellow arrow. The guys riding with me had had enough and were going to head right, cutting off the Lava Beds portion of the ride and doing the 86 miler.
"Looks like you're the only one going left" said one guy.
"It's not too bad, looks like you've only got that one ridge to get up and over." said another.
I couldn't see what he was talking about, so I laughed as they rode right, and I rode left. I wasn't going to cut this thing short. I had already told everyone I was riding 108 miles, so I was doing this. I was feeling ok, albeit tired and totally over it, but I would make it, not a problem.
A tandem bicycle shot passed me as we entered the park, and the girl on the back had a vibrant smile on her face like maybe she hadn't just rode 80 miles into a fierce headwind.
Up ahead the rode started uphill. No way.
My legs had clearly lost the ability to climb. I downshifted and crawled up the hill. Then the next. Then the next. I was painfully aware of how far I was getting from the finish line. 83 miles. Ugh! So much further to go!
I came up on a turn-out labeled "Devil's Homestead". You could see an entire valley covered in old lava flow. I decided on the way back I'd have to pull over and take a photo. It was really neat to look at. Plus from there on back to Tulelake, there were no more up-hills, so it would be a celebratory photo, knowing that I had pretty much made it.
I kept on climbing. Jim passed by, easing down the hill. We waved to each other.
Things were starting to get a little bleak in my brain. I knew after I saw the tandem come back, I wouldn't have much longer before turning around. Plus there would be an aid station at the turn-around, where I could stuff my face a little more for that last push to the finish.
It seemed like forever before the speedy tandem came back the other way. I continued my slow climb.
I came up on the visitors center and wondered if I was supposed to turn around there. There were no signs and no chalk arrows in the road. I pulled into the visitors center and only saw mountain bikers. They had their own ride that day. No aid station and no signs for the road cyclists. The turn-around was probably just up the road then.
I continued on.
Down a long steep hill.
Into the middle of nowhere. I wish I had taken a picture. But the feeling I was starting to get had me fairly anxious and sucked the enjoyment right out of it all.
The valley stretched on for what looked like hundreds of miles. It was starting to get cloudy again. There were no cyclists in sight, no cars, no people, no animals. Nothing. Just a vast open valley and an empty road. I figured I would go for a couple miles, but I should turn around by mile 92. Otherwise I'd definitely be over 108 miles by the time I got back to Tulelake.
A little after 92 miles I pulled over and looked at the map again. The visitor center was not on the map. Just an un-named road and the names of several "buttes". I looked around at the buttes. I wondered if the one in front of me looked like it would make sense for someone to call it "Whale Butte" or whatever the hell it was.
I decided to turn around. I didn't care anymore about finding that aid station. I just wanted to be back. I had water and one Cliff Bar. I was completely exhausted and still had a few hills to climb, including the large one leading back up to the visitors center. I just wanted to cry. I wondered if maybe a park ranger would drive by and bring me up to the visitors center.
No one drove by.
I put my head down and slowly chugged up the hill. I felt the most horrible despair. I wished I wasn't alone. I wish Jason was there to give me a hug. I wished I had a burrito. I wanted to get off the bike and take a nap. My shoulder was starting to pinch and I had already taken the only pain-killers I had brought with me.
I had no other option than to make it. I didn't check to see if I had cell reception but I'm guessing I didn't. I just had to make it the few miles back up the hill to the visitors center. They must have an aid station inside.
Continuing my climb, I looked down at my Garmin. It had finally died. Just short of 93 miles and there would be no further record of my journey.
I finally pulled into the parking lot, and by now a small group of road cyclists had gathered and were filling water bottles and using the restroom.
"Is this the turn around for the 108 miler?" I asked the group.
"Yep."
"Oh...I didn't see a sign. I went down the hill a couple miles."
"Yeah, so did this guy."
I looked over at the other poor sap that added a few more miles onto his ride. He nodded. "All the way down to the bottom". He must've been right behind me and then turned around right before I did.
"Oh. Well is there an aid station in there?" I asked, motioning towards the visitors center.
"Nope."
"No? They don't have anything?"
"Nope. You can fill your water bottle right here though."
I felt absolutely defeated. I didn't need water. I had water. I was pretty much the only one that was maintaining two full bottles. I guess everyone else thought they'd be ok with one. I needed food. I guess I was finally eating my emergency cliff bar.
After my little snack, some water and a bathroom break, I headed out again. A few of the guys rode with me and we introduced ourselves. After going down a long hill, I got chilled and stopped to put the sleeves back on my jacket.
As I got back going again, I saw the guys from the visitors center had turned around to come back for me. It was the sweetest thing. One guy was one his 12th or so century. The other was on his second. They'd stay with me for the remainder of the ride.
We kept each other company and tried to remain positive. Roland started to cramp, and Pete instructed me to continue on while they got him hydrated. They would catch up in no time.
I rode by the Devil's Homestead and had a slight urge to take a photo, but I wanted nothing more than to be back in Tulelake, off this bike, and stuffing my face. If there was any food left.
When the guys caught up, they mentioned how they were impressed with how well I was doing being as it was my first century. They obviously had no idea how incredibly disheartened I was at the moment and just trying desperately to continue on.
I tried to shake out the pain in my shoulder and wondered if I was doing permanent damage. My sit bones no longer wanted to be on the bike. I would occasionally stand up on the pedals and ease back down.
"We're going to be well over 108 miles" said Roland from beside me.
My heart dropped. What does "well over" mean? 120 miles? Plus the extra 5 I did?
I wasn't going to make it.
His odometer already said 103. He pointed out the lake in the distance. We have to get on the other side of that.
I put my head down and watched the rode slide by under my tires. I would not cry in front of these guys and I was not going to say a word. I'm pretty sure no words would've sufficed at the time anyway. I wasn't the only miserable one. In fact, the only one who was not miserable was the century veteran who would surge ahead, then come back for us, giving us upbeat words of encouragement.
I thought about the other people that we had seen still making their way towards the visitors center. Had I still had the energy, I would've shouted to them to turn around at the visitors center. But I didn't have it in me, and hoped they didn't pass it.
"How much further do you think?" I asked Roland.
"8 more miles maybe".
Complete and utter despair.
"When we hit the turn off we've still got 4 more miles into Tulelake."
We rode in silence for awhile, then Roland thought he saw a road. Nope. Just a little farm crossing.
"There it is! See that car?!"
I looked up and saw a black SUV up in the distance, slowing to a stop.
"That's our road. Then we've got 4 more miles."
Four more miles??!! I can't do 4 more miles. I knew I had to though. No one was going to carry me.
Up ahead were two little girls in the road shouting something. Roland continued looking straight ahead, his eyes set on the intersection where the other two guys waited for us. I looked at the girls, and then behind them saw an aid station.
"Hey look! It's an aid station!"
"What?" said Roland, looking over at me.
"An aid station, look! Right there."
As we rode by, us staring at the little girls, and the girls staring back at us, I wondered. No one puts an aid station just 4 miles from the finish. What if we still had another 20 miles to go? We all had an unspoken agreement. None of us were going to stop until we hit that finish line.
We turned right. Straight ahead was a sign. 4 miles to Tulelake. I wondered about how far 4 miles would be. 4 miles could be mere minutes. 4 miles could be a lifetime. Pete and the other guy charged ahead. Roland and I hung back, silent in our misery.
"Didn't Pete say something about a water tower?" I asked Roland.
"Yeah, the water tower is right next to the fairgrounds."
"I see a water tower. Up there." I pointed.
"Oh yeah..."
"You know why they call this the Art of Survival Century?" I said to Roland. He looked over at me. "They just keep moving the finish line. You never finish."
"I think that water tower is bolted in. They can't move the water tower."
"It's a mirage."
Pete came back for us. "See that water tower? There it is!"
"How much further past the water tower?" I asked.
"Oh no, it's closer than the water tower. That's further. We don't have to go that far. And I know a short cut. Just around that bushy tree up there. It won't cut off much, but a little is something....ok, not that bushy tree."
I put my head down again and followed behind Pete. We cut off about a block, going in behind the fairgrounds. When we got there, we all slid off our bikes and I asked Roland what his odometer read. 113 miles. Plus my extra 5.
The staff greeted us and reminded us to take a survey when we were done eating. Oh, we would all be filling out the survey. But first, food.
First there was a salad bar, which was not my first priority, but I knew I would appreciate it after I got something heavier in my stomach. I spotted a coffee percolator. I had been jonesing for coffee for the last 60 miles. Usually on my long rides I stop for coffee.
One lady put a baked potato on my plate, I put a couple scoops of ground beef next to it, and then spotted melted nacho cheese. I scooped a couple spoonfuls onto my potato.
"Really?" asked Roland. "You're putting that on your potato?"
"Oh yeah" said the lady behind the table "I like to put some on my beef too."
"Huh," I said. "Don't mind if I do." I scooped a couple scoops onto the beef as well and topped it off with some green onions. I grabbed a roll and a cup of coffee. As we sat down to eat, a lady came by with homemade turtles. We were also rewarded with world famous Tulelake Horseradish and Tulelake Mustard.
We talked about the potatoes that we got, and I thought how it was strange. The guys mentioned that of course we got potatoes, this is Tulelake after all. I didn't realize that Tulelake was well known for their potatoes. I knew about the horseradish. I just figured it was a bag of Idaho potatoes.
We finished our meal, took the survey, and said our good-byes. Overall it was a really good experience with some incredibly nice people. It's only their second year doing this, so they're learning. I was out there for about 9.5 hours, possibly accumulating about an hour or so of non "moving time". So I was riding for somewhere in between 7.5 and 8 hours.
And I rode 118 miles. On my bike.
I grabbed a second cup of coffee for the 1.5 hour drive back to Jen's. As I considered the drive ahead of me, I thought about the amazing invention that is the automobile. With very little physical effort on your part, you can be transported a good deal of distance in fairly little time. All you have to do is sit there and give the pedal a little push with your foot. I vowed to always be grateful for automobiles. They are wonderful inventions.
UPDATE: After plugging the route into MapMyRide.com, it appears I rode 120 miles on Saturday.
No comments:
Post a Comment