Preparedness is everything. Physical and mental conditioning are important, as is a properly prepared and appropriate machine. My 2003 Raleigh Competition is really a race bike and not the best for randonneuring, but I have spent a lot of time and effort since last December in an effort to make it work. Unlike a lot of the cyclists I have met since finding this sport, I have only one bike. Well, okay, so I now have a tandem, too, but that's a story for a different day. I have experimented with tires, fenders, lights and attaching mechanisms to make sure I could make everything work together.
I felt really strong on Thursday night as I was getting clothing and gear together and making sure I had everything on my checklist in order. I managed to sleep in until 8:30 Friday morning, with a 6:00 p.m. start scheduled. Mimi said to me at some point during the day when we were talking, "Let me get this straight. You are driving north 30 miles to Edmonds so you can then turn around and drive south 80 miles to Enumclaw so you can ride north 240 miles to Canada. It all seems a bit odd to me."
We all met up at Terry's house in Edmonds to get our bikes and gear stashed into our support vehicles for the drive south. The team should have started worrying, I suppose, when I asked Terry if we could stop in Auburn so I could go to the bathroom. When we got to Charlie's Restaurant, the sign said open, but they weren't, so we headed off in search of a café to have a pre-ride dinner. A perfect 6:00 p.m. start, delayed only a couple minutes when Linda remembered as we were crossing the highway that she had forgotten to pump up her tires. After about a half hour, I had the team's first flat. Changing it, I got to hear Matt and Shane's analysis of my Continental Ultra 2000 tires. After another mile and a half or so, I had our team's second flat. Now I REALLY got to hear the analysis of my tire choice and Shane pretty much insisted on giving me a spare he had along, something that looked like it came off a tanker truck. We got the tube installed and upon inflating, I managed to break the valve stem in my haste to get us back up and on the road. Now, very frustrated and ready to throw the entire *#@&$&!# wheel into the bushes, I was into Shane's supply of tubes, which I promptly managed to pinch between the rim and tire and explode, which sound was followed by a collective vote of general displeasure from the rest of the team. After much cussin' and fussin', I finally managed to get a tube in, air in and back on the machine. We're now 45 minutes behind schedule. I didn't bother to mention to the team that I really needed a couple more minutes to take a leak and managed to hang on until we got to Issaquah, albeit barely.
It started getting dark as we headed up East Lake Sammamish between Issaquah and Redmond and by the time we took a left into Marymoor Park, we were under full lights. We saw a group of cyclists, the formation of which looked vaguely familiar, and it turned out we were crossing paths with the Pasty White Guys, who had started out an hour after us from another location. Waving and exchanging mutual well wishes on the fly, we trekked onward. As we were going north up the trail, we calculated that we were pedaling along with a 15-20 mph tail wind. This had pretty much been following us since Enumclaw, but I felt the air getting more and more humid and knew that our night was just beginning.
Somehow, we managed to find Terry at the Albertson's in Woodinville and after a brief equipment and clothing modification, we were again headed north up and out of Woodinville, with our next scheduled stop in Snohomish. This was probably the hilliest section of the ride, and even though it wasn't raining, I could feel it coming and felt very fortunate that we had benefited from the good conditions so far. Somewhere along this stretch, Matt had his one and only flat, our team's 5th. It was not nearly as simple changing tires in the dark, but I managed to eat, drink and seek the relief of some nearby bushes so as not to hold the team up further.
The pace line seemed to pick up a real head of steam coming down into Snohomish and as we pulled into the parking lot of the Buzz Inn Steak House, we discovered they closed 15 minutes before our arrival. There really isn't much open at that time of night and this was discussed for weeks as our weak link in the schedule. It was ultimately agreed to hit the 7-11 where we had a choice of Cup-O-Soup noodles, stale turkey and cheese sandwiches or frozen burritos. I opted for the sandwich, a lemonade and, of course, another bottle of Ensure Plus. As we rode out of Snohomish, I began to wish I'd selected the noodles as my stomach began to feel like I'd swallowed a bunch of lead fishing weights. While I never actually lost my dinner, there were some moments when I wished I could.
Our last dry control for a long time came at Granite Falls, where we all found time to head behind the closed service station for some much needed personal relief and we were able to enjoy watching the 5 young people in a car playfully engaged in their late-night teen-age antics. Much reminiscing about what it was like to be that young. Very shortly after Granite Falls and about 7 hours into the ride, we began to get the first sprinkles and it didn't take long before Matt was suggesting we stop and change into our raingear. This proved to be a pretty good idea, since about five minutes later the heavens opened up and unleashed a full fledged rainstorm on us for the next several hours.
Somewhere between Granite Falls and Stanwood, we met up with a couple of escort dogs. First they were on the right, then the left, running along in the ditch about 20 meters or so in front of our pace line. First was just one dog, then two; they kept crossing the road and between Linda, Sue and I, we kept announcing their position to the rest of the team. Matt said later he never saw them, he just heard us screaming about them.
Going through Arlington, we made another relief stop at an all-night gas station and mini-mart. When I went in to buy a candy bar, I was trying to remain positive and upbeat and made a comment to the shopkeeper about being grateful he was open all night. His response was that he didn't have any choice. If it were up to him, he'd be home in bed and that's where we ought to be. He commented, "Why the hell don't you do this in the daytime? Are you people stupid? Don't you know that over 90% of the cars out there at this time of night are DRUNK?" He tended to ramble on a bit, so I made my purchased, feigned a smile and thanks and exited as quickly as I could.
Arriving in Stanwood a little before 4:00 a.m., we found Terry, who had managed to catch a little bit of a nap, parked outside the local QFC. I'm not sure whether he knew in advance what a providential stop this would prove to be, but his scouting out this rendezvous was much appreciated as we walked in, dripping and sloshing our way through the store. We discovered three things that became an immediate mood elevator for a group of very tired and wet cyclists. The first was a gas burning fireplace. The second was a collection of 4 overstuffed leather chairs and the third was a 24-hour espresso bar. I can only imagine what the employees must have been thinking with seven dripping bodies invading the otherwise empty store, removing booties, gloves rain coats, shoes and socks and hanging gloves and booties over the fireplace to dry, while they ran back and forth to the bathrooms, drank hot coffee and lukewarm Ensure Plus, wolfed down some much needed food and prepared for the next leg of the journey. I think leaving that location was probably the toughest moment of the ride.
As we exited Stanwood, we started to see the first evidence of dawn, and the birds began singing songs of early morning greeting to us as we turned from the parking lot back onto the highway. The rain let up a little bit for a while and then we hit Chuckanut Drive, where it was raining harder, the hills seemed to never end and we hit our first secret control. There was Danelle to give us a warm and welcome smile, a hot cup of coffee, some chocolate chip cookies and, of course, a photo opportunity for team Chaos.
After that, it was a nice descent into south Bellingham, where we made our potty stop using the port-a-potty because the store owner didn't want us dripping up his store. In my rush to get back on the bike I forgot my Camelbak and had to ride back 2 blocks while a team that I'm sure was already becoming impatient with my delays, had to sit and wait for me.
Matt encouraged us by letting us know that it was just 20 more miles to his house, our big rest stop, where we were promised a full breakfast of pancakes, eggs, oatmeal, fresh fruit and plenty of hot fresh coffee‹and a dryer!!! A few short blocks later, Shane had our team's sixth flat. When he pulled the wheel off the rim, water cascaded out. Back on the road, a couple miles later, it was Linda's turn. Just as we stopped to execute the tube change, the heavens opened up into a downpour that made me very grateful for a tree I could stand under while the work progressed. We hadn't ridden another mile when Shane had his second and our team's 8th and final flat.
I suddenly sensed a general attitude of the team becoming a little demoralized, thinking that if this continued, we would have a pretty short rest break at Matt's and could be in real trouble with time. Despite all of our fears, though, everything went well from that point on until about 3 miles from the Dalton Hotel at which point we were faced with a hill. No, not a hill, a wall. It may have been short, but my legs simply didn't want to pedal anymore for some odd reason. Amidst some grumbling and a few more adjectival references to randonneurs in general, I made it in and we were met by a smiling and generous hostess, Alison, who instructed us to put all of our dry things into the basket and she'd get them into the dryer for us while we ate.
Everyone else attacked the food, while I found a most comfortable sofa on which I could administer a 3-minute massage of my feet and legs to get the tired blood recirculating a bit. I generally have to do this on the hard, cold ground and this felt most welcome. Then it was on to the oatmeal with honey (nobody seemed to favor my idea of spaghetti with honey for some odd reason), scrumptious scrambled eggs with maple syrup, fresh strawberries and cantaloupe and a cup of very hot, very dark and rich and very sweet black coffee. I honestly do not believe I have ever enjoyed my morning repast more than I did that day.
Then it was off to the showers. We had been told we needed to take short showers, so we wouldn't run them out of hot water. My trick? Let everyone else go first, and then I can feel a little more leisurely about it all. After about 5 minutes of water running over my back and neck, the positional headache I had started to develop was gone and I was able to lay down and rest for about 20 minutes. With my eyes closed, I kept envisioning a slot machine cylinder, only instead of bars and cherries, it was all stars in ones and twos, but the cylinders never stopped rolling. Later, I analyzed this a bit, but at the time, I just chuckled to myself and enjoyed the horizontality of it all. The later analysis? We're all stars and we're about ready to hit the jackpot. Corny or not, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
When it was time to get moving again, we came out and discovered all our bike duds were dry, folded and separated into matched pairs and sets. Alison really made everything special for us and as I was pulling on the now dry clothing, I noted that the rain had stopped and it was almost sunny, with a few filtered rays coming through the still mostly overcast sky. Much discussion was held over what to do about tubes, with the team having experienced 8 flats altogether to that point. It was decided we had enough to get us down the road and we had an extra front and back wheel in Terry's truck we could pirate at a later control if we needed to. Off we went with about 70 miles left to go.
10 miles later, Donny B. had to go again. Much frustrated, the team agreed to let me stop at the Burger King in Lynden, at which point I took a good tongue lashing from Matt about how tight time was now becoming and how we really needed to keep moving forward if we were going to finish in time. A stop every 10 miles would guarantee we couldn't make the 24 hour limit. After this quick personal relief stop, we headed off again and as I rode along in silence, I began to feel like I was at risk of destroying the team's chances of finishing in the allotted time and decided two things. First, I simply wouldn't drink anything anymore. Second, if I need to relieve myself, I'll just pretend I'm a racer and I'll let fly from the saddle, come what may. I've been wet all night anyway, what difference does it make at this point? Of course, I could recognize the flawed logic of the first of these decisions, but did begin to cut back on the amount of fluids, as I was obviously well hydrated enough. But I knew I had to keep eating and drinking if I was going to finish and I still thought the team needed good output from every member of the team, including me. Fortunately, I never had to act on the second.
As we rode between Lynden and Sumas, my brain began playing real tricks on me, fluctuating between wanting to simply give up, making up excuses to take myself out of the game at the next control, and feeling a rage to finish, no matter what the cost. There was a moment as we approached the Sumas crossing that I suddenly became re-energized and again felt that, regardless of what I had to do to make it happen, Team Chaos was going to finish in time and I believed that I could make it.
From Sumas to Chilliwack was simply a matter of survival. I was beginning to suffer from exhaustion and it seemed like no food or water would make much of a difference. Linda said something about how and where we were going to stop at the 22 hour mark to note our time and distance on our control cards. For about 5 minutes before that, I had been thinking that I just wanted to go to sleep. I noticed my reaction times were failing; I almost crashed into Jim and Ann's back wheel a couple of times because I was not able to respond to changes in speed. My judgment was starting to get really poor and all I could think of was how good it would feel to lie down and take a nap. I was yawning, my eyelids felt heavy and I knew that I was about ready to fall asleep on my bike, but I was afraid to say anything to the team for fear of either getting dropped or having them make a stop that would jeopardize our chances of an on-time arrival. I remember thinking at this point that if I could just have another flat, I could let the team go on without me and at least the team would finish and I could take a short nap and ride on into Harrison, maybe not within the 24 hours, but at least I would finish without killing anybody or myself.
Finally, we arrived at a Husky station and mini-mart. I grabbed a chocolate milk (thanks to Tamara Stephas for introducing me to this wonderful recovery food), a Snicker Bar (the extra big one) and two No-Doz tablets which provided me with 400 mg of caffeine to go with the sugar, protein and carbs I got from the first two elements of the fatigue cocktail. And on we go, with 28 K to go in 2 hours. We can do this, if we just don't have any more problems.
The remainder of the ride was done on shear willpower, adrenaline and caffeine/sugar rush. There was nothing left in my legs. My brain had ceased functioning. I tried to remember things and found even the most simple tasks were next to impossible. I couldn't remember who was on the back of Linda's tandem. Then, going up a slight rise where we had to make a left turn, there was another secret control and as I accelerated to cross traffic, a loud squeal began to develop in my rear wheel. Worried that I might be losing my rear hub, I dropped into some lower gears and decided I would just need to spin better and put as little torque on the equipment as possible. There was a big bridge ahead and I knew I needed to conserve everything I had. I was also having difficulty figuring out my left from my right. Every time I was on somebody's wheel, I was afraid I was going to misjudge the distance and take both of us out. I was having visions of broken collarbones and lying in ditches while my team rode past me laughing.
The most bizarre and unrealistic images began to take over my thought process and then something happened. Matt said, "By my calculations, it's 8 miles to go and we have an hour to make it." In that simple statement came my salvation. I looked up a moment later and saw a sign that said "Harrison Hot Springs - 14" and I knew that meant kilometers, not miles. From those simple words, I managed to gain the strength needed to overcome the demons which had begun to invade my brain, and I got my final wind. Shane was somewhere behind me and I thought that Linda and Sue were, too, only it was Jim and Ann that were behind me; Linda and Sue were at the front, followed by Matt and then me. All of a sudden, Linda hollered out for me to get to the front, and Jim and Ann to get to the front. We were coming in and she wanted the rookies to lead us in.
Tears began to well up in my eyes. I had done it. My whole team had done it. There won't be and DNF's on Team Chaos. This goal I had set for myself back in January was about to come to fruition. Little had I known last December 26th when John Keyser and I were invited to join in a Cascade ride and I had been introduced to a bunch of folks by Greg Sneed as "wanting to come over to the dark side" that it would come to this. The sun was out, I was looking at snow-capped mountains and I could see this sparkling lake in front of me and I knew what I had been working for.
"TURN LEFTŠTURN LEFT", I heard Linda say. "No, not at this one, the next one."
As we turned left into the parking lot at Harrison Hot Springs Resort, I saw a bunch of people waving and pointing. As a I approached, there was Peter Rankin there. And Bob Brudvik. And Ken Condray. All guys who I have had the joy and pleasure of riding with and getting to know a little bit this spring. And most important of all, there were Terry and Chantel, our ride support. They were all clapping for us, and pointing the way in to the control. And then, in an instant, it was over. All of the aches and pains were suddenly forgotten and it was time for hugs, back-slaps, handshakes, congratulations and something cold to drink.
It was difficult to choke down the emotion of this moment. In the last five months, I have completed more miles on a bicycle than I have ever ridden in a complete year before. I have completed rides I used to only be able to dream of. At 53 years of age, I feel in better shape than I have since I left the Marine Corps in 1972 at the age of 21. I have been surrounded with a group of people who know about what it means to be a team and work together for a common goal and they have allowed me to become a part of a club that endorses safety, endurance, good health and camaraderie. They have helped me to prepare. They have taught me new cycling skills to make me a stronger and safer rider. They have helped me when I needed it and let me stumble when I insisted on doing it my way. They then helped me to get back in step and never let me lose sight of the ring. This is the true spirit of randonneuring.