Team Mango

Johnny Methane Solos the IEC

BREAKING NEWS: Mango Johnny Methane single-handedly completes this year’s Flat Tire Festival, er uh, I mean the Inland Empire Century, without the use of pace lines, supplemental oxygen, or EPO. Read the full account HERE

STP1D v2.0

road biker extraordinaire, johnny methane completes his second one-day STP ride in stellar fashion (especially compared to last year). read the latest HERE.

RAMROD 2005 - July 28, 2005

There are no photos of me in this (long) report because I didn’t feel like carrying my camera.

RAMROD stands for “Ride Around Mt. Rainier in One Day”. I first heard about RAMROD when I happened to be leaving the Paradise parking lot for a summit attempt in 1998 on the day RAMROD was held. I remember thinking it sounded like a crazy thing to do. It’s 154 miles and 10,000 vertical feet of climbing.

I ended up riding RAMROD in 2003. That time I did it with a group of five total and we trained for it pretty systematically, joined by our friend Pierce who didn’t do RAMROD but was training for the even crazier IronMan Canada. This time I didn’t really have a group. Peter from my Saturday riding group was doing the ride, as well as occasional Saturday rider Tom. But we never really coordinated well. Oh, well.

I was also looking forward to riding RAMROD with my friend Michael Jak who now lives in San Francisco, but he had a crash a month or so before RAMROD and severely injured his knee. Michael is well on the way to recovery now, but was unable to train sufficiently for RAMROD. I missed you Michael!

I didn’t train very systematically this year, either, mostly because of lack of a group to train with. I did get in the Inland Empire Century, Tour de Blast, and STP in one day plus plenty of shorter rides. So I had some miles in my legs at least. And after doing all 200 miles of STP in a day, 154 miles should be easy, right?

Okay, so I set my alarm for 2:55 am hoping to be out the door at 3:20. Pierce’s research had shown that the ideal pre-endurance-event meal was something like 700g of carbohydrates three hours before the start. We decided pancakes were the ideal way to get that. So Carol cooked me some the night before while I did other prep, and I heated ‘em up and scarfed them down before hitting the road.

When I got off the elevator in the parking garage of our condo, two scary looking people got on. Remember this is at 3:30 am. The woman looked like a drugged out vampire and the 20-something guy had no shirt on and looked like he had just lost his Ultimate Fighting match.

Peter and Tom and I had swapped cell phone numbers to help us meet up in the dark at 4:30 for a “5:00 am sharp” ride start. But I left my phone on the counter at home, which kind of screwed up that plan. And Peter was the only one I knew by sight, and I had no idea what he’d be wearing. I looked around for them at the starting line at 5:00, but by 5:20 I figured I had missed them so I started out. I was very unexcited about the prospect of riding RAMROD solo, but I told myself I needed to change my attitude or it would be a very long day. Fortunately I was able to do so.

I felt pretty strong for the first 20 miles. Must have been those pancakes. At about mile 20 I heard a weird twang at the rear of my bike, but it was while I was passing some other riders so I wasn’t sure it was my bike that had made the noise. An ongoing intermittent musical note confirmed that I had broken a spoke. But I was about 8 miles from the first rest stop now and too stubborn to stop and it didn’t appear to be doing any damage, so I rode on. In retrospect, I should have noticed something was wrong because I started getting passed by groups that I had passed earlier and I was feeling “weak”. I chalked it up to trying to make the rest stop before eating much more. Then I rode by a boat launch with a restroom and decided to stop to pee. When I got off my bike and walked through the gravel, my rear wheel was dragging. It was far out of true and was seriously rubbing on the brake. Ah, that’s why I feel “weak”. Idiot. So I released the brake clamp and centered the brake as much as I could and the wheel rotated pretty freely. When I got back on my bike, it was a whole new world and it felt like I could fly. I even got out of the saddle and powered up the hill into Eatonville and the first stop.

Up to this point a mechanic van had passed me about once every 20 minutes, but of course after I broke a spoke I didn’t see the guy again for hours.

After Eatonville is the first sustained climb, up to Alder Lake. Then rolling flats along the lake to Elbe before starting the long gradual climb up to the park entrance below Longmire. I found a paceline after Elbe, but it was exhaustingly herky-jerky (I guess they didn’t grok the “pace” part of paceline) and after a few miles I dropped back behind them. It was far more enjoyable by myself, even alone in the wind, than constantly adjusting to their wackiness. Of course, beggars can’t be choosers.

At 60 miles I arrived at the first big food stop just outside the park entrance. There was a fully equipped mechanic stationed there and I attempted to stump him with my problem. My wheels are unusual in that the threaded part of the spokes is at the hub, and they require a special tiny wrench to adjust or replace spokes (plus special spokes). But the mechanic was up to the challenge and in about 10 minutes I had a custom-made replacement spoke and a trued wheel. Mr. Volunteer Mechanic, Thank You! I hope I tipped well enough!

I ate a buttload at the food stop, because immediately thereafter the route enters the park and climbs 18 miles and 3400’ to Paradise – the longest and highest climb of the ride and 2+ hours of nothing but uphill. I ran into Peter who arrived while my wheel was being fixed. I thought we implied we would leave together, but when I was ready to leave Peter was nowhere in sight. Oh well, I’d already ridden a third of the ride solo; I guess I’d ride the other two thirds solo, too.

Just inside the park I found myself on the wheel of a couple of guys with an enjoyable pace and after a while I introduced myself. They were Tom and Vern from Vancouver, WA and this was their 12th RAMROD in a row. They were great company up to Longmire, where they slowed and I rode on.

Just above the Nisqually River bridge I passed a guy jogging slowly along. As I passed him I realized he was carrying a croquet mallet and had a sign on his back that said, “Croquet Around Mt. Rainier in One Day.” At the Nisqually River overlook just above 4000’ I pulled over to stretch and rest for a minute. The croquet guy’s support vehicle was parked there, and he passed me while I stretched.

At this point I should mention what I was wearing: a jersey and shorts from the old Mapei Quick Step pro team. I hardly ever wear the shorts because they’re kinda silly, but I figured it would make me easy for my riding partners (oh, if I only had riding partners) to spot. As I passed the croquet guy a second time, he said, “What’s that you’re wearing? It looks like Walt Disney puked all over you.” Did I mention that I hardly ever wear those shorts? That’s not me in the photo - that’s Paulo Bettini.

So finally after interminable climbing I arrived at Paradise (5400’), I think at about 11:30 am. Paradise is almost exactly the halfway point of the ride, both in terms of mileage and climbing. I stretched a bunch more and drank a bunch and started the fast and fun descent. Then the second climb up to Backbone Ridge, the smallest of the three big climbs of the ride. Just after that is the second big food stop at Upper Box Canyon. I was feeling a little bonked (energy deficit) so I stayed a while and ate a ton: cantaloupe, watermelon, bagel with peanut butter and jelly, chocolate croissant, cooked red potatoes with seasoning salt, a banana and a lot of fluid.

Just before I got to that food stop I passed an ambulance turning around. Apparently a rider had crashed there, hitting a rock that was hiding in the shade (it was a very bright sunny day all day). I watched him get out of the ambulance at the food stop with a bandaged elbow and knee, get back on his bike and continue the ride.

After the food stop was another long fun descent down to the Grove of the Patriarchs (refill water bottles – important!) and then through the Ohanepekosh park gate and a left turn toward Cayuse Pass (4700’).

A bunch of us got halted about a third of the way up Cayuse Pass by road construction with a one-lane zone and pilot car. I drank a bunch while waiting for our turn to go. I should have eaten the banana that was in my pocket, but I forgot. Several miles later there was a water stop and a sign that there were 4 miles to go to the summit. I still had one full bottle so I didn’t stop. Grind, grind, grind. By now it’s 2:00 pm on an 85 degree day and the sun beating on your back all the way up the climb. Hot. Near the top there is a road cut through rock on the right, and that rock was radiating some serious heat – like riding through a sauna. But eventually there’s a “speed zone ahead” sign and then a highway junction sign and next thing you know you’re done with the last climb and gulping down a bunch of fluids.

After Cayuse Pass is another big descent past the Sunrise road and out of the northeast park entrance. Just outside the park is the last food stop, the “RAMROD Deli” where volunteers make deli sandwiches to order. I was pretty bonked when I got there, probably from not eating all the way up Cayuse Pass (I find it really, really hard to eat while I’m climbing). I got off my bike and just sat on the ground for about 10 minutes before even getting any food. I had to force down my ham, turkey and cheese sandwich. Also had a coke, some cookies, and some more melon. Overall I spent more than an hour at that stop. I was not relishing getting back on my bike for the final 30+ miles. The ride down Highway 410 from this stop to the ride finish in Enumclaw is famous for having a headwind all the way, and sure enough it had been blowing strongly before I turned off into the food stop.

I did all my stretches methodically and completely, and that actually made me feel better (along with the food starting to be absorbed). So I finally got back on my bike and started out. Only 1.5-2 hours left. I hoped I’d find a good paceline along the way. Sure enough, I stopped to pee in the woods and when I got back to the shoulder a large group was coming along. I let them pass and then hammered to catch up to their tail. Just as I got there I realized that what I thought was a double paceline was actually one fast line passing a slower one, and I was on the tail of the slower one. Okay, hammer again to pass the slow line and catch up to the fast one. Phew, that was hard. But I’m actually feeling pretty good by now. Food is kicking in.

The paceline was good, but it consisted of five or six guys up front who were rotating haphazardly (i.e. some people taking pulls that were way to long instead of resting while someone else pulls), followed by a tandem, then one other guy, then me. The rotating guys kept slotting in in front of the tandem when they did rotate, so the tandem and we two other riders never had to pull. Heaven. Other than the fact that the line would unpredictably slow suddenly for no apparent reason, it was a mighty fine line. The guy between me and the tamdem was either very tired or inexperienced at paceline riding – he kept riding 10’ behind the tamdem where he was getting no benefit from the draft, and then he’d lose them on any acceleration and he’d have to hammer back up to them. After about 10 miles of that I passed him and got on the tandem’s wheel and he followed 10’ off my wheel. Now it was even more heavenly. I had a nice little chat with the tandem couple while the supermen in front towed us almost all the way home. By the time the line got disorganized making the turn onto Mud Mountain Rd., I was fresh as a daisy and I took a couple of strong long pulls to help get the now exhausted supermen home.

Rode back into the high school parking lot at 6:05 pm. 9:45 riding time and 12:45 clock time for a 15.8mph average speed. Not bad for me, especially doing almost all of it solo.

There was even hot water in the high school showers. Still no cheerleaders soaping up riders. But then the cheeleader-loving body parts were numb anyway.

Pierce had also been recently discussing post-ride nutrition. I took what he said to heart and stopped at McDonalds for a Big Mac and a chocolate shake. “Supersize Me” seems to have had the opposite effect on Carol and me than on most people – it just reminded us how much we liked Big Macs when we were in high school! Then home, where I arrived at 8:30 in time to kiss my daughter goodnight before passing out at 9:30.

Seattle to Portland - One Day - July 9, 2005

I ride with a regular group of folks almost every Saturday morning. We meet at a parking lot in the Eastgate area and ride anywhere from 35 miles in the winter to 80 miles in the summer. One of the usuals in that group, Maureen “Mo” Manley, organized a team to ride STP in one day. Mo is a bike racer sponsored by Copaxone, the drug she takes for Multiple Sclerosis. Most people do the STP in two days with 100 miles each day, but Team Copaxone consisted of 8 masochists who chose to do all 204 miles in one day.

We were to meet at the starting point at the University of Washington at 4:30 am for a 4:45 departure. So I left my office in Fremont (my bike shop is behind my desk at work) at 4:20. O-dark-early!

We were all able to find each other pretty quickly among the early birds from the 8000 riders who do the ride. Although one erstwhile member of the team, Dustin, wasn’t anywhere to be found. Eventually Skip got him on the phone and Dustin said he planned to “meet us for lunch.” The thought of even trying to meet someone else during a 12-hour+ event seemed pretty funny to us.

In order to keep the streets near the start at least somewhat available for cars, the organizers release a batch of riders every 10 minutes. So we had to wait about 8 minutes at the starting line and finally were released at 5:10 am.

This was my first time riding STP. Most others on the team had done it several times before. I had heard many stories over the years about riders doing unexpectedly dumb things and crashing for no apparent reason. Sure enough, less than a mile from the start we saw our first crash - apparently for no reason.

The first rest stop is at about mile 25. Up to that point, we mainly tried to avoid colliding with riders changing lines without warning. Once we got into the Kent valley south of Seattle, we started kicking up the pace. We finally got a good rhythm going down the West Valley Highway.

The only big hill of the ride comes at mile 43, climbing up from Puyallup to Spanaway. We got up the hill pretty much together and rode into the second food stop at about 50 miles at 8:00 am.

We made a brief restroom stop somewhere around mile 70. At this point I was starting to bonk (run out of energy). There was a “mini-stop” somewhere around mile 80. I ate a bunch there and left that stop before the group to see if my strength would come back before they caught up with me. But when they caught me, they were steaming along and passed me on an uphill - there was no way I was going to get on the end of their train. I struggled to catch up, but I just dangled 150 yards behind them for a couple of miles before giving up and tagging onto a slightly slower group for the last couple of miles into Centralia at 100 miles. I got there 4 minutes behind the team. My ride time for the first century was 5:11 - by far my fastest century ever.

Believe it or not, we in fact did meet Dustin “for lunch” at the Centralia stop.

I ate even more in Centralia (PB & J sandwich, bagel, yogurt, cookies, some baked potato and I don’t remember what else) and drank a lot of fluid. By the time we got back on the road I was feeling a lot better and starting to feel confident I could continue to stay with the team.

By the time we got to the food stop at about mile 126, everybody was starting to feel tired. We were a very fast team on the road with a pretty efficient paceline, but we paid for it with longer breaks. At one point after Centralia, Gentry fell off our line but got in behind us. He reported later that while our 6-person paceline was rotating at the front, we had about 50 riders tagged onto our tail for about 20 miles. Throughout the day, we would pass lots of riders multiple times - they’d catch us at the next rest stop but leave before us, so we’d pass them again only for them to catch us at the next rest stop, etc.

For some reason mile 150 is kind of a psychological milestone. I guess you figure if you can make it that far, you can make it another 50 to the end. So the next food stop at mile 144 was close enough. It’s also about 6 miles before the bridge over the Columbia River at Longview over which we’d pass from Washington to Oregon.

At least 4 or 5 of the team members are racers or recent former racers (having children has put a crimp in their ability to train for racing). So they are used to long hard efforts. Being a recreational cyclist, when I get in too much pain I sit up and relax for a few minutes. But in the 28 mile section between the mile 144 food stop and the mile 172 stop we didn’t relax once - just 90 minutes of heads-down driving. With about 12 miles left in that section, I realized what I was in for and just surrendered to the agony and hung on. I couldn’t possibly sit up - I would have been dropped instantly.

It took us a long time to get back on our bikes at the mile 174 food stop. Skip had bonked pretty badly and just wanted to lay prone on the grass. On the bright side, Darby, caught up with us and had recovered. She had bonked way back at mile 80 and had been riding solo since Centralia, but had been catching us at every food stop. At mile 174, she got there not long behind us and felt good enough to depart with the team.

We finally did get back on our bikes and headed out for the final push to Portland. Thankfully, at mile 184 Skip had a tire problem. We got a good break while Gentry fixed it. I ate a Gu and drank some fluids and was feeling pretty good now. The last 20 miles were actually enjoyable. At some point, a group of three strong riders passed us and we got on their tail. For about a half hour, we didn’t have to rotate and just rode their slipstream for 10 miles.

As we entered Portland, we were even strong up the hills, getting out of the saddle and climbing as a team. At almost 7:00 pm exactly we crossed the finish line through a gauntlet of cheering “fans”. 13 hours and 50 minutes of clock time and 10:15 of riding time. 201 miles on our bike computers at an average speed of 19.8 mph!

With about 2 miles left, Steve Wyand suggested picking up the pace to try to get our average up to 20 mph. Skip and I both screamed, “No!” I don’t think we could have changed it that much in 2 miles anyway, but nice try, Steve.

We debated taking showers at the finish line, but decided eventually to just head for our hotel in Vancouver and shower there. Then we headed out to a celebratory dinner at a Mexican restaurant before finally getting to bed at 10:30.

I couldn’t have made it (especially not that fast) without the stronger riders on our team, but I’m still proud to have completed my first double century.

If you’re into data, click on the thumbnail for a graph of heart rate, speed, temperature, mileage, elevation and “mile pace” data from Steve Wyand’s computer.

Biking the San Juans

Since Sardinha (Susana) and I hadn’t been to the San Juan Islands in over two years, we decided to spend our three-day weekend biking and camping around Orcas and San Juan Islands.

Day One

We got our usual late start and arrived at the Anacortes ferry terminal in time for the 2:30 sailing. Paid for parking, ferry tickets, and we were afloat shortly after. Upon arriving at Orcas, we decided to take an indirect route through the interior of the west thumb of the island. That brought rolling packed dirt roads and miles of car-less biking through the woods and near the seashore. Eventually we met back up with the highway and stopped in Eastsound, Orcas Island’s main town, to buy some roadside jumbo shrimp for dinner. If Orcas Island is shaped like a horseshoe, then Eastsound is at the top, the ferry terminal is on the bottom-left and the campground is on the bottom-right.

After Eastsound we continued along the ever-busier, narrow, curvy highway to Moran State Park, packed full of impatient holiday drivers. It was a bit stressful, but within the park the road and its drivers mellow out. We found a spot in the hiker/biker campground which was also being used as an overflow campground and thus allowing car campers to camp there for the busy holiday. A short, but tiring day ended with delicious sauted shrimp, a peaceful walk to the lake for sunset, and hours of tossing and turning in bed as the campground neighbors screamed and laughed into the night (so much for the hiker/biker campground — the people who had worked to get there were all in bed while the drunken car campers kept us up all night).

Day Two

The first day I had joked with Susana about climbing the road to Mt. Constitution, a steep grade that leads to the summit of the 2407’ mountain, the highest point in the San Juans. Well, I wasn’t completely joking. We started the day with a high-carb breakfast and pedaled out into the switchbacks. There were maybe one or two other bikers that we saw going up the mountain, but dozens whizzing down (and lots of bikes on car roofracks as they sped up the road). The worst part are the three miles of switchbacks at a 12% grade. After that the road levels off to a gradual climb up to the tower atop the peak, a replica of a 12th century watchtower of the Caucaus Mountains that offers a great view of the islands, the strait, Victoria, and the Cascades.

What took ninety minutes to get up took about 10 minutes back down to our campground where we packed and headed for lunch back at Eastsound at a taqueria. There aren’t a lot of inter-island ferries throughout the day, so we had to hit the 4pm ferry to San Juan. That still gave us plenty of time to meander around the west side of the island on other quiet roads, making our way back to the ferry terminal.

Since we had stayed at the great campground on the west side of San Juan Island in previous years, we decided to check out the south side of San Juan, down by the American Camp. It was also a shorter ride, which sounded appealing after the workout we’d already done. Most roads on San Juan have some shoulder, and most of the island is in a rain shadow with open prairies rather than forests which is better for visibility from cars which made for more relaxed cycling. The American Camp Historic National Park is really beautiful. The prairie grass slopes down to the cliffs just before the shores of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It’s beautiful, but the campground we were hoping for didn’t exist, or rather, existed only for anchoring boats since there was no road to get there. So we were in a bit of a quandry about what to do. The forest is much better for stealth camping than the wide open grasslands. We rode further down to the cape at the far south end of the island, but the prairie quickly turned into a housing development beyond there. We decided to turn back and head for a beach we’d passed by on our ride in, aptly named the 4th of July Beach.

Climbing back up the scenic hill from the cape I heard a loud POP and looked back to see Susana coming to a stop. My heart sank as I thought her chain had broke which would mean a premature end to our trip. Fortunately it wasn’t that bad, as the pop was her tire blowing out. I replaced the tube, suspicious of the gash in her tire, and we were on our way to the beach.

The beach was empty, and we found a picnic table hidden in the trees right next to the lapping water which became our campsite for the night. We prepared all that we had bought at the island grocery store — lobster, halibut, corn on the cob, and potatoes — a feast after a hard day. The many varieties of birds, attracted to the nearby lagoon, kept us company until after sunset as we set up camp under the stars.

Day Three

We woke early and packed up, which I like to do to avoid any confrontations with park rangers when camping on the sly. We ate leftover potatoes with our morning coffee, using up the last of our water. We decided to get an early start, but a few feet out onto the highway I heard another loud POP which was another flat tire. The gash in Susana’s tire was widening, exposing the tube directly to the pavement. I tried an old trick that I’d heard about ten years ago, which involved stuffing a dollar bill between the tire and tube to hold everything in place. When it was back together, you could see George through the slit in the tire, but it worked.

We still had time to take another meandering route along the southwest side of the island on quiet packed dirt roads alongside llama farms on one side and oyster farms on the other.

As we got closer to Friday Harbor and the ferry terminal, the houses got larger and more ostentatious. Some had private docks with their personal float planes tied up out front. Within Friday Harbor, there was a frenzy of fire trucks and other sirens. I was going to wait to let them pass until I realized it was a 4th of July parade. We rode by and found a place for fish and chips, beer, and some relaxation until the 1pm ferry took us back to the mainland and back home.

Tour de Blast - June 18, 2005

No Meato Burrito (aka Jason Land), Milkshake (aka Scott Steffens) and myself (Johnny Methane, aka John Methot) braved the danger of pyroclastic flows to ride the Tour de Blast. The complete ride is 82 miles with 6270’ of climbing.

We drove down the night before and stayed at the luxurious King Oscar Motel in Centralia. At 5:30am we rose to our various alarms. You can see that Milkshake and No Meato were raring to go. You can also see that No Meato is clearly over the line in his bedshare. I won the right to a bed to myself in a scintillating 1-round game of Rock Paper Scissors (me: rock, both of them: scissors). Rock on!

After a delicious breakfast at the Calico Kitten (or something like that [ed: “Country Cousin” I’m told]) we were off to the ride. We planned to start at 7:00, but we actually started at 8:00. No Meato had to search for a tool, first in his toolbox and then elsewhere. We eventually decided that he *was* the tool.

It was a beautiful morning with some clouds but mostly blue sky and very pleasant temperatures (high 40’s at the start, about 70 later in the day).

No Meato kind of hammered right off the bat, and after about 7 miles Milkshake had had enough of that and sensibly decided to ride at his own pace. I was dumb enough to try to keep up. I failed, but I latched on to a couple of strangers and caught up with No Meato at the first rest stop at the Hoffstadt Visitor Center.

From Hoffstadt, it is a long slog up past the Forest Learning Center (where Weyerhauser tells visitors how wonderful they are) and on up to the Elk Rock Viewpoint and the second rest stop at almost 3800’.

We later learned that Milkshake turned around at Elk Rock, which is very smart since going past it means one has to climb a bunch on the return leg of the ride.

From Elk Rock the road descends more than 1200’ to Coldwater Lake, whereupon it immediately starts climbing again to the end of the road and high point at the Johnston Ridge Visitor Center at 4200’. The climb is pretty consistent until the grade suddenly kicks up for the last 1/2 mile. Ugh. But there was another food stop at the top with oranges, subway sandwiches, bananas, brownies, Gatorade; plus an unrelated hot dog stand of which I availed myself. No Meato and I also visited the overlook and viewed the obligatory 3D model complete with zillions of tiny lights that simulate the various stages of the 1980 eruption.

After strutting around among the tourists in our spandex for long enough, we got back on our steeds for the big descent. Six miles of 35-40mph downhill. Yippee! Past a whole lot of people grinding up the slope an hour or so behind us and looking at us enviously (like we did all the riders descending while we were climbing).

Then the “worst” part of the ride: the 1200’+ climb back up to Elk Rock. You always think it is around the next bend, but it never is. Well, eventually it is, obviously, but you know what I mean. A brief snack at the Elk Rock food stop and then another nice long descent back to the Hoffstadt Visitor Center. Now there’s only 17 miles to go. No Meato and I hooked up with one small group of two experienced paceline riders and one not-so-experienced. That’s always a little terrifying - going 40mph 6” off the wheel of someone you don’t trust. But he eventually blew himself out and got dropped so his two buddies dropped away and No Meato and I continued on. With about 10 miles to go we hooked up with a solo rider and scooted back into Toutle toot suite. On my cyclometer we rode 84 miles in 5:33. Kind of a low average (15.7mph) but we had a lot of headwind on the return downhill portions.

It turned out Milkshake had only been back a little while, so the timing worked out pretty well. The showers at the high school were cold, and we were disappointed to learn that the rumor we’d heard that the cheerleaders were helping to soap up showering riders turned out to be completely false. But there was still the pasta feed that was included with the ride fee; that was some consolation.

We got back to Seattle about 6:00pm. I got home and collapsed on the sofa and felt worse than I usually do after such an event. Perhaps it was my diet that day: pancakes, bacon, egg, OJ, then brownies and oranges and a sandwich; more oranges and bananas; then a hot dog; then more oranges, bananas and brownies and finally the pasta feed. Plus a few liters of Accellerade (sports drink) and Gatorade sprinkled in throughout the day. Oh well, all was better in the morning.

Inland Empire Century - May 7, 2005

Pierce, No Meato Burrito and Johnny Methane made the trek to the red state of Eastern Washington for the Inland Empire Century sponsored by the Tri-City Bicycle Club.

Methane’s in-laws live half the year in Richland and it is where Mrs. Methane grew up. The team and support crew (including progeny) crashed in Carol’s childhood home a block from the Columbia River.

I didn’t sleep much the night before the ride. 15-month-old Audrey was in the room with us and flopped around in her crib all night like a big fish. I finally moved to the sofa in the living room at 2:00am and managed to sleep until 5:40.

We got out of the house at 6:45 and rode the 1.5 miles down the bike path along the Columbia to the ride registration and start. Organizers said this ride typically gets about 200 riders, half of which are local and half from out of town (probably mostly Seattle).

The ride started out downstream along the Columbia on the bike path, then crossed the river to Pasco. After about two miles, I crashed. I had my hand off the handlebar to signal a post in the trail when I hit a raised manhole cover and went down medium hard. Nice road rash, as you can see, as well as a messed up thumb and a little more road rash on my arm. Later I thought my thumb might be broken, but the next day it actually felt much better so apparently just a strain.

I brushed myself off and on we went. Down the Columbia a couple of miles to the Cable Bridge, where we re-crossed the Columbia to Kennewick. Then on more bike paths upstream. There are many miles of great bikes paths along the river in all three cities.

We stopped at the first rest stop at 18 miles. I got to clean out my wound and they summoned a sag wagon with a first aid kit so I could put a bandage on it.

The ride then left the Columbia and turned west out of Kennewick toward Benton City. Along the way I got one flat and Jason got another. Both from “tackweed”, a bush that has small thorns that apparently are famous in that area for causing punctures. Apparently local riders use tire liners or slime to prevent flats from it. Jason’s flat was on the frontage road right next to the freeway, which made it hard to locate the leak by listening to it. Throughout the day, we would get a good paceline going and pass a lot of people, only to have them pass us again while we were fixing a flat or some other problem.

Here’s a map of the route (click for larger version):

After the Benton City rest stop at about 33 miles, we started up Webber Canyon into the Horse Heaven Hills. It was a long steady climb, with another rest stop conveniently located right at the top. I had heard of the Horse Heaven Hills before; Carol’s ancestor (grandfather or great-grandfather) was a sheep herder there. I expected an area of rolling dry hills. But actually once you get to the top, it is a huge relatively flat plateau with irrigated agriculture.

After the rest stop we had a long straight stretch going due west into the wind along County Well Rd. and then Hiway 221. Another flat for John along the way. Actually the wind was kind of a cross headwind for a while and we successfully tried out the “echelon” formation the pros ride in in such situations.

After 15 miles into the wind, we came to the steep descent into Prosser. No Meato bombed down it, but Pierce and myself were disconcerted by the wind and the wakes of passing Wal-Mart semis and we slowed down. I had quite a bit if bike wobble and found it pretty scary.

Prosser hosted the 4th rest stop. Bagels with peanut butter and Gatorade and cookies. Mmmm. Then we finally got to turn in the direction of the wind and head back to Benton City. Of course, when you turn around after being in a headwind for a long time, the tailwind is never as steady and helpful as you imagined during all that struggling, but at least it wasn’t a headwind.

I started bonking a little during this segment. I was ready to skip the last loop of the ride out of Benton City and head straight back to Richland. But after getting to the Benton City rest stop again and eating I felt better and off we went on the last segment. We turned north for a few miles, then east through West Richland and toward Richland and the finish.

At the finish, there was a hot dog cart (unrelated to the ride). No Meato and myself scarfed down a polish dog and a Mountain Dew. Pierce wasn’t game for that immediately following the ride.

We ended up with 94 miles (plus a little back to the house) in 5:40 for an average speed of 16.5 mph. Here’s the ride elevation profile:

Pierce took off for Seattle for some mysterious reason, while the Burrito and Methane families dined at the Atomic Ale Brewpub and made the return trek on Sunday morning. Overall a fun road trip and ride.

*RAMRWSTOOD

* RIDE AROUND MOUNT RAINIER WITH A SIDE TRIP TO ORTING IN ONE DAY

by popular demand… well, make that by a request from team mango’s senior advisor (my dad), herewith is my supplement to scott’s accounting of RAMROD.

whereas scott started out fine and ended up… not so fine (see his side of the story), i started out rather badly but somehow managed to finish in good fashion.

i’m not sure if it was the painfully early start of the ride (waking up at 3:00a and starting the ride at 5:30a), my meager breakfast of 1 cup of yogurt and a pint of endurox (sports drink), or maybe it was all that talk of mcdonald’s “mcgriddles” during our drive to enumclaw, but by the 50-mile mark, i was considering dropping out of the ride due to a worsening case of nausea. i managed to limp to the second food stop at kautz creek, took a tour of the port-a-johns, then did my best to try and swallow some grapes and a bagel w/ PB&J. the grapes went down ok, but i could barely stomach even half of the bagel. scott, john and the rest of the crew hung around waiting for me, but eventually left me for dead. i sat on a curb in the parking lot basically feeling bad for myself, but after about 15 minutes, managed to force myself back onto the bike.

the climb to paradise didn’t start until longmire (about 5 miles further), but by then i already had to stop for a few minutes and compose myself. as the climb began, i actually started to feel somewhat better, but still had to stop about every 15-20 minutes and rest to avoid losing what little food i had in my stomach. about halfway up the climb, a doe and her fawn ran onto the road and stopped directly in front of me. luckily i was only creeping up the hill at a meager 7mph so i managed to avoid them (it would have been tangled mess of fur, spandex and steel tubing had it happened on one of the +40mph downhills later on).

on and on like this, up 3000’ to paradise, but i finally made it. from here, dropping a couple thousand feet somehow allowed my digestive tract to right itself. by the time i reached the next food stop at box canyon, my appetite was partially back. i gorged myself on nectarines, pretzels, a couple bananas and gatorade (i was still put off by bagels, though).

for the short climb up and over backbone ridge, i was finally feeling almost 100% and managed to stick with our group for pretty much the rest of the ride.

like scott mentioned, the long, final climb up to cayuse pass was gruelling, mostly because of the intense afternoon sun. about halfway up, a truck was dispensing bottled water from an icy cooler. i gulped one bottle down and poured another one over my head. the cold shower was just the ticket to get me to the top of cayuse, where i met up with the others. john and bill had been waiting almost an hour for us. we waited a bit longer for scott, but soon left him for dead, figuring he was either slowly making his way or that he had baled.

although it was the latter, we all commend scott for the noble effort and for knowing when to stop (lest he cough up his clif bars). i believe he’s already planning for next year.

leaving the top of cayuse pass, we dropped about 3000’ to the final food stop at crystal mountain road. this time i managed 1 1/2 turkey and cheese sandwiches, a couple chocolate croissants, about 4 nectarines, pretzels and more gatorade.

the final 35 miles was essentially slightly downhill (flat) with a headwind all the way to back to the where we started in enumclaw. john, scooter and i formed a paceline and took turns drafting off of each other and managed to clip along at about 25 mph. it was the first time scooter had ridden in a paceline, so we had to give him some pointers on the fly. about halfway home, we picked up another 6 or 7 riders for our paceline, which gave us each about a 15 minute rest as we rotated positions.

we stopped once along the road to rest, each complaining of various aches and pains from our 130 mile at this point — sore asses (go figure), sore backs and necks, hands falling asleep, etc. but we plugged along and crossed the finish line about 13.5 hours after we started (roughly 9.5 hours of actual rolling time).

showers at enumclaw high school were in order, followed by burgers, fries and shakes at wally’s drive-in in buckley. arriving at home, i spent some time icing my knees and my achilles tendon, ate more food and passed out.

kudos to mr. john methot for talking us into doing this gruelling, yet fulfilling ride, a round of applause to scott for showing us that little-to-no training can still get you a 115 mile ride with 9600’ of climbing, a special nod to john tulinsky for joining us on all our training rides (while he trains for ironman canada), and a tip of the helmet to john methot’s friends bill, bis, scooter and others for cheering each other on!

now, how many of you guys have touched your bikes since RAMROD?

RAMROD: Ride Around Mt. Rainier in One Day

RAMROD is an annual bike ride around Mt. Rainier that totals 154 miles and 10,000 feet of elevation gain, hosted by the Redmond Cycling Club. This year’s ride was limited to 800 riders and I was lucky enough to wrangle a pass two months before the ride.

My alarm clock went off at 3:30am Thursday morning and I set off for the starting line in Enumclaw. I arrived at 5:00 and quickly found John, Jason and John’s friends Bill, Chris and Scooter. Scanning the landscape, it was a very lean and mean pack of riders (read intimidating by this author-rider). No “fat people on mountain bikes” here as you see in the shorter club rides.

Around 5:30 we passed through the starting gate and set out in the darkness, with plenty of police officers stopping traffic and guiding us through town. We found our way into several pacelines and were making good time at 22+ mph. At some point we missed our turn and ended up in Orting before realizing there weren’t any other bikers around. We tried to take a shortcut back to the route, but that ended with a steep hill in the wrong direction. We backtracked and found the group again, with a 5 mile penalty. As one rider put it as we rejoined the pelaton, “154 miles isn’t enough for you guys?”

Cruising quickly into Eatonville at 32 miles (37 for us, with our side trip), I felt great. There was minimal climbing and we were still enjoying the cool overcast skies. I scarfed down two brownies and away we went.

From Eatonville the road had a few hills in it, but into the Nisqually entrance of Mt. Rainier National Park, the legs still felt strong. There was a checkpoint where they read our bib numbers on-the-fly.

I was near the Kautz Creek lunch stop (59 miles) where I saw a rider go off the road and fall down a steep ten foot embankment. At first I thought someone threw a bike off the road, it flew through the air with such deliberation until I saw the rider tumbling underneath. She got up right away and seemed to be ok. Around the corner in the food tents I found Jason who didn’t look his best, unsuccessfully trying to eat a bagel. Once the rest of our group arrived, I was off again, to what I thought would be the worst part of the day.

Don’t get me wrong—it was bad. Better riders passed me like I was standing still. Towards the top I had quite a few rest breaks, my stomach feeling queasy at times. Luckily most of the ride was in the shade.

I met the others at the top, filled up on cold water and cooled off on the descent. Eleven miles, topping out at 41 mph. Like Herbie the Lovebug, I was passing riders once again.

Down to the Box Canyon picnic area, I loaded up on power bars, which seemed to be doing more good than “real food”. Other than more stomach queasiness, my legs felt capable, although I knew I’d quickly fall to the back of the line once any climbing began. Backbone Ridge was a gradual hill, that didn’t cause any suffering. However, two miles after that descent, the real climbing started in the sun, with temperatures on the asphalt in the 90s. I was stopping every mile, then half mile, so light-headed I couldn’t stand up when I dismounted the bike. My stomach was so finicky, I couldn’t put down any food without fear of errupting.

The combination of heat, physical stress, lack of electrolytes and too much water dilluting my bloodstream’s remaining sodium — I would later realize was likely hyponatermia — would eventually get the best of me.

Less than a mile from Cayuse Pass, trying to regain composure, I watched a woman vomit 3 dozen power bars on the gravel and I realized that this, too, would be my swan song. Another cyclist pulled up for a break in the shade and I announced my finish. He kindly reassured me of my decision. I thought of Alessandro Petacchi, the winner of four of the first six Tour de France stages this year who abandoned the race the moment he reached the base of the first climb of the seventh stage, preferring to lay on Italy’s beaches than suffer in France’s mountains. When the sag-wagon pulled up to check the vomiter, I threw in the towel.

I ended the ride with 115 miles of cycling and ~9,600 of the 10,000 feet of elevation gain, in 13.5 hours of cycling.

Adrian, the driver, and I made a few status checks of the other riders lower on the mountain before heading back up to the top of the pass. I was impressed with their concern especially this late in the day on the steepest climb, driving by every few minutes. The tail end of the pack looked like cyclists in a war zone with riders flailed out on their backs at various turn-outs. “This is the busiest time of the day,” Adrian noted, as another vehicle was loading up 4 more riders. We’d pull up to someone lying on the side of the road and he’d ask if they needed any help. After they said “no, just resting”, he’d mumble, “Ok, we’ll get them on the next round.”

He mentioned one rider being pushed off the road by a motorist and breaking his collarbone. A few others experienced falls and road rash. Other than that, it was a fairly smooth day. With this being my first organized ride, I was impressed with the level of support and organization that goes into an event as complex as this.

Back at the finish line, Jason, John and the others had just rolled in. I was still feeling weak, queasy and tired so I headed home. Craving starches, I ate three burritos, a plate of pasta served by my lovely wife and promptly passed out on the couch.

11/2 lakes and a knee

A bit of a tome…

So I’m trying Jill’s Scott road bike today, fully aware that I would need to make a few adjustments along the way to better fit me, my shoes and my ass. A good thing to do when riding alone. I decided to head to Greenlake first and cut east on Ravenna to access the Burke-Gilman (BG) just north of the U. One stop at GLake for a raising of the handlebar stem. Adjustment #1. Bike feels fast and light, especially compared to my commuting mountain bike tank with it’s panniers, lights, lock(s), shock, etc.

Next stop, Matthews Beach. Saddle needs a raising. Adjustment #2. Pull out the multi tool and after resetting the height, I over torque the seat post clamp/bolt and snap it in half. Great. I ask the 2 lifeguards of the nearest bike shop and they tell of of 4 within 3 miles or so. One actually offers me a ride since he’s leaving work but I decline, something about that self efficiency thing in the mountains…
So I head south on Sand Point way with my saddle wiggling left and right and dropping down to small kid height and I have to bend my knees sideways to pump the pedals if I actually choose to sit down. Mostly did the mileage out of the saddle. Stop at some small shop on the north side of SP Way and low and behold the wicked Harp player from the Pike Place Market is working there. I had suspected his ‘real job’ was either bike messengering or a bike shop since I’ve seen him on a sweet road bike a few times with his massive harp on his back. Got a new bolt, glueless patches and thought hard about getting a bike computer (for my sake today and for Jill’s future rides) But, alas, Alaska broke me…so a later paycheck. Popped up the seat and off I went. Hmm, where to go now now that I’ve backtracked and lost some decent time? Headed east on 41st ish through some fancy neighborhoods i’ve never seen before. Had an amaxing downhill, likely hit 40+. Bike was shaking violently and I ill placed moving car would have been the end of me. Seat too high, especially after the huge hill climb after that incredible descent. Adjustment #3.

Kept heading east, no trail. Came across some fancy shmancy club, definitely no trail going through there. at one point there was only 12 feet between me and the water and the BG was definitely not hidden in there. “Dammit, this is that stupid part of the trail that they didn’t have water access and the trail was inland a good 2 miles or so,” or so my brain thought. Back up some annoying hills (much harder without my little mountain bike granny gear!) and found the elusive BG. Back north to Matthews Beach. Adjustment #4. Seat height ok, just angled wrong. Leveled seat a bit and admired MIF that was there earlier.
Back on bike and adjustment was squishing things a bit down under. Hmm, not good but manageable.
Next stop, not sure where. Kinda got off BG and wandered around Bothell, I think. The terrain and industrialish/warehouse/office buildings were oftly similar to both Tonya’s ex-working hood where Humongous was, and had similar character to where she did her half marathon to and from the Red Hook brewery a year ago.
I, of course, didn’t have a map.
But I did have my dying gps. Seemed I was going a bit too far east, but somehow managed to find the brewery. Original thought was to get a beer, but remembered my original goal of circling the lake and had already lost some good time with my bike issues. Headed south and finally found Marymoor. Dicked around there and thought I saw Chad Miller at the rock tower but wasn’t him. Mass skinsuit cyclists were descending upon the Velodrome. Must have been a race tonight.
Forgot saddle adjustment.
Left knee begins hurting right under the patella (knee cap).
Headed down a ‘new path’ for me and things didn’t seem right. Was suddenly on EAST Lake Sammish drive. Hmm, looks like this ride will be a bit longer than planned! Was getting hungry and had already had one ice Clif bar and 2 Gu, one banana flavored (more palatable at sea level than at 18,600’) and one Orange Blast.
Stopped at a 7-11.
Adjustment #5, dropped the saddle.
Almost bought new Sobe bar but I could get 2 Snickers for less than 2/3rds the cost. Didn’t have enough cash so the guy spotted me a dime or so. Some ‘Pat’ character said s/he had just seen me at his/her (I think his) house. Long flowing locks of gray straight hair and a rotund, featureless body. Pat was being awfully friendly to the cashier and me, I don’t think he wanted the company of Pat in his store. Checked gps again and it said low battery warning, again. Figured I had 3 miles to I-90 from what I could see ahead.
Headed south and the stupid lake began turning east. Looks like more than 3 miles…

Mental adjustment #1. There is no clear way through the godamn I-90/405 mess. Perhaps I was going off my memory a bit too much with the Seattle/Mercer stretch all being on the north side of I-90. ‘Well shoudn’t it be on the north side of 90 here, too!” Rode up and down this neighborhood with decent views but no frickin’ access through 405 for at least 2 miles. Went to another 7-11. I peaked in the window and it ‘appeared’ the attendant would speak english.
Wrong.
I’m still not sure what language he spoke, I really don’t know if it was eastern European, Spanish, Russian or what. His accent was so strong that all I could understand was ‘four-oh-fi.’ I wasn’t being ignorant, just accent deaf, I suppose. The maps in the store didn’t help at all. They made the streets I had already pedalled up and down twice on the north side appear to go through. Bastards!
Adjustment #6. Left knee still hurt, drop the saddle a bit more.
Headed back AGAIN through the neighborhood that I already knew didn’t go through, determined to drill my way through 405 if I have to. Up at another vantage point I could see a rider on the south side of frickin I-90! Headed back down and crossed under the freeway AGAIN! There, very poorly marked and not quite as wide as usual was the path. It actually went against traffic coming off I-90 and looked moer like a shoulder than a bike path. Also, Bellevue has small little wooden posts labeling their bike paths. The few that I saw were old and either faded or rubbed off so it was difficult to see where the actual paths went to. So I find the goddamned I-90 trail and go through Mercer Slough, wich is nice, and the trail and wood/bridgework is surprisingly dated. Were they ahead of the curve over here, or has Seattle just been better about improving their paths over the last decade or so? Probably the latter.

So my left knee is killing me. My roommate had just gotten a flat last night on his brand new, 25 year old mint conidition Lotus racing bike on his first ride. He walked home from near the University drawbridge! I asked why he hadn’t called for a ride, and he said he thought it was a stupid reason to get a ride for. Besides, it was a nice night for a walk. With every uphill the extra force on my knee hurts like a mother. Thankfully I have clipless pedals so every muscle in my right leg gets quite the workout. It hurts enough that I fully pull my left leg out of the pedal and pedal uphill completely on one leg-amputee style! So thoughts drift in and out about calling my new-to-riding roommate, I think he’d understand. Oh, and it’s not getting dark, but the sun is getting awfully low in the sky, maybe 8:20 pm-sih.

Finally, I-90 is accessed fully and the incredible noise overwhelms me. Mercer Island is reached and I’m back on familiar territory, but why can’t I find the bathrooms? At the western end I finally see them and fill up my now empty water bottle (Had 2, one with agua, one with Cytomax, also very different at sea level and luke warm compared to chilly to crunchy to frozen solid in Alaska). Not looking forward to the uphill climb back to Seattle at the west end of the bridge so I haul down the ramp to the flats. It was windy from the north and the sail boat races were full on closer to the Bellevue side of the lake. The dreaded climb back up finally came upon me. After wiggling through Leschi and the arboretum, with numerous cars on my tail, too afraid or too smart to pass on the tight windy roads, I made it to the U. So which way will be easiest on my knee? West on the BG, up 40th, up Wallingford Ave, over to Greenlake and scooted under Aurora a few blocks north of my house. One last steep hill which felt much better out of the saddle (as was the case half the day). Finally home by 9 and was quickly put to work teaching Tim how to fix his flat from last night and ADJUST a few things on his bike.

Date 7/1/03
Accomplished: Circling the upper 2/3rds of Lake Washington and all of Lake Sammamish. Didn’t crash though came close dealing with slippery clipless pedals and road shoes. Got racked a bit a few times. Been awhile!
Duration: 6:45
Moving time: Just under 6 hours-ish
Elevation gain/loss: 2,610’/2,650’
Distance: Unknown, easily 45 miles, likely 60 plus with all my zig-zaging and yo-yoing.
Injuries: Left knee, sore neck on left side and skin rubbed raw on bottoms of palms, even with gloves on.

Lessons learned:
Don’t go for a long ride on a new bike (I knew this)
Bring a bike map, not a gps (I knew this, too, but couldn’t find my county map and forgot to ask for one at the shop)
If in pain, go back the short way (you don’t carry your mountaineering med kit on a bike, but Vicodin would have made the last half of the ride a bit more interesting) Of cousre, I wasn’t sure which way was the short way since my gps died.
Put batteries in the flashing tail light (was empty to begin with and I thougt ‘for sure’ I’d be back before dark) I was, but barely.
Don’t ride 60-90 miles on a saddle made for woman. Cushy, but things weren’t working like my other seats. Weird how it shimmies your buttocks from one side to the other. Kind of like a water bed…