Solvang Spring Double Century

The day after a double century is far, far less painful than the day after an Ironman.

Saturday turned out to be a lot more successful than I expected it to be. Well, not that I had a lot of expectations, just that it was going to be a long day. The short way to summarize is that my legs hardly felt tired the entire 200 miles and the day after there wasn't any leg soreness (some back soreness but that's to be expected). There was a lot of drafting, hence why my average heart rate was below 140 BPM, but I did do my share of pulling or at least not sucking wheel.

EDIT: Here's a map that does a better job of describing where we rode.

The Solvang Double Century starts and finishes in Buellton, CA, about 3.5 miles away from its namesake, Solvang. It has just over 7k feet of climbing over the 193 miles which, considering the areas I ride in, is pretty low. However, to substitute for the lack of hills, there is wind. From what I can remember, we went through vineyards, fields with no wind protection, alongside Highway 1, coastal towns (including Morro Bay with its shitty pavement), and in and out of some canyon thing (which compared to around here, wasn't that much up or down except the road surface was also really bad).

I will do my best to try and remember all details for this ride, but it WAS 200 miles over a course of 15 hours.

The "adventure" actually started Friday midday when myself and three of the guys I was riding with began the drive down from Folsom. My friend (and former manager) loaded up his pickup with 4 bikes and all our gear (I of course got made fun of for being the smallest person with the most amount of gear, but hey I'm a girl) and we made the six hour drive down I-5, random country roads, and finally onto 101. Got to the hotel, which although being rather pricey for a hotel in a small town in the Santa Ynez Valley, was also the host hotel for the double meaning check-in and ride start were all there and we wouldn't have to spend extra time driving around.

Ride morning started at 4:30am, and I wasn't able to sleep much the night before (like what seems to be the norm lately) so I wasn't all that well-rested but I felt awake. The four of us from Folsom plus one guy from SoCal who knew one of us head out at precisely 5:32 am. Being that it is only late March, it is still completely dark so everyone has their red taillights and front lights. And, since the previous day was clear, overnight is clear, and there was a not-so-gentle breeze, it is absolutely freezing. I hadn't wanted to carry extra stuff, so all I'm wearing is a short-sleeve jersey, base layer tank top underneath, arm warmers, shorts, and knee warmers. By the first rest stop at 40 miles (which included a pit stop to change a flat tire) I am so cold I am shaking. I'd actually say the first 3 hours of the ride were the most uncomfortable since I was fucking freezing!

The sun was up by 7:30 and it began to warm up. Most of the first several hours was a descent, which made it colder, but ironically once the sun began to warm everything up, the downhills turned into rollers. Not that I'm complaining, since I do prefer uphills to descending any day. Most of this time was spent passing through vineyards like Zaca Mesa in Foxen Canyon (involved a very welcome climb and than a chilling descent) and open fields. The open fields involved the crosswinds, which threatened to blow myself and my riding companions on their deep rimmed 404s over. I remember going along in the back and watching everyone in front of me sort of leaning over.

The humorous part of the first few hours was that we came along a group of all women riders. They asked me to take their photo at the first rest stop but since the iPhone camera button does not work with gloves, another guy in our group took it. Just after we left the stop one of the women offered that I could ride with them. I guess she thought it was a bit strange I was riding with 4 guys. And then later on after we came up a climb, the women were stopped at the intersection peeling off their layers. As we passed them one of the guys commented that it was time for an underwear change.

Bikes at second rest stop

I was able to peel off my layers at the second rest stop at mile 86. At this point, everyone remained in good spirits.The sun was up, and we were almost to the halfway mark. The next 30 or so miles were probably the longest, as one of our group began to bonk along with the wind. We rode along Highway 1 for most of this part, which wasn't actually along the coast. The mid-point check-in was in the town of Morro Bay, along the coast. Sadly, being with a group of guys who just want to move along doesn't leave much likelihood for photo ops, so was not able to get a photo of the huge green mountain dome on the other side of the bay. We rode through a park type thing along the coast and then back along the Pacific Crest Highway and past farms to get to the lunch stop at Mile 118 in San Luis Obispo.

Lunch stop!

Lunch was Subway sandwiches (I removed the cheese and just ate the bread mostly) and a random assortment of food at the stop. I have come to realized I eat a lot of stuff on organized rides I would normally never eat. Less than a mile out of the rest stop we had to stop as the earlier flat tire resulted in a tire with an actual hole in it. Luckily the SAG wagon was able to supply him with a replacement tire and we continued on. Less than 80 miles remained to the hotel/stop point. 

There was finally a decent hill to climb and we went up, and then managed to hook onto a large paceline that continued for awhile. This may have been the highest my heart rate got the entire day. Rollers always require a little more work to stay with the pack. The fourth rest stop came at Mile 146 in a small park. Ate some more in order to have energy for the final climb which would come in the last 20 miles of the ride. 

Skyline in the park

As we left the fourth rest stop it was taking the guys a bit of time to start. The group of women from earlier passed us (I would like to mention that they made it in and out of a rest stop faster than four guys did) and shouted about an underwear change. Sadly, at this point the guys did not remember the joke or the women but it made me laugh. 

Between the fourth and fifth rest stops I wondered if my body was not digesting food any longer. Continued trundling along, me and two others in our group continued along at a decent pace that wasn't too fast. The fifth and final rest stop was at mile 176 in the town of Los Alamos. There was Cup O Noodles at that stop, or Cup O Salt as I deemed it - first time I have had ramen since junior high school I think. We were preparing for the climb, and that also required putting back on some of the clothing we had removed earlier.

Leaving the rest stop we asked the volunteers and other riders if they knew how long it was and how steep it was. The route sheet said Drum Canyon Road was 10 miles long, but we all knew we wouldn't be climbing the entire way. So we rolled out in anticipation of a hard climb. Turns out that was for nothing, as all 5 of us easily rode our way to the top. The biggest challenge to navigate was the choppy pavement. The climb ended up being about 3 miles long with maybe 800 feet of ascent.

Top of the Drum Canyon

We finished re-dressing (or "underwear change" as it was dubbed that day) and began the descent down the same choppy road surface. The veteran of our group said this was the first time he's been able to do it in light, and that it would be so much better. Honestly, I cannot imagine doing the descent in the dark and coming out unscathed. The neat part of the descent was by this time the moon was high in the sky, and it was nearly full.

Once on flat group we pretty much flew back into town. I got to pull a lot here, and as we went up a slight incline the group passed a guy and one of them said "Wow" when we flew by. It was great. By now it was dark and all you saw ahead of you was red taillights with bright white light surrounding you from the back. It was 192 miles at the hotel/stop point. I of course was still feeling good and the veteran of the group came with me as we rode 4 miles out to Solvang and back. I got called crazy, insane, and just nuts. Yeah, kind of already knew that. 

It was a nice cool down spin, though sadly the veteran told me the story of his friend who was killed in a hit-and-run incident while cycling on an early December morning. It just makes me sad, and sort of scared.

Overall though it was a successful day. I think my new goal for 2010 is to get the California Triple Crown, which is three doubles in one year. It's a lot less stressful, and more entertaining, than Ironman I think. I'm just tired of racing, I just want to have fun!

A Buck Fifty

Figured a weekend that included 154 miles on my bicycle deserved a post. Spring seems to be finally starting to appear in Northern California with there being mostly dry days lately and the fog has lifted for the most part.

The weekend began with the Soup Spoons & Carbon Forks ride in Berkeley on Saturday morning. It amassed to  being 42 miles of riding with 4200 feet of climbing... so essentially the ride was either up or down. Sadly had no time to take photos of the views, but they were similar to Mount Diablo since it's the same area. Since this was a SS&CF ride, everyone headed over to lunch after the ride was over. Had I know what was coming on Sunday, I probably would have fueled up with something immediately following, but alas, no clue for what was to take place the next day. Read the blog of the bike shop West County Revolution who helps to sponsor the ride. And thanks to Dan for, as usual, putting on a great ride!

So then came Sunday. Usually the Sunday group rides I go on are about 5-8 people large and go at a moderate pace. Everyone waits for the others either at the top or bottom of the hill, depending on who you are (take a wild guess where people have to wait for me). The ride began like any other, aside from two teammates of some of the usual riders who were joining us for the day. The team comes out of the Body Concepts physical therapy office in Folsom, next door to the bike shop where my team rides out of. Being Folsom, this team (along with mine) is made of all racers in the Masters (basically anyone 35 or older) division. And before you get any ideas that this is demeaning, quite the opposite. In all my experiences, Masters guys are FAST. We head out towards El Dorado Hills on some roads I have not been on before. They are rollers so most of us, minus two of the team mates who take off to duel up the hills, continue at a conversational pace.

Then at mile 20, or was it 21, I hear a huge explosion noise behind me as I'm approaching a hill. It sounds remarkably like my bike tire that exploded the day before in my car so I'm thinking holy crap who was it. Turn around and find one of the riders in a ditch. Once we decide he's okay enough to wait around for car pick-up with another ride, the rest of continue on the way to Amador County. Only a few more miles of bliss remain, and suddenly, one of the team members decides to drop the hammer once we have passed all the stop lights and heavy traffic. The first maybe 5 miles go okay. I can hang. Then the rollers get bigger and I can't keep up with the guys whenever we get to a hill. Which is sad because I fancy myself a climber... except all these guys are also climbers meaning they outclimb me usually anyways. Mile 10 one of the guys gets a flat so we chill for a bit and then start again. About this time I'm realizing I'm blowing up. After a climbing ride yesterday when I actually put some effort in trying to not let the guys get too far ahead of me and not fueling soon enough afterwards, I probably dug myself into a hole. We get to the hill outside of Plymouth where finally self-preservation kicks in and I stop trying to chase and just go at my own pace into town where luckily there is a public restroom!

The team coach asks me if I am okay when we are stopped at the gas station. I realize I can keep up on the flats and descents by sitting in behind everyone and just sucking wheel, but when an incline comes along, my legs just don't respond. And so that continues for the remaining 40 miles over to Fiddletown and the Shenandoah wine country, back through Plymouth and back towards home. Luckily the guys are nice enough not to drop my ass and the coach helps pull me along when it gets a bit rough. I find coming back into Plymouth and the rest that I am starting to recover a bit and the vomit feeling is no longer with me. Good sign I think. I also realize that not only am I riding with guys, I am riding with guys with many years of cycling experience, who currently race or have raced at some point in life. And maybe also due to self-preservation, my cornering and descending improved such that I did not want to lose them and make them have to wait for me.

Finally back into Folsom. I have 6 hours and 15 minutes written on my schedule, and we have done the initial 86 miles in just about 5 hours so I still got time to spend on the saddle. I spent 26 miles riding to the bike trail, on the trail, and back. And surprisingly, aside from being hungry, I was going at a decent clip. I hope this points to signs that my bike times will decrease this year. And the best part? Getting this email from the team coach:

Amy is a Stud…with all the riding she did on her own power off the back while Carlos was pushing the watts I’m very impressed.

So all the time spent on the bike the past few months have not been in vain! Although... I really feel "stud" is a California term. Before moving here the only time I heard it was in a reference to a guy who was able to pick up all the girls. So what is the East/Midwest word? 

Next weekend... to rival my 150 miles in two days, I get to ride 200 miles in one day. First double century and I finally started panicking today. 

Mount Diablo

Yesterday was an 80 mile ride in the East Bay area, organized and led by Dan (with some help from his phone). Started at 8:30am... I think we got back to my car close to 5:30 in the evening. It's ironic that 9 hours is about the amount of time I spend at work daily but time passes much more quickly on a bike (aside from the last miles of an Ironman bike course). Actual riding time was under 6 hours for me, and the remaining time was spent waiting and eating and more waiting. And for most everyone else riding time was less since they had to wait for me as I s-l-o-w-l-y descended all the twisty hills. All in all, probably my favorite ride of the year thus far with the Fiddletown/Shenandoah wine country route a not too distant second.

The ride started with the other woman on the ride (JA) telling me I looked tired. I was like uh-oh this might not bode so well. That and the 15.5 miles I had run Saturday were on the back of my mind as we started. Luckily, my legs were there from the beginning and never really failed the entire day. If I can remember correctly, first we went up. Then down, but not a too scary down. Then some flats on the way out to Mount Diablo, which was 10 miles long and 3800 feet up. I think just over 1 hour 10 minutes to go up that, and then waited around at the top and took some photos of the view.

We were under the clouds, then in the clouds, then above the clouds!

Then we went down. And it was freezing, finger-numbing cold. I experimented getting into my drops like one is supposed to descend but it still freaks me out. Once back to sea level, we got lunch, including carrot cake!! There were 20 miles left at this point and it was nearing 3pm. A small climb and one more longer climb remained. Lunch reminded me not too push too hard on the climbs up, so was taking it easy. The last descent before heading back into Berkeley proved to be the most treacherous, as I saw JA and her bike suddenly seem to catch air and then crash. Luckily she is okay but this is a reminder to myself to take the descents carefully, particularly on twisty roads with poor road surface.

Overall a good day, legs a bit stiff after Diablo but nothing too terrible. Currently lacking motivation for training, but I was reading the Death Ride website this afternoon and am now slightly more motivated to train big hills for that ride. If nothing else, I will just ride my bike.

The End

It's come to this. After getting personally attacked too many times or people having the misconception that this blog is an entire snapshot of me, I'm done here. I have deleted all non-triathlon posts and will from now on only post race or event reports. If you want me, you'll know where to find me.

Old Friends, Good Times

 2010 has quickly gone downhill. Almost every week I get shat on with something new, and it's not anything that I did on purpose. Was Is so bad of a kid that karma is finally catching up to me? Apparently being nice and trying to make friends tends to backfire when you're me.

Luckily, I got a bit of a respite in the past five days. A really short business trip to Austin gave me a chance to see three of my good friends down there and meet some new people at work. It was also sunny and really nice, a welcome change from the crappy weather we've been having here. (See Lee's blog for a great rant.)

Then some of my closest friends from college and I all ventured out to Lake Tahoe for a weekend trip involving sitting in bad traffic, snowboarding, and just chilling. Another break in the dark cloud that seems to be hanging over me. It was refreshing to hang out with them, not only because they know me so well but also since I am realizing how much I miss hanging out with people of my own age. Why pretend to be an old person when you're only in your 20s? I want to have fun!

Now I'm exhausted... but looking for the next adventure. If the weather holds out, a ride in the East Bay may be in store for this coming weekend, but as usual, Mother Nature doesn't appear to be cooperating.