Story Time...
Let's hear all about everyone's Bike to Work experiences!
Woke up this morning around 6 to some lingering rain that immediately zapped all may ambition to tackle the commute from my new digs in Silver Spring to Falls Church. As I sat down with my morning cup of joe I started to feel a little more ambitious, well that and the rain tapered off. I figured mileage would be similar to my last place in Potomac, instead of 9 miles into Chain Bridge via the C&O it would be 9 miles via the CCT and Georgetown Branch trails. So I grab my stuff and take off.
I passed more bikers than I have ever seen, it was great. When I got into Bethesda I saw about 40 riders at the station talking, I wanted to stop, but deadlines and clients call, so off I went. I always dread the climb from Chain Bridge up to Glebe road, you go from a dead stop and it's a steep mother, but today I saw some people walking up so that gave me motivation to stomp the pedals for the grind up. Felt good being able to tackle it with the 42x16 gearing, last time I was riding 42x17. No time to pat myself on the back, to busy panting and pushing my lungs back in my chest.
Get to work, not a single other person rode in... I was expecting 2 others, oh well, their loss.
I ordered some things and had them shipped to work, well they all showed up today including a cable modem... so now I have a 25lb bag to lug the 20 some miles home... I felt like a mule,
not the kind Ricky likes to pretend he is either.
The roads that take me from work to Chain Bridge are steep and hilly and boy do I feel that extra weight on my back, but feels good to be out riding, legs felt fine from the commute in so all is good. Head down my nemesis hill and hit Chain Bridge. I stop to enjoy the view and try to remember to look up, sometimes it's not about where you have to go, but the journey in-between.
I make it a little further to the CCT trail and think how much happier I am riding than sitting in the perpetual traffic that plagues our area. 2:30 on a Friday, gee imagine how much better it will be at 5.
I'm about to jump on my bike and a fellow rider stops and comments about my bike, asking how I like riding a fixie, etc. Turns out he's building one, also just so happens he's heading my way, so ride off. Turns out he works at HTO in Rockville, cools guy it was great to chat, made 7 miles seems go by like nothing. Once we hit Rock Creek Park he turned off for Rockville and I kept going.
I was pretty hungry by this point, having missed lunch and only munching a Clif Bar, so I stop in downtown SS and munch on a bean burrito from Chipotle and almost choke as I see the one the only
Matthew Lesko...
I also ran into a friend of mine and his wife who are in town from Philly for the weekend. We had plans to meet up with them tonight, but completely random to see them.
I also so this beauty in front of the SS metro, I think I may have to have a word with Bianchi about stealing my color, at least the Spicer has sparkles.
So that's it for me, who else has a story to tell?
12 Hours of Lovin'
When I told people that I was doing the Solo Singlespeed category of the
12 Hours of Lodi, most folks just shook their head. "You're crazy" and "I don't have the cajones for that." Well, honestly, neither do I, but I saw it from the other angle. I ride singlespeed exclusively, so that takes care of that. And in the solo category, you have no teammates, no pressure, and no set amount of laps you need to do. The math is easier too. Do one lap if you want or do 12 laps if you have it in you. Either way, you choose. Just remember to check in after noon.
Before the race, there was much (friendly) trash-talkin' between Markie,
Jason,
JoeP, and me. I expected to do poorly, or at least do the lowest number of laps between the four of us competing in the same category. I had done so miserably at last weekend's
Greenbrier race (19 outta 30), that I didn't have a lot of confidence for this much longer race.
As the name implies, the race runs for 12 hours, starting at midnight and ending at noon on Sunday. The 8.5 mile course is some of the
twistiest in our region, so tangled that it has your head spinning at times. Short steep uphills, short downhills that'll keep you on your toes, but for the most part you are ducking and weaving left and right like a boxer, treelimbs and the path providing the impetus to quickly shift left and right. There are so many 180 degree turns that I lost count.
At the midnight start, I felt nothing, which was good. I was water and went with the flow. I didn't run very fast at the Le Mans start, but after getting on the bike after the half mile run, I turned it on. I tucked in behind Jebagger, Lauri's 12 year old son and teammate (as well as
FatMarc's). He kept a good pace and I chased him for a few miles until he got knocked out of kilter by an errant tree. Passing him, I put my head down and chug-a-lugged. I finished the first lap much faster than expected and was very jazzed and kept the tempo for lap 2.
During lap 3 I kept wondering where the other three were. I didn't recall them passing me, but I was expecting them at any moment. "Just keep it up," I kept telling myself. "Your only goal is to not take any naps...and maybe not be the last among the four of us."
I still had the gas turned on when Chris Redlack, the fastest singlespeeder in last year's solo category passed me. "You're going really fast, Ricky! Keep some gas in the tank." Earlier that day, before the race, I asked him for some advice on how to do well at these kinds of endurance races. "Take a break, but not a real break. Rest, but don't stop," or something to that effect. He was in a different category this year, so I knew he wasn't just asking me to slow down for his sake. I took his advice and cut back on the throttle. If I had continued at the pace of laps 1 and 2, I would have been dead by lap 6.
It was on this lap that I also discovered that JoeP did a really hard shoulder check with a tree and was outta the game. When I got back to camp for a water bottle change, his car was still there so I figured he probably didn't hit the tree hard enough to go to the hospital. Good.
During lap 5, and maybe around 4:30 in the morning, my borrowed battery died. Snappers! No sweat. I just tagged along behind others for as long as I could. When they realized that I didn't have a real light (just one of those small
Cateye thingies), some would slow down. I implored that they didn't because I didn't want to mess up their race.
Luckily, the course runs right up against the campgrounds at around mile 3, so I popped off the course, and quickly changed batteries at the car. While changing the battery, I saw Markie veg'ing under the tent. He told me that his back froze up. I told him that I had the same thing. It hurt so much that I couldn't bend over to grab stuff that I dropped. I told him to get back on his bike and catch me because I wasn't that far ahead. He said he was going to sleep. I wasn't sure if he was playing games with me, so I jumped back on the course and turned it up. Markie was close, and it was inspiration to keep moving.
Laps 5 and 6 were a blur. I just remembered to stop by my tent before checking in every lap to make sure I got a long swig of Gatorade, a fresh water bottle, half a banana, a Gu, half a PB&J, and a
Race Cap. I definitely didn't want to go empty during such a long race.
At the beginning of lap 7, I finally ask how I'm doing in my category. "You're in first." I grin ear-to-ear like the Joker. I'm wondering how the heck it happened, but more importantly, how much longer could I go? This is where the math began. It was a little after 7. I was on lap 7. If I take an 1:15 for each lap thereafter, carry the two, no, no, the square root of...WTF? Exhausted delirium was setting in. Didn't matter. The sun was out and all that mattered was that I didn't cramp and that I kept turning the cranks. That became my math -- kindergarten counting math: "1, 2, 1, 2,..."
On lap 8, around mile 70, I was becoming a blubbering mess. A photographer was laying on the ground, getting in position to take a picture, when for some reason or another, I imagined he was dead. When he released the shutter, the snap absolutely frightened me, because he was moving and, well, he was dead! I literally screamed and sprinted away. It took me a few seconds to realize I was acting bizarre.
Stoner overtakes me later on the lap. He sneaks up behind me, accelerates, and screams while passing, scaring me out of my skin. If it was anyone besides my buddies I would have been really pissed. Instead, I was mildly pissed and wanted to just catch him to yell at him. However, he was going way too fast. Since I passed him a few laps ago, working on his second flat, I figured he was no threat and reeled myself in before I cramped.
At the beginning of lap 10, I stopped to see how far ahead I was. 12 minutes on lap 8, 8 minutes on lap 9, and it was 10:30 starting lap 10. Dangit, my lead wasn't big enough to relax. Real cramps started to settle in on the prior lap, and to get me through I ate much more than before. A whole banana, 2 Gus, and I actually grabbed two bottles instead of my usual 1. While on the course, I was asking everyone that I knew for spare food, but everyone until
Jonny was empty. He let me take a swig of his Hammer gel and gave me an e-cap. I had six and a half more miles to go.
Math time again: I was cramping and walking a lot more. If it took me an hour and a half to do a lap, I'm golden since I'd finish at 12:00. However, if rider #2 gets back early enough after me and picks up speed on lap 10, he could easily pass me on the course. If I finish before 12, I'd only go out if I got back before 11:50 because that meant I felt good enough and he probably would have felt good enough as well to do another lap. However, I wasn't sure if I could do another lap. I dreaded the thought.
My knees starting bugging me at lap 7, but by lap 10 they hurt so much that it hurt to ride. However, it hurt to walk more, so I stayed on the bike as much as I possibly could. Towards the end of lap 10, I was fast approaching the finish line, but it was only 11:30! Two of my
City Bikes teammates passed me with fury, but before they got too far, I ask them if they passed any slower singlespeeders. Eric says he saw a couple of 'em 8-10 minutes back. A few minutes later Kent says nobody's passed him and he hasn't seen anyone in 20 minutes.
Math class again: If I get back at 11:50, and they were only 8-10 minutes behind me, that easily gives them time to check in and go for another lap. I really, really, really did not want to do another lap. I end up at the finish line at 11:45, and check the times. I left at 10:30, and the next guy left at 10:50. I let my shoulders down. I figured if he was rocking really hard, he might be able to finish in time, but considering my own times slowed down, I banked on his slowing down as well.
I just stood in front of the finish line, eyeing every singlespeeder passing to make sure they weren't flying in. If they were, they couldn't have been a competitor. After 12 hours, it's hard to still look badass. When they announced it was noon, I ran the 10 feet and gave 'em my number. Stoner checked in before me (with 7 laps), so unless I was completely off in my race course math, I won!
Later, I check the results. My official check-in time was 12:00. #2 was in at 12:03. No doubt he was waiting a few hundred feet in the woods. I'm glad I waited just a few feet away. :)
Final thoughts:This was the hardest effort I have ever had on a bike. Before this it was the SM100. Yes, it was more miles than the 85 at Lodi, and the hills are much higher and longer, but at Lodi it was much harder to rest on the course. All the turns made it difficult to relax long enough.
Also, my
Matt Chester Mutinyman is undoubtedly the best riding and most hassle-free bike I've ever owned. I had zero mechanicals or flats and I even ran relatively low pressures with tubes (~20 psi front and rear).
My knees were killing me for the last three laps. I discovered that stretching, which I never do, would probably help. I'll get on it.
Foodwise, I hadn't a clue. I bought the Race Caps last year, took 'em before a few races and hard rides, and got really bad stomach aches. I ended up losing the bottle, then found it again wedged way underneath my car seat. I figured that I may as well bring 'em and use 'em since this was a no-pressure race. Maybe this is one of the reasons I didn't cramp?
Pics by Gary Ryan, and his gallery from the event.
EDIT 5/13/06: I received a fax of the official timesheet from teambikeworks.org. The times are a little different than I stated in the above story, but the gist remains the same: it was a close race at the end. I also discovered that I pull up to the finish line on the last lap ~11:36. No big deal, but I had more time than I remembered to do another lap...if I could have even turned the cranks.
I forgot to mention, thank you teambikeworks.org, and the excellent volunteers, for putting on a first class race!
