180 miles into the day I round a corner on Highway 1. The cobalt blue waves of the Pacific Ocean crash into the cliffs outside of Malibu. I’m riding amazingly well considering the length of the day. The weather couldn’t be more perfect. A flock of herons fly overhead. I break out in an ear-to-ear grin. What a perfect way to celebrate the one year anniversary of my arrival in Boston.
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Getting here wasn’t such an easy path. It’s been a year of challenges since finishing my cross-country ride – Being evicted from our house, changing careers, our daughter moving to Japan, and probably most relevant to this particular story, a sometimes overwhelming sense of ennui after returning from Boston. After doing something like riding across the country I found it tough to get motivated to do a simple Saturday ride. Nothing felt terribly interesting. So I slept in on Saturdays, didn’t really look at my bike for about 4 months, and sat around getting fat. I put on almost 15 pounds in 4 months.
As has happened to me several times in the past, I looked in the mirror one morning and said “oh, Hell no”. Something had to change, so I started thinking up new ways to get motivated. Eventually I settled on three goals for 2008: bench pressing my weight, getting my golf handicap under 10, and doing at least one double century. The combination of those goals was enough to get me out of bed, off to the gym and back on my bike.
The other two goals are still works-in-progress. As for the double-century, my challenge began to crystallize. I’d always started these things in the dark and finished in the dark. The really strong riders do them entirely in the daylight. So that would be my challenge: to do an entire double century without ever turning on my headlights.
The Grand Tour is an ideal candidate for this. It’s on the last Saturday in June so the days are at their longest. It’s about the easiest double century on the circuit in terms of hill climbing. Tack on the usually glorious weather and the dramatic coastal scenery and it’s my favorite of the doubles. I had a plan.
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What I didn’t have was enough time to put in the requisite miles. After hopping back on the bike I quickly realized that a four- month sabbatical doesn’t improve your fitness. I was almost back to square one as far as conditioning goes. One particularly painful training ride in the Morgan Territory made me question whether this was even possible. Friends would tell me that a 200-mile ride would be no big deal after riding across the country. I knew better. There’s a big difference between riding 85 miles in a day and riding 200 miles in a day.
By the time I left for L.A. I’d finished one century ride (over 2 months ago), one ride in the 85 mile range, and a bunch in 70 mile range. I’d also taken several weekends completely off. Given the realities of the time I had available I made a conscious decision to focus on hill training. The rides were shorter than I wanted, but also tougher than normal. Would quality training make up for a lack of quantity training?
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I got to the Malibu Event Center about 30 minutes before the sun came up. After registering and prepping the bike I had to sit around for awhile waiting for the sun to come up. I rolled out of the parking lot at first light. I could see the road, but I was really hoping there weren’t any potholes. Regardless, the headlights stayed off.
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After a couple of miles the sun rose enough that killer potholes were no longer an issue. The first 16 miles consists of a series of 8 rollers. They warm your legs up pretty quickly and made for an interesting challenge when I rode them again at the end of the day. For the first 25 miles we rode right along the coast on Highway 1. It was a delightful way to start off an event.
I jumped onto a couple of pacelines for the the next section and made really good time. My average speed was over 17 mph for the first 65 miles. A daylight finish was looking good.
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You see some interesting bike jerseys at these events. Double Centuries in particular attract some pretty elite athletes. Most of us want to show off a little, so you see jerseys from some pretty arcane events.
For some reason I always struggle when picking out a jersey. My Triple Crown jersey isn’t going to impress anyone at a Double Century ride. The Triple Crown is pretty much assumed by most of the riders at these events. My choices narrowed to two: The Crossroads jersey that shows the map of the U.S., or the Furnace Creek 508 jersey. I settled on the Furnace Creek jersey, figuring double century riders would appreciate that event. It turned out to be a good choice. I had probably a dozen riders ask me about the event. I was quick to point out that I’d done it as a relay, but the jersey was still good for bragging rights.
The winner of the “jersey bragging rights” contest was a guy wearing a Paris-Brest-Paris jersey. This is possibly the toughest non-professional bike event in the world. It’s only held once every four years. It’s 800 miles long, from Paris to the city of Brest and back. They start as a group and ride until they finish. Sleep is optional and up to the rider to decide on. If you’re interested in a little adventure here’s the link.
http://www.paris-brest-paris.org/EN/
I struck up a conversation with this guy and a few miles down the road he had me almost considering it. I clearly have a defective common-sense gene.
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Most of the middle 100 miles were spent riding with a delightful lady named Dee. These chance encounters are a large part of the enjoyment of these events. She was doing her first solo double century. She’d done 3 previous events as part of a tandem with her boyfriend and was trying it solo today for the first time. She’s raising 3 kids on her own as a single mom, taking over 20 units as a full-time college student, and still has time to train for extreme biking events. Pretty amazing. Here we are having some chicken soup at the Rincon Point rest stop.
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By the time we arrived in Ojai we’d covered 110 miles and finished the two major climbing sections of the day. Even after a prolonged lunch break it was still only 1:30. I actually felt pretty fresh. My legs were holding up well, I hadn’t had any stomach issues, and I was averaging almost 17 mph even with the two climbs. The ride seemed almost easy.
That’s always a danger sign. For the next 30 miles we rode into the teeth of a nasty headwind. We’d struggle to hold 10 mph. Riding down the hill to the ocean was harder than riding up the hill. We turned north once we hit the coast and eventually rode for a brief time on Hwy 101, grinding the whole way.
The rest stop at Rincon Point was much appreciated. It had taken almost 3 full hours to cover 30 miles. Our only breaks had been the occasional stoplight. We were both completely gassed. I no longer was feeling particularly confident. I had 60 miles to cover and about 4 hours of daylight left. Riding 15 mph wouldn’t cut it, since I still had one more rest stop and lots of stoplights riding through Ventura. Time to put the hammer down. How big a hammer I had left was an open question though.
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I get asked quite often why I do this. There are loads of reasons, but here’s one of the main ones: I want to experience life, not just observe it. That distinction came through loud and clear while riding down Highway 1. People in cars were passing by. I’m sure they were enjoying the lovely views, but they were observing them from the quiet of their cars. With air conditioning and radio they may as well have been watching TV.
I was a part of the environment. I could feel the wind in my face. The weather makes me sweat or shiver, and there’s not a great deal I can do about that. When I enjoy the views I’m enjoying the entire experience. It’s very real. I often make a point of not even wearing sunglasses. I don’t want a filter between my perception and the actual world I’m a part of at the moment. When I travel a mile down the road it’s a direct result of my own personal effort. I earn those views. I’m proud of them.
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So I took off from Rincon Point like a bat out of hell. The nasty headwind was now blowing at my back. 20 MPH required almost no pedaling. The Krispy Kreme donut and Pepsi kicked in and I rode like a maniac. I reeled in two different pacelines as I flew down the coast. I looked down at my legs at one point and thought “where the Hell is this coming from?”
After the quickest rest stop of my life (I usually goof off for 15 minutes of so) I was back on the road for the home stretch. I could finally relax. I’d made up enough time in the previous 30 miles that I now didn’t have to worry about a daylight finish. I cruised home with the tailwind assist and just really enjoyed being outdoors on a bike in such a magnificent setting.
Coasting down the last hill into the parking lot I was positively euphoric. I rolled up to my car, came to a stop, and pumped my fists like an idiot. I’d finished just after 7:30, with a full hour of daylight to spare.
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This day had turned out to be one of my all-time favorite days on a bike. Glorious weather, incredible scenery, interesting people, and a new lifetime-first accomplishment (the daylight finish) had combined to create a day that exemplifies what this sport has to offer. It was a very fitting tribute on the one-year anniversary of the completion of my cross-country trip.
I went through a long stretch earlier this year thinking that my days as a serious endurance sport athlete might be over. I just couldn’t imagine finding anything interesting after my moon-shot ride. I’m happy to have re-discovered my motivation. Not every event has to qualify for a lifetime-achievement award. Sometimes they are worth doing just because they are worth doing. This is an event I’m sure I will return to repeatedly. In the meantime I’ve scheduled one more Double Century for this year. I’m back to feeling fit once more, and enjoying my hobby just for its own sake.
