Finally, I have found the most boring thing in the world.

Ever since my bike-cleated uphill trek through the Santa Ynez Valley, my Achilles tendon has been acting up.

I really thought that thing had healed, but I guess I'm not all that surprised given what I did to it.

Any attempt to run, even on the treadmill, has been causing pain (which I'm told is bad), so I've been aqua-jogging.

I put a big, weird belt around my waist and go through the motions of running in the pool. Back and forth, running but not really running, but not swimming, either.  I look longingly at the swimmers, and count the minutes until I can take that damned belt off and get back to freestyle. I suspect watching paint dry would be more mentally stimulating.


 Were the ocean a bit warmer, I'd try to aqua jog there, because then I'd at least have a view (even if the belt would garner some stares!).

What I really need is one of those waterproof MP3 players, but that's not in the budget so I'm still trying to figure out how to keep myself sane while in the pool, pretending to run. Any suggestions?

Solvang: An 80 mile ride followed by an uphill hike in bike cleats

I'd agreed to do Solvang with a friend, as this would be her first century ride and she wanted some company, and the course winds through the Santa Ynez valley which is incredibly gorgeous.


Since this is a big ride and every hotel within 30 miles of Solvang was booked solid, I stayed at an overpriced 'inn' in Santa Barbara - of course, just about everything is overpriced in Santa Barbara, including the gas, the parking and the air.

I drove up to Solvang Friday night to get checked in and check out the bike expo:

This is only the back half of the line. It curves around and goes into the hotel.

 The expo was really cool with some great prices on stuff I don't need. I bought a nice low-profile helmet for $30, and a graphic jersey for $25. I wanted more stuff, but I have to keep the budget in mind.

A few other friends were at the ride as well, doing the metric century, so after we got our packets, we headed to dinner at a local restaurant which was having an all you can eat pasta special.

Mmmm.. Pasta. The place was packed with cyclists carbing up.

I headed back to the hotel, and managed to get about 5 hours of sleep, which is about normal for me.

The next morning, as I pulled into Solvang at 6 am, the temperature readout on my dashboard read 32 degrees. As in freezing 32 degrees. With heavy fog. This presented a dilemma on my part. Bundle up to stay warm on the first part of the ride, and then have to figure out where to stow all the additional clothing as this ride doesn't allow one to drop clothing at SAG stops, or wear a manageable amount of clothing and freeze for the first part of the ride?


Since the weather forecast called for a high of about 78, I opted to freeze early and have less weight later.

Fog, lifting, although it was still so cold I couldn't feel my hands.

Although it was ultimately the correct choice, I regretted it for the first 20 miles. I couldn't feel face, feet or hands, but the hands were the worst. They were so cold I was having trouble pulling the brake levers.

After SAG 1 at 20 miles, it warmed up to 'brisk'. It was still  chilly, but at least I could feel my extremities.

The madness of SAG 1. It was packed.

This was, by far, the biggest ride I've done. There were several thousand participants, and while I'm certainly not stating that everyone who rides a road bike is a douchebag, it did seem like everyone who rides a road bike and happens to be a douchebag decided to do Solvang.

Although the ride organizers had asked riders to please share the road by staying to the right, there were packs of riders blocking traffic, team riders blowing past and cutting off slower riders, passing on the right, etc..

Lucky for me, there were also some very, very nice folks riding with us slowpokes. 

Once the clouds burned off, we entered the beautiful rolling hills. My friend was trying to maintain 16 mph average, which is too fast for me, but I stubbornly tried to keep up with her.

Riding on the shoulder of the 101 freeway

About mile 50 I pulled into SAG 2 and realized I'd gone out too fast and burned my legs. I broke the bad news to said friend that I wasn't going to be able to keep up with her, so she shouldn't feel bad about leaving me.

The riders thinning out after SAG 2. This was about mile 55.

The roads through most of the ride were really, really rough. California's not known for our smooth highways, but some of these roads were just insane. I didn't take very many photos because between the roads and the wind gusts I was afraid to take my hands off the handlebars.

The rough ride made the patches of smooth pavement seem just like heaven, though.

At mile 70, we started a gentle climb (well, it would have been gentle had it not been at mile 70) past some wineries. I was getting tired from the climbing and the wind, so I slowed down and chatted with a very nice lady until about mile 80, when I decided to speed up a bit as I didn't want to be out on course too late.

Blue skies and a decent road.

Right after mile 81, I heard the ominous metallic clank of something going very, very wrong with my bike.

Turns out, it was a broken spoke.

Which is good because eventually it's a simple and inexpensive fix, but bad because with another 20 miles of steep climbing, it meant my ride was pretty much over.

There was no emergency number on the route sheet, so I asked one of the passing cyclists to please inform the folks at SAG 4 that there was a rider on the course with a mechanical problem. Since I had no way to detach the spoke from the wheel (the one thing I don't bring...), I had no choice but to wait. But I'm impatient, so I walked. Up a hill. In bike cleats. Fun.

Also, since I have the plastic Look style cleats, they were pretty much wrecked from what turned out to be about a two mile slog.  

Eventually, my savior appeared - a volunteer in a minivan who very, very kindly drove me back into Solvang.

Since there were no timing chips, it's not like it counted, and I did get to go over the very, very steep hill in a car.

Then, I stowed my bike and consoled myself with french fries and sausage at one of the local Danish-themed restaurants.

I caught up with my friends, all of whom finished their rides, and we poked around the expo a bit more until the insane traffic jam died down.

Solvang, while a quaint and lovely town, really can't handle the traffic of 4,000 cyclists all driving away at once.

When I got back to the hotel, I went for a swim in the pool and a soak in the hot tub, which I know isn't really good for my muscles, but boy did it feel good.

The next day, I got up, went for a Recovery Swim in the pool, had a Recovery Hot Tub, followed by a Recovery Omelet and a Recovery Bloody Mary at a local cafe.

I then packed up the car (tip: always bring a sealable bag for stinky clothes), and headed home, stopping at the outlet mall in Camarillo for some Recovery Shopping.

This will be the last out-of-town event until Vineman in July, so I can start doing some shorter rides, thankfully!

A few more shots from Death Valley

Panamint Valley Panorama (click image to enlarge)

Rusty wheels, Borax Works

Panamint Valley, with my toes in the sand of a prehistoric lake bed.

Paceline, speeding past me.

Wagon, Furnace Creek Ranch

Ride Report: Death Valley makes a mockery of my ambitions.

 The week before the race, a friend of mine gave me such a good pep talk, that I almost thought I had a chance of completing the 150. "It'll be great!" I told myself. "I just have to ride like hell for the first half, and then I can coast!"

Needless to say, I didn't finish the 150, but I did manage to go 100 miles (Yay me!), plus I learned a few things which will come in handy for Rachel vs. Death Valley, the Rematch.

After picking up my rental bike (steel may be real, but I needed a lighter bike) and tent, I got on the road about 11 am. Since Death Valley is about a 5 hour drive from Los Angeles and I really needed to get to the campsite and get the tent set up before dark (my idea of roughing it is a hotel with no room service, so I don't have a lot of experience with tents), I drove like hell, figuring I could stop and enjoy the scenery on the way back.

I got to the park, got my campsite, and miraculously, managed to get the tent assembled with minimal pain.

Houston, we have tent. Note rocks as the ground is way, way too hard for tent stakes. 

No one warned me about rental tent smell. Pee-Eeew. If there's a next time, I'm bringing some Febreeze.

After said tenting, I drove over to Furnace Creek Ranch to check in and pick up my ride packet, which consisted of directions and a lip balm.

I then purchased a shower/pool pass to the pool and went swimming before showering. The pool at Furnace Creek Ranch is fed by a warm spring, so there's no chlorine and it's about 82 degrees. Awesome.

After a shower and dinner at one of the overpriced eateries on the ranch property, I headed back up the the tent to get some sleep.

Little did I know that the Texas Spring campground is apparently Death Valley party central. The noise died down after 10 (thanks to our awesome campground host), and I got my revenge at 5 am Saturday morning when my very loud alarm went off.

I drove down to Furnace Creek Ranch, got the last of my stuff together, and lined up for the start.

The fast riders. Note that I am not among them.

   Although I'd hoped to be in wave 2, which left at 6:20, I ended up in wave 4, which left at 6:40. There were cutoff times at each of the aid stations - of course, for the 150 ride, those cutoff times required a much higher speed than did the century course. After hearing tales of gale-force winds from people who had done the ride before, I got a bit nervous, but the wind seemed to be holding off, so all seemed fairly well.

It was in the 40's, and my legs were so cold that, for some reason, my leg warmers kept falling down. I had to stop at the first aid station to drop my seat a bit (that's what I get for not doing a test ride on the bike) and pee.

Badwater aid station. With toilets!

 The rental bike (an aluminum Fuji) seemed just fine - it did very well over the rough-ish roads, but the first 40 miles of the course were 'rollers', low hills, and it became apparent very early that this bike wasn't really geared to climb. I was averaging a decent pace on flats and downhills, but was slowing down on the hills. Still, though, no winds, so all was well.

Most of the pacelines were going way too fast for me (that's not the bike's fault, it's my legs), so it was just me and the empty roads and the silence. Since I live in a large city, silence is something I'm not really used to, but it was nice.

Not a good place to break down, but impressive! 

 Then, just as I was feeling confident, the wind picked up. Not gale force, like the horror stories from last year, but a good steady 16mph.

Just enough to slow me down to the point where, when I got to the second aid stop, I was warned that I might not make the time cutoff.

Then, I started the first climb. It became apparent very quickly that rental bike was SO not geared to climb. My heart rate soared and my speed dropped and dropped and dropped until I was going at about walking speed. A very, very old man on a beach cruiser (I think) passed me, as did an ambling coyote, and at one point, a snail.

So, it wasn't much of a surprise at the Jubilee Pass 50 mile marker I was told that I'd missed the time cutoff and would have to turn around.

I said "oh, darn", but inwardly I thought "Yay!". That first climb was tough, and the second climb, I'm told,  was worse.

I turned around, rolled down the hill (but kept braking as I'm still to scared to go much over 25 mph) and turned back, into a headwind.

The wind, while I was climbing, had shifted 180 degrees, and I'd have a headwind in both directions.

Thanks, Death Valley, thanks a lot.

The entire way back was all about fighting the wind and the rolling hills, and the fact that I now urgently needed a restroom. Over each rise, each curve, I kept looking for Badwater and it's welcoming toilet, but each time I'd just see more desert.

Pretty!

Scenic!

It's a bunch of damn rocks. I no longer care. Where's the freakin' toilet?

The wind, of course, never let up. The pacelines were long gone, so it was still just me, fighting the wind and really needing a restroom.

Badwater, thankfully.

This is my "It's mile 75 but I feel so relieved" face

After the second Badwater stop is when I really started to hurt. I wasn't cramping up, I was just sore and tired, but since this particular ride won't SAG riders in unless there's some sort of catastrophic injury, my only option was to keep riding.


At one point, I stopped, got off the bike, bent over and tried to stretch out, but this alarmed anyone passing so much ("are you okay? Do you need help?") that I didn't do it again. Plus, it didn't help. My butt hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt, my neck hurt. Hell, even my hair hurt. I can't imagine the suffering of the poor bastards who tried to cross this desert in a covered wagon (and eventually on foot after the livestock died for lack of forage).

After what seemed like an eternity, the end finally appeared:

Oh, thank God.

The last blissful mile was all downhill into Furnace Creek. I coasted into the ranch, checked in and informed them that I'd dropped down to the 100 miler, and finally got off that damned bike.

Between the winds, the hills, and the general unprepared state of my legs, my official time for the 100 mile ride was 9 hours 20 minutes. That stinging sensation - it's my pride.

I'm not all that fast and I know it, but NINE hours? Were my neck not so sore, I would have hung my head in shame.

Instead, I limped over to the car, threw the bike in the back, grabbed my swimsuit (and some fresh clothes), and headed for the pool.

After floating and stretching, I showered and limped into the restaurant, where I rewarded my self with a plate of undercooked risotto and a beer.

It was easy to spot the cyclists. We were all limping. I chatted with a few fellow riders, and then headed back to the campground, where I stayed awake long enough to brush my teeth and then fell fast asleep despite the noisy campground.

I wish drivers in LA were as courteous as the drivers were in Death Valley. Seriously, all the drivers were incredibly nice.

What is this booth thing with the phone?

The next morning, I got up, limped around, packed the car and then went back to Furnace Creek Ranch for a recovery swim in the pool, since the last thing I wanted was to get back on the bike.

I swam a few laps, stretched, had breakfast and then headed out. I stopped a few times to check out the scenic views and whatnot.

Of course, on the drive out of Death Valley, there were no winds. Not even a breeze, and the temperature was 78 degrees. Just Death Valley saying "Next time, take the car". 

Borax Works

Info sign

Ruin

Wait.. what?

So, for the Rachel vs. Death Valley rematch:

#1. Compact crank and geared for climbing. I made the mistake of assuming that light weight would equal speed. So not true.

#2. Suck it up and pay for the hotel room. Camping sucks ass.

#3. Bring a bike with aerobars. That wind is a bitch.

#4. Get in an earlier start wave.

On the bright side, I didn't cramp up, I didn't have dehydration issues, and I still managed 100 miles.

Sweet.

I have to give credit to AdvendureCORPS, who put on a very nice race. The volunteers were wonderful, the aid stations were wonderful,  the route was wonderful, and despite my not making my cutoff, I'll definitely be back.

I'm off!

I'm checking my stuff, loading the car, then it's off to pick up the bike before I head out to Death Valley.

Predicted highs are in the low 70s, predicted lows in the 40s.

I'll be back with pictures!