Waldo
04-29-2008, 07:30 PM
"Only insane people ride the DMD" I've always thought as I read riders' stories of this 206-mile ride with over 18,000 feet of climbing, done sometimes in hailstorms with snow on the ground and at other times in heat waves with temperatures over 90 degrees. In the early years of the ride, I saw DMD course arrows on Pinehurst and Skyline, roads where I ride often, and just shook my head. As years passed and the course changed and the arrows faded.
After riding myself back into shape in 2007, I decided to tackle the California Triple Crown -- 3 double centuries in a calendar year. I looked at the calendar and picked the "easiest" three: Solvang (late March), Davis (late May), Eastern Sierra (early June). Family commitments ruled out Davis, and I was left with an unenviable choice of Central Coast (late May, hilly and windy), Terrible Two (late June, hilly and hot), Mt. Tamaulipas (early August, hilly and hot), or Knoxville (early September, not too hilly, possibly hot). Knoxville became the choice by default. The difficult part about doing Solvang, Eastern Sierra, and Knoxville was the rides' timing. I had to be in shape for a 200 miler in March, for another in June, and another in September. I preferred to have them closer together so I could use each double as a training ride for the next. I needed to come up with an alternative.
I had a fabulous time at Solvang. I rode it very fast (for me -- 19.3 mph) and finished feeling fairly fresh. DMD was scheduled for April 26, far enough from Solvang to recover from it, but close enough to use Solvang as training. Thus, the plan was born: Solvang as a training double for the much hillier DMD, the ride for the insane.
Ch. 1: Not the DMD!
"So, what are doing for an encore," asked my friend Gary after I finished regaling him with the tale of my ride at Solvang. I looked at him and smiled enigmatically. He waited a few seconds and repeated the question. I smiled again. "No," he said, "you're not doing the DMD?!" I smiled and nodded.
There were four weeks between Solvang and DMD. I planned on doing 60-80-mile weekend rides and a couple of hilly 130-milers before DMD to get ready. But my daughter got sick, then my wife, then I felt as if I was coming down with something. Between illnesses, work, and family commitments, the lonly serious training ride I was able to do was a 120-miler over Mt. Diablo and Morgan Territory Road 10 days before DMD. This 8-hour ride left me exhausted and made my knee hurt. The knee problem and apparent lack of fitness left me concerned about my ability to finish the DMD. Concerned enough to consider not starting.
I agonized for the better part of 10 days whether I should ride. Finally, I decided that I am in good shape from Solvang, I would eat and hydrate better than I had on my training ride, I would ride wisely and not go with super fast groups, and I didn't have to finish if my knee started to scream at me. Not finishing was not an honest option, one does not start epic rides thinking of bailing out. I also had encouraging phone conversations with Jeff Gould from the forum.
On Friday, April 25, I drove to ride HQ at San Ramon Marriott to check in and to pick up my number and route sheet. I wanted to have everything on the day before the ride so I wouldn't have to stand in line at 4:30 a.m. to pick up the number and then spent the next 15 bleary minutes cursing, as I poked myself with safety pins trying to attach the number to my jersey. I preferred to do the poking and the cursing in the privacy of my home. I picked up my number and route sheet, went home, pinned the number on my jersey, and set my alarm for 3:30 a.m. I would start riding with the 5:00 a.m. group.
Ch. 2: Good Morning!
I was so anxious about DMD that I couldn't fall asleep. Then, I woke up in the middle of night and couldn't go back to sleep. End result: when the alarm went off I'd slept a grand total of 3 hours. After a bleary-eyed breakfast of two bananas, a hard-boiled egg, and a bagel with peanut butter and honey, I threw my bike, shoes, helmet and other stuff in the car and drove to San Ramon. En route, I called Jeff to arrange a meeting at the start. Arrived at 4:30 to see people taking bikes out of cars and milling about. I got out my bike, put on my shoes and helmet, and rode to the hotel entrance. Congregating there were over 100 cyclists, many with their lights on, greeting friends and chatting excitedly with family members who accompanied some of the riders to the start. There was an excited buzz in the air. I met Jeff and his wife. One of ride organizers made a few announcements, reminding us to obey traffic laws and not to ride stupid, and at 5:00 sharp we were off!
Ch, 3: And We're Off!
One hundred and twenty single bikes and one tandem sped through dark streets of San Ramon to the foot of Mt. Diablo, a 10.5 mile climb to 3,849 feet. We hit the lower slopes of Diablo in the dark. I told Jeff that I would be vying for lanterne rouge prize and he flew off. In the dark I lost sight of him quickly. Ahead of me -- red tail lights; behind -- a river of white head lights. The peloton snaked up the curves of South Gate Road, as a spectacular dawn began breaking. We hit an inversion layer at around 2,000 feet. Air temperature rose, but almost immediately we were hit with a cold wind. The wind gained strength as we gained elevation. I rode and talked with DMD veterans about what this wind meant for the remaining 190 miles. The consensus was a long day of head winds. Eventually, this social climbing brought us to the last steep pitch -- 150 yards at 16%. We were all still pretty fresh and this section, the steepest of the day, did not present any problems.
I saw and talked to Jeff, who started the descent before me. I ate a bit, refilled my bottles, and began descending. As I rode down, I wondered whether I'd see the 6:00 group of fast riders. Sure enough, about 4 miles below the summit I saw about 20 guys/gals racing up the mountain. I hit the inversion layer again and felt warmer, but when I reached lower slopes of North Gate Rd. it became so cold that my feet started shivering. I rode through Walnut Creek in a small group at a very civilized pace. No one felt a need to hammer with a 4-mile climb up Morgan Territory Road that lay ahead, in quickly rising temperatures, and with 154 miles still to go. On Marsh Creek Road, just before Morgan, the tandem caught me, so I jumped into the group it was pulling and enjoyed the draft for a couple of miles. The group broke up as soon as we hit Morgan. I rode at a medium pace on the flat part of Morgan. Then we hit the notoriously horrible stretch of pavement that lasts the entire four miles of the climb. At this point, a couple of faster riders caught up with me and I went with them. The climb has a couple of downhill dips and descending in a group at a high speed, with everyone trying to pick his way around minefields of gaping potholes, was a fairly terrifying experience. At 9:15, we reached the summit of Morgan -- also the second rest stop. The leading riders of the 6:00 group arrived 5 minutes after us. More food and drink, sunscreen, and I began the descent.
Though Morgan Territory descent into Livermore area is one of the most exhilarating I've ever ridden, I decided that I would descend conservatively. No reason to crash out of a double century. Whether it was conservative riding or others' superior descending skills, but a couple of people were gaining on me on the lower slopes of the hill. One rider said "Hi" as he went by. I looked at his number and saw "Smith" in big bold letters (numbers had riders' names). Above it was "Sean" in smaller letters. It was Sean Smith from Serotta Forum, with whom I exchanged e-mails after the Solvang Double. "Sean!" I said loudly, "I'm Vlad." He was with the 6:00 group. We rode together and talked for a couple of minutes, but I didn't have the legs to ride with him and told him to go ahead. He said there was a group coming behind us. We waited for them, and the eight of us sped toward Livermore into a headwind. We were cautiously optimistic that this headwind coming from the east would be a tailwind on the westward climb of Patterson Pass, notorious for howling headwinds.
We rode through Livermore together, then Sean pulled ahead. No one was interested in going into the wind after him, so he rode alone. We never lost sight of Sean, but no one in our group was keen on chasing him. So, he was alone off the front about 100 yards ahead. Finally, on a slight downhill, someone took a flier and bridged to Sean, but no one went with this guy either. We rode past green hills, happy California grazing cows and horses, and windmills. Turned south, then west onto Patterson Pass Road. Yes! a tailwind! At the next roller we finally caught Sean. We rode together for a while, but when the road pitched up I found out that my legs weren't so fresh. So, I downshifted into something very small in front and big in the back (36x29) and spun. Sean and other fast and fit guys rode ahead. After 5-10 minutes I reached the "Oh my gosh!" false summit (OMG because when you look up the road from the false summit and see the climbing that remains you say, "OMG!") and water stop. More refueling and re-sunscreening. Felt pretty comfortable climbing the rest of Patterson. Descent into Livermore is pretty unremarkable -- welcome, as are all descents, but straight and the views were not memorable.
Continued in Part 2...........
After riding myself back into shape in 2007, I decided to tackle the California Triple Crown -- 3 double centuries in a calendar year. I looked at the calendar and picked the "easiest" three: Solvang (late March), Davis (late May), Eastern Sierra (early June). Family commitments ruled out Davis, and I was left with an unenviable choice of Central Coast (late May, hilly and windy), Terrible Two (late June, hilly and hot), Mt. Tamaulipas (early August, hilly and hot), or Knoxville (early September, not too hilly, possibly hot). Knoxville became the choice by default. The difficult part about doing Solvang, Eastern Sierra, and Knoxville was the rides' timing. I had to be in shape for a 200 miler in March, for another in June, and another in September. I preferred to have them closer together so I could use each double as a training ride for the next. I needed to come up with an alternative.
I had a fabulous time at Solvang. I rode it very fast (for me -- 19.3 mph) and finished feeling fairly fresh. DMD was scheduled for April 26, far enough from Solvang to recover from it, but close enough to use Solvang as training. Thus, the plan was born: Solvang as a training double for the much hillier DMD, the ride for the insane.
Ch. 1: Not the DMD!
"So, what are doing for an encore," asked my friend Gary after I finished regaling him with the tale of my ride at Solvang. I looked at him and smiled enigmatically. He waited a few seconds and repeated the question. I smiled again. "No," he said, "you're not doing the DMD?!" I smiled and nodded.
There were four weeks between Solvang and DMD. I planned on doing 60-80-mile weekend rides and a couple of hilly 130-milers before DMD to get ready. But my daughter got sick, then my wife, then I felt as if I was coming down with something. Between illnesses, work, and family commitments, the lonly serious training ride I was able to do was a 120-miler over Mt. Diablo and Morgan Territory Road 10 days before DMD. This 8-hour ride left me exhausted and made my knee hurt. The knee problem and apparent lack of fitness left me concerned about my ability to finish the DMD. Concerned enough to consider not starting.
I agonized for the better part of 10 days whether I should ride. Finally, I decided that I am in good shape from Solvang, I would eat and hydrate better than I had on my training ride, I would ride wisely and not go with super fast groups, and I didn't have to finish if my knee started to scream at me. Not finishing was not an honest option, one does not start epic rides thinking of bailing out. I also had encouraging phone conversations with Jeff Gould from the forum.
On Friday, April 25, I drove to ride HQ at San Ramon Marriott to check in and to pick up my number and route sheet. I wanted to have everything on the day before the ride so I wouldn't have to stand in line at 4:30 a.m. to pick up the number and then spent the next 15 bleary minutes cursing, as I poked myself with safety pins trying to attach the number to my jersey. I preferred to do the poking and the cursing in the privacy of my home. I picked up my number and route sheet, went home, pinned the number on my jersey, and set my alarm for 3:30 a.m. I would start riding with the 5:00 a.m. group.
Ch. 2: Good Morning!
I was so anxious about DMD that I couldn't fall asleep. Then, I woke up in the middle of night and couldn't go back to sleep. End result: when the alarm went off I'd slept a grand total of 3 hours. After a bleary-eyed breakfast of two bananas, a hard-boiled egg, and a bagel with peanut butter and honey, I threw my bike, shoes, helmet and other stuff in the car and drove to San Ramon. En route, I called Jeff to arrange a meeting at the start. Arrived at 4:30 to see people taking bikes out of cars and milling about. I got out my bike, put on my shoes and helmet, and rode to the hotel entrance. Congregating there were over 100 cyclists, many with their lights on, greeting friends and chatting excitedly with family members who accompanied some of the riders to the start. There was an excited buzz in the air. I met Jeff and his wife. One of ride organizers made a few announcements, reminding us to obey traffic laws and not to ride stupid, and at 5:00 sharp we were off!
Ch, 3: And We're Off!
One hundred and twenty single bikes and one tandem sped through dark streets of San Ramon to the foot of Mt. Diablo, a 10.5 mile climb to 3,849 feet. We hit the lower slopes of Diablo in the dark. I told Jeff that I would be vying for lanterne rouge prize and he flew off. In the dark I lost sight of him quickly. Ahead of me -- red tail lights; behind -- a river of white head lights. The peloton snaked up the curves of South Gate Road, as a spectacular dawn began breaking. We hit an inversion layer at around 2,000 feet. Air temperature rose, but almost immediately we were hit with a cold wind. The wind gained strength as we gained elevation. I rode and talked with DMD veterans about what this wind meant for the remaining 190 miles. The consensus was a long day of head winds. Eventually, this social climbing brought us to the last steep pitch -- 150 yards at 16%. We were all still pretty fresh and this section, the steepest of the day, did not present any problems.
I saw and talked to Jeff, who started the descent before me. I ate a bit, refilled my bottles, and began descending. As I rode down, I wondered whether I'd see the 6:00 group of fast riders. Sure enough, about 4 miles below the summit I saw about 20 guys/gals racing up the mountain. I hit the inversion layer again and felt warmer, but when I reached lower slopes of North Gate Rd. it became so cold that my feet started shivering. I rode through Walnut Creek in a small group at a very civilized pace. No one felt a need to hammer with a 4-mile climb up Morgan Territory Road that lay ahead, in quickly rising temperatures, and with 154 miles still to go. On Marsh Creek Road, just before Morgan, the tandem caught me, so I jumped into the group it was pulling and enjoyed the draft for a couple of miles. The group broke up as soon as we hit Morgan. I rode at a medium pace on the flat part of Morgan. Then we hit the notoriously horrible stretch of pavement that lasts the entire four miles of the climb. At this point, a couple of faster riders caught up with me and I went with them. The climb has a couple of downhill dips and descending in a group at a high speed, with everyone trying to pick his way around minefields of gaping potholes, was a fairly terrifying experience. At 9:15, we reached the summit of Morgan -- also the second rest stop. The leading riders of the 6:00 group arrived 5 minutes after us. More food and drink, sunscreen, and I began the descent.
Though Morgan Territory descent into Livermore area is one of the most exhilarating I've ever ridden, I decided that I would descend conservatively. No reason to crash out of a double century. Whether it was conservative riding or others' superior descending skills, but a couple of people were gaining on me on the lower slopes of the hill. One rider said "Hi" as he went by. I looked at his number and saw "Smith" in big bold letters (numbers had riders' names). Above it was "Sean" in smaller letters. It was Sean Smith from Serotta Forum, with whom I exchanged e-mails after the Solvang Double. "Sean!" I said loudly, "I'm Vlad." He was with the 6:00 group. We rode together and talked for a couple of minutes, but I didn't have the legs to ride with him and told him to go ahead. He said there was a group coming behind us. We waited for them, and the eight of us sped toward Livermore into a headwind. We were cautiously optimistic that this headwind coming from the east would be a tailwind on the westward climb of Patterson Pass, notorious for howling headwinds.
We rode through Livermore together, then Sean pulled ahead. No one was interested in going into the wind after him, so he rode alone. We never lost sight of Sean, but no one in our group was keen on chasing him. So, he was alone off the front about 100 yards ahead. Finally, on a slight downhill, someone took a flier and bridged to Sean, but no one went with this guy either. We rode past green hills, happy California grazing cows and horses, and windmills. Turned south, then west onto Patterson Pass Road. Yes! a tailwind! At the next roller we finally caught Sean. We rode together for a while, but when the road pitched up I found out that my legs weren't so fresh. So, I downshifted into something very small in front and big in the back (36x29) and spun. Sean and other fast and fit guys rode ahead. After 5-10 minutes I reached the "Oh my gosh!" false summit (OMG because when you look up the road from the false summit and see the climbing that remains you say, "OMG!") and water stop. More refueling and re-sunscreening. Felt pretty comfortable climbing the rest of Patterson. Descent into Livermore is pretty unremarkable -- welcome, as are all descents, but straight and the views were not memorable.
Continued in Part 2...........