Waldo
04-01-2009, 09:24 AM
Part 1
2009 Solvang Double Report
My ride in the 2009 Solvang Double was meant to be a “training ride” for more challenging double centuries that comprise the California Triple Crown Stage Race: Devil Mountain Double (“DMD”), Central Coast Double and Mt. Tam Double. Due to wet weather in February and March and family obligations I just couldn’t get in any long training rides. The longest I’d done was an 85-miler in mid-February. I’d done a lot of intensity work, but minimal endurance. Not the optimal way to prepare for endurance riding, but that’s what the time allowed. So I signed up for Solvang to do a long ride before tackling the DMD.
I left for Solvang late morning of Friday, March 27. Apparently, this is the time of annual northward migration of Painted Lady butterflies. I drove south into their swarm and for an hour from Gilroy on south my car and many other vehicles mercilessly pelted the poor butterflies. Very sad.
I arrived in Solvang, checked into my hotel, and went to pick up my rider number at Buellton Marriott. There, I ran into Jason (Rude Awakening – see his fixed gear ride report) and a bunch of his friends, all from Oakland , my home town. We had dinner together and entertained each other with tales of epic cycling adventures. We noted that it was pretty damn dark by 7:30 .
The ride had open start time from 5:00 to 7:30 a.m. I planned to start around 6:15-6:30 , about the time I started last year, when I finished comfortably at 5:20 p.m. Though then I was in better shape...
I slept badly and was completely awake by 2:30 . I drifted back to sleep, but by 4:30 there was stomping and glomping of cleated feet in the room above and outside – early starters. There was no use trying to sleep, so I decided to start earlier than planned to make sure I’d finish in daylight. I knew I’d ride slower than last year and would need more time to finish. I ate my bagels with Nutella (mmmm) and bananas and rode to the Buellton Marriott for the start. I pulled up outside the hotel, where several riders were waiting for their friends. I struck up a conversation with a woman with a British accent, we wished each other “good ride,” and I went downstairs to get my number marked. There, I learned that ride organizers needed to inspect my bike to make sure I had appropriate lights and that reflective ankle bands were required. Oops. No ankle bands and they were all sold out. I really didn’t want to wait 45 minutes until daylight to get started. I went outside to get my bike. The Englishwoman was the only person waiting. I had a brilliant idea to ask her for her ankle bands, which I’d return immediately after inspection. She balked initially, but I offered to leave my long gloves with her as collateral (no way was I going to start without them in 45-degree weather), and she agreed. Inspection went uneventfully. I returned the ankle bands and reclaimed my gloves, wished her “good ride” once more and was off, band-less. It was 5:45 a.m.
All I had for a front light was a measly Knog light designed for being seen rather than for illuminating the road. My rear light was blinking brightly enough to send one into an epileptic seizure, but that did me no good as I tried to navigate my way out of Buellton toward Solvang. Fortunately, the first few miles were well paved, had no turns, and even my weak light was strong enough for me to barely see the white line that marked the road’s shoulder. I rode just to the right of the line, as I chased riders in front of me in hope of taking advantage of their stronger lights.
As I entered Solvang I was struck smells of breakfast pastry baking. I rode for half a mile through Solvang’s lighted downtown, passing through clouds of sweet smells of rolls, Danish, croissants and who know what else was cooking in the myriad of the town’s bakeries. The last bakery in town had a very distinct and recognizable and unpleasant-to-me smell that I hadn’t encountered that morning – John Belushi’s breakfast of champions (http://www.metacafe.com/watch/26266/john_belushi_donuts_of_champions/).
Just outside Solvang, I caught up with cyclists who had good lights and then chased others that were short distances ahead. I kept doing that – catching up with groups with good lights, so I was not riding in the darkness for more than half a minute. This went on for a few miles and the dawn was breaking, when I was passed by a tandem. This signaled the end of the warm-up portion of the ride.
While drafting tandems and fast pacelines, I realized over and over that day, makes fast riding easier, it doesn’t make riding easier. Sure, I expended less energy behind a tandem at 25mph than I would have on my own at that speed, but I probably would have worked just as hard riding alone – only I would have been riding slower. So, off we went, hammering into the rising sun, up and over small rollers, past vineyards and fields of purple heather. As we climbed one hill, the stoker asked, “Are you Vlad?” “Yes,” I replied, surprised. The team was Jason and Lisa whom I’d met at several doubles last year. Suddenly, we had stuff to discuss, what rides we’re doing this year, how our common acquaintances at Solvang were faring, etc., etc., making the ride friendlier and easier. The tandem pulled us (a 10-person paceline) into the first rest stop after riding at posted speed limit for 12 miles. During the preceding 41 miles I made a conscious effort to eat and drink often and was feeling confident and strong.
After a quick refueling and relieving stop, we remounted and were off again. Jason and Lisa did most of the pulling, though occasionally singles – I too – went to the front to offer them brief respites. Our group kept growing, as we absorbed smaller pacelines. Thus, we went until mile 75 or so, when a white van passed us and pulled over at a turnout. The driver jumped out, ran to the middle of the road, raised her hands, and yelled and frantically gestured at us to pull over. It was Deborah, the ride organizer. She angrily told us that she’d been following us for 45 minutes (huh?!), that she’d seen us run countless stop signs (highly likely) and traffic lights (only right turns and slowly at that), and that she ought to DQ all of us then and there, but she wouldn’t do that. She kept saying that she should – but she wouldn’t. She pleaded and cajoled and threatened for us to make full and complete stops and to put a foot down. We nodded obediently and restarted. And we grumbled and groused. I wondered whether she was being a mother or a teacher. One of us promised not to curse or spit in public (this ride organizer last year DQ-ed two people for urinating in public at Eastern Sierra Double), so there was plenty of merriment in the paceline. For the next half a dozen stop signs I’d uncleat and dab my foot at 10-15 mph in sarcastic compliance with the request to put a foot down.
2009 Solvang Double Report
My ride in the 2009 Solvang Double was meant to be a “training ride” for more challenging double centuries that comprise the California Triple Crown Stage Race: Devil Mountain Double (“DMD”), Central Coast Double and Mt. Tam Double. Due to wet weather in February and March and family obligations I just couldn’t get in any long training rides. The longest I’d done was an 85-miler in mid-February. I’d done a lot of intensity work, but minimal endurance. Not the optimal way to prepare for endurance riding, but that’s what the time allowed. So I signed up for Solvang to do a long ride before tackling the DMD.
I left for Solvang late morning of Friday, March 27. Apparently, this is the time of annual northward migration of Painted Lady butterflies. I drove south into their swarm and for an hour from Gilroy on south my car and many other vehicles mercilessly pelted the poor butterflies. Very sad.
I arrived in Solvang, checked into my hotel, and went to pick up my rider number at Buellton Marriott. There, I ran into Jason (Rude Awakening – see his fixed gear ride report) and a bunch of his friends, all from Oakland , my home town. We had dinner together and entertained each other with tales of epic cycling adventures. We noted that it was pretty damn dark by 7:30 .
The ride had open start time from 5:00 to 7:30 a.m. I planned to start around 6:15-6:30 , about the time I started last year, when I finished comfortably at 5:20 p.m. Though then I was in better shape...
I slept badly and was completely awake by 2:30 . I drifted back to sleep, but by 4:30 there was stomping and glomping of cleated feet in the room above and outside – early starters. There was no use trying to sleep, so I decided to start earlier than planned to make sure I’d finish in daylight. I knew I’d ride slower than last year and would need more time to finish. I ate my bagels with Nutella (mmmm) and bananas and rode to the Buellton Marriott for the start. I pulled up outside the hotel, where several riders were waiting for their friends. I struck up a conversation with a woman with a British accent, we wished each other “good ride,” and I went downstairs to get my number marked. There, I learned that ride organizers needed to inspect my bike to make sure I had appropriate lights and that reflective ankle bands were required. Oops. No ankle bands and they were all sold out. I really didn’t want to wait 45 minutes until daylight to get started. I went outside to get my bike. The Englishwoman was the only person waiting. I had a brilliant idea to ask her for her ankle bands, which I’d return immediately after inspection. She balked initially, but I offered to leave my long gloves with her as collateral (no way was I going to start without them in 45-degree weather), and she agreed. Inspection went uneventfully. I returned the ankle bands and reclaimed my gloves, wished her “good ride” once more and was off, band-less. It was 5:45 a.m.
All I had for a front light was a measly Knog light designed for being seen rather than for illuminating the road. My rear light was blinking brightly enough to send one into an epileptic seizure, but that did me no good as I tried to navigate my way out of Buellton toward Solvang. Fortunately, the first few miles were well paved, had no turns, and even my weak light was strong enough for me to barely see the white line that marked the road’s shoulder. I rode just to the right of the line, as I chased riders in front of me in hope of taking advantage of their stronger lights.
As I entered Solvang I was struck smells of breakfast pastry baking. I rode for half a mile through Solvang’s lighted downtown, passing through clouds of sweet smells of rolls, Danish, croissants and who know what else was cooking in the myriad of the town’s bakeries. The last bakery in town had a very distinct and recognizable and unpleasant-to-me smell that I hadn’t encountered that morning – John Belushi’s breakfast of champions (http://www.metacafe.com/watch/26266/john_belushi_donuts_of_champions/).
Just outside Solvang, I caught up with cyclists who had good lights and then chased others that were short distances ahead. I kept doing that – catching up with groups with good lights, so I was not riding in the darkness for more than half a minute. This went on for a few miles and the dawn was breaking, when I was passed by a tandem. This signaled the end of the warm-up portion of the ride.
While drafting tandems and fast pacelines, I realized over and over that day, makes fast riding easier, it doesn’t make riding easier. Sure, I expended less energy behind a tandem at 25mph than I would have on my own at that speed, but I probably would have worked just as hard riding alone – only I would have been riding slower. So, off we went, hammering into the rising sun, up and over small rollers, past vineyards and fields of purple heather. As we climbed one hill, the stoker asked, “Are you Vlad?” “Yes,” I replied, surprised. The team was Jason and Lisa whom I’d met at several doubles last year. Suddenly, we had stuff to discuss, what rides we’re doing this year, how our common acquaintances at Solvang were faring, etc., etc., making the ride friendlier and easier. The tandem pulled us (a 10-person paceline) into the first rest stop after riding at posted speed limit for 12 miles. During the preceding 41 miles I made a conscious effort to eat and drink often and was feeling confident and strong.
After a quick refueling and relieving stop, we remounted and were off again. Jason and Lisa did most of the pulling, though occasionally singles – I too – went to the front to offer them brief respites. Our group kept growing, as we absorbed smaller pacelines. Thus, we went until mile 75 or so, when a white van passed us and pulled over at a turnout. The driver jumped out, ran to the middle of the road, raised her hands, and yelled and frantically gestured at us to pull over. It was Deborah, the ride organizer. She angrily told us that she’d been following us for 45 minutes (huh?!), that she’d seen us run countless stop signs (highly likely) and traffic lights (only right turns and slowly at that), and that she ought to DQ all of us then and there, but she wouldn’t do that. She kept saying that she should – but she wouldn’t. She pleaded and cajoled and threatened for us to make full and complete stops and to put a foot down. We nodded obediently and restarted. And we grumbled and groused. I wondered whether she was being a mother or a teacher. One of us promised not to curse or spit in public (this ride organizer last year DQ-ed two people for urinating in public at Eastern Sierra Double), so there was plenty of merriment in the paceline. For the next half a dozen stop signs I’d uncleat and dab my foot at 10-15 mph in sarcastic compliance with the request to put a foot down.