As promised, here is a photo of the Salsa built up for my brevet rides. I haven’t cut the fender stays yet, but it is all wired and shiny looking. It feels extremely comfortable thanks to my fitting at Sammamish Valley.

I need to put some miles in this week to make sure everything is solid.

There is the 600k on the 7th and I’m getting antsy for it. Mark Thomas put up a ride report and it sounds beautiful. It is hard to imagine going up the passes we just did in reverse. I remember miles and miles of pretty steep downhills.

Whitey is excited that I am going to be so close to Mt. Rainier. One of these days I’ll need to learn how to take photos from my eyeballs. Cameras are just too much work.

I picked up the bikes from Sammamish Valley Cycle last night, and they are pretty much glorious. The components were swapped out on each bike, making my trusty IF a single speed for commuting (and Thursday night rides), and turning the Salsa into a wonderful, reasonably priced rando bike. I promise that I will get a photo of the Salsa up soon.

I ran my IF fixed this morning for the first time. It felt pretty nice (insert your standard “zen” comments here) but I have a few issues that I need to consider if I am going to continue that route. I have a slight toe overlap with the honjo fenders on this size of frame. It isn’t considerable, but enough to make me second guess either of my two 180 degree turns that I make in the morning. I got used to just not pedaling through the turns, but I obviously don’t have that option running it fixed. I navigated both of them without much trouble, but I’d eventually like to get clipless pedals. I’m afraid that I’d put myself in a stupid situation on occasion trying to turn.

Regardless, it feels really smooth and the bike should prove to be a work horse.

I only got a short test ride on the Salsa, but it just felt “right”. Sammamish installed a new cassette and chain, so everything is super shiny and blinding. Again, I promise to get some pictures up soon.

The Salsa Casseroll is in. Despite complaints from the sore on my ass, I rode it in to work a few days this week already.

I think the gear ratio (48 on front – 18 tooth on the back. about 72 inches) is appropriate for this hilly city at my fitness level. I could probably run it even larger on my commute, but I think it would make it difficult to take it out on longer rides. I’ll feel it out I suppose.

I am really digging it so far though. The tires are a massive (for me) 37mm. I run 28’s on the IF. They are so big, in fact, that I the 43mm Honjo’s that I have for it won’t fit them. I either need to get a tire a size down, or fenders a size up.

I have an appointment next Monday to get the components on the two bikes swapped out.

*high five*

It started off on less than 4 hours of sleep. I was antsy Friday night and talked Jane in to helping me beat on our Rock Band drums for a while. I got it out of my system, and I managed to fall asleep around 10:30. Once the alarm hit around 2:00, I knew I was in trouble. My mom was in town to support the ride, and she was able to help prepare some much needed coffee and snacks before we headed out the door.

I was just finishing off my check list (thanks Dr. Codfish) when Chris rolled up to the door and loaded his bicycle on to the back of my mom’s Nissan. We all drove out to Capitol Hill and grabbed Matt (looking as tired as the rest of us). There was a weird tension that morning from the mixture of sleeplessness, the threat of being late, and the heavy bikes not quite looking supported off the back of the trunk.

We arrived at the start in North Bend just in time to hear the opening statements and prepare our gear for the ride ahead. Nothing quite seemed real yet. The morning was still dark (as it was around 5am) and we had a monster of a climb directly in front of us.

Chris, Matt and I hopped on to Interstate 90 for our first true freeway ride experience. As far as interstates go, it was quite a beautiful one. There were wide shoulders and relatively low traffic. There was a slow and steady climb averaging around 5% or so for miles. Matt dropped us early on the climb. He packed light and looked very strong. We both knew that we wouldn’t be seeing him again.

Despite the threat of high temperatures, the arm warmers were a godsend. There was snow pack starting to show up on the ground as we neared the summit. Since the snow was finally starting to melt in areas, there were waterfalls everywhere. Each time we would pass one, the temperature would drop 10 to 20 degrees. I couldn’t shake the thought of just how unbelievable it all was. We live in one of the most beautiful parts of the country I’ve ever been to.

Chris and I made steady work of getting to the summit. It was a challenge for sure, but we have been training so hard to get this far. It felt very good.
The ride down from Snoqualmie Pass was miles and miles of downhill. I can’t begin to describe how breathtaking it all was. I hope this picture does it justice.
I felt like I was floating on air at this point. The 30 or so miles in to Cle Elum were a snap.

We stopped at the Safeway in town and got some pretty vicious stares from the colorful locals. I don’t think the tights were doing me any favors in their eyes.

Leaving the store, it was finally starting to warm up. The highway leading towards the second mountain pass of the day was pleasant. The climb started very gradual and never really strayed much beyond 4 or 5%. The sun was really starting to do its work though. Chris and I pulled over for a sunscreen break.

The summit held a much needed water refueling control. Mom and Jane were there cheering us on and snapping photos. I could tell they were having a good time.

Dan (Warner, I believe?) was also at the summit and ended up being a regular rider with us off and on for most of the day. He built his own frame for this series and had a monster bag on the front for his gear.

We grouped up with some others and pulled in to Leavenworth making amazing time. Once again, Jane and my mother were cheering us on. We grabbed a quick bite and set back out. Our planned “real food” stop was going to be in Skykomish at around 150 miles.

I had no plans at stopping along the pass, but the temperature and climbing started to get to Chris and I. I had a hard time drinking my warm water so the gas station about 18 miles away looked very good. I tanked a Gatorade and ate some more food. It was a much needed rest.A local (meth addict) pulled up along side of us resting.

“You guys from Seattle?!?”

“Well yeah, but we started in North Bend,” we replied.

“Damn.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

“Today!?! Watch out for the ’sketers. They’re as big as an eagle.”

Despite the warning, the mosquitoes weren’t quite that big. We set back on to the road with a climb ahead of us.

Stevens Pass seemed to take forever. It was easily the most difficult climb of the day on my legs.
“What is our elevation right now?” Chris asked me.
“2700 feet,” I said.
Twenty minutes later, after rolling hills… “What is our elevation right now?”
“2700 feet,” I said.

Going downhill on climbs that you know you haven’t completed is like a sick joke. You know you are going to have to make up that loss eventually. The temperature was spastic, ranging 20 degrees up and down over the space of mere yards. Once again, Jane and my mother were at the top, snapping photos and cheering us on. It was pretty awesome to have the little push. They were on a mission to drive the whole route and get some great photos along the way. It was as close to the experience as you can get without getting on a bike.
The ride down Steven’s Pass was unreal. It was 7 miles of 6% grade. We averaged 37 mph just about the whole time. The ladies passed by in the car a series of times and snapped pictures. It was one of the most beautiful areas of the ride. Chris and I had huge grins on our faces the entire way down.

The ride into Skykomish was uneventful. We were starting to hit our mid ride wall. Every large ride has a point where you question lots of things. What is the meaning of life? Wouldn’t it be nice to be home right now? Is my ass going to be permanently harmed from this ride?The food stop was exactly what we needed to get over the hump though. There was a lot of talk about how difficult the next section was from other riders. Jan Heine said before the ride that the 3 Passes were “the easy part”. Nothing quite disturbs my mind like the thought of “only 100 miles left”. I knew that we had come a long way, but I was pushing my limits at this point. Still, I had a sandwich and some pasta in my stomach to push my fighting spirit.

The weather was starting to cool down on our ride in to Sultan. This stretch of Highway 2 had a very narrow shoulder at times, and traffic going at or around 60mph. They seemed to give us plenty of room, but it wasn’t the most pleasant point on the ride. We kept a brisk pace all the way in to town to grab some more water.

Sultan on a Saturday evening is a happening place. All the kids seemed to be out in packs. The boys had their shirts off and were looking for trouble. The girls managed to score some cigarettes at the age of 13 to 14. It was just classy. We managed to get through town without anyone throwing a beer bottle at us.

At the start of a tough climb outside of town, Chris got his first and only flat of the day. I laid out in the grass for a while and he had it changed out pretty quickly. Some of the others that we left back at the gas station in Sultan caught up and we regrouped off and on through the rolling (sometimes monster) hills of Old Pipeline Road and on through Dubuque.

There was a much needed secret control around the 200 mile mark. It was one of those controls that was a little too comfortable. They had hot food, chips, sandwiches… just the works. It was tough to get back up out of the chair, but we had to move on.

Our group held together pretty well all the way up to the set control run by Mark Thomas. My mom and Jane were there with hugs and cookies. I was still feeling great, though obviously tired. We had 35 miles left. I went into my mental calculator mode and started to spit out finishing times in my head. As usual, none of them would turn out to be correct.

My old stomach issue cropped up on this last stretch. I tried to keep eating and drinking, but it wouldn’t let me get much down. I was keeping up with the group, but not by much. Dan was hanging off the back of the pack with me. He looked really tired. We all were. I was debating whether or not I should slow down for a long time. I knew I should stay with the group because I had it in my legs, but my stomach and my weak will wanted to drop the pace.

We finally got to Snoqualmie Falls and climbed that hill (my second time now) in my granny. It was slow but steady. The pack regrouped at the top and kept moving. We were so close now. Still, I kept thinking about slowing down. It was completely mental too. I know that I had it in me to keep pace.

I finally caved in and asked Chris if he would hang back with me. He was nice enough to give me some of his Gatorade and hung back with me for a bit. We were literally 8 miles away from the finish. I was kind of mad at myself actually.

Once we hit the last road, Chris took off for the finish. I don’t blame him one bit. I kept a pretty pathetic pace into the finish. The last road took a lifetime to complete. North Bend seemed like the longest town on the planet.

Jane did a banana dance for me at the finish. There was kissing and hugging and pizza waiting for me.

It seems like every ride tops the last. This one was completely epic.

Thanks to Mom, Jane, Chris, Matt and everyone that supported. My butt hurts.

I put up most of the pictures taken on my flickr account.

I picked up the bike after work from Sammamish. They did a great job retrofitting my IF to fit me properly. It looks a little rude, but it is comfortable. I never realized how overworked my muscles were, especially on (my admittedly short) climbs. I don’t want to call it early, but I think this is going to help me be pretty strong for the 400k.

The biggest change is the stem extender. The steering is supposed to be a little more twitchy, but I had a hard time noticing on my commute this morning.

I am starting to get a bit nervous for this weekend. The pre-ride reports are going up, and it looks like an epic ride. My mom (hi, Mom) is going to drive up to volunteer. I think she just wants to look at asses all day to be honest. It will be nice to have the support.

Yesterday Jane and I drove out to Sammamish Valley Cycles with my bike in tow (yeah I was lazy). I was scheduled for a bicycle fitting.

Normally when you buy an Independent Fabrication, everything is customized to your body. The order is put out, and you get your bike a number of months later (depending on how long the wait list is). They do amazing work, and I had been wanting one for a while. I was in the middle of one of my many treatments and probably had no right buying anything that involved exercise. Regardless, I bought an off the shelf IF and called it my own. The fit was never quite right, and I bought a frame that was certainly too small. At the time, everything felt perfect though. The short top tube meant I didn’t need to hunch over too far to reach my bars. To be honest, I didn’t really have enough miles in my legs to know what I really wanted anyways. We were just out to get my dream bike because of all of the bullshit I had to deal with over the last few years.

The people at Sammamish were very nice in not calling out my mistake and went to giving me a proper fit using the best of their abilities. I still have plenty of issues with flexibility and fatigue, but I am a much stronger rider than I was a year ago. The IF isn’t going to cut it for the really long rides.

The bike is at the shop right now, in the process of turning into what I am assuming is somewhat of a frankenbike. My fork cut a little too short to get my handlebars high enough, and I am hesitant to buy a new fork that isn’t as pretty as my current one. I will probably end up with an extension on the steerer tube, or a stem with a really high rise.

The problem is, I have a silly little 400k coming up, and it is going to be a monster. I don’t need the bike to be pretty (it won’t be), I just need it to be comfortable.

The long term plan involves a single speed Salsa Casseroll. I’ve had my eye on this bike for a while, and planned on using it for my commute and the occasional recreational/training rides. What I am going to do instead is swap out the components on each. This will give me an awesome (and expensive) IF single/fixed, and a Salsa rando bike. It has a bit more clearance for fatter tires if I ever want to go that route, and the frame is pretty solid.

I am crossing my fingers that everything turns out for the best.

I think a lot of you already know about Fat Cyclist. He is a blogger who has been extolling the virtues of bicycling through humor for years now. His wife has been battling cancer, and things seem to be getting worse.

All week I’ve broke down reading his blog. There is a touch of familiarity to the whole situation.

He has numourous ways to donate to her medical costs, including a couple of awesome jerseys. Do what you can, he has done a lot for cancer support and research. Go. Do it.

Chris, Joby and I rode out to the ferry terminal on Saturday morning. I was in a happy denial about how much energy I had used to complete the last 300k, and I was prepared for another. Chris had a new set of tires, and I had a new set of fenders. At the very least, we were pretty sure that those wouldn’t be an issue this time around.

Another rider mentioned wanting to make the midnight ferry back in to Seattle. I figured that was a reasonable goal to achieve. Our last ride took a pretty mind blowing 19 hours and 20 minutes. We were second to last in, despite riding pretty strong all day.

The ferry ride over to Bremerton seemed to last a lifetime. I mentioned that I had looked at a weather radar of the area online earlier in the morning. There were some clouds, but nothing active over the hood canal. The sun was even threatening to come out. Everything was looking pretty solid.

It took all of 5 miles for the rain to start. It was never dumping on us, but it was always there and steady. We hooked on to a pace line at the front and were holding a very nice 20mph tempo without much effort.

I got to chat a bit with a man who flew out from Kentucky just to ride in the rain with our group. He seemed a little under prepared equipment wise… no fenders, light race style rain jacket, and not much that would hold any real tools. He was very nice though, and asked plenty of questions.

At some point into the pace, I lost the wheel on a slow downgrade. Joby was behind me, and we just couldn’t seem to catch back up. It was probably only a mile per hour difference, but they were slowly slipping away. Any attempts to catch up only wore me out. Joby and I accepted that fact and decided to keep our (miniature) group together.

Somewhere along SR-3, we noticed a pretty large convenience store. We stopped and I tanked a soda and ate some of the food I was carrying. It was nice to have a chance to shake off the rain for a minute.

The next control was about 20 miles out, and there was plenty of scenery to look at. A large fellow with a goatee decided it was in everyones best interest if he sold confederate flags roadside out of the back of his pickup. This was the first of many rebel flag sightings actually. Joby threatened to stop. I think he had his eye on a nice folding chair. It is comfortable and offends the neighbors.

By the time we reached the first control, we noticed the initial group leaving already. They probably had about 10 minutes on us by that point. I ate a banana and bought some extra food. I still felt pretty good, but not as strong as I’ve been on previous rides.

At some point after this, I started to feel… off. I would take a drink of water and I would burp up the flavor shortly after. Everything I tried to eat ended up doing the same thing. Ever since chemo, my stomach has been a little picky. Sometimes the wrong combination of food will make me queasy. It always starts the same, I burp things up until I can’t handle it anymore. I throw up, and everything feels better. I wanted nothing more than to not throw up. I barely eat enough calories on a ride like this as it is. The last thing I wanted to do is lose a bunch of nutrition.

In hindsight, I would have stopped and made myself throw up. The next 80 miles were filled with a wicked headwind all the way up highway 101 along the hood canal. I couldn’t eat or drink without feeling sick. I made myself do it anyways, but not nearly enough. Joby and I stopped so I could get a sandwich at a Subway, but it really didn’t help much. My whole body was shutting down from a lack of nutrition. I had to set tiny goals for myself.

“If I can just keep a 14mph pace…”

“If I can just keep a 12mph pace…”

“If I’m able to do 10mph for the next 6 hours, we can make the 10:30 ferry…”

It seemed like most of the hills were on the second half of the ride, but I am pretty sure it was just my body yelling at me. Joby hung back with me and paced himself. It frustrated me to see him a little ways ahead, losing time just because of me. I tried to get him to leave me behind and ride his own ride. He stuck it out with me. We ended up with an unspoken agreement to let him ride at his own pace, then wait a little longer at points for me to catch up.

Walker pass and the descent that followed were just beautiful, but I wasn’t able to fully appreciate it. The only goal on my mind was to make it to Quilcene (the second control at about mile 150). Finishing the ride wasn’t even a given at that point. I just wanted to make it off of Highway 101. It was a long and tiring slog.

Quilcene held much needed Gatorade (I’m not that picky out in the middle of nowhere) and snacks. It was also very close to the beautiful Hood Canal Bridge. I’ve been over it once before with some SIR members previously, and I was looking forward to it again. You don’t feel like you should be on it with a bike. There is high traffic, plenty of grating, and high winds. It is a thrill though. Most importantly, it means that you are damn close to the finish. 30 miles is something I can do in my sleep (and I’ve been pretty close at times…).

It would only figure that SIR managed to find the hilliest, darkest back roads possible around Port Gamble. The sun finally went down, and I was pretty dissapointed with the quality of my headlight. It has been bright and beautiful in the past. As it turns out, there was mud caked on it from a lack of mud flaps and fenders earlier in the rain. I wasn’t in a strong enough mental state to figure all of that out, so I just keep riding with a semi-dim beam ahead of me.

There was a terrible feeling climb up Port Gamble Road that I found myself alone on. There was a surprising amount of traffic, complete with high beams flashing at me to move or get off the narrow road. My computer died on me, so I was short a mileage readout. Not I huge deal. I have my cue sheet and a helmet mounted light. Even delirious, I am pretty good at judging my distance. Then my helmet light went out. I kind of whimpered to myself. It was about as close to being scared out there that I’ve ever been. I honestly considered calling Jane just for some support. Everything felt like shit. I was so close to the finish, and it was falling apart for me.

All I could do was keep turning my cranks.

Joby was at the corner on mile 180. I breathed a little sigh of relief, and asked Joby if he would keep at my pace for the remainder of the ride. He seemed happy to help. I seemed to pull some strength from deep down inside, because we rode at a pretty brisk pace from there on out.

We got to the hotel at 10:30 exactly, missing that ferry. Neither of us cared though, there was pizza, beer and a comfortable bed to lay out on at the finish. I fielded a phone call from Jane and she offered to pick us up at the terminal. Joby cracked a large smile (the first in a long time) at the thought of not having to get back on his bicycle seat for the night. We were able to cool down before the midnight ferry pulled us back in to the city.

Thanks again to everyone who organized and supported this ride. Painful or not, it is always a beautiful experience.

Special thanks (once again) to Peter Weigle for letting me use his image. I love the placement of this bell.

300k report coming soon. It was an interesting ride. I needed time to gather my thoughts on it.

Peter at Peter White Cycles posted my schmidt dynohub drawing on his website (with credit).
The wheels he built me are tough as a tank.

New drawing coming soon.

I pre-ordered Grand Theft Auto IV and I’m still waiting for it in the mail. It is driving me nuts.