Greg is remaking himself into quite the double century rider. He recently did the dreaded Terrible Two. Below is his report.
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Race I mean Ride:
Terrible Two Double Century, June 16, 2007
Course: 200 Miles with 16,000 feet of climbing
Field: 285 starters, 229 finishers (212 before the 10:00 pm cutoff)
Weather: 50s and overcast at 5:30 am start to low 90s at mid day
Result: Finished in one piece (But 5th for inquiring minds:)(11:41)
The
Terrible Two is hosted by the Santa Rosa Cycling Club and has
been flying under the mainstream velo radar since 1976. It's one of
those events that is as much a badge of one's badassness as anything
else. No teams, no road closures, no prizes and no easy way out.
There are few good reasons to sign up and plenty of reasons to sleep
in on ride day.
Still warmed by the glow of finishing the Davis Double, I received
several replies to my report from Alto Velo club members essentially
baiting me to do the
Terrible Two. Craig Boyle, Bernard Cushing, and
Peter Kellner were the main culprits who gently delivered the news
that the Davis Double was more of a beginner's double and that a true
test would be the TT.
With my arm and pride twisted behind my back I sent in my
registration and immediately wished I had missed the deadline to
capitalize on one of the many good reasons not to do the ride. I was
a bit anxious the week beforehand as I had ridden many of the roads
and climbs before, but only over the course of several years. Most of
those rides were still burned deeply into my psyche and my
recollection is that they were quite painful and seemingly never
ending. Covering all that ground in one day would surely lay down
some major new neural pathways in my holyshitthathurts cortex.
For you sadists out there, the course really is a terrific study in
pain delivery. They basically took the toughest climbs in the region
and patched them together in a counter clockwise loop. The course
starts out in Sebastopol and heads east through Santa Rosa to Glen
Ellen and then up the Bennet Valley Road, Trinity Grade and Oakville
Grade climbs. These are decent climbs in their own right but just a
taste of what lies ahead. Next, the route heads north through St.
Helena, Calistoga and then heads up the Geysers, the longest climb of
the day. A long descent is follwed by some rollers in the hinterlands
then the road winds east to Cloverdale.
The real pain begins after passing through the south end of Lake
Sonoma as the course heads due west on Skaggs Springs Road, which is
always the hottest place on the course and hosts steep, exposed
double-summit climb. A whippingly fast descent into the coastal
redwoods leads to Camp Gualala and the dreaded Rancheria "wall" climb
which leads out to Stewart's Point at Highway 1.
With postcard views of the rugged Pacific shoreline, the course heads
south along Hwy 1 for 20 miles to Fort Ross where the home stretch
starts on a steep eastward eastward climb over the hill through
Cazadero, and Monte Rio. One small big ring climb over Graton road
leads to Occidental and finally back to the start.
At 5:30 am we left the parking lot under the cover of a gray
twilight, with a lead car in place to move ahead and trip the traffic
signals for the run through Santa Rosa. For the first couple minutes
it was quite a pleasant spin down the road and I was able to chat
with Gary Gellin and a clearly deranged guy named Ken Eichstadt who
was doing the whole ride a fixed-gear bike. Wow.
After a couple miles a few guys came to the front and started
pressuring the lead car. The field immediatly split and the front
group went single file. The pace was suddenly up around 25-28mph and
we still had about 195 miles ahead of us. And oh yeah, we had
completed exactly zero of the sixteen thousand feet of climbing. I
suddenly realized this thing was a race! As such I tucked myself in
and went along for the ride.
Now, that said, my plan for the day was to simply finish the ride in
one piece. This meant no bonking, cracking, or crashing. My
overarching rule was to stop at every rest stop to eat drink and be
merry - No matter what the other riders were doing. No matter.
This plan held together perfectly until the first rest stop in
Calistoga at mile 60. Earlier, I had pushed the pace on the Bennett
Valley, Trinity and Oakville Grade climbs to stretch my legs. This
helped sort out a front group of about 10-12 but unfortunately by
mile 45 or so my bladder was stretching as well so I had to let them
go up the road.
After being picked up by the next group led strongly by Kevin Keenan
(in a really solid aero position) we came up to the rest stop just as
the front group was leaving. I really needed to fill up bottles and I
really needed to eat something and I really really needed to use the
porta john - But the racer in me couldn't justify passing up a free
ride so I skipped the stop and jumped on the train.
I was pretty low on water but figured I would be able to fill up in
another 20 miles at the next oasis. But I was shortly informed that
the only hitch in this plan was that the bulk of miles were uphill -
And the rest stop was at the summit after some 2500 feet of climbing.
The pace in the front group was still quite high on the flats,
averaging about 25 mph so I hung on as long as I could until the
physics of bladder elasticity were against my favor. After answering
nature's call yet again I was well, yet again alone on the road.
Fortunately for me the overcast skies had kept the temperatures
pretty cool up until this point thus limiting my need for hydration.
The sun finally baked through halfway up the climb and the
temperatures jumped significantly. I was getting pretty thirsty after
having burned through the last of my bottle on the early slopes -
which is never a good sign. I vowed to stick to my original plan as I
spun up the Geysers and to stop, eat, drink and be merry. By the
summit I had reeled in all but
two guys and filled up my bottles
while browsing the vast selection of cookies, fruit, sandwiches, etc.
You name it they had it. The friendly folks also insisted on filling
up my bottles for me while I grazed politely at the buffet.
While I was sampling the food stocks, a few other riders rolled in
and were in a hurry to get back on the road. I stuffed one last
banana into my mouth and latched onto them for the descent.
Everything was going according to plan until very near the bottom
when I overcooked a decreasing radius turn littered with gravel in
the apex. I stayed upright and tried to keep the train in sight but
it got twisty near the bottom and I lost them for a minute, only to
miss a critical left hand turn. As I continued my descent I began to
get a sinking feeling when the canyon began closing in on me yielding
no sign of a road ahead. I ended up descending an extra mile or so
down to a dead end.
After climbing back out I got back on course and was picked up by a
group of three who were making short shrift of the rolling terrain.
Everything was great until one of the guys dropped a water bottle in
the middle of the road with three of us on his wheel. That would have
been find but he slammed on the brakes to retrieve it. I again
avoided going down but hammered away content with eating some wind
and taking solace in the fact that the only thing that would take me
down were the gaping potholes or gravel washouts peppering the road.
Some time later I was picked up by a large rotating paceline of 12 in
the last few miles before the lunch stop around mile 110. Kevin
Keenan was again riding strongly and was kind enough to give me some
good information on the course ahead. At the Lake Sonoma rest/lunch
stop, most of the guys were in and out of there after a couple
minutes. I decided that I'd fuel up for the next 90 miles and take
advantage of the fantastic buffet.
After enjoying a made-to-order sandwich, a couple prized (non-thirst
quenching) V8 drinks and assorted goodies I hopped back on my bike
for what is called the toughest part of the course. It had taken me 6
hours to make it to the lunch stop and they say that the second half
generally takes an hour or
two longer.
At this point the officials told me I was in 20th place. I was
actually feeling pretty fresh from saving most of my energy all day,
never having gone into the red, even on the climbs.
The climb on Skaggs Springs Rd begins immediately and gets fairly
steep in places, but that's not the worst it has to offer. It's claim
to fame is that it is completely exposed to the sun which bakes down
directly on the slope. But apparently this year we were introduced to
a kinder, gentler Skaggs as it wasn't too bad. What was bad was that
I was bogging down a bit in my 27, but still able to turn it over in
the saddle for the most part. I started reeling in riders pretty
quickly and started a countdown from 20th place to keep my mind off
the ridiculousness of the difficulty.
Twenty five miles later I rolled into some place tucked in the
redwoods called Camp Gualala. I was starting to feel the effects of
the day, not necessarily in my riding but cognitively. I was having
trouble counting backwards from 20 and figured loosely that I was
somewhere around 15th place, after passing several guys on the way
who were shattered, cross-eyed and just generally pedalling very
slowly.
The kind volunteer at the rest stop informed me that I was actually
in 8th position on the road. He then handed me a napkin and I thanked
him, having no no idea why I was now in possession of it. Partially
looking away in disgust while pointing his finger at me, he indicated
that I had just totally overdone the sunblock reapplication to my
face and that it was literally in my mouth. I again thanked him and
was off after stuffing my face and topping off the bottles.
The next bit of road turned out to be the toughest for me, the
Rancheria climb. It wasn't very long (1 mile?) but it had a steady 12-
15%(?) gradient that never gave any respite. I was standing on my 27
going 6-8mph. I literally couldn't go any slower or faster. To give
you an idea, there were several sections that had been painted some
time ago designating certain spots as "crying points". typically on
the steepest part of an unrelenting switchback that opened up to
yield a view of more of the same.
It was really difficult both mentally and physically. The only thing
that helped was that I passed
two guys. I blurted an expletive at a
steep pitch and one of them muttered, "You look good!". Blurting my
words, I assured him I was crying inside. The other guy remarked that
he was amazed we could muster enough energy to speak. It was the
slowest speed pass in bicycling history. I'm positive about that.
I finally crested and figured I had better get some fuel into my
body. I know I was feeling significant fatigue because I noticed
throughout the day that my ability to open a simple energy bar
wrapper was diminishing with alarming rapidity. After biting off
several small slivers of the foil wrapper I tried to use both hands
but it wouldn't budge. Flustered, I finally had to stop my bike and
muscle the thing apart at which point it launched into the air,
landing with a thud on the soft-shoulder of the road.
It was at this point I began to devise a fatigue scale based on a
rider's ability to penetrate an energy bar wrapper. It's increments
are based loosely on outward manifestations of frustration as
measured in successively vocalized expletives. Email me for more
detailed data (and refer to the 'Drake Dammit Scale':). And yeah, I
ate it anyway.
Anyway, the cool Coastal Redwoods finally gave way to the Pacific
after a long descent behind a painfully slow driving sports car. Once
on Highway 1 I breathed a sigh of relief as the weather was perfectly
suited: 75 degrees, sunny with a stiff tailwind. Nice.
I spun my 53/12 as fast as I could hitting 30mph and quickly reeled
in another rider who then yo-yoed on and off my wheel until we hit
Fort Ross. Another rider was sitting down and taking an extended
break after apparently hitting some sort of limit. The SAG driver
told me I only had 4 guys in front of me. While it was fun chasing
down rabbits over the previous few hours I was really starting to
feel the miles and was just happy to be getting nearer and nearer to
my car back at the start / finish.
Wasting little time with the usual chit-chat, I attacked the buffet
table with all the manners of a feudal serf, my speech trailing off
as I stuffed my mouth. I was still honoring the spirit of the eat,
drink and be merry theme, just with a medieval twist. I needed to
load up to make it through the last 40 miles. and after showing
restraint all day I finally succumbed and indulged in the massive
bowl Peanut M&Ms, eating handfuls at a time. But after heading off I
immediately began to feel ill from all the ingested candy, then
figuring it would be processed and assimilated in a matter of
minutes. Which is luckily what happened.
The next-to-last climb on Fort Ross Rd was also pretty steep (10-
12%?), requiring me to stand on my 27, but just didn't hurt as much
as that previous, shorter Rancheria beast. Or maybe my senses were so
dulled that it just didn't register. Regardless, I picked my way back
through the Redwood forest and descended into the small towns of
Cazadero and then Monte Rio where I came upon the final rest stop.
Somewhere along the way I had regained my ability to form coherent
sentences and enjoyed a chat with the friendly folks who were
thrilled that I didn't 'fill and flee'. After more face-stuffing and
a little get-to-know-ya I set off again and found the finish line
calling my name, prompting me to big-ring the final shallow climb on
Graton Road.
I rolled across the line and immediately went back to my car without
getting the prized "I did it" t-shirt or any food or anything to
drink. All I wanted was my couch. It was really calling my name.
For those interested in my ride stats:
Elapsed time: 11 hours, 41 minutes
Miles: 201.9 (Includes the Geysers detour:)
Average Speed: 18.3mph (computer only calculates based on ride time,
not time while bike was parked as I stuffed my face:)
I have to say it was quite an experience and I'd recommend it to
anyone who wants to delve into an intrapersonal depth-potential
testing program. You're sure to learn something about yourself and it
will most likely surprise you - in a good way! So I'll see you all
next June...
Thanks for reading,
-Greg Drake
This was my 2nd year racing the Burlingame Crit in the P1/2. Last year I won a prime and was sitting in a good spot with one to go when a crash occurred right at the start finish line where someone fell onto my rear wheel taking a few spokes out of Ksyrium SL. I really enjoyed the Burlingame course from last year and was excited to race it again. In addition, I try my best not to miss a race that is in anyway associated with Tom from Pilarcitos Sports, Tom and his team are a class act and put on some of the best run races around.
The team had a pre-race meeting at my tent and we discussed the plan; I was to conserve as much as possible and only go after breakaways that looked to be threatening. The other guys were going to try to ride more aggressive than we have been so far, not only covering attacks but initiating some as well and trying to create breakaways. A general rule was for everyone to try and stay in the top 30% of the race for safety and tactical reasons. I was still on the no prime diet, so I had to do my best to ignore the ringing bells. Sometimes I just can't help myself and that is what gets me into trouble.
On the podium were Daniel Holloway 1st (VMG), Devon Vigus 2nd (Cal Giant), Jamiel Danesh 3rd (Sierra Nevada), Me 4th, and a Lombardi rider 5th.
