I’ve gone over this post a million times in my head. From the moment I loaded up my bike on the car and left with Dan and Chris out to Enumclaw, it was being written.
The real seeds of doubt were planted in my head the day before the ride though. The weekend of the 12th was originally scheduled to be the wedding of my neighbors next door. When one of them died this year, the other wanted to have a celebration of her life on that day instead. I’m not sure why I brushed it off so easily initially. I had so much focus on the completion of this crazy ride that I had failed last year, I wouldn’t even consider anything else this weekend, no matter how selfish or silly it made me look. Then my neighbor across the street asked me if we were attending. I told her that Jane was going but I had this… thing. I kind of danced around saying, “I’m going on a bike ride instead.”
I went in to work on Friday (mistake number two) and spent all day bouncing around in my seat. I alternated between trying to work on a flier for Seattle school districts and obsessively checking the SIR site to see if the cue sheet was posted. I have a weird habit of tracing the route out on Google maps ahead of time. It helps keep me from getting too antsy and checks for any mistakes / unclear turns that might have been made by the organizer.
Work got out at 3:30 and I drove Jane out to run an errand and go eat some breakfast to fuel up for the ride start at 9pm. I can’t even describe how nervous I was all day. The thought of doing this ride that defeated me last year was killing me. Worse yet, I hyped up the ride to everyone that knows I’m doing this kind of thing.
Chris rolled over around 7 and loaded up his bike behind mine. We drove out and picked up Dan. After a little detour to go back and get Chris’ arm and leg warmers, we got on the road and in to Enumclaw by 8:30 or so.
It was warmer than it seemed like it should have been. I think we all had some issues with layering clothing from the start. Should I dress up now so I don’t need to stop in an hour and put more on? Is the climbing going to offset any chills we might get at first? Chris and I have done one night start before, and I did one on the fleche, but I still am not used to it at all. I was already tired.
Jan and Ryan gave the pre-ride announcements and set us on our way, Jan leading the group out (as he was apparently riding the course too). We all fell in to a nice double paceline of sorts. It started out pretty organized and ended up much looser as time ticked by. I gave a couple of good pulls and felt alright but every time I split off, it felt like the pace was just getting faster. Eventually, I started to gap off the back and just generally couldn’t keep up. Normally, this isn’t a big deal. Actually it wasn’t a big deal anyways, but my head had a million things going through it.
First of all, there were only 13 people that started the ride. Almost all of them were in that pack still by the time I fell off. That meant that I was riding solo for what looked like a long night ahead of me. Second, I suppose that I wasn’t totally sure which turn was our last. I was pretty sure Orville was coming up… but there were two Orvilles on the cue. Maybe I was on it already? And hey, it was pretty dark by now. Fun. Everyone always tells me how much they love riding at night. I’ll be straight with you. I think you are all kind of crazy. It totally screws with my head – every single time.
So somewhere along the way, I miss a turn. It was maybe a 5 or 10 mile mistake. Nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it feels pretty awful in the middle of the night when you are all ready (probably) in last without much chance of catching up.
I stroll through Eatonville in the middle of the night. It is completely desolate. When I don’t need any supplies, I have to admit that riding through a town like this at night is pretty cool. Everyone totally shuts down, save for maybe a bar or two on the skirts of town. Apparently Friday night doesn’t mean a whole lot to those party animals.
Maybe a couple of miles out of town, my back tire goes flat. My eyes hurt and my brain is in circles at this point. What the hell did I sign up for anyways. I spent an insane amount of time combing my tire looking for the offender, but found nothing. I knew exactly where the puncture was and where the thing “should” be, but still came up empty handed. I was hesitant, but I put a new tube in anyways. I had really spent enough time on the issue. My body was cooling down too much. I set back off.
I kept an eye out for anywhere that I could get some water. There was a massive climb ahead, and I wanted to grab all that I could for the ride up. The campgrounds in the area have access to water, but I didn’t really want to stumble around trying to find them in the dark. Eventually I got to the city of Elbe on the base of Mount Rainier. It was somewhere around 1am and there were a couple of open bars. I pulled in and put on my best smile.
There were bikers (of the motor variety) outside smoking with some women. They immediately latched on to me in their conversation. “Your group went that way,” one of the women pointed out for me. I told them that I was just looking to grab some water. They quizzed me down about my destination and were generally well oiled by that point. I gave them the run down and they were pretty amazed. Inside I was able to grab some water from the bartender. Everyone inside quizzed me again. I spent probably 15 minutes just trying to get the story out and explain why I was going to ride through the night. I wasn’t totally sure myself at that point.
I went back outside and the bikers outside started to really talk to me, all at once. They were asking about my bike, the trip, why I didn’t have a sleep sack (“Even motorcyclists have a sleeping bag, man”), how much food I was carrying, and if I knew that it was bow hunting season (“Watch out for the hunters, man, they are a little ornery”). To my amazement, one of the guys even asked me if I was running Dura Ace or Ultegra components. So awesome. He eventually called me his “hero”, but I think that might have been the alcohol talking. I got back on the road.
I had a little bit of extra energy after some human interaction, but it faded pretty quickly. My pace had slowed considerably with the slight incline and general fatigue. Eventually, I was feeling totally delirious. I started really questioning just why the hell I was out here instead of back home. I felt insanely selfish for pushing so hard to prove myself, that I neglected things that were important to me. Nothing was feeling right, and I hadn’t been having fun all night. That isn’t really the point of doing it, but 5 hours of solo night riding while delirious really puts a fine edge on these things. I was totally sick of the ride, ego be damned.
There was a bright headlight behind me and I knew that it was a SIR rider. I was pretty amazed that I wasn’t in last place at this point. I slowed my tempo a bit more to let him catch, but he was plodding along pretty slow as well. Eventually, he caught up and I noted that it was Bill Gobie on his pretty cool collapsible bike. We chatted a little bit, but neither of us were especially in the mood to talk. I confessed my general fatigue and found a porta-potty to stop at.
I spent a bit of time at the stop. I questioned my motives in all directions. I was maybe 60-65 miles in to the ride already. This was a serious bail if I was going to go through with it. My only way back was on my bike.
I turned around and rode as hard as I could back to my car. With the slight downhill and sudden motivation, I was turning the cranks at 25 mph. I wanted to just get the hell out of here. Eventually I ran in to Ryan. He was making his way towards the overnight control so he could get everyone some beds to sleep in. He looked totally out of it (I’m sure I looked stunning as well) and reminded me to not be afraid to nap in a ditch if needed.
My nap ditch debut happened shortly afterwards. My eyes were heavy and I could tell that I was going to be trouble on the road. I pulled the bike over and found a semi-deep spot (or so I thought) to pull the bike in to. I took out my emergency bivy and spent probably 5 minutes trying to get the knot out of the top of it. Did I tie that knot? What the heck was I thinking? I unfolded it and crawled in, wearing my helmet and all. I was apparently on a bed of those little round stickers because I ended up with a ton of them all over my wool clothing. The bivy worked great, but my spot wasn’t so hot. I had 3 people pull over and ask me if I was alright. I didn’t get a minute of actual sleep, but the rest was oddly comforting. I got back up after the third person tried to help and attempted to roll my bivy back up. I’m not sure how the hell it ever fit into its carrying case though. I eventually stuffed it into my handlebar bag.
I kept moving for what seemed like a lifetime. I figured that I would be able to make it back by 6 or so if I were lucky. I wasn’t lucky, of course. Riding along with the directions reversed doesn’t always work like you would except it to. Street names change from one end to the other. I basically made the same mistake I did the first time around going around Orville, and then compounded the problem by making a right on to the road that Orville turns into instead of going straight. It was a 25 mile loop. One that I didn’t need to do. Once I wrapped back around the lake, I swerved around a dead possum. It looked just like one I had seen earlier. Weird. Then I crossed paths with a convenience store that I passed earlier and it was very clear by that point what I had done. Pardon the french, but I nearly lost my shit.
I kept moving, but I was totally deflated. My thumb was out for anyone passing me. Riding past the same roads I had before, I crawled along. Nobody even pretended to entertain the thought of giving me a ride. I’m sure the backs of their collective pick up truck was full with bow hunting gear or something. That, or I just looked like a sissy in spandex whimpering on the side of the road. It was probably quite a visual.
I made it back to my car at around 9am, almost exactly 12 hours after starting. Yikes.
Driving home was… interesting. I made it in to my bed at 10:30 or so and crashed out insanely fast. Jane woke me up around 4pm. I was damned if I was going to miss the celebration after all of this.
My neighbor Teresa was an amazing woman. Her family and friends are all amazing too. They put on a 5 hour epic celebration of her life on Saturday night at the Lake Union Yacht Club (where she apparently worked for a while). There was a gospel choir, amazing speakers, crazy good food, and drinks on the house. The stories people told about her life were just so touching. My eyes hurt like hell once the night was through. Fatigue, sadness, and laughter were marked in them.
We all have stories to tell and new stories to create. I’m disappointed with the DNF in a sense, but nobody can say I didn’t get a story out of this.
