Davis Double Century 2004

    My first double century. Friday I went to Davis to pick up my registration packet early. Naturally I got there early. While I waited, I walked around town. Surprisingly, the people weren’t very friendly. I smiled and said good afternoon to many. Some responded with a hi, but many didn’t respond at all and just as many would never even make eye contact. I found this most strange.

    The folks handing out the packets were friendly, though. The gentleman who gave me mine was kind enough to explain what to do with the numbers since I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t stay for the spaghetti feed. I wanted to get home so I could get to bed early.

    My granddaughter ended up spending the night. She always wants to watch “Tarzan & Jane” in my bedroom when I go to bed. Being a typical grandparent, I can never say no and this was no different, no matter that I really, really wanted to get to sleep. Luckily my wife sacrificed her body for me. My granddaughter is an extremely rough sleeper. When she spends the night, one of us gets kicked, poked, rooted – in other words, beaten up.

    I couldn’t sleep anyway. Normally I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Not this night. For some strange reason I thought the Davis Double Century would be 200 miles traveling around the valley, i.e. flat. When I got the registration packet with the route, I panicked a little. I knew I wasn’t really prepared for the climbing that was going to be involved.

    At 3:15 a.m. I gave up trying to sleep and decided to head to Davis. I had everything as ready as I could get it. The drive down was uneventful. As I was traveling down Covell Blvd, I saw bicycle lights. It was 4:20 a.m. I was a little piqued because I thought riders couldn’t start until 5:30 a.m. More bicyclists went by. I parked, got my bike and headed to the start. I went into the Veterans Memorial Hall and asked what I needed to do because I had picked up my registration packet Friday.

    The lady at the table smiled and said, “Put on your helmet and have fun.” With those encouraging words, I started my first double century and only my second organized ride. My first was the “Bike Around the Buttes”, a 40 miler I did with my daughter at a pace that didn’t challenge me in any way. It was extremely fun to do it with my daughter, though.

    It was a little after 4:30 a.m. and dark. I followed a small group of bikers who sounded like they knew where to go. This was good because I have little sense of direction and although I studied the directions, I couldn’t see signs very well. Actually, once we left Davis, I couldn’t see them at all.

    I also couldn’t see my speedometer. I had planned not to exceed 17 mph because I didn’t want to push myself too hard early. I tend to push hard until my body collapses. Normally, it doesn’t matter because I just call it a day. I knew I couldn’t do this if I wanted to finish, and I REALLY wanted to finish. I had told everyone at work what I was doing and didn’t want to be seen as a quitter.

    The morning was dead calm and cool. I have never had such perfect bicycling weather. I felt great!! Somehow I got in the front of a pack and led it almost all of the way to the first rest stop. While it felt good doing it, it was a mistake. Most of my bicycling is going to town, going to see my daughters, etc. The rides aren’t more than 15 miles one way. When I reached the first rest stop, I still felt good, but my body was ready for the normal 30 minute to an hour stop to shop or visit.

    I did follow part of my plan starting here – extremely short stops. I had decided to do this because I knew if I stopped for too long, I would stiffen up and have an extremely hard time getting going again. I went to grab some water but didn’t see any cups so I made do with what I had. It didn’t occur to me until the second stop that one used one’s water bottle to get water at the stops. Talk about a novice!! I did grab ½ of a banana and a quarter of a peanut butter sandwich. In two minutes I was back on my bicycle and riding again.

    I am relatively new to biking. I don’t know all of the proper terminology. I do know that except for a couple of recumbants, only I was on something other than a road bike. I ride a Trek 7100. On the rear rack I have a basket bungee corded to carry my stuff. The bike is a hybrid and I love it for all of the riding I normally do. It carried me through this day, too, but many times I would wonder if I should have been on what everyone else was riding.

    A couple of miles before the town of Winters I got passed by a group of five riders. They weren’t going so much faster than I that I couldn’t catch them so I did. This was the only time I drafted. It was amazing! For the same effort I was putting out to go about 17 mph I was now doing about 21 mph. When I saw they were taking turns leading the pack, I dropped off because I knew trying to push myself that hard would not do me any good in the long run.

    Outside of Winters the fun pretty much ended for me. I am a flatlander and have done little climbing. Luckily I have done some by going into the foothills northeast of Yuba City so I can work my gears. They came in very handy for me. While I didn’t climb as fast as most, the climbs didn’t completely wipe me out, either.

    Half way up Cardiac Hill was the second rest stop. As with every other rest stop, the helpers were very supportive. I figured out that I needed to use my water bottle to get water. It was here I mixed up my second liter of Gatorade. I would go through 5 liters before I was ¾’s through the ride, then I would make the mistake of drinking something I wasn’t used to.

    At this rest stop I was stopped and gone in only a couple of minutes. I thought the rest stop was on the top of Cardiac Hill. What a surprise I had when it turned out to be the ½ way point. Dropping to my lowest gear, I was able to make it to the top. When I bought the bike, the salesman called the low gear a bailout gear. I call it a godsend. It kept me moving at 4.5 mph. That’s faster than I walk, and that was my only other choice.

    Rest stops 3 and 4 were stop and go, too. Interestingly, I would get passed by what seemed like everyone. Then sometime after a rest stop I would get passed by the same people. This went on through the entire ride.

    By the time I reached Middletown High School, I was dragging and knew I needed a break, so I allotted myself five minutes. Except for grabbing some more bananas and peanut butter sandwiches, waiting to use the bathroom took up the break. My urine was so dark I knew I was not staying hydrated, but I was still sweating so I figured I was okay.

    I am a very heavy sweater. I think the only way for me to stay hydrated is to use an I.V. I had made another mistake. I had brought liter bottles with screw caps. When I normally ride, I just stop, unscrew the top and take a drink. I was so time conscious I didn’t want to waste the time. I now know I need the water bottles with the nipples on them so I can drink and ride at the same time.

    Going through Big Canyon, I was glad I had my 700X35 tires. The road was BAD. I don’t know how many riders I saw repairing tires. I even heard one gal’s tire blow. It sounded like a gunshot. I wondered why they were putting in new tubes instead of patching them. I had a patch kit. I would learn that hard lesson later.

    The climb out of Big Canyon seemed to go on forever. I felt like I was in an Outer Limits show. Every time I looked up there were more curves above me with bikers moving just about as slowly as I was. At rest stop 6 I grabbed an offered banana without stopping. I had to get to the top. That was more important than stopping. I ate as much of the banana as I could and tossed the rest. I hope that wasn’t littering.

    At Lower Lake High School, I gave myself 10 minutes for lunch. I had the same food, bananas and peanut butter sandwiches, then spent the rest of the time stretching. When ten minutes was up, I was on the road again.

    Going down towards Resurrection Pass I was riding the white line hard. Suddenly the edge of the road jumped left and I was screaming down the decline at 30+ mph in the gravel next to the asphalt. I tried easing back onto the road, but the lip was too high. I eased away from the asphalt then cut into it harder and popped back onto the highway. I hadn’t wrecked! I felt great with all the adrenalin rushing through me. Even the beginning of Resurrection Pass couldn’t wipe off my smile.

    A couple of riders passed me on the climb and one of them smiled and said, “Good recovery.” I grinned back and replied, “Yeah.” Resurrection Pass then demanded my attention, and I began grinding up it. My body was tired, I had drunk all of my Gatorade, and my legs were really wanting to cramp. Finally, though, I made it to the top and the next rest stop.

    It was there I asked a young man working the rest stop what it was he was offering. He said it was Vitamax, an energy drink. I asked him to fill one of my empty bottles, drank half of it, and asked him to top it off. He did so gladly. (What a great bunch of rest station attendants there were all the way through.) Unfortunately, Vitamax and I don’t get along too well. It made me very queasy, and I burped it up for the longest time.

    The ride should have been easy from here on, but two things worked against me for awhile. First, the wind was blowing right up the valleys. Going down highway 20 the wind was directly in my face. I turned onto Highway 16 which put me going in nearly the opposite direction, but the wind was again directly in my face because I was heading down a different valley.

    If the wind did let up and my pedaling became easier, my legs would cramp before I could shift gears to get back to the one speed where they were comfortable or at least wouldn’t cramp. Incidentally, the way to keep pedaling and get rid of a leg cramp is to force your whole body to relax while you are pedaling. The cramp slowly leaves. Also, praying helps. No, I’m not kidding, and yes, I am fairly religious, especially when I have gotten myself in way over my head.

    Even though this was one of the prettiest parts of the ride, it was probably my lowest point. I just really didn’t know if I was going to be able to finish or not. At rest stop 8, one of the attendants disconnected the hose from the bottle-filling manifold just as I was trying to get water. He was only trying to help someone fill a camel pack, but I just saw it as another sign that I was being picked on. I didn’t have any more water, but I did have the Vitamax. I choked down the ½ banana and continued.

    At mile 155 a younger man, probably in his 30’s, rode up beside me and struck up a conversation. He asked if I stopped for lunch. I told him I had given myself ten minutes, then I explained my rest stop strategy. He was very encouraging, and we talked about five minutes or so. I told him my goal was to finish and I would like to finish before dark. He said I would have no problem. I told him I wasn’t sure on either count; however, shortly after he left me to find his riding partner, I started feeling a little better.

    At rest stop #9 I was able to get water. The land was now getting flat, my kind of riding. When the wind wasn’t directly in my face, I was able to get above 15 mph. For awhile I felt almost normal, but by the time I hit rest stop 10, I was wiped again.

    I felt a little nauseous and thought I was going to have diarrhea, a sure sign I was just about toast. I went into one of the port-a-pots but all I did was urinate. It burned like crazy and felt and looked semi-solid. I definitely hadn’t stayed hydrated. I climbed back on my bike and started out determined to finish. I figured if I could average 15 mph I would even make it before dark.

    I started feeling decent again because I was going east and the wind was out of the south. I knew I would have to turn into it, but maybe by then it would die down. Then at mile 190 I learned why tubes are replaced and not patched. Crossing an intersection I heard a metallic crunch/pop. I immediately stopped thinking I had broken a spoke, a common occurrence on my old “Wal Mart special”.

    Looking at my back tire I heard the hiss of air and saw a bent nail. Biting back a curse I emptied my basket, flipped my bike and soon had the tube out. Many riders slowed and asked if I needed help. I told them no thanks. I had everything. I did, too. I found the hole quickly and had a patch on it. I soon had the tire back on the bike and tried pumping it up. No dice. I had to remove the tire again. I then found where the nail had poked three other holes in the tube as it sat in my tire. By this time a sag wagon stopped. The driver waited patiently as I patched the tube again. He then pumped up the tire, and left after I assured him everything was peachy.

    Full tires do not fit through the brake pads on my bicycle. I had to partially deflate the tire, mount the wheel, then pump it up again. Mini-pumps work, but they aren’t really fast. By the time I got going again, I was frustrated but well rested. I was screaming along at 17.5 mph. After about a mile pedaling got harder and looking down I saw my rear tire with its patched tube was low. I got off and pumped it up. After another mile a rider went by and said, “Dude, your tire is almost flat.” I said thanks and got off again. Eight more flippin’ miles! I was going to sag in. I felt like crying. I just wasn’t meant to finish. I pumped up the tire and got back on. After another mile, I got off and pumped it up again. Twice I had a sag wagon stop and ask if I needed assistance. No, I said both times trying to add something cute which I am sure sounded lame. I had, however, determined I would finish.

    So, for the last ten miles it was ride a mile, pump up the tire, ride a mile, pump up the tire…. My cell phone rang a couple of times. “I riding,” I said to myself. At 8:00 p.m. I rode into the Veterans Memorial Hall parking lot. I walked into the hall and heard all of the laughing and camaraderie. All I could think of was getting home. I felt awful. I drank a couple of swallows of lemonade that hit my stomach like acid bombs. I got my T-shirt and patch, called my wife assuring her I could drive home, then walked my bike to my parking spot.

    After throwing my bicycle into the back of my truck, I heard someone say, “Yuba City.” It was the rider who had so encouraged me. He asked if I had eaten. I told him no that I just wanted to go home, and that’s what I did.

    When I got home, I told my wife I would never do something like that again and went to bed. Amazingly, I woke up with a totally different attitude. I laughed and told her I thought I just might give it another try. I had learned so much, I didn’t want to waste my new found, hard earned knowledge.

    My one regret is I didn’t shake hands with the young man who encouraged me so. I hope some small prayers for him and his will suffice for now. Maybe we will meet again.

    My legs and butt have recovered quickly. My left hand lost much of its strength after the ride, carpal tunnel syndrome I have learned from the internet. It is now a little over a week and it still hasn’t quite returned to normal. It will, though, and I will ride in another Davis Double Century. In fact, next year I will ride in three doubles so I can get a Triple Crown patch. The following year I will be 50, so I will ride a double for every decade I’ve lived.

    Now that the whole world knows, I have to do it. As Dori says, “Just keep riding.” And as Tiny Tim said, “God bless all bicyclists, one and all.”

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