My second year riding in the Festa Foundation's annual charity century got off to an early start when my duty pager blasted me into consciousness shortly after 4AM this morning. I'm the nighttime on-call person for this week and a maintenance needed some assistance to wrap up. I helped out and laid back down, which was a mistake -- the problem was not actually fixed and I lost a precious half-hour of morning time laying there unable to sleep. When I got back up and checked in on things around 5, there were still problems so my egress to Bay Meadows was delayed going out the gate by about half an hour.
As soon as things at work were cleared up, I loaded up my gear and zipped up the Peninsula to San Mateo -- there's a shockingly light amount of traffic on 101 at 6:05 on a Saturday morning -- and found that I need not have worried. I passed familiar faces in Bikeforums kit on my way to the registration desk, quickly signed in, and we hung out until 6:45 when everyone who was "on the bus" showed up. Out the gate, feeling pretty good, and the nice rollers on Alameda de las Pulgas and Crystal Springs Road served to wake up the legs and prepare for the day ahead.
On Cañada Road I hooked up with Henry and Ramon and we had a nice pace set until Marco and Ruth zipped by on their tandem with Pete on their wheel. Henry made the jump and latched on too, but I held back for fear of using the energy up too soon. Again, I shouldn't have worried: they passed us only a few hundred yards away from the rest stop and there would have been ample time to catch my breath. We regrouped and headed out for the first climb of the day, Hwy 84 to Skyline. I think this is the third or fourth time I've done this climb so I knew what to expect and really kept the pace moderate, kept heartrate within limits and just enjoyed the nice foggy (and not too smoky!) morning among the redwoods. Ben caught up to me, which was not a surprise, but his comment was: "You seem to be faster on the hills than last year!" Nevertheless he quickly pulled out of sight and I contented myself with marking, catching and passing a guy I'd noticed in the parking lot in FULL white T-Mobile kit (shoe covers too!). Before too long I was up at the top. We made a partial regroup and headed over the ridgeline down 84 towards the ocean.
I tried to keep a few new descending tips I'd read in mind: tilt the bike around the curves, while keeping the body upright. Pick as smooth (and short) a line as possible and use pressure on the outside leg and the inner handlebar to stay on it. Point through the curve with the chin. Pedal through most of it to keep legs from stiffening up on the long way down. I followed Ramon down and really appreciated how nice and smooth he descended; I remarked as much to him when we hit one of the flatter portions around San Gregorio Creek. Which, by the way, was simply beautiful. Enough of the fog had burned off to let the sunlight filter through the trees. The warm earthy smell of horses and deep redwood needles provided an olfactory backdrop to the peaceful view of the river as it went past several campgrounds. Less visually appealing were the rural ramshackle homesteads with 8 to 12 partially-torn-down cars scattered about the property, but hey, this is the reality of life in La Honda.
As the road flattened out toward the end of the descent, a very fast paceline of "plus 3" (I think that was the kit, though I can't find them now on google) riders came up behind us. I spun up and caught on and went hard with them for a few minutes. A tactical error put me off the front of the group though, and when I looked down my HRM was reading 171 (106% of LT!). They blitzed past me as I struggled to keep up and the exhilaration gave way to the harsh facts of my own limits as a rider. Ah well, easy come easy go - and I had managed to get dropped right near Henry and Pete, so we formed a little, less insane, paceline of our own and worked our way out to the Stage Road rest stop.
Just like last year, this was the most social of the stops, and I met up with several non-BF folks I knew, along with Adam aka Powpow who'd started out separately but caught up to us here. After food, hydration, chit-chat and more than a couple of locals blasting by in giant pickups screaming for people to get out of their way, we headed up Stage Road on our way to the lovely Tunitas Creek. Adam and I shot the breeze as we climbed and then the breeze shot us as we dropped down towards the cliffs on the Pacific Coast Highway! I got a little rattled by the crosswind and fell off Marco and Ruth's tandem train, but we all met up again going across the valley towards the Tunitas Creek climb.
Henry was my climb buddy, and man, did that make things go easier. We just settled into a nice mellow pace and pushed our way up through the redwoods. The only things that marred the stately serenity of the redwoods were a few descenders who were going at unsafe -- make that "ludicrous" -- speeds down the road. Why O Why would you descend Tunitas at more than a gentle glide? The road is in such disrepair that it's highly likely you'll be thrown, break something on a wheel, or at the least have your teeth jarred loose from your head. Most of the crew (ACTC from what one sane descender said) were very well behaved and calls of 'rider up!' echoed through the sequoias. But a few folks were coming down very quickly and one even smacked into Ben's rear wheel somehow and then kept riding cursing him for not hewing to the right half of the road -- a road which is a single lane in the best of spots. Sorry, but blasting down when there's clearly an event ride going on with dozens of folks on the upslope... that's just ignorant.
Rant mode off -- really it was a minor thing and the vast majority of the climb was good conversation, great scenery, and a watchful eye on the HRM to keep myself from blowing up. At the top we regrouped and then zipped down King's Mountain. I was much less confident on this descent than on the earlier drop down 84, probably due to fatigue and the fact that my still-healing right hand was hurting pretty bad. But down at the bottom I saw a sight that made me forget my pain. Two Harley riders had blocked the turnout from KMR to 84 to let FIVE HUNDRED of their biker brethren pass uninterrupted. Five hundred harleys take a long time to stream past. It was truly an impressive collection of metal and leather. I believe most of the jackets were for the "Noble Creed" MC though there were a fair number of red-n-white in attendance as well. Finally the train made it past and Ivan set a pounding pace out to catch up to the ones who'd made it across before the river of steel started up.
I did not turn out to Cañada immediately off 84 as I'd planned, instead I got caught up with the group and headed up Portola towards the fire station rest stop. About a mile in, just after I'd motioned to Adam and Ben and broke out to catch up to the folks in front, some kind of winged insect zipped right down the open neck of my jersey and buzzed around for a few seconds before deciding to sting me right in the stomach. OUCH. I flapped and hooted and got the thing out of my clothes but my momentum was broken, along with my spirit. Further news at the rest stop of a bad wipeout at Page Mill and Altamont convinced me my original plan was best so after some deliberation and troop-rallying, Ron and I set out back towards Food and Home as the others headed up for an extra 20 mile loop.
The way home was tough, no question. The afternoon headwind had picked up and we were tired. I kept losing Ron and picking him up again, but we linked up solidly at the Edgewood Road rest stop and (after chatting with a BF'er whose name I didn't catch) we made the final push back towards San Mateo. I envied the Time Triallers headed south down Cañada, tucked over their aerobars with the wind at their backs. We were much less graceful, trying to keep momentum and pushing as hard as tired muscles would allow. It wasn't pretty, but we got to the end and rounded the corner at Sawyer Camp Trail for a fun descent down Crystal Springs and then, painfully, the Heartbreak Hills of Alameda de las Pulgas. Were those hills really so large on the way out? It didn't seem so, but at least I recalled correctly that there were only three. We rolled into Bay Meadows and picked up t-shirts then headed for the infield and LUNCH.
Ty and Kari were almost done eating but they graciously shared the table as Ron and I queued for pasta, meatballs and salad. Scarf, scarf. Keep hands, fingers and other body parts away from the mouth or they will get munched too! More friendly conversation and more pasta, please. Saw this great Bike Friday Triplet -- a dad and two (twin?) sons pedalled off; the mom saw us cheering them on and told us about the bike. It's pretty neat! They can take out the middle seat and make it a two-seater or pack the whole thing into two suitcases and off they go. Her enthusiasm was contagious.
FInally the inevitable could be delayed no longer: it was time to head home. I packed up, Ron stayed at the table to wait for the 100-miler crew, and then it was back to reality. I'm just really pleased with how the ride went. Our crew stayed safe and injury-free (well, except the beesting), I stayed hydrated and fed well enough to avoid a bonk or migraine, and my fitness level let me push it pretty hard when the situation called for it while still leaving enough gas in the tank to get back home.
Now for some steak...
STATS
79 miles
5h 22m total time, 4hr 21m active
62 mph top speed (??) Really ~42
221 bpm top heart rate (??) Really 172
(My Polar HRM started flipping out on the way back up Cañada and read these insane values for both speed and heart rate. Weak batteries or something.)
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