STP

The Seattle to Portland (STP) has been on my to-do list for many years. Finally this year I decided to do it, and coerced my friend Corinne into signing up as well. It’s a two-day (although there is a one-day option) ride from Seattle to Portland (duh), covering more than 300 kilometers. 329 to be exact (204 miles).

Day One

We started early, although not as early as most. It’s a rolling start, and riders can start anytime between 5:15 and 7:30 am (the one-dayer’s can start as early as 4:45). We started at 6:40, on a beautiful, cloudless northwest summer morning. It was a bit cool, but temperatures were forecasted to be pretty warm by the afternoon.

Corinne and I at the start line

We were treated to spectacular views of Mt. Rainier as we wound around Lake Washington and out into the countryside surrounding Seattle. We passed hundreds of riders and rode hard to get around groups. We hopped on trains whenever we could, and noticed trains forming behind us when we were riding well. The aid stations were super-crowded, what with 10,000 riders taking part, so our plan was to grab handfuls of food and stuff our faces quickly and get back out on the course.

Mt. Rainier in the distance

The first day went by pretty quickly and uneventfully. The course was pretty gentle, one big climb but most of the day was flat to rolling. Most of the route was on backroads, a couple of highways, and a paved path through Nisqually National Park. It was great to be away from the traffic on the path for a bit, and ride side-by-side without worrying about vehicles coming up from behind. It was also a nice break from stop lights which plagued much of the course.

We hit our end point for the day in early afternoon, Chehalis, where we were staying with friends. Chehalis was about 10 km past the official halfway point of Centralia, and in Centralia they gave us creamsicles as we rode through, which went down pretty nicely as the day was getting hot. Mmm, creamsicles… In Chehalis we collected our bags, stored our bikes for the night and my friend Katie picked us up.

End of day one.

First day mileage: 172 km; ride time: 6:11

Day Two

We started a bit later, as the first day didn’t take as long as we thought and now we had a little less mileage to do. That turned out to be a mistake – more to come on that. Another beautiful, cloudless day, with a view of Mt. St. Helens for the first few miles. Our friend Kris had done STP last year in one day, and assured us the course was flat, with one climb in the first half. As we rode, we questioned Kris’ sanity as we kept going up and down, up and down the second day… I hate to see what he thinks as hilly!

Elevation profiles from my Garmin. Day One was pretty gentle with one major climb, but Day Two was not flat!

Me enjoying a downhill.

A highlight of day two was definitely crossing the Lewis and Clark Bridge over the Columbia River in Kelso. We rounded a corner and the bridge loomed into sight, only 210 feet high but it seemed to tower over the mighty Columbia. We were only allowed to be single file on the bridge, so we climbed up and rode tempo over it’s almost 1 km span and descended the other side.

Lewis & Clark Bridge

STP attracts all sorts of bike fashion…

It was after the bridge that our decision to start later came back to haunt us. We had started behind many beginner riders, and were forced to ride around large groups of inexperienced cyclists. I was in front of Corinne, and passed a woman who was riding way to the left, pretty much on the white line of a fairly busy road. I had a bad feeling about this particular woman, she seemed uncomfortable on the bike and visibly nervous with the speed riders were passing her. I was relieved to get around her safely, but that inner voice was right as she ended up swerving into Corinne as Corinne came up around her. I heard the crash behind me and turned to see Corinne, the woman, and another rider go down hard.

I pulled over and ran back to see if Corinne was ok. Some road rash, but she’s a pretty tough chick and was up on her feet quickly. The bike was another story, the rear brake jammed into the wheel, the rear derailleur hanger was bent, and both hoods were askew. Unrideable. An official stopped and cleaned up Corinne’s wounds, and called a sag wagon. We hatched a plan of her hitching a lift to the next aid station 16 km down the road where a mechanic could check things out. I’d ride and meet her there.

Once the bike was fixed up, we were back on the road again, albeit a bit later than planned. Once again we were behind a lot of beginner riders. It took Corinne a bit of time to get her mojo back, but soon enough we were riding hard, passing people, and hooked up with a couple of guys (one from Seattle, the other from Colorado) and made a mini-train the last couple of hours to the finish.

Crossing the finish line

Second day mileage: 157 km; ride time: 5:49.

Later that night at our hotel, where the front desk clerk told us we “cleaned up nicely”. We must have looked pretty grotty when we checked in!

The total mileage was 329 kilometers, which we finished in 12 hours over the two days. On the Amtrak back to Seattle, we started musing about doing the one-day next year, stay tuned…

One-oh-one (part one)

In honour of my 101st post, I thought I'd start a list of 101 things I really like. I won't subject you to it all at once. It's not a countdown, therefore there is no particular order to this list; it is just off the top of my head.

1. Riding my bike with friends, enjoying the company and the exercise.

2. Riding my bike alone, enjoying the solitude and the exercise.

3. Swimming in a 50-meter outdoor pool.

4. Listening to the frogs chorusing in the spring.

5. Time to sleep in, but waking up early and just getting to lie in bed for a while.

6. A really nice glass of wine.

7. Hot summer days.

8. Laughing so hard I cry.

9. That fragrant smell when you step off the plane in Hawaii.

10. Really bright starry nights.

11. Planning a new adventure.

12. Carrying out said adventure.

13. The sound a disc wheel makes.

14. A new, cute running outfit.

15. Snorkeling with green sea turtles.

16. Freshly picked strawberries from a local farm.

17. Sitting on the deck on a summer evening.

18. Taking Humu up the mountain in winter and watching her run in the snow.

19. Gray, misty fog.

20. Finding money in the pocket of a jacket you haven't worn in a while.

21. Watching a sea lion playing in an eddy.

To be continued...

The One Thing

There are so many things beyond our control. Most people I know, myself included, work hard on controlling as many things as we can (Type A, anyone?). But sometimes life tends to sneak in and throw a few monkey wrenches into the mix.

There is still one thing you can control, even when it seems you're in the middle of a tempest. That one thing is your reaction to what is beyond control. You can curl up in a ball and cry, or you can face things head on with a smile. I watched Jason give a lesson in controlling the uncontrollable at Ironman Coeur d'Alene this year.

A couple months out from the race, Jason was in peak form. Splitting his fastest times in at least a decade, not bad for a 42-year old. Then six weeks out, he tore a calf muscle. No bawling in the fetal position, but he faced it head on. Physio, IMS, chiro, ART, massage, water jogging; all of which kept him in great shape up until race day. Maybe not blistering marathon pace, but solid none the less. He could have chosen to bail on the race and feel sorry for himself, but instead he chose to control the uncontrollable situation by staying positive.

Race morning he was feeling great. The water temperature was reportedly in the low 50's farenheit (his assessment was "friggin' cold"). It's pretty tough to control water temperature in a lake, although I know many triathletes would like to. After becoming near-hypothermic in the swim, setting a relatively slow swim time for someone who is normally a 58-minute swimmer, and bumbling through transition with frozen, non-functional hands, he could have chosen the fetal position and cried again. His goal was a Hawaii spot and a podium spot, so a 7-minute deficit right after the first leg would lead many to give up. But he was smiling as he pedaled out of transition, determined to not let the setbacks get to him. No hypothermia here, he controlled the uncontrollable with a positive attitude.

Of course with any big event, we try to control all the variables. One obvious one is tires... they should be in flawless condition. But halfway through the second lap, a piece of metal decided to lodge itself into Jason's tire, and that's pretty tough to control no matter what tire you choose. So he fixed the flat, hopped back on and once again controlled how he reacted. No giving up, no self-defeat. A 5:10 bike split, flat tire not withstanding, is someone who controlled the uncontrollable again, smiling every time I saw him.

Charging hard through the bike.

Onto the run, he ran himself into a podium position. But who can control the guy coming from behind, coming off the bike in 18th place but running a blazing 3:02 and bumping you off the podium? Uncontrollable... except that positive attitude that kept Jason running to a 3:18 marathon (despite several weeks off running leading up to the race).

Running strong.

Not a PR, but a Kona spot nonetheless.

Through the minefield that is life (and the minefield that is Ironman), the only thing you can truly control is how you react.

Waiting

We spend much of our lives just waiting around. Even though I think Jason and I do a good job of staying active, busy, and filling the time, I still end up waiting a lot. Friday I flew to Coeur d'Alene for Jason's Ironman and we drove home Monday. For example, here is the waiting I did this weekend.

Waiting at the Victoria airport to catch a flight to Seattle.

It was pretty quiet there for a Friday afternoon.

Aren't the little planes that take us off the island cute?

Waiting to take off.

Waiting to disembark.

Waiting at customs (didn't think I should take a picture there,

I'm pretty sure they frown on that).

Waiting in the Seattle airport for my flight to Spokane.

I decided to wait somewhere useful.

Waiting at the gate to board the plane.

Waiting to go for a ride.

Waiting at lights during my ride.

Waiting for Jason as he checks in his gear at IMCDA.

Waiting for Jason's race to start in the morning.

Waiting for Jason to relax after racing before going to dinner.

Waiting to cross the border.

Bonus - no waiting for the ferry home, we drove right on!

Trainer Riding

There have been a lot of talk, articles, and generally hubbub about trainer riding lately. I'm pleased to report that Jason and Coach Kiki have had me on the trainer riding bandwagon before there was even a bandwagon. So here are some tips on how to make what can be an excruciatingly boring workout actually fun... and hard!

Obviously a bike, but really important - a good trainer! We have had many generations of trainers, and found that it's generally true that a fairly large chunk of change has to be spent on getting a good trainer. Back in the 80's I owned a "wind" trainer, graduated to magnetic, and now we have fluid trainers and they're awesome. Quiet, smooth, and a lot of resistance.

Some essentials - a towel because it doesn't take long before the sweat is dripping, my Garmin (even though I'm not going anywhere...) to measure time and cadence, and the tv remote for some background noise, as I can never seem to concentrate on an actual show while I'm riding.

A fan (see above about the sweat), especially when riding in the summer.

A workout. It's not a good use of time to just sit and spin. Trainer workouts can be really intense, focused, and useful.

A little buddy to come check on you periodically.

A riding partner - helps with motivation, eases the boredom, and gives some general camaraderie.

A positive attitude - it can be tough to (literally) spin your wheels for an hour, two, or more in the basement.

Running Surprise

Yesterday afternoon Humu and I were running a trail on the outskirts of town. It's a trail we run a lot, and yesterday was a pretty typical day for that trail. Lots of birds, a snake, more birds... then from out of the woods came a giant. A huge elk sauntered casually across the trail, completely unconcerned with our presence.

Wildlife around these parts is a pretty common occurrence. The particular trail we were on seems to always have signs posted by people warning of a bear or cougar in the area. I've seen elk outside of town, from my bike or my car as they're grazing in a field. I was surprised to see one so close to town, and on it's own as they're usually in large groups. I wondered if I was about to run smack into the entire herd. The sub-species of elk we have on the island, Roosevelt elk, is larger than their rocky mountain cousins, and this point is brought home when you are standing in front of one by yourself.

I didn't have my phone or camera with me, so I couldn't

get my own picture. This one is from Wikipedia.

It wasn't easy to find a good pic; when I googled elk images

most of them were dead, with a hunter standing over them.

Luckily Humu was behind me, so I caught her and clipped her leash on before she took off. She REALLY wanted to chase the elk (I never said she was the smartest dog), and holding back a dog who is more than 60 pounds of pure muscle is no easy task! I'm pretty sure that even though elk aren't known as vicious, it wouldn't care for being chased by my dog and Humu would lose that battle. The elk disappeared into the trees, and soon enough Humu was distracted by birds and other smells again.

Good Deeds

Smack in the middle of my beautiful sunny ride this morning, I saw a woman walking her bike on the side of the road. I pulled over when I noticed she had a flat, and asked if I could help. Wow, I thought to myself, here is my chance to do something nice for a complete stranger! We so rarely get the chance to do a true good deed.

She didn't really know how to change a flat, and she'd given her spare tube away to a friend on a previous ride, so was pretty stuck. She was trying to get ahold of her husband to come and get her. I do know how to change a flat, and I was carrying a tube (even though I ride road tubeless and almost never flat - still want to be prepared in case I do...), and better still had a CO2 cartridge tucked in my seatbag from the sprint tri two weeks ago. I was pretty excited about that, because I rarely use a CO2 cartridge and have these panicky thoughts at times that when I really need to, in the middle of a race, I won't know how (even though yes, I have practiced), and my tire change will take longer than my bike split.

So I helped change the tire and inflated it using the CO2, and helped her put her wheel back on and get everything dialed in again. She was heading the same direction as me, so we rode to town together. So now my good deed made me feel warm and fuzzy about helping someone, gave me a chance to practice changing a tire, and gave me a riding partner for a bit. Win-win-win!

We had a really nice chat all the way back to town, about tonnes of stuff we had in common. Turns out she was also a high school biology teacher, from up-island, heading to my town for her daughter's swim meet. She's getting into triathlon, and is doing some of the sprint races I did last year. And to top it all off, we had a skookum tailwind pushing us back into town - obviously my reward for stopping to lend a hand.

She graciously offered to stop at the local shop, buy a tube, and deliver it to my house. Instead, I asked her to stop for someone who needs help someday and pay it forward. I like thinking of all of us, in this global village, looking out for each other and taking care of those who need help. What a nice world it is, when the sun is shining, we are all smiling, and giving from the heart.