D2R2 2015: Part II

Team Shad in the saddle

As the sun climbs higher and the temperature rises, as the hills grow steeper and longer, as the miles fall away under our tires, I let go of details and specifics. The Virginian handles the navigational duties as he's not only an eleven time D2R2 veteran but these roads are, to a degree, known to him, they're in his wheelhouse, they're local to him.

160K riders

Around mile 50, I feel the first twinges of cramping in my quads and so begin to really focus on my pedaling. After years of riding, I've become adept at recognizing the subtleties of positioning and technique; I can discern, and therefore direct, where the power of the thrust comes from.

When climbing, am I out of the saddle and relying on the thunder of the quads to generate the power? What if I sit down, shift forward on the seat, and sort of scrouch over the handlebars; can I shift the power focus to the calves and hips? Yes. I can also employ the "clawing" technique whereby I concentrate on the front downward thrust and upward pull back, imagining my toes as claws digging into turf, pulling, then thrusting hard off the claw hold. This alleviates the quad-heavy thrusting that comes natural when out of the saddle on an ascent, but it's also tiring and, on very steep ascents, nearly impossible to maintain. You have to get out of the saddle and hammer at certain points.

Thank goodness for Friday's rain. Where many of the climbs would have been loose sandy gravel, today they are more or less packed down. You're able to get out of the saddle and not spin out. Otherwise, you would have had to stay seated in order to keep weight on the rear wheel and maintain traction, but the hills being as steep as they are, I'm sure I could not have stayed seated so would have inevitably had to hike up certain inclines. As it turned out, I never had to get off the bike and walk.

One of the long, gradual grinds

So the last 12 miles before lunch I spend babying my quads, constantly adjusting my position in the saddle, coasting as much as possible, and generally trying to keep my legs from seizing up. It works! Around mile 62, the small lunch stop appears, there are twenty or so cyclists already there, bikes strewn about and tired, brightly-clad riders lounging on the grass. The Virginian and I drop our bikes in the bushes and attend to fueling up.

As promised, there's garlic aioli to spread on the made-to-order ham or turkey or hummus wraps. There's also pasta salad and an array of snacks like M&Ms, Fig Newtons, pickles, potato chips, and, blessedly, cans of Coke. Now, I normally drink a Coke maybe once a year and I've been avoiding potato chips for like two years but today I inhale both a Coke and a bag of chips. And a ham wrap. And a pickle and a package of Newtons.

And I make a key hydration substitute. At the first rest stop I'd mixed a bottle of sport drink but had used too much powder; the result was way too sweet, so much so that it sorta' made me nauseous. So at lunch, I dumped the rest of that concoction and switched to a mix of pickle juice and water. Salty, with twinges of vinegar, it tasted better than the sports drink solution and helped to actually alleviate some of the stomach discomfort that's a byproduct of consuming so much sugary energy supplements.

The Virginian in his glory

Lunch finished, two thirds of the ride in the books, The Virginian and I gear up and push on. Immediately after lunch, you zoom down a long, fast descent to the floor of a valley in Charlemont. "Sweet!" you think to yourself, "Nothing like a zinging bullet train to bury a few quick miles!"

But once a descent like that hits the valley floor, in the D2R2 you can be sure that a massive climb is the next order of business. In this case, we're talking East Road.

Now, East Road is a special climb for me, ever since the fabled "Assault on East Road" from the 2013 D2R2 (chronicled here). That was the time that The Virginian and I reeled in four guys who'd whizzed by us a half mile before the base of the climb; we'd been stopped at the side of the road taking a picture of some sunflowers when the foursome had zoomed past. Though they had a five minute start on us, we reeled them back one by one and cranked passed them, demoralizing them on the merciless slopes of East Rd. Much of this, my self-declared "finest day of my cycling life," was captured on The Virginian's video camera which he'd mounted on his rear fork (footage available at above link).

There would be no such heroics on East Road today. Depending on how you measure it, the total climb runs to three miles and, though gradually steady for much of it, in places the grade tips up sharply, at one point about two thirds to the summit, it veers up to 13.1%. And, despite the rain and the "perfect conditions," there are a couple places where the surface is not compact, and loose sand and stone force you back into the saddle to avoid spinning out.

The Strava segment of East Rd is called Backside of Berkshire East. It takes me 29 minutes to climb to the top. At one point, I think at the 13% grade, I am going so slow I don't know how I stay upright. It takes all my will and concentration to stay on the bike, to keep turning the cranks, to not get off and walk. I don't want to get off, I don't want to admit defeat, to further sully the memory of my once-upon-a-time accomplishment on this sacred climb. It's bad enough that I labor mightily just to stay on the bike; think of the ignominy of having to get off and push the Crux Elite.

I avoid that dread fate and manage to grind to the summit without ditching, though at one point I begin cramping, not in the legs but in my right shoulder and right tricep. Then it becomes a struggle to balance one handed while letting go with the cramping arm and holding it at different positions, including swinging it around trying to get the blood flowing. Upper body cramping becomes a concern the rest of the ride. I end up repeatedly taking my hands off the handlebars, sitting upright, waving my arms, alleviating the stress of gripping the bars too tightly.

At the top of East Rd, we pause and gather ourselves. Even The Virginian concedes that "Maybe we were a bit cocky about East Rd." We'd been taking excitedly about the climb for weeks. We'd imagined that we'd use the climb again as a launch pad, that we'd drop anyone who dared try riding with us, that we'd repeat our bravura performance of two years ago.

Then The Virginian drops a bomb.

"I even rode this climb earlier this year, in May, and it didn't seem as hard. And I was on my road bike."

Say what? A fucking road bike?! "Are you insane??" I asked with a mixture of admiration and incredulity.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I don't know, it was almost easier on a road bike, it's hard to explain."

Yes, it IS hard to explain. In fact, I can't imagine it. Nor will I ever know what it's like as I would never attempt East Rd on a road bike. But The Virginian is a special sort, as we've seen before.

The Virginian, much earlier in the ride, still fresh

East Rd conquered (albeit in humble fashion), we turn our attention to the stretch run, about twenty five more miles or so. Lots of rolling terrain, a modicum of pavement, mostly dirt roads, a lot of it descending. Though not all. One or two tricky stretches challenge my stamina and my crampy upper body but the terrain is fun, the rutty wood roads completely overhung with a canopy of green (as many miles have been today), and the climbs of short enough duration not to be killers.

By this point in the ride, the riders have splintered and drifted far apart. Earlier, you'd come upon a handful of riders not infrequently, or some would ride up and pass us. But now, we encounter almost no one else. We roll along largely by ourselves, enjoying the solitude, doing quiet solo battle with our own bodies, managing the discomfort while exulting in the realization that today's gargantuan challenge draws to an end.

And then we're there, Deerfield, the big green fields, the huge tent, the bee hive hum of activity, riders coming in, cars pulling out, the whole spectacle alive in the booming late afternoon sun that now shines unadulterated from a cloudless sky. AH!

And just as the morning was organized with a martial yet earthy-crunchy exactitude, so too is the afternoon after-ride party. The beer line is long though it moves quickly, the food line is short and accessible, the huge covered tent lined with tables and seats produces a dull roar of banter from five hundred or so contented enthusiasts, all scarfing dinner and sluicing Berkshire Brewing Company ales.

So Team Shad joins the celebration.

Team Shad at the table of champions

Back to D2R2 2015: Part I

D2R2 2015: Part I

All week leading up to Saturday we'd followed the weather forecast closely, concerned about the rainy front predicted to move into the area just in time for the weekend. But there's something so good and so karmically right about the D2R2 that the rainy front upped its pace and rolled through the region on Friday, a day early.

The result? Dusty gravel roads compacted and smoothed over, the humidity greatly tempered, the air freshened and cleaned. In short, utterly perfect conditions.

Saturday came for me at 4:10 AM when I woke in the Woo, made a double shot latte, loaded the gear & the Crux Elite, and set off at 5:00. 122 north through Paxton, Rutland, Barre, Petersham was empty at that hour and as dawn crept across the sky sending its light through the forests on either side, I flew toward Deerfield with Live Dead filling the Shad Wagon.

In a little more than and hour, I arrived. Mist drifted off the fields, the sky brightened, the multi-colored tents from the campground stood out in the emerald green expanse.

About 6:15 AM

One hallmark of this event is how well organized it is. Everything is taken care of. A policeman directs cars onto the designated parking field where volunteers motion them into neat rows. The registration tent is spacious, long tables with boxes of registrant packets organized alphabetically. The dining tent presents tables of food - scrambled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, oatmeal, muffins, bananas, peanut butter & jelly, coffee. I'm parked, checked-in, got my bib & chip on (#743), and am getting my bike off the roof rack within 15 minutes of arriving.

Seamless organization

I also find The Virginian right away. He didn't park his car because he didn't bring his car. As if doing an all day 160K ride wasn't enough, he opted to ride from his home perched in the hills of Conway down to Deerfield, probably ten miles or so, in the pre-dawn gloaming.

"It's all down hill," he replies, shrugging off my expression of incredulity. The Virginian. He's the kind you want as a teammate. Nothing phases him.

At 7:10, we roll through the starting gate. The timing mechanism bleeps twice, recognizing our bib chips, and we're officially underway. The air is cool but comfortable, 61 degrees or so. No need for the arm warmers I bought in anticipation of a soggy, overcast day. Nor the sleeveless windbreaker. It's gonna' be gorgeous all day, that's evident even as we speed along the first ten miles of pavement, heading toward the hills.

Randonneur Extraordinaire

A few other riders had departed close to when we did and we all coalesced at one point and rode together for while. Most of the routes follow similar roads and periodically overlap but the 160K is pretty distinct and spins out on its own. We would encounter many of the same riders throughout the day, alternately passing and being passed, or exchanging notes and expressions of enthusiasm at rest stops and lunch.

Unfortunately for the purposes of Shad Rides, the little pocket camera I carry to document these adventures crapped out not long after we set out, maybe two hours or so into the ride, so the visual evidence of today's ramble is necessarily limited. Nevertheless, it was still working as we hit the first stretch of dirt road.

A couple of 160K riders getting the first taste of the good stuff

And just like that, we were into the terrain that puts the "Dirt Road" in "Deerfield Dirt Road Randonee," and we'd stay on it for the better part of seven hours. By necessity, there would be stretches of pavement that stitched the course together (mostly empty country roads in the hills) but there would also be broken down old farm roads, craggy forest passageways, gnarly rutted tracks tumbling down steep slopes or climbing upward toward unseen ridges, gravelly ridge roads that offered sweeping views across valleys, long empty stretches of fields. We would see Mt. Monadnock, Mt. Greylock, and a myriad of lesser mountains and hills we didn't know the names of.

Craggy forest road

Farm road under cerulean sky

Gravel style

The 160K, though not the longest, is arguably as hard as the 180K, particularly the pre-lunch route. Much of the major climbs come before the lunch break, and lunch doesn't happen until the 62 mile point. That's a long morning with some exceptional hills. Packers Corner Rd at the 18 mile mark kicks things off with a long 1 mile ascent that breaks up the group of some ten riders that we'd been cruising with. The Virginian and I move off the front and climb away from the rest.

At the 40 mile point comes the rest stop, it's at the familiar covered bridge alongside a languid river where I remember eating lunch the first time I rode the D2R2 back in 2011. Perfect timing; we're tired, hungry, and our water bottles need filling. I've sworn to be more conscientious about eating and hydrating this year so I've drank a lot already and was ready for a refill.

Familiar covered bridge

The first rest stop, 40 miles in

My 'Steal Your Face' jersey catches the attention of a cyclist who comes up to me and says "Hey, I like your jersey." Unfortunately, just a moment before, I'd inhaled a crumbly piece of hard boiled egg yoke and was desperately trying to clear my throat and not choke. What followed was a comical, if awkward, conversation with Wyatt, from Townsend, MA (two towns over from where I grew up).

"Townsend?" (hack hack) "I grew up near there."

"Did you see any of the Fare Thee Well shows?" Wyatt asks.

(Cough, choke, eyes running) "Uhm, no" (hack) ".... but I watched the last one on TV."

"My family made a road trip out of it, we drove to Chicago, camping along the way. Then my wife and her friend went to the last show. It was fantastic!"

"That's great!" I hack, "sweet!" Cough! Cough! Oy.

Wyatt seems unfazed by my distress, expresses how much he likes this ride, and tells me that he's here for the hills. "I have a thing for climbing, you know?"

I know. I feel the same way. Between two final prodigious hacks, I tell him I relish the climbing too and wish him a bon velo.

Hydration station

D2R2 2015: Part II

On the Eve of the D2R2

May I prove as stout and resolute on tomorrow's ride
as these venerable pines in Shutesbury

Humid in the Woo tonight, the sky is trying to clear. There's water in the air. I'm glad not to be camping at the D2R2 campground, though on a clear cool night that sounds like it would be fun. The vibe would surely be festive & friendly, respectful, and no doubt a little weirdly intense. Probably a lot similar to race day itself.

As mentioned in yesterday's posting, this will be my fourth time participating in this extraordinary event. Huge PRAISE to the organizers and the Franklin Land Trust, you've created a fantastic tradition.

Here's an indicator of why this event is so special. In an email to all the riders (approximately 1,160 riders) concerning the food, the hosts wrote:

First, at breakfast, we were surprised that, far and away, the biggest request was oatmeal. Ladies and gentlemen, we have added it to the menu. You guys are too easy ...

Lunch is getting the biggest overhaul. Last year things were too bland. This year, the caterers will be making sandwiches on-site. You will have more stuff to add to your sandwich as it is made, and then a choice of four condiments from simple mustard to garlic aioli. We have also adjusted the numbers of turkey and ham, and there will be way more gluten-free bread available....

Dinner will be largely the same based on feedback; however, people seemed to ask for more veggies, so there will be grilled veggies available.

What, no wine list?! Outrageous.

My experience has been that there's way more food available than you can possibly eat, even though you have to eat a lot to stay fueled. I'm only going to pack some energy gels and shot bloks from home. Instead of eating at 4:00 AM when I get up as I've tried to do in the past, I'll eat a banana and a double espresso and then gorge on eggs and peanut butter bread smears and more bananas when I arrive at the starting fields. Probably take an egg and an energy bar for the road.

And this, specific to the 160K and 180K:

On the 180K and 160K, your second stop will offer more substance because lunch is a ways off yet - bananas, PB&J, Fig Newtons, and such. 160K riders in particular, I think I underfed you at this point last year, so this year I'm upping the offerings for you. 

Underfed us?? I admit that lunch last year wasn't that good (slapped together sandwiches of unremarkable meat and bland sliced cheese, or something), but abundance wasn't the issue as far as I recall. Let 'em eat Fig Newtons.

As for my own dinner tonight, the eve of the Big Ride, I'm chowing a small sirloin filet and a large bowl of tortellini with light creamed tomato sauce. And drinking as much water as I can. And NOT drinking any alcohol. And going to bed by 8:00 PM.

I want to avoid what happened last year when I drank three or four beers the night before, only got like six hours of sleep, and then didn't eat enough or drink enough water before setting out on the 180K. About 45 miles into the ride I started cramping - my quads and my calves. I thought I would have to abandon but I grimly pushed on. That was when I learned that not only can you ride with leg cramps but you can actually recover from them, get over them. But it sucks doing so.

Finally, check out the "official" D2R2 2015 promotional video, it's pretty cool.