5.07.2006
Six hours of sleep and nothing for breakfast except a power bar and some iced green tea…

The night before the century I visited downtown Santa Rosa where it was recommended I go and visit a fine italian restaurant, a place called “Checkers.” Though I am not accustomed to eating alone I must say that my affordable meal of spinach and cheese ravioli was bursting with well-balanced flavor. Really, all I needed was to stock-up on carbs but this delicious meal was quite a surprise. Strangely, it was cinco de mayo as I watched from my solitary table the revelry across the street. A rather sizeable party was going on in a club next-door. Yet, here I was, the solitary masticator on an island table in the dead center of the restaurant for all to see.

I woke up at 5:30 in the morning and arrived at the century's start at 6:20 and finally got on the road at 6:45. It was a little brisk but after commuting in the cold, miserable rain for several years in the Northwest I am accutely aware of my body's boundaries. This was warm by comparison. There were around 2500 riders in all but only a fraction of that was on the longest ride, the 200k, which immediately climbed over 4500 feet. The morning was foggy and chilled as we climbed (and I passed other riders), on the ascent. The ride through forest and high hills was idyllic. By the time we reached the first rest stop on the summit of the climb I was riding across a heavenly landscape of lush green hills and picturesque farm houses dotted with strategically placed trees and shrubs. It's the kind of place one hallucinates when dying face down in the sand in a remote desert after crashing one's plane.

On the summit I overheard a guy with a thick New England accent talking to someone on his cell-phone trying to explain where he was:

“I don't know. Where are you? I'm on a mountain somewhere. You want me to wait up? No, no, wait. Where did we turn? Oh crap. I think I took a wrong turn … “

He then came up to me.

“Where are we? I can't figure out this map.”

I then pulled out my map and showed him.

“Why's your map a different color? Oh crap, this is the 200k! I'm supposed to be riding the 100!”

The guy had accidentally resigned himself to a much longer ride than he bargained for, without his friends. Just the fact that he was talking so loudly in a thick Bostonian accent about being lost was enough to make me laugh. It was the combined effect.

The descent from this heaven gained at the expense of the hell of the climb (piece o' cake for me since my lung capacity is more geared to Colorado) merely led to yet another type of cycling heaven. One pastoral, high beauty, the other coastal with salt in the air and the sun breaking on the back.

The ride down was brutal and quite exhilarating with treacherous patches of loose pavement down a steep and narrow country road. I learned that where my strength is climbing, my weakness is the descent. I've had two serious crashes lately and the last thing I want to do is wipe-out. Besides, I just bought a new helmet. I don't want to test it's functionality.

After coming out of the mountains (hills) the sun emerged in all of it's morning glory and blessed us at the right moment with a blessed ride along the Pacific. A few miles down I turned right and began the meandering route along the Russian River and the rest of the ride through the famous wine country. Vineyards, vineyards, vineyards. Such beauty I have rarely seen. The only thing about appreciating all this scenery is that I am too busy riding, fast. You see, I am not a casual rider. I like to go at a quick pace. Combined with focusing on the road, being aware of cars, and intuitively reading what my body is telling me leaves only a fraction of my awareness to fully VISUALLY take it all in. So, what I find I am forced to do is realize that I am a part of the landscape itself and that I need not worry about missing anything since I am already interacting and literally breathing in the landscape with it's sweet smells, clean air, and cascading sun.

In all, there were five rest stops for peeing, filling water bottles, and grabbing munchies and snacks (thank god). What a luxury this is. All I have to do is ride and carry two water bottles. The rest is taken care of. The route is marked and you never need ride alone.

For several miles I ride with a few fantastically strong riders trying to test my mettle and stamina. I can proudly say that I am well-conditioned and robust. This is great to know since I have never ridden with others like this. I often ride alone. Towards the end of the ride, certain parts of my body began to rebel. My shoulder, from leaning over all day, began to throb with pain, forcing me to sit up and push blood back into the muscles. My legs, of course, were aching but able. It was my feet that hurt the worst. Those cycling shoes are a bit constricting and I have found that the circulation in my feet is the first to go which means I have to stand up on the bike more often the longer I ride.

I'd say that, in all, I rode somewhere around 9 hours in total. What I find amazing is that when people are bicycle touring this is just a typical day, the difference being far more weight and a much slower pace.

Strangely, although I was quite thirsty, my hunger was virtually absent until the next day. I slept very well when I got home.

Centuries are loads of fun. My only regret is that I wish I had some company. I felt a little lonely seeing all these other teams, clubs, and friends chatting and having a great time. Maybe I'll join a club.