RAMROD 2007: New Heights in Cycling Insanity!

The RAMROD (Ride Around Mt. Rainier in One Day)
(warning: this post is like the RAMROD of blogging . . . you may need to carbo load first)
July 26, 2007

This week brought the second part of my huge cycling doubleheader in July. I was really more nervous about it, because of these things I knew about it beforehand. First of all, I knew it was coming less than two weeks after Seattle-to-Portland. 204 miles can be pretty hard on a body, and my neck and wrists were still a little beat up. My legs seemed to feel pretty good, but I’d only been back on my bike once (and that was on the trainer in the living room for a half hour or so). The info provided by the Redmond Cycling Club and my homework was intimidating too: more than 10,000 feet of climbing, 144 miles, a brand new route this year with a 1000 foot higher high point (Sunrise Visitor’s Area (elevation: ~6400 feet) instead of Paradise Visitor’s Area (elevation: ~5400 feet)), and temperatures around 83 degrees. Plus, although the distance between bathroom/food stops was every 25 miles or so like STP, I was concerned because 25 miles with steep grades requires a lot more hydration. And, working that hard, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get down the food to get the calories and energy I needed without throwing it back up. This all added up to lots of uncertainty and stress. I had to make a conscious effort to have fun with it and not get too wound up. All the fence shenanigans with my neighbor and the city planning department and getting legal non-advice already had me spread a little thin coming into the ride. In fact, I had to prepare my stuff Tuesday night, which is when I was also watching the kids while L scrapbooked, giving them a bath, and taking to lawyer guy. But, my beloved iPhone still contained the list of stuff I packed for STP, and the experience was still fresh in my mind, so packing went a lot smoother than it did before.

Knowing Murphy’s Law like I do, I assumed that Wednesday afternoon would somehow go crazy at Houghtaling’s office and I wouldn’t get out of there in a timely fashion. So, it was no big surprise to show up and find out they hadn’t been able to print the schedule that day because the printer was out of ink. Without the schedule in front of me, it’s certainly harder to try and stay on schedule. I also had a couple curve balls thrown my way, and, before I knew it, it was edging up on 5:00. I thought I might be getting out of those scrubs and on my way. As I walked by one of the treatment rooms, there was still a patient there and he was for me. So basically, no one had told me he was there and, due to a shortage of chairs to put him in, I really couldn’t have started him any earlier. He’d been waiting patiently and he’s pretty intimidating (really pointy long canine teeth and lots and lots of tattoos) so I knew we had to do it. I gave him the anesthetic and we got rolling. Of course, the filling had to go bigger than planned, and when all the material was in there, there also had to be a bubble. By the time I got everything ship-shape and tied up, it was around 6:00 PM. As it turned out, Casey, who I was meeting to carpool to Puyallup, needed the extra time too, so it was fine.

Casey’s a good guy to travel with, regardless of whether it’s by car or bike. It’s only when we’re really really spent that we run low on things to talk about. I find that most people who forego TV are more interesting to talk to, and he’s no exception. Books are just good for your brain or something. We didn’t even listen to music on the way up and had plenty to discuss as we headed north on I-5. The nav system in the Odyssey came in really handy. I had suggested we stop for grub in Centralia. Casey, however, suggested we get some real sit-down type pasta food. So, we settled on Olive Garden and I found one in the nav system in Olympia. The system took us right to it and then routed us to Puyallup from there. Dinner for me was not completely carb-a-licious, but I took out my share of breadsticks and a full plate of lasagna. But, because of our late start, we didn’t arrive at Phil’s in Puyallup until probably 10 PM or so.

Phil and I have never been good at getting any sleep. He’s my classic high school friend who I used to stay up until like 4 AM with playing Sega Genesis and stuff. It was a minor miracle that, after seeing some cool high-definition stuff on his 42-inch LCD beauty with XBOX 360 HD-DVD, I was going to sleep before midnight. I set my iPhone alarm, which proved itself reliable even with the ringer on silent at the recent dental convention, to 3:30. Little did I know that I would be startled to life at 3:00 by some idiot’s car alarm outside our open window. Aaaargh! Ahh, the pleasures of apartment complexes that I don’t miss. When you’re packed in tight with so many people, you’re bound to be packed in with quite a few idiots. Phil could vouch for this, I’m sure.








Look! It's Phil at Mt. Rainier's Paradise Visitor's Center. It's really pleasant.






About the time I was maybe back to dozing, 3:30 AM arrived. Trips like these are one of the few things that can get me up at that time semi-coherent and rarin’ to go. I donned the appropriate lycra apparel along with my black dress shoes, which were the only non-biking shoes I brought with me. They allowed me to safely (and quietly) navigate down all Phil’s stairs and also drive to Enumclaw. I also slathered on a good amount of sunscreen, including the customary “hair gel” technique. I’m now thin enough up top that I’ll get burned through the helmet vent holes if my scalp isn’t protected. So, I take a nice dollop of sunscreen and work it in like gel. I end up with a nice spike. Nothing remains of this spike after 11 or 12 hours in the helmet. Then, I have some amazing ruts, which I have been known to photograph on occasion
when they’re impressive enough. Let's see if I can find a good rut picture. Ahh, here's one:












Now, on with the regularly-scheduled blog.















This year's RAMROD T-shirt. They give it to you before the ride, though I'd feel pretty lame wearing it if I didn't finish the ride, you know?

We were unable to park anywhere close to the start line. This tells me that most people left earlier than we did. We were not able to pick up our race packets in advance, so it was multiple trips to the start area to get all systems go. One thing was foreboding about this event: the bib number you pin on your jersey has two tear-off tabs. There’s one for when you leave the start line, and one for when you return. It’s comforting, in a way, to know they have a hard-proof of tracking who’s still out on the course, but at the same dime it’s a little disconcerting knowing that they feel the need to do this. “Will I get lost?” you might wonder. Or, maybe “Will my heart explode near the Sunrise Viewpoint and I’ll go flying off a cliff?” might go shooting through your head. We decided to be brave and carry on, leaving the start line later than we wanted to around 5:30.

Initially, Casey was taking it a little slow because his knee was acting up. Not a good way to start, and he gave me the go ahead to grab a wheel on a passing group if I wanted to. I did want to, but not just because the pace was lagging. It was mostly because I was really flippin’ COLD! For future reference, self, bring some arm and leg warmers at least and/or one of your STP Tyvek jacket things! I was basically freezing for the first 2 or 3 hours of the ride, which dampened my enthusiasm a bit. So, I stuck with Casey and decided to do that until he either decided his knee was OK and we charged ahead or he decided to bag it and return to Enumclaw. I only hoped that if he decided to send me ahead while he bagged it that I wouldn’t be so far behind that finishing would be difficult, lonely, and dark as I chased the Honey Bucket trucks. As it turned out, the knee held up fine. And, his old rusty steel Specialized Mountain bike from circa 1991 did fine too. When it didn’t do fine, it did so in a friendly convenient way. We were on a big climb and his front derailleur cable broke. When those break, the derailleur goes to the inside, which keeps you in an easy chainring. This was fine for our climbing, and when we topped out at Crystal Mountain Ski Resort, there was an event mechanic there. He was able to perform the fix and keep us rolling. I was concerned, otherwise, that it would be a really really slow long ride back into Enumclaw. That granny gear he wanted bad enough to bring the beast bike was seldom (if ever) used, so he’s confident he can ride his titanium Litespeed (which lacks granny gearing) in the future. Yes, he’s talking about the future.

So Casey and I kept together pretty well, even when I was freezing. One thing I did on this ride (which I did less successfully on the STP) is monitor my heart rate. I love my Garmin Edge 305 cyclocomputer, and one of the things it can do is give me a numeric quantification of how hard I’m working. I’ve determined (and Garrett could tell me if I’m right) that if I can keep my heartrate down below about 80% and I eat and drink enough of the right stuff, I can ride pretty darn well forever. Oh yeah, and 800 mg of ibuprofen every 6 hours too. So, even on the big climbs, I tried to keep my heartrate in the right range.

The first food stop came around mile 25. I was still not warm, by the way. This is where the photographer was, though, and I faked it well enough that I bought the picture at the end. I don't think my scanner is even hooked up, so I lazily took a picture of the picture and it's right here on the left. It was a very convincing performance. At that first stop, I ate a lot of banana and drank some and ate some bagel. I had lots of time to do this and shiver as Casey vanished into the blue booth apparently not feeling that great. He re-emerged unscathed and ready to carry on, though. One thing about the food for the RAMROD is that they seem very non-packaging-oriented, and their legendary cookies taste homemade. STP was more into bottled beverages, Clif bars, etc. Anyway, yeah, the cookies rocked. The cranberry oatmeal ones are especially good and pack well in a jersey pocket (no chocolate to melt!). I probably downed 5 or 6 of the big cookies before the ride was over. The chocolate chip ones were over-done. (But hey, that probably helps them not melt in your pocket too). They had lots of other fruit like grapes, cantaloupe, watermelon, and not-so-ripe nectarines at the food stops too.

By mile 40 you’re arriving at the start of the climb up the road to Sunrise. I soon downed a GU gel to power up. This stretch really reminds me of the mountain Tour de France stages I’ve seen on TV. The road makes some switchbacks and it’s steep. You’re around 3500 feet elevation at the point where the road begins. So, you’ve gone up about 88 feet over each mile you’ve ridden up to that point, which is a 1.7% grade. From there up to Sunrise, you pick up another 2900 feet but the distance is only 14 miles. So, this is over 200 feet per mile, which is a 4% grade. In other words, it gets a LOT steeper. Still it’s doable. Wisely, they have a potty stop about ½ way up, and I took advantage of it. Casey was feeling the momentum and kept on truckin’ up to Sunrise. I’m glad I took advantage of the opportunity to tank up on water and get rid of some too. But, it did allow the sun to get higher in the sky, and that helped it more easily cook me as the trees grew smaller as I rode higher. That was one thing that was neat about the climb. We started down in the lush forest with huge trees like Douglas firs, and then went up so much we went through smaller and smaller trees until there were just basically alpine firs. Then, we were above the treeline. Once again, I faked it well when I saw the photographer coming up. He had a choice spot staked out just below the Sunrise viewpoint, and Mount Rainier looms large in the background of the shot. You can see that shot here, seeing as I haven't ordered yet and it's just a proof. I stood up and did my best to look strong in spite of the fact I’d nearly conquered what’s probably the biggest bike climb of my life. That picture came out really well too, and I will be buying it online soon because I look like I can ride a bike.

The downhill from Sunrise was also the most extended run like that I’ve ever had in my life. It was phenomenal, and the road was in fantastic shape. Anyone who tells you their snow tires and/or chains don’t damage roads a lot is lying. The difference between this road, which is closed in winter, and the Crystal Mountain Ski Resort road, which obviously must be open in winter, was readily apparent. Thankfully, on the Crystal road they actually did mark some of the worst offenders in yellow to try to avoid accidents for descending cyclists. Anyway, the ride down from Sunrise was a blast. I descended in about 40 minutes what it took me 2 hours to ascend. It was a great time on a nice, smooth road. The scenery, of course, was amazing. It was cloudless and Mt. Rainier loomed large, snowy, and imposing. I need to pay somebody to help make sure I can get to the top of that thing and not die, because it would be awesome.

Back at highway 410, you go down about 5 miles and then begin the climb up to Crystal Mountain. It was steeper but shorter. In 6 miles, you go from 2800 to 4375 feet. Since I gave you the nitty-gritty before, I’ll add that that’s an ascent of 1575 feet, which is 262.5 feet upward per mile or a grade of 5%. It was hot and mean, but I had Casey and another rider to chat some with so that helped. Like I mentioned earlier, he did have the easily-resolved mechanical problem near the top of that climb. We ate a bunch and carefully returned to highway 410, watching out for those nasty ruts and holes that sometimes hid in the shadows of the surrounding trees.

One last big climb remained, and it was interesting. You go back down highway 410 and go 13 miles until you hit what’s basically the first paved forest road you come to. I didn’t think it would be that far, but I was happy to get as close to Enumclaw as possible before doing the climb. That way, I could limp in to the finish line better if it destroyed me. This climb had a double summit, so it’s hard to quantify except to say it was extraordinarily creatively mean. Here are the gory details: you climb about 800 feet over 7 miles (only like a 1% grade) but 500 feet of that come in the last 2 miles (roughly 5% grade). Of that 2 miles, one of them is more like a 7% grade. This is very very mean. But, it gets worse. Casey had done a little homework and knew that one of the final climbs would be 12% grade, and right about through here we came to an actual sign (which I wanted a picture of but didn’t get) that was a truck warning saying it was a 12% grade. So, although it was really a tough stretch, it had some finality to it and you felt like you could give it your all. But, when we crested the top, there was no food stop. Just as quickly, there was another 12% sign, only this one was downhill. So we dropped and then had to climb another hill to get to the stop. There, they had some sort of pastry, but I was not in the mood knowing that anything fatty would likely not sit well for my imposing climb back up that darn 12%er. You go up almost 400 feet in 2/3rds of a mile. THIS is where the real 12% climb of concern lay. Needless to say, morale was pretty low at that food stop because we ALL knew that one piece of unfriendly terrain lay between us and a basically all downhill 30 miles back to Enumclaw High School. As it turned out, the killer climb wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it would be, and at least I knew it was really really the final climb.

The RAMROD deli stop was almost hard to pause at, but we did. I was really well-hydrated all throughout this ride, which motivated me to stop a lot. ;-) They actually did have bread and fixins with volunteers to put it together for you. It tasted really salty to me, but I probably needed it. Soon we were back on the road. We just about missed a turn, but a police car was there and he caught our attention and got us steered right. We rode some with a couple other cyclists, one of whom has the same bike computer as I do. His had run out of battery, but mine was still crankin’. I told him my secrets (put in on auto-pause so it stops when you do, and keep your bike as upright as possible when you stop so it doesn’t stop/start itself a bunch thinking you’re moving because it’s losing satellite signal).

Soon the finish line drew near. Unlike the STP (and maybe just because we were slow), there was no throng of screaming spectators lining the chute. We just pulled in there and the volunteers ceremoniously tore off the final tab on our bib numbers. Regardless of the lack of fanfare, it still felt GREAT to accomplish it. Some final ride stats from my Edge: 11,333 calories, 143.57 miles, total ride time = 11 hours, average speed per mile: 4:36, average speed 13.0 mph, and total ascent = 10,585 feet. It was about 6:30 PM, and they told us we were #630 and #631 (of 725) to come in. We’re inclined to wonder if some of the people who came in ahead of us were skippers of the 2nd and/or 3rd climbs (since they were on spur roads). It could also be, too, that there are just a lot of good riders that do this ride. We were not that fast.

You can download the Google Earth file of my ride here. (Once you download it, open Google Earth and then drop the menu on the upper left and pick "open". Select the file you just downloaded and you should be good to go.)

One cool thing about the finish line is that they had an ice cream truck right there with free stuff. I grabbed an orange creamsickle. We tried on jerseys and I bought that photo from around mile 25 (where I don’t look as cold as I was).
The souvenir schwag included a t-shirt with RAMROD designs on front and back as well as a RAMROD 2007 patch (to sew on something . . . I’m open to ideas).






I may yet order a jersey as well. They had some there you could try on. (note to self: It was a little snug, but I’ll probably go with a medium.)











We smelled really really bad on the way home. The Longview Burgerville employees, whether they knew it or not, were really glad we went through the drive through (and not just because we were still lycra-clad). I was glad I had Casey to talk to, because I was a little worn out. Remember, the sleep the night before was pretty minimal and I’d been for a little bike ride. I dropped Casey off in Rainier to meet his family and then talked on the phone and listened to podcasts and stuff on the rest of my way home. Between Astoria and Hammond I had to slap my face a little bit, but I kept my head in the game.

So, will I do the RAMROD again? I’d like to. Already, Casey has tentatively committed me to doing it next year. I can tell he really wants to give it a go on his road bike. The scenery is incredible, and we liked having so many fewer people than on STP. Casey’s done STP 9 times, and says RAMROD is in a different league of difficulty. It’s also in a different league as to how good you feel to complete it. Like I said, it was perhaps the most difficult ride I’ve ever done. And, it reinforces the confidence I get from overcoming difficulties and doing things that are hard. That spills over into other areas of my life and feels great. And yes, I did go to work at Tongue Point the next day. I did my dental thing, continued the ibuprofen dose I’d begun the day before, and it worked out remarkably well with regard to job performance, soreness, etc.