Greg Olmstead
 A few years ago I took up cycling to get back in shape. What started out as 5-10 mile rides became 50-75 mile rides. These days, I train for double centuries and brevets. Because I'm 6'9" and 225, I don't expect to finish ahead of riders who are younger stronger, and lighter, but I'm always trying to find ways to shave time of my rides. When I'm not riding, I build software to help people who work with kids with autism. You can find my software at www.mobilethinking.com. You can email me if you want.
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600 K ride report
I finished the 600K, but that was just about the hardest ride I've ever been on.
Loop 1
Things started out very nice. It's a lot more relaxing when the route takes you on roads that you know, in nice weather, with people that you ride well with. We left N River Road to go up Sleeping Indian, which I had never been on. I remember seeing the elevation profiles and seeing a lot of climbing, and was not disappointed. The PC training was great for climbing steep hills so smoothly. When we got to De Luz Road in Fallbrook, everything was going great, still. Unfortunately, Dennis's wheels came out from under him when we were crossing the small stream. It wasn't sunny, but his clothes managed to dry out. But there's nothing like a spill to take the fun out of a ride. As we were riding on Green Valley Road, we got to a point were we decided to take off some extra layers as it was starting to get warm. A dog came out to sniff around. As we started to leave and ride downhill, the sniffing turned to barking. The owner called the dog inside the gate, and as we were picking up speed he started chasing us, on his side of the fence. I looked off to my right and saw that he was about to run out of fence, and then I saw him jump and completely clear the top of it, and now he was racing after me, snarling and barking. I found the biggest gear I could find, and pedaled as hard as I could to get the hell out of there. I probably ended up hitting 25-30mph downhill before the dog gave up. About 1/4 mile later Dennis gets a flat and we pull over in this driveway. In rural towns, I suppose people don't really keep dogs on leashes outdoors. Anyway, these two bull terriers start charging down the driveway right at me. I turned so that my bike would be between me and the dogs but they just kept running. At the last second, the owner calls the dogs and they reluctantly turn around and head back. But I won't be happy until we're back on our bikes riding again; so I help Dennis wrap things up and we head out. There was one more flat before the end of the first loop, but nothing too dramatic. We finished in about 9 hours, which was fine because loop 2 was gong to be the real test and we needed to have some energy to get through that.
Loop 2
Toward the end of Loop 1, Dennis said he wasn't feeling well, and within the first 20 miles of loop 2, he decided to call it a day. At that point in the route we were about 1/2 mile from our neighborhood, so he rode home, and I pressed on. The first part of the loop wasn't so bad. Again, I have ridden that part of the route before, and didn't need a route sheet for the first 40 miles. Then I was in the boondocks of east San Diego County and needed to pay attention. Although another rider passed me very early on in the ride, I bumped into Mark Hughes about 40 miles into loop 2. He told me that he rides for 6 hours, and then finds a restaurant and rests for 1 hour. So while I was riding, he was resting; as a result we caught up with each other. As it started to get dark, we decided to ride together. When it's cold and dark, and in you're in an area of the county where you don't know what's where or how far anything is from anything else, it helps to have someone to ride with. All the long climbs and descents, we stuck together and helped each other through little problems and various mechanicals.
The weather reports leading up to the ride had the high in the mid 60s and the lows in the mid 50s. I dressed accordingly for loop 2, but wasn't savvy enough to remember that the route takes you through the high desert where the lows can get into the low 40s. In short, I froze from about 10pm to 4AM. We pulled into a Circle K at about midnight frozen to the bone. We got some tea, used the restroom, and just warmed up. Mark filled his Camelbak with hot water, and put it on his back. Smart. After about 30 minutes, we left the Circle K and were about halfway through the loop. More climbing and more descents. At some point I developed a humming/buzzing noise on my bike. I still don't know what it is or was. As my speeds increased, sometimes this noise would start. It had the same type of sound as when you put a blade of grass between your thumbs and blow. Whenever the sound started, I'd apply the brakes and as I slowed down the pitch of the sound would decrease until it stopped altogether, and then I could increase speed without the sound coming back right away. Anyway, Mark thought it might be bad bearings in a hub, and so I spent most of my descents riding my brakes so as not to find out the hard way if Mark was right.
Mark was stopped on the side of the road, and I pulled up beside him. I have a GPS unit to tell me where the turns are, and the next one was was about 20 feet ahead. I stopped and told Mark that we had some turns coming up and we should stick together. I thought he was finishing up with whatever he was doing, so I rode 20 feet and made the right hand turn. I made it up about 100 feet, looked back and didn't see a headlight. I rode back to where Mark was before and he was gone. The only other possibility was that he rode past the turn and headed down the canyon. I figured that he'd realize I wasn't ahead of him and I'd see his headlight soon enough. I waited about 10 minutes. Didn't see anything. Then I rode about a half mile down the canyon after him, wondering if I'd see him. Nope. I figured he must have been flying down that road trying to catch me. I felt awful about it, but had to make the decision to start back up the hill to get back on the route and press on myself. It was a tough decision because Mark was very helpful to me when I was having my bike problems and I felt like I was turning my back on him. On the other hand, I was cold, close to lost, tired, and not sure I'd make the cutoff times if I didn't press on.
Even though it was only 2:00 or 2:30AM, I started hallucinating. I thought I saw a guy pushing baby carriage on the median. Also, my headlight creates a patter that my brain finally decided looks like a snowflake. I had some NoDoz and took a half of a pill. That set things straight for a couple hours.
After I turned left from Hwy 67 onto Scripps Poway Parkway, the route and surroundings were familiar again, so the speed and my spirits picked up. As I got closer to the coast, the weather warmed up a little and by the time I got to the end of loop 2, the sun was out. So this was about 24 hours of non-stop riding, 232 miles and about 15,000 ft of climbing. I had hoped to be able to catch a quick nap before heading out on loop 3 but it wasn't going to happen. As it turns out, I made the cutoff time for the end of loop 2 with only 30 minutes to spare.
Loop 3
Before I headed out on the last loop, I asked the organizers if they had ever heard from Mark Hughes. They hadn't. I felt really bad, but knew there was nothing I could do. I set out for the last loop, which was the longest loop of the three at 129 miles, but was also the flattest at 3,000 ft of climbing. When I started out, I realized that I had not taken on enough carbs and protein during the second loop and was really very tired. I put together a spreadsheet showing how many calories/hr I consumed during each of the three loops and it went from 282/hr in loop 1 to 171/hr in loop 2. Big miscalculation in how much I protein/carbs I packed for loop 2. I was paying for it at the beginning of loop 3, for sure.
I kind of got a second wind from the adrenaline of the prospect of finishing, but I knew I was running on fumes. The other problem was that my triceps were starting to give out from holding up my torso on and off over the last 24 hours. I had probably another 10-12 hours of that ahead of me.
In any case, the route was very familiar to me and flat, and it started out OK. Another rider, Stephane Beaudry blew right by me after only a few miles and I knew it was going to be a long day. I decided that I needed to break the loop into milestones to be able to get through it. Heading north, it was going to be Camp Pendleton, Laguna Beach, and then Huntington Beach. When I crested the bridge south of Huntington, and looked up, I saw that giant smokestack telling me that I had made it to the check point. That was definitely a high point, because it became very real that I would (a) finish the 600K, (b) get Super Randonneur status and (C) qualify for the quadrennial 1200km ride, Paris-Brest-Paris. I decided not to get too far ahead of myself just yet. I went into the Chevron, got water, downed a Red Bull, applied sunscreen, called my wife and headed out. As I looked down to my GPS, I saw that I had 65 more miles to go. At this point, I was really questioning my ability to finish. It seems completely backward, but the closer I got, the more difficult it became for me to believe I would finish. I broke the ride down into even smaller milestones: Newport Beach, Laguna Beach, Dana Point, Doheny Beach, San Clemente, getting into Camp Pendleton, getting out of Camp Pendleton, Oceanside, Carlsbad, Leucadia, Encinitas, and so on.
Heading south out of Huntington I looked over to the north-bound riders and saw Mark Hughes, who was waving to me. It appears that he was still in the ride and wasn't DQ'ed. Very happy to see him on the road. I also saw George Vargas on the road. He's riding RAAM this year and he's very involved in local ultracycling. Although he was out on a training ride, going in the opposite direction, he looped over to my side of the road and offered congratulations for finishing the brevet series. George is a great rider, so the compliment, coming from him, was much appreciated. He had to turn around and resume his training, and I had to press on.
Every beach community I passed became a special little treasure. 20 miles became 15, then 10, and so on. When I was on Coast Highway, I turned onto Encinitas Blvd and then a quick right onto Vulcan. The closer I got, the less energy I had available to continue. It was almost surreal. I noticed earlier in the day that it took more time and trouble than normal to clip in and out of my pedals. I think I was just sort of shutting down because I was so tired. I turned left onto Santa Fe Dr and the first thing you do is climb this hill that must be about 15% for about 150 ft. I don't think I have ever worked so hard to get over a hill. The road continues to go up for another 1/2 mile, but not nearly as steep. I just kept turning the cranks over, one stroke at a time, until I rolled into the parking lot at 6:10PM, 36:10 after I started. The parking lot was empty. No cheering crowd or finish line. Just your car and a brevet administrator napping in his car. Now it seems to make a lot of sense. It's a solitary - if not lonely - sport, so it seems fitting that there's not going to be anyone there for you at the finish line.
I got my card signed and so it was official. It was over. I had just enough energy to pack up everything, drink a recovery drink, and drive home. I showered, laid down, and my daughter kissed me goodnight on the cheek. I think I was asleep before she even left the room, and I don't think I budged for the next 10 hours.
On to Paris!
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