400 km Ride Report, March 11, 2006
by Alan Marmorstein

I got to the start way early, only one other rider ahead and Susan had just shown up and opened the restrooms. That gave me a chance to ponder my equipment choices and to make several near fatal mistakes. Mistakes, that is, in the way of excluding gear. I saw the weather predictions. Wind didn’t scare me and it seemed that the temperatures would be tolerable, at least nothing I hadn’t trained in. Rain was predicted to be at 10-30% probability (when I last looked) and that meant it would rain and I would have a 10-30% chance of being in it. It doesn’t often just rain non-stop in the Tucson area, so, I left a perfectly warm polypro shirt, extra socks, water proof glove liners, and a toasty fleece jacket in the car. In retrospect all the remarks from those shocked people in the convenience stores really must have translated into “are you stupid or something?” Well, as Forest Gump’s mom says “stupid is as stupid does”, and in this case Forest was riding a bike 400 kilometers in a storm on March 11, 2006.

Susan led us out of the lot as usual but took off once we got headed toward I-10. The wind wasn’t too bad here and the group seemed to be together. The occasional passing train provided a wind break. The faces were more or less pretty familiar now and I was enjoying the paceline. It wasn’t as efficient as in the 300K though. We were in a crosswind and while a few of us tried to organize a double paceline, it just didn’t take. Out through Eloy it was somewhat inefficient in terms of who pulled when, but it was better than riding solo. Shortly after crossing I-10 a couple of riders took off. In a moment of insanity I took off with them, but within seconds I realized the possible consequences of my actions. I soft-pedaled to allow the main group to catch up. With the winds I knew this would not be a day to be out alone. Arriving at the first checkpoint at Picacho, I felt good. I thought maybe the wind wouldn’t be that bad. The sun started to rise as we proceeded along the frontage road, and the paceline become better tuned. We were all starting to dial things in. The wind was picking up, but wind happens. Hey, if we use every little bit of adverse weather as an excuse not to ride when would we go out? Turning into Marana, I got my first real preview of what was in store. The group got out on Sanders road and it was a very slow 2 miles. It got worse on Sandario. For the first, but not last time on this ride I was using my 28 tooth chainring on the flats. Yes folks, I was pedaling my granny gears on a flat stretch of road at 8-10 mph. We stopped briefly at a convenience store on Sandario and I shed some clothing. We turned up Mile Wide Rd. and it seemed a relief to be climbing! We were sheltered by the wind and Lonnie and I took off for a bit to stretch our climbing legs. As we began the descent on Kinney the rest of the group caught up. That included John and Liz, and Steve. Paul and Glenn on the recumbents were alternately with us, behind us, and in front of us much of the way. We finally made the Kinney checkpoint. I put my clothes back on – especially the balaclava. Don’t leave home without one. 30% of heat loss is through the top of ones head. Being bald I know this all to well.

The next few miles and roads came and went but it was Helmet that stands out the most. A slog into what felt like gale force winds. I was back in the granny gears, yes, this time I was down to the 28x25 in spots and I was only turning the cranks at 60-70 rpms! Needless to say my knees started to ache. It was like climbing the west side of Gates pass over and over again. Until that is, we reached the top. Then we were treated to a fast descent and some relief only to turn back into the wind at the bottom. At some point while considering where we were vs. a place called the “Cow Palace”, Liz declared that she would like a hamburger. Thus, we stopped at McDonald’s in Green Valley. It was truly surreal. When we walked in I felt like we were in one of those movies where the gunfighter walks into the saloon and everything stops. All heads turned to the door to look at us. I can only imagine what they were thinking “Are you stupid or something?” We ate our burgers, and for those with stronger stomachs than I (I became somewhat nutritionally impaired on the 300K) “would you like fries with that?” It started raining during which time I adjusted my saddle up 2mm to help my ailing knee. We missed some hard rain. Not that we wouldn’t make up for it of course. We did.

Next thing I remember we are on the rollers in Arivaca and everytime I stand up off the saddle to climb my left knee feels like it is going to buckle and I get excruciating pain shooting through it. Liz and John offered me some Advil which I gladly accepted. Thanks guys, I finished this ride because of those pills. The wind was unbelievable here. A paceline didn’t help so that broke down. I think we rode together only because we didn’t want to ride alone. At one point the wind hit me so hard that my front wheel actually left the pavement. I am happy to say that I managed to stay upright. I believe the gusts must have been 40+ mph. Then it rained. Not a drizzle mind you, real rain. The kind we haven’t seen in Southern Arizona since the Monsoon. The rain, the wind, the knee. Time to abandon? We stopped briefly so a few of the group could put on extra clothes. Then a few minutes later, some members of the group wanted to stop and put on more clothes, I continued. Had to get to the checkpoint. Just get to the checkpoint in Arivaca, then you can quit. Get out of the rain, out of the wind, off of the bike. When I arrived I couldn’t even tell which store was supposed to be the checkpoint. It was pouring rain and I was walking around in it wondering why I wasn’t at home like everyone else when suddenly Susan appeared. She sent me to the post office and then everyone else magically appeared. Susan assured us that we would turn north and have the wind at our backs in the next 11 miles. Of course we all figured that was a solid 2-3 hrs of riding into the wind still and it was 4:00 in the afternoon! Yes it took us 13 hrs to ride the first 137 miles, and the last 22 of those will occupy a special place in my memory that I will alternately remember as the most miserable and one of my greatest achievements.

Okay, so I will continue back to Casa Grande, but I need more clothes. Lonnie offered me a wind vest that he wasn’t using. I took it. Put a couple of grocery bags that Susan had on my feet (these would really come in handy later), and the “piece de resistance” a garbage bag. The vapor barrier is indeed a fine form of insulation. I ate, I drank, I filled my Camelbak. I left ahead of the others. I finally got warm and needed to move in order to stay that way. The next 11 miles wasn’t too bad. It was mostly downhill. The Advil was really working and so my knee wasn’t rebelling anymore, and then I turned north. Suddenly I accelerated to 25mph and with almost no effort! Yes, I’m going home. I was zoomin’ toward Robles Junction as fast as my bike would take me. I stopped only once to get my headlights and helmet light going. I saw lots of Border Patrol vehicles along the way. Saw a few groups of “illegals” that were dressed similar to me. Glad I was on my bike. Then the rain started again. I could barely see it came down so hard.

When I arrived solo in Robles Junction, one of the recumbent riders was there. He was abandoning. I thought, but you’ve beaten the wind…why now? Maybe I should do the same? Then the others appeared. Okay, lets drink some hot coffee and eat a few poptarts before making such a rash decision. Afterall, I feel great! Okay, back we go into the rain. Down Ajo and north on Sandario and off the front again. I really did want to stay with the group. I like these guys. Rando riders are a different breed. These guys are tough. Of course everyone wants to finish, but time and place are less important. The victory, especially on a ride like this is finishing within the time limit. The camaraderie and noncompetitive nature of the Rando event is what really makes it attractive. Yes I am competing, but not against you, no, I am competing against myself, and on this day against Mother Nature as well. Despite this, I was getting cold. I knew to stay warm I needed to peddle my bike. If I didn’t get my heart rate up, I wasn’t going to stay warm and the group just wasn’t making that threshold. As I continued along Sandario I kept checking for their lights hoping they would overtake me. I saw them but they didn’t and I just couldn’t slow down. I could (unknowingly) run interference for them though. When I turned on Sanders I got chased by at least three different dogs, all in succession by the way, not as a pack. I kicked up the pace and yelled “bad dog” as loud as I could. They didn’t get me. At this point nothing and no one was going to get me. I just completed my longest distance yet, I had watched the counter break the 200 mile mark and I had no intention of abandoning. I suddenly came to the realization that I am going to finish this thing.

I pulled into the Circle K in Marana. Susan was asleep in her truck. Of course I didn’t realize that until the others pulled in and suggested that we look there. I just wanted to be indoors and drink coffee, which I did. I also begged some disposable plastic gloves form the cashier. Ahhhh, something between me and my now very wet gloves. Everytime I moved my fingers a steady stream of water came out. Wringing them did not good. I tried drying them under the hand dryer in the restroom (Susan’s suggestion). Actually that worked, but they were bound to get very wet again. We stayed at this checkpoint for a while and things started looking up. I think we all realized here that we would finish. The highlight was when Lonnie finally pronounced this an “Epic” ride. One must finish an Epic ride. I’d love to have seen the other Epic’s he’s been on. No, wait, I take that back. His standard is pretty high. As we were setting out again, Paul Layton pulled in. He is the quintessential survivor. Paul, I’ve read your brevet reports. I admire you. In no time, John, Liz, and I had pulled ahead of the others. In my case it was simple. Work hard or freeze.

It started pouring rain, I could barely see, and then something new, rivers of rain across the road. I really do mean rivers. In places the water was above my bottom bracket. Good thing for the plastic bags I was wearing over my feet cause they were dragging in the water. I kept thinking to myself that it was never wise to ride through a puddle, but what to do when the entire road is a puddle? Luckily, no flats, potholes or other surprises seemed to befall us. We arrived at the Dairy Queen at Picacho and stopped just long enough to take stock of things. Too cold, time to finish. Through driving rain all looked good. The rain began to let up. Then the ultimate insult. As if nature weren’t testing us, a train was stopping at the railroad crossing in front of us. Not passing, actually coming to a dead stop. No way around it. Too cold to stand there, no shelter, no warmth, just flooded farmland. Lets just say we overcame the hurdle and continued on. We got briefly lost trying to find the road to Casa Grande, but once we did nothing could stop us, not the drunks leaving the bars of Eloy, nor the mud shoulders. I should mention that John and Liz were riding a tandem mountain bike and John did seem tempted at one point to experiment with an off-road sort of thing. Great bike handling skills guys, the tandem stayed upright. We flew into Casa Grande ready to get it over with. At the final turn there was a good 6-8 inches of water. As Susan signed my brevet card officially declaring that I had finished, John noticed a sound, the sound of air leaking from a tire. Ironically, something under that last river of water punctured my front tire. At the very end I got a flat. I’m still pondering that one.

I had a great ride. I’ve never ridden a bike further or for that matter ridden a bike for so long or in such horrible conditions.