The "Butterflood" Ride

February 19, 2011, was thus far my most miserable bike ride.

It was a weekend of heavy storms in Southern California. And I had the Camino Real ("Butterfield") Double Century to do. The ride would start in Irvine, head south to Oceanside, inland towards Fallbrook, and then back to Irvine via Rancho Santa Margarita and Tustin.

The ride started at 6:15am. For the first time, I decided to leave in the "regular" group versus the "early starters" group, since I was getting more confident in my abilities. The first couple of hours were pretty good. No rain. And I was riding strong. But then as I got into San Clemente on the Pacific Coast Highway, it started to rain. And I knew it was coming because I could see the route going right underneath the rain cloud.

The rain lasted for about 20 minutes, but didn't completely soak me. A group of other riders caught up with me, and I decided to ride with them since navigating through the residential area of San Clemente, as many riders know, can be tricky. So I stuck with them through the rest of San Clemente. Just before the second rest stop, it started to pour, this time soaking me. Fortunately, though, I could see blue sky off in the distance, and I knew that it was headed our way. So I at least knew relief was on the way. At Rest Stop 2, the blue sky started to wander in, which was good because soon we would be riding over 7 miles on the I-5 freeway.

We headed south some more on the San Onofre Bike Path, and biked through a huge mud puddle on our way to Las Pulgas Road. No rain, so I'm thinking to myself, good, since we're about to go on the freeway. I spoke too soon . . .

I got on the I-5 freeway, and things were going okay for a while. (Just an aside, here, bicyclists, by law, are supposed to exit at the rest stop along the freeway, go through it, and then rejoin the freeway. I saw a few cyclists ignore that, cut in front of exiting cars, and ride in the "prohibited" zone on the freeway. I mean, come on, can't you read the road signs and route sheet?! That pissed me off.) But after rejoining the freeway after the rest stop, it started to rain. Hard. And I'm thinking, "This is scary." Poor visibility, wet roads, semi-trucks driving over 65mph right next to me. This is dangerous. Fortunately, freeways have wide shoulders. But then, some car in front of me decided to park on the freeway shoulder, blocking our path of the freeway. Some poor rider in front of me had to brake suddenly and ended up slipping and falling on her bike. Fortunately, she was okay. But I wanted to beat the crap out of the idiot who stopped on the freeway shoulder. To be safe, me and the two other riders with me decided to "walk" around the asshole who stopped. I glared at him as I walked by.

And of course, the rain stopped just as we exited the freeway in Oceanside.

We took the San Luis Rey bike path inland towards Bonsall. And even though the bike path is supposedly flat, I started "hitting a wall" with my riding. I don't know if it was cross wind, or I was just tired (probably both), so I slowed down and decided to take it easy. After all, I still had about 140 miles to go. So I rode at an easy pace all the way to Bonsall and then to the lunch stop near the Lawrence Welk resort. It was mile 87, and I still feeling pretty good.

After lunch, we ascended Circle R Road up to the famous Lilac Road. I was going strong and feeling pretty good. I hit some technical turns and countersteered through them like a pro! I then hit the descent down Old Higway 395, which I hate because it has so many bumps, cracks and debris. And with the wet roads, I knew debris would just stick to my tire. I rolled right over glass at about 35mph, and I was thinking to myself, "Oh great! Here comes a flat tire." Fortunately, it didn't happen. I stayed strong, even on the awful, awful Reche Road ascents in Fallbrook. I had a nice descent down Green Canyon Road (except for my chain dropping). But then when I hit Mission Road, once again I "hit a wall".

I thought to myself, "I need to take in some more fluid and electrolytes." So I did. And I decided to back off as I rode down North River Road. I was going at what felt like a snail's pace. Then when I got back on the San Luis Rey bike path (heading the other direction this time), I got hit by lots of headwind (which I expected because it's always like that heading west on that bike path). I was rapidly losing strength and energy, and was starting to get whiny, so I just stopped, got off my bike, ate some peanuts (salt and protein), downed some fluid electrolyes, and said to myself, "Next rest stop, I need to eat." I crawled along 2 more miles to the next rest stop, and ate lots of food.

We had two more miles of headwind before we would veer north. So I decided to tail behind another group of riders to catch their draft. And that worked fine until we got into Oceanside. But as we headed north, and I tried to keep up with them, all of a sudden my legs just stopped working. They said, "Ok, Brian! We've had enough. We're shutting down. If you're not going to listen to us, we're going to take over matters!" It was lactic acid. I pushed so hard keeping up with the other riders, I reached my lactic acid threshold, and my legs were just too tired.

For a moment, I thought to myself, "That's it! I can't go anymore. I'm not going to be able to finish this ride." And I really felt that way. But then I came to my senses, and decided to do something better. Instead, I slowed down. A lot. Down to my lower aerobic zone. Instead of just stopping the ride, I decided it was better for me to keep moving at an effortless pace, for a couple of reasons: (1) it would work the lactic acid out of my legs, (2) I would still get my rest and (3) I would still progress on the course. So I did that. And after only about 15 minutes, I started to regain my strength and get back to a more normal pace.

That right there, regardless of how much rain I would endure and how slow I would finish the course, was my biggest victory: overcoming fatigue to keeping doing what I needed to do.

I was on the I-5 again, heading north this time. And once again, a damned car parked right on the shoulder. But this time, it was a police car that had pulled over another vehicle. I carefully passed the police car, toeing the white line and hoping the officer wouldn't decide to open the car door while I was passing. But I think the officer knew I was there and was waiting for me to pass. I went through the rest stop, and as I was reentering the freeway there was a SAG vehicle on the shoulder helping a group of riders out. But it did not look like an official SAG vehicle; it looked more like a private SAG vehicle. And private SAG vehicles were not allowed on this event. Especially since they were blocking the shoulder to the freeway. If that was a private SAG, then I hope they got caught and dequeued for it, because it pissed me off that, once again, a vehicle was blocking the freeway shoulder. (Now, if it was an official SAG vehicle, it would have been a different story.)

For the last few hours up to this point, there had been no rain. Unfortuantely, as I looked to the west, I could see heavy storm clouds heading in. And there were no breaks in them, so it looked like we would be getting a very wet night. I had no idea at the time how right I would end up being . . .

I reached Rest Stop 5, got my "brevet" card stamped, used the much-needed restroom, had some salted potatoes (salt and potassium), and headed on out. At this point, I was feeling stronger, and I wanted to keep moving because I knew what was coming . . .

As I entered San Clemente, it started to sprinkle a little. Then as I descended Ave Pico towards PCH, it started to POUR. And I mean, REALLY POUR. And since I was going about 30 mph, the rain drops stung my face. It almost felt like hail.

Another rider (who was much faster than me), decided to ride behind me and let me lead the way. He asked if it was okay, and told him I had no problem with that. Misery likes company! As I was talking to him, he told me this was his first double century. I congratulated him, and later asked him if he would ever do another one again!

He and I rode together along PCH in San Clemente. At this point it was pouring like crazy. We were both completely soaked. I navigated him through the tricky San Juan Capistrano. The rain stopped for a bit and he thanked me and pulled off to rest. I kept going.

I climbed the long Marguerite Parkway hill in Mission Viejo to Crown Valley Parkway, and then did the 6 mile climb up Antonio Parkway to Rancho Santa Margarita. It was nighttime at this point, I was wet, and it was getting cold. Rain was off and on. I eventually finished the long climb and did the sharp descent down Trabuco Canyon Road to Rest Stop 6. I got off my bike. I was freezing, wet and hungry. Thank God for Cup-O-Noodles (hot sodium)!

The wonderful volunteers at Rest Stop 6 had a propane-fueled camp heater going. All of us cyclists were crowded around it, because we were freezing. But I knew I only had 26 more miles to go, and I wanted to be done with this ride. So I hopped back on my bike. The same person who followed me earlier asked if he could ride with me again. And I said, "Of course!" So we headed out.

As soon as I started riding, my body started shivering like crazy and my teeth started chattering. All this despite the fact that I had three layers on already. But thank goodness there were some steep climbs coming up, because I knew that my body would warm up while pushing up the hills. (When you're cold, you welcome tough climbs!) I pushed really hard up the approximately 18% grades on Live Oak Canyon Road, followed by a freezing descent down to Santiago Canyon Road.

We then headed north on Santiago Canyon Road. And after about 2 miles, the rain started coming down again. Hard! Freezing, drenched, dark and poor visibility from the heavy rain, I kept pushing forward towards civilization (since we were in the rural parts of Orange County now). But I had to endure 10 miles before I would reach North Tustin.

I got into North Tustin, turned onto Jamboree Road, and the heavy downpour got even worse. It became very hard to see. And I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. I was truly miserable at this point, and felt the start of hypothermia. I felt like pulling over and hiding under a tree. But then I would just get even colder, and I would still remain wet. Besides, I only had about 9 miles left on the course. So I just kept pushing, hoping I would survive. Maybe I would be lucky and the rain would let up at some point. Or maybe it wouldn't.

Well, the rain did eventually cease for a moment once I turned onto Portola Parkway. 6 miles left and I just kept pushing as hard as I could go (mostly because I wanted to stay warm). My violent shivering and teeth chattering stopped, and were replaced by me bitching about every red light I hit on Sand Canyon Avenue. But this was it; the final stretch! Much to my pleasure, the Sand Canyon Avenue stretch was a lot shorter than I thought it would be, because in no time I saw the I-5 freeway, and right after it the finish line. Even better, there were cars in the left turn lane at the light so I would not have to wait endlessly at the light waiting for a green arrow. Soaked and freezing, I pulled into the hotel conference area and gave the ride official my rider number.

My time was a disappointing (at least to me): 15 hours and 13 minutes. My goal was to finish the course in under 14 hours. But, I took heart in the fact that my time was 28 minutes better than when I did the course last year. And conditions were far worse this year.

My clothes were completely soaked. I climbed into my truck, shivering again, and changed back into dry clothes, socks and shoes. I mean, my clothes were so wet it was as if they had just come out of the wash without a spin cycle! I then used the hotel lobby bathroom; got back in the truck; downed two protein shakes; stopped by Jack in the Box for a good old fashioned double-hamburger, fries and soda (hey, I earned it); turned on Lady GaGa's Born This Way, and drove back to San Diego.

As I reflected on this ride, I realized something. I wasn't hydrating nor eating enough. And the reason was the rain. With the rain, I didn't want to stop and try to pull out food. I was more focused on just getting the ride over with and getting out of the misery of being wet. And if I had stopped I would have gotten cold. And with all my layers on it was difficult to reach into pockets to pull out food (even though I had plenty of food with me). But even when getting soaked by rain, I still need to remember to keep eating and hydrating. I cannot let uncomfortable conditions detract from me fueling my body. I think that was the one mistake I made. I need to remember next time, when it rains, snows, hails . . . whatever, to still keep hydrating and eating. Because I'm not going to stay hydrated through osmosis!

I reaffirmed something else. When my legs get too tired, I don't need to stop. In fact, if I am on a flat road, downhill or mild grade, I should just slow down and ride at an easy effort. That will work the lactic acid out of my legs, and keep me moving along the course while getting the rest I need. And I'll regain my strength.

So despite my slower-than-desired time, I am happy with the fact that I conquered the challenges of Mother Nature and lactic acid!