Wow - this turned out long. But I know when I read Nanci's 600k report I still wanted more detail and kept pestering her with questions. So skim or go to the bottom for the more desperate and funny stuff.

There are many reasons I decided to do the San Francisco Randonneur 600k, but I wasn’t really sure any of them were strong enough to compel me to finish it once I was out there. I just had to hope that I could keep talking myself into continuing.

The route was a challenging one with over 16,000 feet of climbing. We would start at the Golden Gate Bridge and ride to Fort Bragg and back, with the return route slightly different than the outbound route. I arrived at the start fully loaded with advice and words of wisdom from friends who’ve done events like this. I knew I was prepared to handle weather conditions (it’s been raining non stop here) and most mechanical issues.

What made me the most nervous about the route was a 60 mile stretch of highway 128 from the coast to Cloverdale. We’d be riding this at night and early in the morning. There are scary people out there, drivers who hate bikes and narrow roads. I was basically okay with the concept of riding through the night, conceptually, but I was very nervous about the possibility of being alone on highway 128 at 2 in the morning. My friend Paul who was doing the event suggested I make contact with the only other woman who was doing it, Nicole, who had done the FC 508 solo. I met her that morning and she was amazingly warm and friendly and supportive. She said if our paces worked, we should ride together and I was relieved. Most of the other riders looked a bit too fast and bike race-y than I wanted to be on an untested distance.

My longest ride ever was 200 miles. This ride was 375 miles. Generally, people who do the brevet series do the whole series: 200k, 300k, 400k and then 600k. Due to my schedule, the 600k just worked out. I was a bit concerned that the leap in distance would be a problem, but another friend had said any training ride over 200 miles was a waste and that you can do 600k on a 200 mile long ride. I just kept telling myself that and I’m still not sure if he was lying to me or not!! Anyway, when I met Todd, the RBA (basically the head dude for the brevet), Nicole told him this was my first ever brevet. He looked a little taken aback. He said, “Well, have you done the FC508? Have you done RAAM?” And I’m thinking well, those rides are longer, so why would that be relevant? It was clear, though, that he was a little concerned about me doing this ride.

After talking to some of the people on the ride, it became clear that I happened to choose the most difficult 600k in Northern California to test myself out. There are at least two other brevet series available here, but this one has the reputation of having the most difficult courses. Oh well. I was comforted by the knowledge that 65% of the route was very familiar territory for me.

We start out from the Golden Gate bridge at 7 Saturday morning. Everyone stays together for the most part for the first 5 - 10 miles, and splits up on the first climb, Camino Alto. I stay with Nicole who seems to be riding just a notch slower than my double century pace which is fine by me. My goal is to stay in basically a recovery zone (perceived - I don’t use a HRM) for the whole ride. We make it to the first control at 35 miles (Point Reyes Station) in very good time, comfortably. Todd the RBA rode out with us as far as that control, and checked us in. Then we head to Petaluma.

At about mile 50, we leave the territory of my normal from-home training rides, and climb the little hill on Red Hill Road to go to Petaluma. (It may, in fact, be Red Hill, but I don’t want to assume.) I’ve climbed that hill a dozen times, but now my legs feel absolutely dead - nothing in them. I tell myself that this would pass, reminding myself that I’d cycle through any number of pains and lows and I would eventually come out of them. I didn’t know for sure if that was true for this distance, but it has been true for rides up to 200 miles. It turns out to be true.

I am descending and riding on the flats a bit quicker than Nicole, and arrive at the second control a bit earlier. At our second control in Petaluma (mile 57) we meet up with another rider, Ken, and the three of us ride together all the way to the third control in Healdsburg (mile 87). The 50 miles between these controls will be the flattest of the whole ride and pass quickly.

The controls are basically way points where you have to buy something, get a receipt with your name on it and put your arrival time in the brevet card. There is a window of time within which you must reach the controls. It is a very generous time window. Most of our controls were at Safeway stores, which print your name on the receipt if you have a club card. Safeway also has pretty good soup. I didn’t know what I’d want to eat on the ride, but in my usual fashion I packed and carried way too much: sport beans, clif blocks, nuts, trail mix. I still have 70% of the food I carried. I ate clif blocks religiously through about mile 150 and then put one in my mouth and almost threw up. At the controls, I would generally buy soup and chocolate milk and more gatorade.

After the Healdsburg control, we ride to Cloverdale. 5 miles from Cloverdale, the skies open up with rain that was so hard it was difficult to breathe. We stop and get geared up to try to stay as dry as possible. It rains hard through about the next 40 miles.

From Cloverdale to the coast, we ride on highway 128, which is the road we will come back on in the dead of night. I try not to overanalyze each descent and worry about how difficult a climb it will be on the return route. I am descending much quicker than Nicole and we get separated. I stop in Boonville for a drink and decide to continue on alone, knowing we will likely meet up in Fort Bragg. The stretch of Hwy. 128 seems interminable. I keep thinking I will see the coast soon, but it takes forever. I try to make myself familiar with the road, noting where the sheep farms or wineries are, so that it feels comfortable when I return in darkness.

Finally, I reach Hwy. 1 and the coast. I have to ride about 20 miles north to the turn around at Ft. Bragg. There are some difficult climbs on 1, but I just plod along. I meet up with another rider, Kevin, and we stay together to Ft. Bragg. It turns out he also lives in Mill Valley. He has a motel room reserved in Ft. Bragg, but I convince him he should try to ride with a group back to Cloverdale where Paul and I had reserved a room at mile 260. We reach the Ft. Bragg Safeway control point (181 miles) at about 9:00 p.m. I eat some fairly bad soup and drink a Starbucks double shot. I am really having to force food in at this point. Nothing is appealing. Nicole and Ken arrive at the Safeway. We all spend some time getting our lights ready and talking to a somewhat lonely mentally challenged local on a bike who tells us he thinks we may make it to San Francisco in about 2 or 3 days’ time. He doesn’t seem to believe we’ve “just” come from there. He talks at length about logging trucks and drunk drivers. All in all it is not very reassuring.

We start out in the dark together at about 9:30 pm. We’re finally riding towards home. It seems to take a long time to ride the 20 miles to hwy. 128. When we get there, we’re enveloped in redwood trees and it is incredibly dark. My light is working great, though I am keeping it on a very low setting because I don’t want the battery to run out before the descent into Cloverdale. The three folks I am riding with have stashed water and cokes in a couple of the towns along the 60 mile stretch of 128. It is a great excuse for some much needed breaks. When we stop at the first stash, I lie down on the pavement. I suddenly feel like I have bed spins and every nerve ending in my body is on fire. I decide it is better not to lie down. I have been drinking gatorade all day and my stomach is starting to feel bad. In Fort Bragg, I’d finally put water into my camelback which was full of Power Bar performance recovery drink powder. This seems to be much better on the stomach and I start to feel better. I also have some nuts. Maybe I am nuts.

At our second stop in Cloverdale, there are some creepy people driving around in fast cars and congregating at the fair grounds. I am so happy I am with three other people. We start the long climb to Yorkville. I am climbing a bit slower than the others, but descending fast (gravity, go figure). I also feel really comfortable descending in the dark with my nite rider on my helmet. I feel much more relaxed than I expected to.

At Yorkville we have about 15 miles to the motel in Cloverdale, but also a very long climb. Kevin and I decide to rest for a bit. I lie down on a doormat in front of the door to a closed convenience store. It smells a bit of cat pee. I use a space blanket, but I am shivering violently. After about 15 minutes, we decide that we should keep riding. It has been raining lightly most of the time.

The climbs seem to go on forever, but since it is dark, I can’t see where the top is. It’s as if I am riding in a quiet bubble of darkness. I know there are any number of animals to either side. At one point, I look to the side of the road and there are two deer staring back at me, their eyes reflecting my light back at me. Another time, I look to the side and there is an opossum right next to the road - I yell so he doesn’t run in front of me. We see a bat. It has finally stopped raining.

Once we reach the top of the hill, I start the descent and am soon alone. Descending in the dark is like jumping into a pool of water. You can’t see what is beyond the light of your headlamp. It is peaceful and much more relaxing than I expected. I descend so quickly that I reach Cloverdale a good 5 minutes before Kevin, Ken and Nicole. Ken and Nicole are going to continue riding. I know Nicole is a veteran brevet rider and goes through the night. This is amazing to me. I know I might not sleep, but I just want to get off the bike for a little bit and be horizontal.

It is 5:30 in the morning. Kevin and I go to the Best Western where Paul’s already in the room. He got in a couple of hours before we did. We lie down and I try to relax. I have a very hard time sleeping and am having trouble staying warm. I think I finally sleep for about 45 minutes and at about 7, I get up and start getting ready. Most of my clothes are still a bit wet. I had taken my clean shorts out of the large ziploc bag for some reason and they are wet. I put them on and put my dirty knickers over them. I do have dry socks.

We go to the control, which is a McDonald’s. I have the world’s best Egg McMuffin and chocolate milk and coffee. I am thinking that the rest of the ride is going to be fun and easy. It’s only 110 miles, and most of it is over terrain that I have ridden and even ride regularly. I expect that I should be able to finish within 8 or 9 hours - it’s only a century after all. I am so mistaken that it’s not funny.

Paul, Kevin and I ride down to Healdsburg (mile 275) and to Gurneville (mile 293). I am gradually becoming slower and slower. Out of Gurneville, the climb up Bohemian Highway, nothing very challenging, wipes me out. Paul has left already and Kevin keeps having to wait for me. I tell him to go on, and finally at Tomales I am alone.

There’s some sort of Harley Davidson rally going on and hundreds of motorcycles keep going by. They’re the kind where the rider sits back with their feet up and their hands on handle bars high in the air. They try to make the engines go particularly loud when they pass me. I decide they are overcompensating for male physical shortcomings. I stop in Tomales and buy earplugs and Pringles at the general store.

By this point, my crotch has really started to hurt. I convince myself I have left my chamois butter in the motel room. I can picture where I left it, on the edge of the tub. I try to spend as much time as possible standing. Since my knees are very tired, standing and pedaling is painful. I stand and coast a lot. I am going very slowly.

With 60 - 80 miles to go I am completely miserable. I think about calling my friends Holly or Stacy for encouragement, but thinking about calling makes me feel emotional and I worry I might cry and when I cry I hyperventilate and that would be counter productive. I am struggling to go 10 miles and hour into a mild headwind.

For the last 4 hours of the ride, I repeatedly alternately say either (1) “Okay” out loud in the sing-songy tone of voice you would use to calm a large animal or diffuse a hostage situation or (2) “F@ck!” very loudly. My bike’s shifting has become sluggish. I can’t blame it. Parts of my body I did not know had nerves hurt.

With 40 miles to go I am on a road I ride every week. I usually ride this road at 18 - 22 miles an hour. I struggle to hold 10. Now I have 25 miles to go. I text message Michael saying it will be at least 2 hours. They are having a birthday dinner for his dad and I am missing it. He writes super supportive things back but I feel like such a heel for not being there for the party.

I enjoy two fun descents which lift my spirits and am in Fairfax. 15 miles to go. After my last semi-suicidal text message, Michael is concerned and calls me. I feel better and I tell him not to worry. He tells me he’s coming to meet me at the finish. I am really touched by this and it gives me energy to go a little faster. With 10 miles to go I am completely out of water. My gym is on the route and I run in, past folks on ellipticals, and fill a bottle. One the last two climbs I am being passed by everyone. I am worried I may have to stop and walk, but I don’t.

I’m finally on the Golden Gate bridge. I usually hate riding on the bridge because it is loud and windy and narrow. I love it now, especially after the half-way point when the bridge slopes down and I can stand and coast, my favorite posture. I reach the vista point and there’s Todd, the RBA, amazed that I made it. He says some extremely complimentary things. I find my chamois butter at the bottom of my Camelback when I get my jacket out.

Then my father in law and mother in law drive up. My sister in law and brother in law and their two kids pull up. Todd the RBA is stunned by the reception and fanfare. My sister in law calls Michael who apparently was trying to find me on the course. I guess knowing he was going to meet me at the end made me speed up and I cam in faster than I thought. Michael and Emily and my dear friend Holly drive up. I have the largest reception anyone’s ever had for a brevet, except maybe PBP.

I posted this part on BikeJournal. I really learned a lot on this ride. For example:

- While it's nice to be prepared, I probably didn't need to lug 6 tubes and 8 CO2s. (I got no flats).

- Don't underestimate the last 100 miles. The last part of the ride was all "home territory" for me, and I never thought it would take me 11 hours to ride 110 miles, but it did!

- Things that hurt now may not hurt later. Keep riding.

- It is ALMOST all mental. Your body can keep going (granted not at its highest level) for a very long time. It's your mind that it going to talk you out of or into it.

- Homey was right. Any training ride over 200 miles is a waste! (That's not to say that my performance wouldn't have been better if I'd done the whole brevet series, but my goal was survival and I did.)

- When you think you left your chamois butter in the hotel room at mile 260 (where you got a whopping 45 minutes sleep), and you have 100 miles still to ride - keep checking around in your stuff because it may be there and you have no idea how much you need it.

- What you like to eat at mile 150 may make you throw up at mile 210.