I Would Be a Terrible Randonneur
Last week, four different people forwarded me email messages telling me I ought to do an upcoming ride: the Seattle Randonneur Club’s 100k Populaire, sometimes called “The Issaquah Alps.” Strangely, each of the messages had a vaguely ominous tone. For example, Mo Lettvin explained, “I’d be there, but I’m gonna be out of town next weekend. Or if that fails, I’ll be cleaning my garage…or perhaps washing my hair…or maybe finding some old x86 ASM code to optimize a little bit.”
I understood. The idea of this ride is to string together as many climbs in and around Issaquah as possible, starting off with The Zoo. It sounded ugly, but there were some mitigating factors that drew me in:
- The event was free.
- I was curious what randonneuring was about.
- I love climbing.
- The event’s starting line was only eight miles from my house. Which meant I’d be able to ride to and from the event — no car needed.
- I figured that even if I was slow, I’d still learn some new routes around the area.
- I could always bail out and ride home if I wasn’t having fun (for example, if I was hopelessly off the back, was seeing spots, and had had a heart-to-heart with Elvis).
I Have One Superpower
The thing about randonneuring is that you’re supposed to be totally self-sufficient. Carry the water and food you’ll need for the ride. Carry the clothes you’ll need for the day. Carry the course directions with you (two pages long, in this case) and follow them as you ride.
Not necessarily in the spirit of randonneuring, I wanted to keep things minimalistic for the ride. I figured that the less stuff I brought, the less stuff I’d be dragging up the hill. So I wore tights, a short-sleeved jersey, and arm warmers, and figured that would cover a pretty good range of weather. If it rained (predicted), I’d be in big trouble. Likewise for an unseasonably warm day.
I’m going to take a moment to boast here. I have an uncanny ability to pick the right clothes for the riding occasion. What I chose to wear turned out to be the exact right thing for the whole day. From time to time I would pull down the arm warmers for a climb, then pull them back up for the descent. It did not rain at all.
Yes, by day I’m the mild-mannered Fat Cyclist, but in real life I’m Pick the Right Cycling Clothes for the Occasion Man!
Let the Ride Begin
I swung a leg over my newly-fendered road bike — wow, I’m going to have to check and see how much my bike weighs sometime; that thing feels heavy) and headed over to the Issaquah Park and Ride, where the ride was slated to begin.
After riding less than a mile, I realized: I had forgotten to bring any Gus. I turned around, checked my watch, and turned around again. I didn’t have time. I’d do this ride without Gu. After all, I had three Clif bars and two bottles of water. That should be plenty.
As everyone gathered for the start of the ride, you couldn’t help but notice the people who were actual members of the Seattle Randonneurs (since this was a “Populaire,” it was open to the public; there were lots of other non-randonneuring-types there, too): they were the ones in long-sleeved old-school blue jerseys with “SEATTLE RANDONNEURS” in plain white stitching across the chest.
Their bikes were intriguing, too. Most of them had very expensive frames, around which they had built serious touring bikes: panniers or front-loaded packs were common. Fenders were universal. I noticed a couple with generator hubs and lights setups. I was caught in the strange position of both admiring the practicality of the bikes and being repelled at how boxy they looked.
And then I remembered: my titanium-framed, hand-built boutique bike was sporting a brand new set of black fenders. I had no room at all to talk about clumsy-looking bikes.
Jan Heine gave us the very simple directions on how things worked, and at 9:00am sharp, we were on our way.
My Very Clever Riding Strategy
Randonneuring events aren’t races, but there was an open competitiveness to at least some of the riders. Other riders — like me — were pretending to just be along for the ride.
Ask anyone I ride with: I am terrible at navigation. My sense of distance is pathetic, my sense of direction is non-existant. So my competitiveness had to take a backseat to my worry that I’d get lost and would never be found. Or worse, that I’d get lost and would have to call my wife and get her to give me Mapquest directions over the phone on how to get home.
So I came up with a plan: I would always ride within site of somebody who looked like he knew where he was going — one of the blue-shirted randonneurs.
The first climb of the day was not a problem, because I was familiar with it: The Zoo. My bike felt heavy, but I felt good. I passed about as often as I was passed, and in general got sorted to about where I belonged in the group — right about mid-pack.
Meet Your Fellow Riders
After zooming down the other side of The Zoo, I came to the first Race Control. Here, a volunteer stands and initials your card, to show that you really did do the ride you said you did. I’m a little foggy on who would ever ask, but perhaps some people have more suspicious-minded spouses than I have: “Dear, I know you said you went randonneuring, but I’d like to verify by checking your control station signatures.”
Anyway, just after this first descent, Simeon — who I’d met at the group Zoo climb a few weeks ago — caught up with me, and before long we were riding together in a group of about seven. “Do you know this course?” I asked, hopefully.
“No,” said Simeon. “I’m keeping a close eye on the blue shirts, and just staying with them.”
Well, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who isn’t going to get his randonneuring merit badge anytime soon.
Simeon and I spent most of the day riding in the group we had latched onto. In particular, two of the “Blue Shirts” (as Simeon and I now called them) we rode with seemed to match our speed well: Mark and Peter. From Mark, I learned what Randonneur means: “Super Tourist.” He also taught me what “brevet” means, but I can’t remember anymore. I’m confident it’s French, however, and believe it means “certificate” or something like that, but for our purposes it means “ride” or “event.” It didn’t matter, though, because a “Populaire” is not a “brevet.” Alas.
As we rode and I talked with a number of Blue Shirts, I noticed there’s a common set of character traits about them. They were uniformly nice, they all seemed to know where they were going, and they were all cheerful. They were all, essentially, like your favorite river rafting guide from that whitewater tour you took a few years ago. Or like Boy Scout leaders on bikes. Whatever. My point is that they were good guys, and I’m glad they didn’t lead me on a wrong turn and then ditch me.
Nice Day for a Ride
Before long, I really had no idea where we were. I was just turning the cranks and enjoying the day. It was overcast and a little chilly, but — if you had selected the proper clothing, as I most certainly had — perfect riding weather. Leaves were changing color, pumpkins were ready to be picked at the farms we rode by, and people were riding in a haywagon. It was the very definition of bucolic. As I rode in the countryside, I noticed Simeon was gapping me, and I just didn’t have the legs to stay with him. I couldn’t see anyone else around, either. Oh well. If I was going to get separated and off-course, this wasn’t a half-bad place to do it; I knew I was less than ten miles from home and could bail out anytime.
As I rode, I became more and more fascinated with one thing, though: caterpillars — the black-and-brown fuzzy kind everyone thinks are cute — were all over the road. I wonder how many hundreds of these I swerved to miss that day, each time thinking “Awwwww.” I’m a sucker for caterpillars.
Foreshadowing Comes to Fruition
The last formal control for the day was at a coffee shop in Carnation, WA — go in and ask the person working the counter to sign your card. Most everyone doing the race also took the opportunity to also get something to eat there. I, however, had stupidly brought no money. I ate my last Clif bar, realizing it wouldn’t have much effect on the big hunger I could feel coming on, and then waited around for a Blue Shirt to finish his sandwich and go, so I could follow him.
We had three big climbs left, and I was dropping further behind Simeon and Mark for each of them. Luckily for me, Peter had apparently taken me on as his pet project, he ushered me up each of those climbs, even as I increasingly ran out of gas. Chances are, if I’d have asked him for something to eat he’d have given me something, but I just couldn’t. This was about self-sufficiency, and I would be self-sufficient. I kicked myself mentally about 500 times for not going back to get those Gus.
Final Climb
Most of the climbs were tough, but the final climb — the one to the finish line — was a brute. I was completely cooked even when we started it, and I had no idea of how long the climb went on. I noticed, dully, that the streets in this neighborhood were all named after famous mountains. “Some real estate developer’s idea of clever,” Peter noted. Stupid real estate developer.
And then we were there. I was hungry and thirsty, but I had finished it. From the looks of things, I had finished it somewhere toward the front of the midpack group, too. So that’s something, I guess.
I knew, though, that I had a problem: I needed to ride back home, and there were a couple of big climbs I was going to have to do to get there. And I could tell that I was either bonked or about to bonk. The eight-mile ride home would take me more than an hour, after which I would spend the next 45 minutes eating anything that was even near the fridge.
And then I would spend the rest of the weekend eating, as well, just to underscore the point.
Afterward
The Seattle Randonneur’s Club has not contacted me since the ride, asking me to please, please, please join them. Nor do I expect them to. Unless they need someone to provide anti-pattern demonstrations at club meetings, that is.
Today’s Weight: 165.2. Wow.
Comment by Unknown | 10.10.2005 | 4:16 pm
did you gain five pounds this weekend, in spite of having done this brevet, er, event thing? 5 pounds? got a bowling ball in your gut? you might want to call a midwife.
Comment by Unknown | 10.10.2005 | 4:18 pm
don’t worry,It’s all water weight and new muscle mass
Comment by Susan | 10.10.2005 | 4:31 pm
Hey guy,Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment! YAY!!!I have given just a small peak into our first bike trip 9 years ago. No riding yet just the prep work. Tomorrow I will begin the horror, er, um, detail of the first trip.Sue
Comment by EricGu | 10.10.2005 | 7:29 pm
I wondered why it took you a day to get your story up.Dude, that’s what tail packs (or "Bento Boxes") are for. You stash a couple of gels in them for exactly those sorts of situations. Oh, and if you have any friends from down under, you may get some interesting looks when you tell them you bonked on a ride on Saturday, as the word doesn’t mean *quite* the same thing to them.
Comment by Zed | 10.10.2005 | 8:18 pm
I’ve got to admit, bonking does something crazy to one’s apetite. Good for you for not calling your wife for a ride. I’d have probably wussed out and just made the call. You’ve got to admit, though, that there isn’t much that feels better or safer than being home wolfing down a whole bunch of food after a ride on which you spent your last ounce of strength. Gosh, it feels good.Have you ever raced a hill climb? The short distance, high elevation gain type, that is.
Comment by Fat Cyclist | 10.10.2005 | 8:37 pm
dug – you’ve seen what happens after a big ride. you gain weight. it’s counterintuitive, but it always happens. plus, you know, the weekend. we’ve talked about this before.craig – well, it’s water weight, muscle mass, and anything i could find in the fridge and wrap in a tortilla.lowfat e (the "e" stands for "evil," right?) – capacity for carrying more food wasn’t a problem; i had plenty of space left in my jersey pockets. the problem was that i woefully underestimated how much food i’d want. i guessed 3 clif bars; should’ve guessed 4 + 2 Gu’s. Good advice on the colloquial meaning of "bonked." to all my non-US friends: i was cracked. knackered. in a bad way. furthermore, a nudge is as good as a wink to a blind bat.caloi-rider – i had never conciously thought of the "safe" part of a post-bonk (um, cracked, knackered) gorge, but you’re absolutely right. "safe" is a great word for it. you’ve survived, given everything you’ve got, and now you can sit and EAT. and it does feel good.
Comment by BIg Mike In Oz | 10.10.2005 | 10:08 pm
Don’t freak out about the terminology. BONK is universal. If you’re a bike rider, it’s when you’re legs become disconnected from the rest of your body and refuse to respond to any instructions. On the flat with a stiff tail wind your legs will tick over at about 65rpm all on their own. If the wind turns against you or the road points up, your cadence will drop to 30-40rpm. There is nothing you can do about it other than infuse $20 worth of junk food and wait for the sugar to hit the blood stream.If you aren’t a bike rider and you BONK, as a minimum you need different clothes (or none), a blanket on the ground and a partner. It is still handy to have a supply of energy food on hand as bonking can also lead to bonking – depending on your fitness, prior training and the duration of the event.Different people shave different parts of their body depending on what type of bonking they are expecting to encounter, but either way you will end up sweaty and weak-kneed.cheersBIG Mike (skinny on the inside)
Comment by Unknown | 10.10.2005 | 10:11 pm
Fatty dude–er, that’s either a lot of "water weight" as some postulate, or a "bowling ball"? Hmmm…dug must not bowl much. Either way, congratulations or condolences. What was the mileage and the duration of the Randonneur? Just checking the sissy status. Before you fire back in your own defense, realize that I am joking, and that I am shy one organ so I have the latitude to fire off a shot or two like that.
Comment by Chris | 10.10.2005 | 10:15 pm
I heard about that ride but not until I was about 2-3 glasses of wine into my Friday evening. By then it was too late. But, my friend and I (Tazos Tea jerseys on the Zoo climb) have been thinking of doing a Tour de Plateau. The idea is to ride all the major climbs up onto the plateau in one ride. I am not exactly sure how the whole route would go but it be something like this: Start at Inglewood Hill Rd and 228th. Head down Inglewood, left on E. Lake Sammamish, then almost immediately left again up Thompson hill Rd. Keep going straight south on 212th and you drop back on E Lake Sammamish. From here I am not sure of the best way around the south end of the plateau, perhaps up SE 43rd way and then back down via Black Nugget Rd. However it is done you would work your way up Duthie hill rd, North on 228th, East on NE 8th, off the plateau to the north at 244th, left on 202, up Sahalee and down 228th to the starting point at 228th and Inglewood Hill rd.Would you join us?Chris
Comment by Unknown | 10.10.2005 | 10:21 pm
Big Mike–good entendre(s)! If only Fatty had known that one bonk leads to the other, he might have gained 10 lbs. over the weekend! But then there would be all of that re-tooling, what with re-naming the blog to something like ’supa-fatty the mac daddy’ and what not! Then he could declare himself officially ‘multi-sport’.
Comment by Ariane | 10.10.2005 | 10:51 pm
Sounds like it was a good time. So far, I’ve been lucky to escape bonking more than a couple times… not fun. Though, I think since I don’t sleep enough (what with school on etc.) and since it’s getting colder and wetter, which makes everything less wimp accessible, I’m at more risk for bonk. Enghk. Probably just looking for excuses as to why I’m so tired all the time lately. BTW: BIG Mike…. you rock.
Comment by Fat Cyclist | 10.10.2005 | 11:53 pm
big mike – thanks for the permission to use ‘bonk.’ i’m too old to learn new slang.rocky – i know exactly where the weight is coming from, and i know where it’s going. it’s not a pretty conversation to have, though. i beg of you, let’s please move on.chris – i’m in for a plateau climbing day. your start location is less than a mile from where i live, so that’s nice. just as a thought, we could do it as a "spoke" type ride, where we drop down each road, then climb back up that same road before moving on to the next. in which case we could do:1. thompson2. inglewood3. sahallee4. 244th5. duthie6. issaquah/fall city7. se 43rd waythen we could give it a cool name, like "ring of fire." before long, it would be legendary, and we could sell t-shirts. email me and let’s nail down a time and course.
Comment by Unknown | 10.11.2005 | 1:38 am
Nice ride tale. I regularly ride with a very large club that has racers, juniors, seniors, randonneurs, tandemites, ‘bents, and a whole bunch of other folks in between as members. The randonneurs in my ability group are a pleasure to ride with. They tend to be *seriously* good road riders – not necessarily super-fast, but typically smooth, effortless pedalers, seemingly good at all aspects of riding, smart about road conditions, best drafting methods, nice and comfortable to ride with in tight, fast-moving groups, good at spotting stops likely to have great (i.e. clean and functioning) toilets, easy companions on the road, and so forth. I am learning a lot about distance riding from them and may try to do one or two of the shorter brevet events next year.According to my club, which hosts randonneuring events:<blockquote>Randonneuring is long-distance (endurance) cycling over scenic and challenging terrain. Randonneur rides often leave early in the morning and require lights, go under most weather conditions, and typically are challenging all-day affairs with distance and speed determined by the participants. This includes the annual Brevet series of qualifying rides between 125 and 625 miles in length.</blockquote>Why would you want to ride continuously for 600 kilometers? Why, to qualify for Paris-Brest. No, I’m not talking Paris Hilton here. A club member who has ridden in this epic touring ride writes: "For many, the goal is to finish the series of brevets (qualifying rides) required to participate in the 1200 km, 90-hour Paris-Brest-Paris randonnee." The brevets include 200, 300, 400 and 600 kilometer rides. All include a mix of rolling to mountainous terrain and average 5000′ of climbing per 100 miles covered. "If you complete them all (usually in the April-June timeframe) you can attempt Paris-Brest, a mostly continuous 1200 km ride, or randonnee. Or you can puss out, and do the 1000 km alternate ride. Fancy riding 200 miles, having climbed 10,000 feet, and facing another 5,000 feet – in one day, with half your riding under the lights? Cool, huh?
Comment by Susan | 10.11.2005 | 2:10 am
Did an update if you wanna check it out. I try to keep my entries short. Since you are such a great writer if you think of anything I should change in my writing style I would appreciate the critiquing.Be good guy.
Comment by Unknown | 10.11.2005 | 5:29 am
Fatty–it’s weird…like x-files weird. What you gain I lose and as you lose, I gain. Could it be that you and I share an cumulative weight and that moving heaven and earth won’t change it? Freaky. Oh, wait, my fiver just came back with the carton of poptarts and a carmeled apple. Did you just lose some weight?
Comment by Unknown | 10.11.2005 | 1:36 pm
are you calling me out? "we’ve talked about this before?" who am i, nigel? "we’ve talked about this before?" don’t make me come all the way up there.
Comment by Unknown | 10.11.2005 | 3:12 pm
are you talkin’ to ME? or to someone else? or was that just general. Okay…if that was aimed at me, please don’t come up here.
Comment by Unknown | 10.11.2005 | 3:54 pm
easy rock, i would never talk to you that way, i love you man. plus, i’m afraid of you. i only talk to fatty that way, cuz he’s probably the only guy less likely to win a fight than i am.
Comment by Fat Cyclist | 10.11.2005 | 4:09 pm
yeah, dug, i’m talking to you. you know what i’m talking about, too. don’t make me embarass you. and don’t think i lack the means. because i don’t. lack the means, i mean. i have means. i think we understand each other.
Comment by Fat | 10.11.2005 | 8:22 pm
I was trying to think of a good response to this post but was unable to think of anything worth posting. But after reading the comments, you guys are hilarious! Thanks for the laugh!~ Fat chick
Comment by Unknown | 10.11.2005 | 9:28 pm
yeah dug, he kinda has that t-rex thing, huh? If he had bigger teeth….