The Tortoise, Two Hares, and a Unicorn?

"Our growth depends not on how many experiences we devour, but on how many we digest." ~ Ralph W. Sockman

On Easter morning, I had a chance to join an impromptu early morning ride with a casual biking club I recently joined called Viet Velo Northwest. Nhan opted to play soccer with his buddies as they do most Sundays, so I took VV up on their offer. Many of our fellow teammates were attending Easter Mass or celebrating with their families. The three of us who made it that morning didn't have plans until later in the day, so we gamely decided to squeeze in a quick ride in the early morning hours. Bikers don't shirk their responsibilities in favor of biking-- we just kind of shuffle everything else around so that we can ride every chance we get (insert wry smile here).

The route today would be from Renton Memorial Stadium to Alki Beach, something like 37 miles, all told. No rain threatened the skies, the sun shined favorably, but the morning started off about 20 degrees cooler than my last ride in The Dalles.

The ride would be led by our Team Captain, John, and joined by me and another rider I call Anh Thu. These guys eat hills for breakfast, and they are cheetah-fast on the flats. They have sexy, high-end carbon bikes that they affectionately refer to as their "girlfriends." You can figure out the endless innuendos for yourself. And then there's slowpoke me with my entry-level Fuji road bike, reeking of amateur. 

I appropriately dubbed our Easter ride as "The Tortoise and Two Hares" 


Why is John the Captain of Viet Velo? Because he's damn good at coaching riders and at mapping the best tactical routes for training. I'm always intimidated to ride with these VV guys, but biking with seasoned riders is the best way to get better, faster, stronger exponentially because you simply have to keep up the pace. They will ride 30 miles for a cup of coffee, and 20 miles more for a pastry. But these guys never, ever drop a rider either, and they show an infinite amount of patience with newbies like me. No amount of spinning at the gym or novice riding on your own is going to improve your skill set in this sport unless you ride with and glean expert advice from experienced bikers. Just like you can't run a marathon from a treadmill, you can't be a road biker by virtue of spinning on stationary bike at the gym. Both require you to hit the pavement to put in the miles and the work. 

Typically, the Captain always includes robust hills in every route he plans, but today gave way to a lazy Sunday feeling, since he promised us this ride would be "flatter than a pancake." Anh Thu ended up being the sweeper for our little group, so that put me in the middle for most of the ride.

We warmed up our legs on the lush Duwamish River Trail to the Green River Trail before crossing over short bridges, through industrial areas, urban neighborhoods, and sleepy Sunday business districts. The early part of our route passed under countless canopies of cherry trees along the trail, standing like reverse umbrellas showering loose petals on us as we rode underneath. It's early spring, and every cherry tree is still adorned in pink and white pom-poms; the cloyingly sweet smell of blossoms filling our lungs with just the kind of precious fresh air that mainland Chinese citizens are paying through the nose (pun intended) to sniff out of jars. It's a real thing, says The Huffington Post! 

The next stretch involved going through kind of a rough neighborhood in the South Park area, but John assured us that "no one will bother us." Not trying to make any blanket socio-economic statements here, but it's the kind of neighborhood where if you run into another biker, it's usually a grown man on a small dirt bike wearing baggy jeans and a flannel shirt, know what I mean? As we passed through the area on our way back later, a enormous pit bull on a tight leash barked viciously and lunged at us. Luckily for us, the dog had a metal muzzle over his jaw, and his owner was dragged only a few short feet before getting his dog under control. Yeah, I pedaled pretty hard through there and my heart rate had nothing to do with my cadence.

The neighborhood gave way to an industrial area that seemed eerily abandoned on a Sunday morning, post-apocalyptic-style. On a crumbling street, we had to navigate our bikes dexterously past dozens of water-filled, bike-swallowing potholes to avoid taking a mud bath. We cruised past high chain-link fences capped with barbed-wire, enclosing storage yards full of rusty tanks and barrels of every size and color by the hundreds. It looked like a scene at "Terminus" from The Walking Dead. Amid the all the urban decay and the industrial ugliness, there was still raw beauty to be found. A massive wisteria-like vine spanned almost the entire side of a vacant warehouse, spreading its branches, adorning with its leafy embrace-- an emblem of life and vibrant greenery on a cold metal host. Another beautiful thing about biking is that it puts you at eye-level with everything you might miss when zipping by in a car. But it also allows you to explore these unknown avenues that you might never have a conceivable reason to drive through otherwise.



I frequently get lost in my own thoughts while riding, so before I knew it we had already reached Alki Beach! The beach was a sight for sore eyes after coming out of that eerie warehouse row. We were greeted by headwinds coming in off the Sound, but the path was devoid of the typical throngs of people on a weekend, probably because it was still early on Easter Sunday. 

Really couldn't have asked for a prettier spring day to ride along the beach. We pedaled on, checking out all the expensive high-rise condos and looking out across at the city skyline, people-watching while cruising on our bikes. 

We had a mind to get some coffee, so we stopped and parked our bikes. The haphazard way this photo happened makes me happy.

After a good cup of coffee and even better conversation, we mounted our bikes and headed back, stopping only once for a photo.


A lady took this picture for us, and that's the moment I realized that we had inadvertently showed up all matchy-matchy in black, white, and red on all our clothing and our bikes today. A friend later commented on this pic, "Two ducks and a swan!" Unless I get to be the swan, maybe it's more like, "Duck, duck, goose!"

John ordered us into a pace line, maintaining a consistent 17 mph to take advantage of drafting. Being about a bike length behind the rider in front of you gives you approximately 20% draft benefit, and being 6 inches behind gives you 80% or so. It helped reduce our energy expenditure and increased our overall speed under the windy conditions. We needed to stay close together on the busy thoroughfares so that cars could easily see us too. As long as the rider in front maintains his cadence, the other riders can safely follow at close distances if everyone remains vigilant for changes in speed or direction, and calls out hazardous road obstacles to avoid.

John must have bored himself to tears on the flat pancake route, so he decided to throw in a 12% grade hill off Martin Luther King Blvd for shits and giggles. Anh Thu must have gotten a second wind, because he took off like one, up and away he went.

I love to hate hills, or do I hate to love them? 

I labored, spinning slowly up at 5-6 miles per hour in my lowest gear like I always do, breathing loudly like a Mack truck. Captain John, always the helpful tactician, stayed right with me the whole time and told me to sit up straighter to let more air into my lungs, sit further back on my saddle to give my legs more direct power on the downward pedal push, and to hold my handlebars in the middle for more control. And that is exactly why he's the Captain. I always hate hills in the moment, but I love them after I finally make it to the top. Viet Velo's team jerseys are aptly emblazoned with the motto, "No Hills, No Thrills"

I usually favor riding with Nhan simply because we started out biking together and we have our own thing going-- there's a certain comfort and sentimentality in that, and the gap in our skill levels are not as pronounced as they are with Viet Velo. But I do credit VV with enjoyably filling in the gaps when Nhan and I don't have a chance to ride together, and for imparting an immense amount of expert and practical knowledge about the sport. Nhan has never actually had a chance to ride with VV before for various reasons and plenty of excuses-- some legit, some not. They always ask me why he never shows up to ride, so I'm sure they are starting to think that I have an imaginary biking buddy. 

Even Nhan is in on the joke now, calling himself "The Unicorn," that mythical creature that is never seen, but often discussed.

what (bicycle) tribe are you from?

i'm not always a bike apologist - truth is some bikers are just douchebags. those are the ones who think the traffic laws don't apply to them. they don't stop at stop signs nor heed the speed limit signs. often times, these guys don't last long on the urban roads, especially ones that are congested and full of impatient motorists like seattle's.

but you may find it interesting that even within the cycling community, we don't necessarily like each other or not not snicker behind each other's backs. "why, ain't you all equally intolerable people," you ask? well, some of us are a lot more insufferable than others. the blog bikesnobnyc sections the cyclists into the following camps: the mountain biker, the messenger, the roadie, the triathlete, the urban cyclist, the contraption captain, the lone wolf, and the beautiful godzilla.

i would say di and i are more identified with the roadies, right, di? we ride a road bike, wear pearl izumi bibs and jackets, shoes with cleats and always bring enough water along the rides. in other words, we're prepared to go the distances. we are weary of that murphy law: "if thing can go wrong, it will go wrong!"

in the beginning, we were kind of the "lone wolf" type. the lone wolf doesn't give a hoot about decorum. he/she just shows up to ride. often in the wrong types of clothing and/or bikes. sometimes lone wolf doesn't do registration - rides pirate but will claim riding "independently" if anyone asks :). freeloading on foods at the registration tent and food stops. very unplanned and...kind of primitive. i remember di started with a steel bike that probably weighed more than her weight. the front tire popped while we were riding on the burke-gilman trail during our first bike ride together. we didn't even have a bike pump, much less a patch kit...haha...good old time! a humble beginning. hey it got to start somewhere! i remember i rode my brother's bike during my first long-distance ride (the 2013 flying wheels event) using regular platform pedals and RUNNING SHOES. blasphemy! :). we were definitely lone wolves!

so in truth, we don't necessarily dislike any cyclists out there, let them be the lone wolf, the mountain biker or the contraption captain. we just don't identify ourselves with them. however, there is one type of cyclist that we just don't care for - the urban bikers...they're douches.

yeah, those tight jean-sporting, scarf-wearing, fixie-riding, chain-smoking guys...bikesnob nyc blog describes them as follows:

1) while often in their twenties, urban cyclists can survive well into their 40s before either finally accepting other types of cycling or moving on to some other trendy form of transportation, such as Vespas or café racer motorcycles.

2) urban cyclists generally laugh at people who wear brightly coloured Lycra, though they fail to find equal humour in their own colour-co-ordinated bicycles, boutique clothing, or the fact that riding for more than a few hours in jeans is liable to turn your crotch into a microcosm of the Everglades.

3) the urban cyclist professes a great love of and respect for track racing, despite the fact that they generally have a long list of reasons why he or she can't make it to the velodrome with his or her $4,000 track bike, though they're "totally dying" to do so.

4) the urban cyclist is one of the very few groups of cyclists among whom cigarette smoking is not only acceptable but considered "cool," which is sort of like being really into performance cars but driving around with rags shoved up your exhaust.

5) they endlessly seek "authenticity," and are often fond of "vintage" bicycle frames. they will also make fun of other riders on brand-new, off-the-rack track bikes. however, since most the urban cyclists are roughly half the age of their vintage bikes, they're clearly not the original owners. so really, this means they're actually less authentic and more contrived than the riders of off-the-rack bikes.

In terms of appearance, the the urban cyclist look is evolving, but presently it is still an appropriation of three distinct subcultures.

1) eighties "peace punks" or "squatter punks" (also called "crusties"). from this group, the the urban cyclist appropriated the tight black jeans, the canvas sneakers, the ratty sweatshirt, the sleeve tattoos and the studded belt and/or exposed keys.

2) bicycle messengers, whose lifestyle (and consequently appearance) often overlapped with the peace punks. from the messengers, the the urban cyclist took the giant messenger bag, the track bike, the chopped handlebars and the frame stickers.

3) ironic preppy. since so few the urban cyclists actually have roots in any of these lifestyles, there's generally a neatly pressed polo-esque undercurrent to their look. this is manifest in such elements as snug sweaters, close-fitting dark blue jeans or capris cuffed Audrey Hepburn-style, and slip-on canvas sneakers.

philosophical (bike) wax

biking is cool because it could change the world.

do you remember when you were a kid, you used to play soccer and ride bike around the neighborhood? it was a lot of fun, wasn't it? now we drive cars, which is what we must do because of our need for efficient and comfortable transportation. we got to go to work, take kids to school, hauling shit around... i mean how are my parents gonna haul a 20 lbs sack of onions + 5 gallons of spaghetti sauce + 4 gallons of milk + 50 rolls of toilet paper + free food samples from costco...on a bike...in the rain? so yes, motorized, covered instrument of transportation is good, folks. it's technology, it's progress. not like tivo, it's technology but a regress.

what i'm saying here is that we depend so much on motorized vehicles to move around, we forget how good it feels to use our feet, how it makes us feel good mentally and physically. even worse, we start thinking that we CAN'T do it. we start thinking we can't run around green lake. we start thinking riding bike around is too dangerous, too strenuous and too...impossible. the car culture makes us think so. it certainly made me thought so...for good reasons. i meant once a while you read on the newspapers a bicyclist got hit or got spit on. interestingly that very few bicyclists ever ride drunk nor have road rage...why? maybe bicyclist are often scared shitless of being hit, often very carefully when riding...or we are just all-around nice people. that's another topic for my wax later. coming back to the reasons a non-bicyclist would think it's impossible to ride bike. well, it has a lot to do with the way we design road nowadays, the way the federal and state's transportation priorities are so out of whack nowadays that we keep building more roads, make them narrower, make space for car parking but no space for bicycles. consequently, there is no safe real estate to ride bike to work or to go shopping. it's not that people haven't thought about how nice it would be to be able to do it. they just think it's not safe to do it. umm...if it's not safe then what should we do? we just do it. ride it! ride that bike! show our city government, state officials that bicycling is a legit mode of transportation that makes sense. it's healthy and cheap. it would save the public money in gas, in maintenance, doctor's visits... the more we ride our bikes around, the more exposure biking gets, the more reasons for the gov't to throw our way some bike lanes or at least shared lanes. funny that i say these things. i'm a city gov't official and a bicyclist. so trust me, folks. it would work :).

anyway, why would bicycling change the world? it's healthy exercise that doesn't hurt the knees or ankles so anyone can do it regardless of age or physical conditions. a while ago, a frenchman invented the derailleur - this groundbreaking invention changed bicycling as we know it. it allows anyone to ride up that steep hills in their neighborhood. very cool. i think the most important reason is that it allows people to realize they can do anything they can conceive in their mind. biking has that kind of meditative, trans-formative power. whoa, whoa...easy there big guy! isn't that a big fking exaggeration? not a bit. it's hard to explain. you have to experience it yourself. after going on a few long rides and start liking them, you would feel like you are a changed person. it happened to me. i think clearer. i become more motivated. i become more kind. i became a changed me. how's about a changed you? and everyone would be better because of a "changed we". the world would! ....whoa, that's deep, dude!

give it a try.

Dilly-Dallying in The Dalles (Part II)

After the puke party at the top of the hill, my nausea subsided and we rode on. I was thinking to myself how strange it was that we haven't seen any other riders in a long while.... An older rider we had chatted with earlier came up alongside us, his face full of concerned confusion under a formidable grey mustache. He stopped to consult his ride map, and so did we, because the hill continued up again with no abatement-- something seemed off. 

Turns out that we missed a critical fork in the road that would have looped us through the cherry orchards instead of taking us up that long hill. That's why there were no other riders in front of or behind us for miles!

We ended up losing 10-miles in the missed loop, but we sure paid for it in that sustained hill grade. The upside is that we enjoyed that fantastic view that all the other riders (with a better sense of direction) missed out on. But rather than turning around and going back down, we pressed onward and upward because we were excited about the prospect of a food stop at the loop junction. 

Food stops really are like mini-parties. They are sometimes rider reunion points where road teams re-group, or social hubs where you can meet and chat with riders from all over, trading stories or taking photos for each other. On a more practical level, they are basically like rest areas for bikers where you can dismount and stretch, use the portable toilets, inspect your bike and gear, re-fill your water bottle, and most importantly, re-fuel! 

The amount and type of food offered at every event and location varies, but you see many typical items such as hard-boiled eggs, bagels with cream cheese or peanut butter & jelly, all kinds of cookies, packets of string cheese, fresh fruit such as oranges, apples, and bananas, power bars, granola bars, even simple boiled potatoes. Wait, what? Boiled potatoes? I learned that potatoes are actually a great source of low-fat, low-fiber carbohydrates to fuel you on your ride. They digest quickly and won't get held up in your gut they way fats and proteins will. Too much fiber on a ride is a recipe for disaster.... um, or so I've heard.

Friendly volunteers staff each stop, sometimes with their own families and pets in tow since they hang out for the duration of the event as riders roll in at different times throughout the day. These food stops are like oases on long rides.

Nhan and I stuffed our faces since that first hill ignited our appetites something fierce. Just an hour of spinning on a stationary bike at the gym can burn up to 600 calories, so you can imagine how much energy you need to fuel a 60-mile ride that can last up to 4 hours. Nutrition is just as important as hydration.

Since I lost my first breakfast, I freely devoured two hard-boiled eggs, an orange slice, half a bagel with cream cheese, some dried cherries, and a sugar cookie with insanely bright pink frosting and colorful confetti sprinkles. I don't know what possessed me to eat that nasty sweet cookie, because it's not something I would typically eat if I wasn't biking. I just hoped that I wouldn't need to puke again, because I was sure that cookie wouldn't look nearly as pretty coming back up.

We wanted to make up for the 10-mile loop that we lost because of our wrong turn, so we headed back through it going the opposite direction. Here's where it gets crazy beautiful out in the country. We passed rolling hills of green wheat and alfalfa, saw wispy clouds in a remarkably blue sky, spied a hawk sitting complacently on a fence post, cruised through acres of cherry orchards and past rustic farms. All was verdant with the first bright green of early spring. Much of this stretch was quiet, paved roads with little to no car traffic. Well, except for one old lady who drove so slowly behind me for a long time because she was too nervous to pass me. I gave her a friendly wave for her consideration.

This ride promised a lot of elevation gain, so there were plenty of hills to climb with varying degrees of effort required. As I was preparing to push up yet another hill, I quickly looked back to check on Nhan-- he was nowhere in sight. I could probably see back about a 1/4 mile until the road curved behind an earth berm-- still no Nhan. 

I slowed to a stop and clipped out of my pedals and leaned on my bike, peering to the horizon for any sign of him. I irrationally began to wonder if he was overrun by a wayward tractor, or chased by a marauding cow, or lying in a ditch along the road. 

Just as I was about to head back down the hill for a search & rescue, here he comes pedaling around the bend, a bright-blue vision finally winding up the hill. 

"My chain came off, " he explained. 

Such are the minor mechanical hazards that can befall a rider on the road. A chain that slips off the cassette and derailleur is easy enough to fix compared to a chain that breaks, especially if you don't have the right tools with you. Luckily, Nhan was able to re-set his chain and re-join the ride before I had to double back to look for him. 

Another important lesson for the road is to always be aware of your fellow rider's location and position in case of emergency, particularly if you are on a remote road or in a secluded area where emergency help is not likely to be nearby, or where you might not get a good cell phone signal. I was so focused on pushing up yet another grueling hill that I didn't notice that he had stopped well behind me to fix his chain, completely out of sight around the bend in the road. 


After we took some of our own photos, a lady biker comes around the bend from the opposite direction and kindly offered to take our picture together. She mistakenly told us that the snow-capped mountain behind us is Mt. Adams, when it is in fact, Mt. Hood. She's from Bend, OR so there really was no excuse for her to mix up her mountains. It would be like someone from WA mixing up Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens!






On this desolate country road, we stumbled upon this dilapidated old farmstead house in the middle of a field, flanked by equally dead-looking trees standing like macabre sentinels, and enclosed behind an uninviting barbed-wire fence. 

Its haunted appearance made for a good photo op because Nhan is evidently afraid of ghost farmers in broad daylight. 


As decrepit as the farmhouse looked from where we stood, evidence of its structural integrity is remarkable for its age. Sure, the greater part of the roof, windows and doors were gone, but the house and chimney were still standing up straight! The gables showcased decorative shingles, which tells me this house must have been something to behold in its prime, even as a humble farmhouse. It's a shame you can't see the more intricate details in this photo. They just don't build houses like that anymore. And that's probably why they let it stand like that, farming around it instead of razing it and removing the debris.

Generous amounts of sunshine heated up the day, but strong headwinds plagued us for most of the remainder of the ride. It seems strange to think that wind came make that much of a difference, but if it pushes against you while riding, you have to exert that much more effort to counter it. The wind was so strong at times that it created a cool optical illusion of undulating waves on the grassy hills. 



How Nhan could wear his long sleeve jacket, which was already over his bike jersey, and pair it with long bike pants in 72 degree weather was beyond me. Even in my bike shorts and short-sleeve jersey, the relentless sun cooked me. I tend to really warm up when I ride. But the winds kept me from feeling any sweat at all, even though I'm sure we were producing it in copious amounts, only to have it evaporate right off our skin as we rode.

We hit one long downhill that was a real thrill to cruise! After going up most of the day, the sheer excitement of tucking in and zooming downhill was a high! Nothing compares to that sensation of flying on your bike.

The scenery screamed by, and I felt like I was slicing through the wind itself. 

At one point, I looked down at my bike computer and clocked myself going 38 mph, which momentarily freaked me out. 

That kind of speed results in catastrophic crashes if you lose of control of your bike or hit an obstacle. A lot of bikers suffer fatal collisions when cars pull out of nowhere. But it's not a good idea to brake hard during downhill speeding either, because it can send a biker over the handlebars and onto the asphalt if the bike flips. 

On our long descent, we noticed a team of about 8-10 riders going up the hill together. It's always amazing to see a big group like that, moving and working as an amorphous mass toward the same goal. Group riding can be hazardous for the uninitiated because one slip-up by a single biker can send the whole group crashing like dominoes. They follow so closely behind each other's wheels to take advantage of "drafting."

Drafting is an important technique in road racing that uses aerodynamics to increase speed by reducing drag through wind resistance. To get technical, each biker creates a turbulent wake behind them as they ride, which then creates vortexes and low pressure areas that the rider behind them can take advantage of to improve performance and save about 40% in energy expenditure. A group of bicyclists riding in a pack is called a "peloton" and a pace line is called an "echelon." So when you see a long line of bikes in a row, that's what they're doing.

Even with all the miles we've covered in the last year, Nhan and I are still fairly amateur road bikers. We are often too distracted by the scenery to risk riding too closely to each other's wheels to draft. The beauty of road biking is that it's a sporting experience you can enjoy with others, but there are also moments of contemplative solitude as you ride on your own bike through the miles. We pedal hard on occasion as needed to get up a hill or cover the distance, but we are more the touring than the racing types. Although, I know Nhan has expressed interest in challenging himself with some tougher rides this year.

We wrapped up the ride earlier than planned because we still had a long drive home ahead of us. As we reached St. Mary's Academy where our car was parked, the ride organizers welcomed riders back with fresh-made cherry cobbler, hot out of the oven. Nhan and I savored our cherry cobbler and hot coffee as we shared individual anecdotes on a ride we did together, because that's just how biking experiences happen. It was definitely a cherry of a ride!

In all, this ride was another one for the books. The stunning scenery alone was worth the long drive to The Dalles-- and not just during the bike ride, but also on the car ride home, much of it along the stunningly scenic Columbia River Gorge. What an amazing way to officially start our 2014 riding season!

Dilly-Dallying in The Dalles (Part I)

So, Nhan wanted me to give my take on our first ride this season, called The 10th Annual Cherry of a Ride in The Dalles, OR. Um, The Where in Oregon?

I had never even heard of this place, but Nhan had painstakingly compiled a spreadsheet (that's right-- a spreadsheet, folks) of organized rides for the 2014 riding season, taking place throughout WA, OR, and BC. He wanted to chase the sun and see some new scenery since the same tired routes around Western WA struck him as repetitively-traveled and not as thrilling. This ride promised scenic route options "through blossoming cherry orchards and green wheat fields." We were intrigued.

After a brittle winter, we were anxious to get outside and pedal, but Mother Nature kept hampering our efforts as ride after ride got canceled. The prolonged bad weather scuttled most of our plans for early training due to rain, snow, and even occasional hail. I didn't dare hope that a sunny excursion to The Dalles would actually happen.....until it did, and in grand style! 

The Dalles is the county seat and the largest city in Wasco County, OR, located at the north-central border with WA along the Columbia River Gorge. The city name comes from the French word dalle, (meaning "sluice" or "flagstone"), and refers to the towering columnar basalt rocks that are typically found along either side of the river. The area is rich with geological treasures, historical significance, and mythological lore. Lewis & Clark camped here in 1805, and The Astor Expedition passed through here before founding Fort Astoria and Fort Okanogan in the years after. Iconic Sasquatch lore is seen everywhere in Portland stores. 

Sasquatch is a local celebrity in Portland

Sock designs, by Sock It To Me!

The Dalles is a 4+ hour drive from Seattle, so we came in a day early to chill before the Sunday ride.
We spent the evening hanging out in downtown, checking out the hipster Portlandia scene at the famed Powell's City of Books, which is four floors and a whole city block of brick & mortar book store to love! That's where I saw these cool Sasquatch and bicycle socks, along with some goofy Sasquatch bumper stickers.

Puppy Panhandler

We cruised the scene along the river at Tom McCall Waterfront Park, where Nhan astutely remarked, "How come all the homeless people in Portland know how to play a musical instrument?" Yes, they do know how to panhandle with panache in Portland. Even this dog was running around with a basket in its mouth asking for handouts! The sign in the basket reads, "SMILE". We saw entirely too much tie-dye clothing and smelled a whole lot of "freshly cut grass" at the park, if you catch my drift.

Why is Nhan wearing swim shorts?
Because we're by the river, duh!

We even strolled by famous Voodoo Doughnuts, but Nhan scoffed at the long line that snaked around the block where eager doughnut connoisseurs were hemmed in by velvet ropes. We walked away with only the delicious smell of doughnuts in our nostrils instead of actual doughnuts in our bellies. I masked my disappointment with, "Yeah, no one needs a doughnut for dinner." But secretly, I did! Maybe that's why there's a restaurant here that only serves salad as the main course-- so you can reward yourself with a doughnut!

Sunday morning, we headed over to St. Mary's Catholic Academy, the location of the ride sponsor and start line. Nhan and I wondered aloud why a Catholic school would hold a major event on a Sunday morning, and if any devout Catholics were skipping mass to ride their bikes instead. For us, the warm sun, open sky, and balmy winds would be our cathedral today. After grabbing some breakfast sandwiches and coffee for sustenance, we were eager to ride!


My race bib turned out to be a fortuitous number (or rather a three-two-itous number). Bad puns aside, each rider also picked up a complimentary bag of Oregon-grown, dried bing cherries. 

Nhan had a chance to try out his new twin water bottle rack that mounts at the back of his saddle. I told him those bright yellow bottles looked like missiles that he could launch from the back of his bike. He carried more water than a camel that day, but drank very little of it during the ride. 

So, I have to set the story straight about the puking incident. It really was my own fault. Unlike well-organized Cascade Bike Club events, this ride route was not clearly marked. At the start, we cruised through downtown streets, but then hit a critical highway junction with no markers. I had called out to Nhan several times to overtake me and lead since he studied the ride route beforehand, but I don't think he heard me over the traffic noise. I headed up the straightway because I saw another rider positioned there as well. It soon became clear that this hill was fast becoming a sustained 2-mile long, 8% grade climb. The air heated up fast as the morning chill burned off in a cloudless sky. I realized that I had way more coffee in my belly than water. Why is it so hot, why am I so dizzy, can the whole city below hear me breathing right now? 

I toiled up that endless hill, shifting into my low gears to maintain my cadence so that I could just get up. Having to walk up a hill in the first 5-miles of a ride would be the ultimate shame, and I wasn't about to let that happen. Nhan had already bypassed me, with his freakishly-huge calves and his two water bottle missiles, frequently looking back to make sure I was still climbing. He stopped ahead on the shoulder to wait for me, and through the dizzying climb I could see his bright-blue jacket growing into a bigger and bigger speck in my line of sight. We were only halfway up that hill, so when he asked me if I wanted to stop for a break as I cranked slowly and arduously past him, I foolishly declined out of some ill-advised notion that it was better to continue my momentum than to start again in the middle of a hill-- and so I pushed on until we finally crested that killer hill. And then this happened.......

You'll notice that Nhan was quick to pull out his camera and snap pics of me puking my guts out before rendering any aid. It's not every day you get a chance to photograph someone hunched over a highway guardrail heaving up their coffee and breakfast! See his incriminating shadow hovering over me?

I felt far too sick to swat him away even when he took video afterward. But once I stopped heaving and had a chance to blow my nose, we were enraptured by this vista of snow-capped Mt. Hood in the distance. Suddenly, that nasty hill was totally worth the payoff in panoramic views at the top!

Why do we road bike?

Nhan threw out this crazy idea in 2013, "Yo Dilio, we should sign up for STP!" 

As in the Seattle to Portland Bike Classic, an annual 200+ mile bike ride between the two cities that takes place every July. Up until then, we had only casually rolled along the Burke-Gilman and Sammamish River Trails, biking less than 20 miles on any given day, on dinosaur old bikes we reclaimed from the dark and dusty depths of the garage. Neither of us were road bikers, knew much about the sport, nor had any idea exactly what we were getting into. We had less than 6 months to train! But we knew how to pedal and had a knack for finding fun, and that was somehow enough to get us started... 

I used to be one of those people who snickered at grown men in painfully-tight spandex, and got somewhat annoyed by bikers creating congestion for drivers on the roads. Now Nhan is one of them!

Nhan is the visionary, always coming up with grandiose schemes for fun and adventure. An idea seizes him, and it's an all-consuming obsession until we make it happen. He enlisted me because I'm always game, I can flesh out the idea, offer a practical component, figure out all the logistics, and bring it to fruition. Within a few weeks, I signed us up as Cascade Bicycle Club members, registered for the event, each procured road bikes and gear (spandex outfits notwithstanding), and started training together like the amateurs we were.

Look at these confident kids at the start of STP in July 2013! There are 10,000 riders in this event, from every part of the Pacific NW and beyond. Sitting in a sea of bikes!

Nhan expressively happy at our first food stop.

Nhan caught so much crap for this sexy leg pose. Like a human billboard for Gregg's Cycle!

Rolling along some scenic by-ways

We need to coordinate our outfits better, or not

Posing with the famous chicken of Winlock

Showcasing our official STP Finishers' Badges!

The short answer for why we road bike is because it is life-affirming in so many ways (and we rock the spandex look). The long answer is for all the reasons Nhan mentioned in his first post. Once we started, we never regretted it, and we never looked back (except to make sure our fellow biker kept up).