Zimbabwian bicycle built for...me!

The Singing Cyclist with his Christmas gift for me. It is a handmade bicycle model from Zimbabwe, made with local materials. Very cleverly executed. He bought it at ZimFest, a celebration of Zimbabwean music where he and the band of children he plays with, Shumba, perform their Marimba magic.
Here's a close-up.

Keep it handmade,

CurioRando

Our Bums on the Saddles in India?!

One of the delights of my life is the opportunity to visit India. Our next trip, coming very soon, will be my third, and this time we are planning to cycle the streets of this fascinating country peopled with truly wonderful and generous folk.

But wait, there's more. We are traveling to Bangalore just as they are kicking off their first ever randonneuring brevet, or organized, long distance, unsupported ride. Not only that, but we are visiting DartreDame's parents (SingingCyclist's grandparents), and one of their neighbors who lives in their small apartment building is an original Bangalore randonneur.

Imagine the odds: there are over a billion Indians, and just over 100 of those billion participated in their first ever Bangalore brevet, and of those 100 one is a friend of my mother-in-law and father-in-law!

So yes, we plan to cycle, and we plan to visit with a few randonneurs. Another Bangalore randonneur I came upon via twitter is the blogger responsible for the Bums on the Saddle blog. Rohan apparently is the owner of a bike shop in Bangalore, and he is quite the proponent of cycling in Bangalore, and near as I can tell one of the organizers of the randonneuring community in Bangalore.

Check out his blog and you'll discover links to Bangalore Brevets Facebook pages, details on the Bangalore brevets, plans to participate in Paris Brest Paris for the first time like me, and much more. Most of all, you'll be charmed I'm sure by the enthusiasm they exhibit for their newly discovered sport of randonneuring. This spirit of enthusiasm and appreciation for the best of Life is precisely one of the aspects I treasure about my visits to India. If you'll permit me a generalization, I must say that this unselfconcious exuberance for Life is characteristic of India and Indians. One need look no farther than the the unbelievable castles, the heart-stoppingly beautiful clothing, the powerful and evocative fragrances of incense, the incomparably delicious and diverse cuisine, and iconically, the Taj Majal itself, one of the world's true wonders.

But of course, the best example of Indian beauties--Taj Majal included and that is saying something!--is Indian women. Exhibits A and B: DartreDame and her mother!

Can you tell I'm excited?

And what of the cycling there? I must admit I'm a little nervous because there are so many cars and autorickshaws and motorscooters that it is a bit intimidating. I've learned though that the bicycle rides begin early in the morning when it is pretty quiet, so one gets out of town before the craziness. That makes sense, and from another link I can't find now the quiet morning streets are a treasure of their own.

The only bummer is that we are missing the actual brevets by mere days. The launch (not ACP-sponsored) was on December 5 and the first official brevet, the 200k MG Road, Bangalore - Mandya - MG Road, Bangalore Brevet, will be on January 15, after we depart.

But if all goes well for me this year and all goes well for the Bangalore randonneurs, we will all rendezvous at our very first Paris Brest Paris come August!

Oh, and for examples of the stunning Indian garb I mentioned check out this link to my previous post. And, for street scenes of working bicyclists, see this previous post.


Keep it enthused!

CurioRando

Gotta Love Pittsburghers!

Why love Pittsburghers? For starters, I'm one. Or was one, but moved away, but still am in my heart.

For a good look into one of the things I like about Pittsburghers--that they don't take themselves so seriously--check out Ed's Pittsburgh/Beaver County Bicycling Page. The graphic at the top of this post was taken from Ed's page.

But navigate around and you'll see what I mean about Ed's style.

And I love his pics and cartoons. He's even got a photo of the Cyclo-Mower, like the one I posted about. The picture I love best though is the guy toting his deer on his back as he rides his bike. I hunted deer in Pennsylvania (who doesn't there?), and I can just see my buddy Bob doing that. If that's what it takes, why not?

Keep it not too serious,

CurioRando

Fall City, Granite Falls, Falling in Love with Fall, Part 1

Fall is my favorite season. The leaves, the smell of salmon carcasses, ripe manure, spawning, briskness, clarity.

Until Winter. Then I'm a prisoner of snow, the smell of smoke from a woodstove, getting cozy, hot drinks.

Then Spring.... You get the idea. My stepson, the SingingCyclist, often asks which I like better: this or that. I'm just not a this or that guy. I love them all!

So right now, I'm infatuated with Fall. What follows is a two-part album of Fall pictures from my weekend Permanent: the SIR #0850 UW-Granite Falls-Fall City Permanent.



A barn I happened upon.




And the horses that called this barn home.





See ya next time, pals.



Above is a sign by local police calling out why the liquor privatization initiatives in Washington State (I-1100 & I-1105) are bad news. They will cut local law enforcement by stripping millions in revenues from local communities even while they increase access to hard liquor from 315 outlets to over 3300. Bad news, indeed.

UPDATE: Initiatives 1100 and 1105 did fail. For randos, that means that in Washington State, car drivers can't buy hard liquor at a convenience store until 2am and drive on down the road after the bars close and we're out there with our faithful blinkies in the dark. A small but real consolation. Hard liquor can still be bought in State Stores that close much earlier and do a proven much better job at not selling alcohol to minors. For full disclosure, I worked hard in my day job to help defeat these initiatives. Yippee, we won!

Now that is not to say this randonneur doesn't like his post-brevet drink. Deed I do! A little Scotch can be just right!

Not everyone agrees with the way I look at things though, and this ring-nosed bull got a little irritated as I focused in on him.

Here, he's pawing the ground and feigning coming toward me.

But I backed him down with my heart forward approach, and we became friends.

Like many Fall days, this day had many moods. Here is my bicycle just after crossing the Skykomish River near Monroe. The Sun was out, the sky had blue patches, and my bicycle fairly shone. But that was just one moment.

In Part 2, we'll discern this coming Winter's weather with the help of one of our critter pals, and we'll also see whether another critter pal is in contention for a world record.

Keep it Falling,

CurioRando

Heart Forward Bicycling




This photo is from the Yoga Flavored Life blog.

My Physical Therapist has helped me a great deal on this randonneuring journey of mine. As I have pushed my body, mind and spirit farther and wider than anticipated, I have found that physical therapy has helped me learn about my body, mind and spirit. I am way more tuned in than before. Even my daily posture has improved! Well, sometimes.

I've got all kinds of exercises she's recommended for this or that ailment: Achilles, shins, back, knees, neck, other assorted body joints and parts.

But one piece of advice I really like and that applies every time I saddle up is the heart forward suggestion. It isn't a pose like the one above exactly, though that pic captures the feeling. The idea is that when I mount the bicycle I am to lower my torso toward the top tube further than I will when riding in the drops. Then gradually ease up into the riding position instead of starting up and coming down into it. And, importantly, I am to embody a heart forward posture of peeling my heart away from my backbone. It is a gentler alternative to arching my back, and I find myself relaxing into heart forward, not pushing into it.

It's also good later in the ride, when I might be tensed up, shoulders up to my ears and such. By adopting heart forward in my mind, spirit, body, I loosen up.

And most of all, if my neck is sore and I adopt a heart forward posture, my neck pain disipates. I can be down in the drops and pained in my neck if I'm not heart forward, and voila!: with heart forward my neck is all good. Try it.

Looking down the road from a dropped position with my heart forward doesn't strain my neck. Looking down the road from that same dropped position but with a sunken back does strain my neck. I'm repeatedly amazed at how well heart forward works, but it does.

And you knew this was coming: I love the way the two words capture the journey I'm about to begin as I saddle up: heart forward!


Keep it forward,

CurioRando

Boy, Could I have used Cyclo-Mower!

Growing up, one of my chores was cutting the grass, and we had a big yard. I mostly used a push mower because even then I eschewed power tools when possible. My older brother had already got me leaning in that direction as we had every issue (from literally Volume 1, Number 1) of the Mother Earth News.

Also, we didn't have our own mower, and I hated the feeling that the power mower that we borrowed was going to break down on me because well...it usually did. Truth is I eschewed power tools out of both my Mother Earthiness and my Power Tool Phobia.

When I spied this custom cycle just out of Walla Walla, I just had to capture it. It would have made grass cutting so much fun! Well, sort of.

I would have stopped to see whether I could buy this sucker, but Dartre wasn't thrilled as it was with my stopping to capture it photographically. Maybe if I plied her with Mother Earth News for a few years she'd make the connection?


Keep it sharpened!

CurioRando

Now That's a Thoughtful Cycling Partner!

No, this dashing woman isn't my cycling partner, though she looks like she'd be a fun one, yes?

DartreDame, my wife, left me a lovely voicemail this past week that I listened to after I rolled out of bed pretty late. I've been dueling with this sinus infection, and feeling kind of poorly. The message said to check out the middle of the NY Times main section for a story about a bike race in Italy: the Eroica.

As you can read for yourself, the Eroica is an annual ride of stunning vintage bicycles on beautiful Italian lanes. Folks dress in period attire, and eat and drink their way across another space and time with one leg still in our space and time.

What a fabulous idea!

To top it off, Dartre suggested that one day, perhaps on our Italian honeymoon, we too could go and watch...or participate. Bravissimo!! Dartre is one thoughtful cycling partner!!! I guess that front handlebar bag must have really been a hit!

Maybe there is hope of my finagling a vintage high wheeler for my 60th birthday, though our Italy trip will be long before that, Dartre I promise. But let's see, would Dartre look better in a flapper era skirt or a Victorian dress? And, I've always wanted to wear one of those dapper....

In case you go and you'd like a primer on Italian language--hand language that is, the language that counts in Italy--then check out this video of common Italian gestures . Mom, this video contains bad words so I wouldn't go there!

Just thinking about Italy reminds me of the family that owned the little general store and bakery next door to the house where I grew up. Jim and Lena's store at Pierce's corner. Jimmy was from Macedonia I believe. Lena was Italian, and oh how our house lit up when she came over. Loud, and expressive, and fun!



The current Jim and Lena's Market at 417 Wall Avenue in Pitcairn, PA is operated by their son, Dennis. A little older than I, Dennis would cream me on the football field, which is to say our back yard.



That little blue squiggle joining Turtle Creek is Dirty Camp Run, the crick we all grew up in and around. I posted earlier about Dirty Camp Run in a post titled: Prolonged sex, lightning bugs, crick fishing, and...oh yeah, randonneuring.

But we had to keep quiet some summer days because Jimmy would sleep in a hammock out behind the crick since he stayed up all night baking his glorious yummies.

So, imagine loud and expressive and fun on vintage bicycles in heartbreakingly beautiful settings with good Italian food and drink. Heaven on earth. Let's go, Dartre (after France of course). Salud!!

Keep it high and old,

CurioRando

I just discovered Cycling Podcasts

I got a new phone, which meant I got apps, which meant I got podcasts, which naturally meant I got into the cycling podcasts. The first podcast I found, on T-Chatter shown above, was a podcast featuring Jan Heine on what makes a comfortable bicycle. If you follow Jan's work, there isn't anything startlingly new, but it is good to hear his voice rather than just reading. He also describes some of his tire inflation recommendations more fully. I highly recommend it. And don't forget my interviews with Jan, if you haven't read those transcripts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.

Georgena Terry, the host of T-Chatter, is a knowledgeable cyclist and good interviewer. She also hints that she will do another future podcast on Jan's concept of planing, which has been an elusive idea for many. I look forward to that one!

Next, I found FredCast, hosted by David Bernstein, pictured blurrily below.

FredCasts are wide ranging, but all about cycling. And if you haven't been following FredCasts yet, good for you! You have at least 167 episodes to catch up on before you become current! Lots of cycling talk.

I am now a big podcast fan. Earlier, I was wondering: what's the bid deal with podcasts? I have always liked stories, listening to stories, and hearing inflections and nuances that you just don't get in the written word.

Check them out. And if you find some you think are particularly good, please don't bogart that podcast. Pass it along!


Keep it alive,

CurioRando

Handlebar Bag...without a front rack

Dartre's ride with her new Gilles Berthoud handlebar bag.

Dartre's birthday came rolling around so I crafted a way for her to carry more when we go out riding. No, just kidding. I did get her this new Gilles Berthoud Model 192 bag, but I used it as camouflage to be the box for a little something that I knew she'd really like for her birthday.

Nonetheless, the GB bag was also a hit. And why not? Check this out.

If you'd like a place to put your cue sheet, but don't have a front rack on your carbon fork, then here you go. Additionally, if you'd like to carry a few light items up front, have a zippered pocket, and a bag you can easily remove and carry like a purse with its strap, then this is it.

It uses the Gilles Berthoud Klick Fix mounting system so the bag swings off very easily yet is most securely fastened when mounted.

For a more thorough review, check out this description from the Rene Herse Bicycles website (you'll have to scroll down the page). I don't like promoting commercial items, but here I make an exception. If you want that handlebar bag with all its advantages but aren't ready for a full on conversion to a front loaded bicycle, then this might suit you just fine.

 For other posts about handlebar bags, check out:

• a handlbar bag stiffener
• a cool handlebar bag
• my racks being custom built by Tony Pereira
• the Ostrich bags mounted on my fixie.

  

Keep it up front,

CurioRando



My Quest for the 600k: I get by with a little help from my friends!

You don't know about me, without you have read a blog post by the name of My Quest for the 600k: DNF, but that ain't no matter. That post was made by CurioRando, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied, one time or another...

OK, I just stole from Mark Twain there as he begins Huckleberry Finn and asks his reader to check in first with The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I remember reading Tom Sawyer and just soaking up all that adventuring and adventuresome spirit. It may be, in fact, Tom's and Huck's fault that I've become a rando. Every brevet departure after all is just another excuse for adventure-seeking around 200k, 300k, 400k or 600k worth of corners.

But what I'm really trying to say here is that to understand this post about my first successful bid for a 600k medal and therefore a Super Randonneur medal, I implore you, dear reader, to check out my previous post about my unsuccessful attempt.


The other thing to understand about me is that I live in a beautiful part of our world, the great Northwest corner of the United States. Rain forest, Puget Sound, famous Steelhead Trout streams, Mt. Rainier, Mt. Saint Helens, Salmon, Seattle.... I count myself very privileged to live where I do.

But I am a mossback. I miss the Sun; I miss the sandy beaches, and oh when I landed at the San Jose Norm Mineta Airport for the Surf City 600k hosted by the Santa Cruz Randonnuers, did it feel good! It was 94 degrees Fahrenheit that Friday and as the Sun soaked into my tender Northwest skin the world was looking brighter already.

I had struggled with intestinal flu the week leading up to the brevet and had to take two sick days. I hadn't been very upbeat about this 600k because I didn't feel at all like I was starting with all my tanks full up. Nonetheless, I was determined, and when my motel room wasn't yet ready I walked the two blocks to the beach and ripped off my shoes, socks and shirt and frolicked in the waves with everybody else: lovers, junior high boys and girls from out of town coming for a track meet, couples with young toddlers, seniors...and lots of sea lions.

After my little romp I went back to the motel and put my bike back together since I had to pack it for the flight down. All was good with the bike and a little ride around the neighborhood confirmed she was ready. I, however, still didn't feel 100%, and the choice of a cheaper motel room led to a really poor night's sleep. Lesson logged.

By next morning, the pre-brevet excitement had set in, and I was the second to arrive at the start. Bill Bryant, Brevet Organizer and randonneuring godfather pictured below, greeted us riders. I have this picture because a thoughtful fellow rando, Joe, offered to take a photo of Bill and me together. I didn't know it then, but I would get to know Joe over the next day or so. This was a hint at Joe's thoughtfulness and generosity to come.

The Sun came up as we headed North from our start at the Lighthouse and Surfing Museum in Santa Cruz. I found myself in the company of Joe and Doug. Both Joe and Doug were Googlers, they said, meaning they worked at Google. They are planning a trip to Florida for the 1000k there in October so they were riding together, and I kind of tagged along.

Some of the time I felt their cruising speed was a little too fast for me, but I hung on whether they were eager for my company or not, and eventually we became a trio. Soon, after reaching the Northernmost point at Moss Beach we headed into the hills, Redwoods, and heat.

Skylonda was at the top of one of the tough climbs, and what a wild place it is. A bikers' oasis. Both motorcycles and bicycles. There seemed to be three crowds: grizzled Harley riders, sleek Japanese racebike riders (many of them extremely dangerous in their riding style whipping downhill at ungodly speeds), and us cyclists. But I'm talking by the dozens in each camp.

Below is a photo of Doug, Joe's pal, as we entered the Redwood country.



Here, in one of the shadier patches, Joe leads Doug and me up a climb. Looking at the photo I can almost smell the heated wood and the dry but salty air.



After a while we headed back into Santa Cruz along the coast again, and said goodbye to daylight and the ocean as we headed for the Salinas Valley. Throughout all this time Joe and Doug were very helpful in describing what we were about to get into, the terrain, the weather--all very welcoming to this stranger from up North.




As you can read from Joe's jersey, he had a great deal of experience in California long distance cycling.

Through the night, I picked up a few tips about night riding. Joe advocated caffeine tablets bit in half, chewed slightly, and then tucked under the tongue. I found this way superior to taking whole tablets, and I think I ended up taking five half tablets altogether. For a while, Doug suffered with staying awake, and we all seemed to take turns as to who felt worst at any given time.

We also discovered to our dismay, that the kilometers didn't roll along as we'd hoped after what we thought was the worst of the climbing. We figured, wrongly, that after we slew the hill country in the North that we'd churn up the kilometers and we fairly fantasized about where and when and for how long we'd sleep.

Bill Bryant had been very clear in his pre-ride report that it was crucial to leave the Southern end of the Salinas Valley early in the morning so we could return back toward Santa Cruz without fighting the dreaded, infamous and unfortunately highly predicable Northwest winds. These winds come off the shore and hustle down the Salinas Valley like clockwork: between 10am and Midnight, every day. Doug explained that the Salinas Valley is perfectly aligned along a Northwest-Southeast axis and forms the perfect wind tunnel effect.

So, now in the dead of the night (though with a fabulous full moon), we re-calculated and discovered that we really had little to no time for sleep if we were going to head Northwest back to Santa Cruz before the winds started to howl. Hmmm.

At his point, Joe also did an additional mental calculation. He knew he'd be doing the very, very flat Florida 1000k in three weeks and he also knew he doesn't do well without sleep. The conclusion he reached--and not in the brain and body-fatigued way in which I had DNF'd in my previous attempt--that he was better off marshaling his resources for the 1000k. And so he announced to Doug and me that at the turnaround controle in San Ardo, he would stop.

Now this unnerved me. Joe had become the veteran--he regaled Doug and me in many a PBP tale--the guy I was looking to help us make it through. If Joe wasn't going to finish, what did it say about my chances. Ugh. Rumblings of my previous DNF started to roll through my psyche.

And then the Sun came up, and things took on a new cast. We rolled into the San Ardo controle, and it looked like a war zone. Other randos were sitting on chairs...how do I say this?...in various forms of stupors. Some had given up keeping their eyes open and another had opened eyes, but clearing nobody was home. Wow!

I immediately started to pepper Bill Bryant with questions. For the uninitiated, I was downplaying it when I referred to Bill as a randonneuring godfather. He first went to PBP in 1983. He is past president of Randonneurs USA, and was one of the founding members. And what I found most of all, was that Bill was patient, abiding, and a rock.

He met each of my panicked questions with the assurance of having been there before. He didn't shrink from once again noting the power of those Northwest winds, but he didn't get all freakazoid about it. But because he saw those winds as a force to be reckoned with even in his understated way, I listened. I also met Lois Springsteen, our current RUSA president there. She had started the brevet as a rider but was not well when she started and came to think better of staying with it. So, she too was a volunteer at that war zone of a controle.

As an aside, Lois and Bill are married and when I deposited my drop bag at their house the night before the brevet began I spied their truck with California license plates that said: "RUSA 7 (heart) 8". Bill is RUSA member #7 and Lois is RUSA member #8. Very sweet.

What I finally came to terms with was the fact that I was not going to sleep until I was done, and that making it was very far from certain. I also learned we weren't bringing up the back of the pack as I had assumed. Others came in after we did. So what did I do?

Well, Joe graciously offered Doug and me any goodies we wanted out of his drop bag. I raided it like a pirate, and swiped all his Shot Bloks. In answering one of my barrage of questions, Bill suggested ingesting as many calories as possible as a finishing strategy. Joe's $20 worth of Shot Bloks equaled calories, so I grabbed them like a madman.

I also ate the best Cup Noodles in the history of the planet (prepared by Bill), changed into clean shorts and jersey, and re-lubricated my Southern parts for the Northbound push. Doug and I said goodbye to our riding partner thus far, Joe, and off we went.




Doug in the morning.

The great and surprising part was that the wind wasn't blowing yet. Doug and I fairly scooted Northward for a while. And then it got really hot, and the wind truly lived up to its reputation. Dammit. Doug and I thought we had beat it.

The Salinas Valley is agriculture. Fields, and more fields. Beautiful, but super windy when it's windy.

And now, the moment of truth. Doug and I tried drafting off one another, but we ended up going too fast and burned out quickly. We never seemed to make a dent in the remaining kilometers to go; we just grew hotter and more tired and more disspirited.

Struggling, we happened upon two riders, Bob and Steve, sitting under the shade of a tree. They hailed us and asked if we wanted to form up into a group. Even in that shade, it was just plain hot. Eventually, we got up and tried that pacelining. Then two more randos fell in, and we had a train. But try as Bob might, and he was very skilled and generous in trying to keep the tempo down to match Doug's and my abilities at that moment, it just burned us out. Thanks, Bob, for all your generosity of spirit trying to keep us hanging in there!

Bob recognized what I didn't--that Doug needed to cool down, just physically cool down--and he recommended going up to a winery building seeking out a hose. At this point Doug didn't seem to hear much about cooling down, but talked more of quitting and calling his wife to pick him up. Our little peleton started to ride away without Doug, and I balked. Should I hang with Doug, hunt down a hose (which frankly seemed like more work than it was worth--a sure indication of my own heat struggle) or grab onto the biker train that was pulling away.

Doug, at this point all I can say is I'm sorry I didn't stay with you. The trigger for me was your saying you were calling your wife. Given my experience in my previous 600k attempt, I felt that meant only one thing: that you were done. So I got on my bike and jumped on that rando train through the wind. I'm sorry I didn't hang a little longer to check in with you in a bit more civilized fashion. I felt like if I didn't keep going I'd poop out, but I should have stopped, taken stock with you, and then figured out the right next steps.

Well, looks can indeed by deceiving. Not only did Doug rally and cruise past me as I was shoving ice cream down my throat at a gas station down the road, but Doug finished well ahead of me. And those Zombie-like randos at the controle also all made it in, I believe. In Doug's case, he found a sprinkler, cooled down and rode like a man possessed, near as I can tell. And like me, this was Doug's first 600k. Congrats to you, Doug!

Back on the rando train, I quickly found I just couldn't hang on despite their trying to keep it moderate for me. So I bailed. But I also brought in my secret weapon, the very one I was saving for just such a windy circumstance. I put on headphones and turned on Dartre's iPod and listened to the rando playlist that my stepson, the Singing Cyclist, put together for me. Whether it was Lucinda Williams drawling "Everything is Wrong" or Joss Stone grabbing the blues I was transported. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I was determined this time that no matter what, I was not going to quit until it was physically impossible for any rider, not just me, to make it in on time. I would suffer the wind, I would drive into it, I would crawl if I had to, but I was not quitting, and the music somehow made that possible.

And so I pushed forward. Pretty soon I came upon a couple of other paceline refugees, but I didn't really care at that point if I rode with them or not. I wiped away my tears so they wouldn't see them and just pushed. They rode along behind, and together we rolled into the penultimate controle and the end of the Northwesterly howling wind, with just 40 miles of uncertain conditions left to go.

After this controle (this is the controle, both inbound and outbound, where I discovered hard boiled eggs, string cheese, yogurt and apples as convenience store alternative energy "real food") we three--Marti, yet another rando named Steve and I--formed a new posse and I realized as the wind finally diminished that finishing was a very real possibility. In fact, we even had tailwinds as we skirted around Monterrey Bay, as Bill said we might. It was also Marti's first 600k though he seemed strong as an ox riding home. Congrats to you, Marti!

When we got to the finish at Bill and Lois' house, I was elated. I had made it, and I knew it was because a great many folks helped me through. I simply could not have done it without each and every one. The ride was remarkably well organized with SAG support almost the entire time. Thank you to Bill and Lois and all the encouraging volunteers, and all the riders who helped in a variety of ways! I am indebted to each and all.

Steve's wild "perpetual motion cycle". He didn't have this hooked up for the brevet, but he stores the energy from a descent to assist him in the following climb with this wheel-within-a-wheel device. He pledged to send me a description, and when he does it gets its own post.

Marti, my other finish companion, rode in on a bamboo Calfee.

I also learned that 14 of the 35 starters didn't finish so we lost 40%. I got a great congratulatory note from a veteran of that route who though he finished this one remarked how challenging the weather was this time. To all who didn't finish, I can honestly say I now know something about what that feels like. Every experience is different, but I certainly get how low it can feel. Thanks for being out there. As you well know, there are plenty of new opportunities down the road.



Here I am on the second morning captured by one of our dedicated SAG drivers.



So what did I learn?

Here's a few lessons from this 600k newbie:

• 
  
  Getting mad can work.
• 
  
  Eating is crucial, and the growly stomach that is overwrought due to heat is different from the hungry growly stomach.
• 
  
  I can do 600k without sleep if I must.
• 
  
  There are a few "real food" alternatives at convenience stores.
• 
  
  Don't just keep adding powdered Perpetuem to a slush of old Perpetuem; after a day or so you are creating a sour stew. Start over with clean water and new powder.
• 
  
  Navigating at night is tricky; be patient, and check your assumptions. Then check them again.
• 
  
  Pay attention to the pre-ride report: wind probably means wind.
• 
  
  Don't linger at controles. Thought I'd learned this one, but I do better, then slip again.
• 
  
  Listen to your body. Trust it; trust yourself. I felt a back pain coming on hard, adjusted my saddle and fixed it!
• 
  
  Starting a brevet with less than optimum health/sleep can be OK if I'm strong in a long-term way.
• 
  
  It's so much a mental, spiritual endeavor once the physical capacity is there.
• 
  
  When to hang with others, when to part ways is still a tricky call. Panic probably indicates it's time to take stock. Each case is different, but respect for others, respect for self are keys.
• 
  
  Once I've done any distance, it no longer feels impossible. There must be a lesson embedded there for the distances as yet untried.
• 
  
  Music, as always, is transformative.
• 
  
  Huck and Tom were right. One couldn't have better role models.

I did it!!! My first 600k and first Super Randonneur. I am one happy randonneur. Now, which way to the Beach?

Oops, I forgot. As I was taking my bike bag and luggage out of our truck after Dartre picked me up at the Seattle airport, guess who wheels by our house? Our neighbor, Dylan, had just finished his Permanent, and I congratulated him as he congratulated me. Dylan did the SIR 600k much earlier. With Dartre and Dylan, we may have the highest per capita randonneurs per block in the country!



Dylan on his 200k finish as we arrived home.


Keep it going, no matter what,

CurioRando