Our Almost Epic 2018 Seattle to Portland STP Bicycle Classic – Part Two

My husband was poised to celebrate his 60th birthday by riding in the Seattle to Portland (STP) Bicycle Classic. To recap part one of this adventure: Dan had not cycled for forty years; past rides were under one-hundred miles; he had never participated in any events; he was unfamiliar with the full STP route; he was riding an untested and recently purchased vintage Italian Masi; he fell pitifully short in his road training goals; and he had been sick for over a week.

We pick up the story at three in the morning, on the day of the ride, in a stuffy, noisy dormitory room at the University of Washington, which we had eagerly booked, with the optimistic belief that a dorm would be fun since we hadn’t attended college together. We survived the four hours in the room (that’s a positive), and after a few hours of rest, not sleep, the wake-up alarm rang.

As a skilled rock climber, Dan doesn’t shrink from endurance events, and he certainly doesn’t stop when he can safely keep going. He knows how to tune out internal negative chatter—skills he refined while scaling Yosemite’s El Capitan and dozens of other big walls in the scorching California heat. And as a licensed acupuncturist, he had been trained to realistically assess and monitor his physical capacity and symptoms.

“I’m not 100 percent, but I’m going”, he said. Nonetheless, for both insurance and encouragement, we decided that I would stay close by, driving a route that primarily avoided the course but intersected at predetermined locations.

DAY ONE:
The starting gate at the University of Washington: Mile 0 – 4:30 a.m.

In 2018, the STP limited the event to 10,000 participants, who are sent out in waves, several minutes apart. The STP is not a competition, but a personal best, and the one-day riders leave first. Dan decided to catch the first wave, anticipating that he could arrive in Portland that night.

At 4:00 a.m., the temperature was blissful, reminding Dan of predawn climbs in California. His plan to layer up wasn’t necessary, since he was plenty warm already, which meant that our first rendezvous point wasn’t needed. However, he planned to stop anyway to offload his heavy headlamp.

We said goodbye in the dormitory parking lot, Dan pedaled off to the starting gate, I went into pit-crew mode, and immediately drove to the first stop. We had both lived in Seattle for many years, and I could have driven the city streets blindfolded, but good thing I was on full alert. I saw a policeman ahead, at an intersection where the riders would cross my path south of the Montlake Bridge. He flagged me to stop. The only other car on the road approached the scene from the opposite direction, and a bit too fast for my comfort. A group of riders was on my right, and the flashing lights of the police car were on my left. The oncoming vehicle swerved to miss the policeman, and stopped a car length short of my front-end. I prayed that everyone involved with the STP would be kept safe, and thought, this is going to be a long ride.

Driving tip: Because I was so far ahead of the first wave of riders, I felt comfortable traveling on portions of the route. I drove south on Mountlake Blvd, cut through the Arboretum, left on Madison to Lake Washington, headed south on L.W. Blvd and down Rainier Avenue to Renton. Had I been later, I would have taken 23rd Avenue, to Rainier, to MLK Way S, which would avoid the jams on I-5.

The stop near Ikea at Oaksdale Ave. and S.180th St.: Mile 20.4 – 5:45 a.m.
Miles traveled in the first leg: 20.4 at 16.32 mph

Much like Dan, I love a grand adventure, especially a foreign one. I like the unknown, thinking on my feet, puzzling through challenges. I waited for Dan at a highly visible convenience store, where there was ample room for him to stop. I joined a cluster of onlookers and was excited to talk with any folks who had experience with the STP, or any similar events. A woman of my generation was happy to provide input. She had come to cheer on her son, who was cycling alone. Generally, they would STP together, but she was torn between pedaling 205 miles in the heat or preparing for her daughter’s wedding that Sunday. Good call, mom.

As the bicycles whizzed past she said, “Look at all those Mamils. That’s what I call them—Middle Aged Men in Lycra.”

I was new to the cycling community, and was I happy to find some humor within my first hour on the job!

Dan’s red Masi stood out in the distance. Would he be too sick to continue? Was his untested bike cooperating? I expected that he would stop to hand me his headlight, even if all his systems were operating smoothly; but instead, he slowed, smiled, and gleefully said, “I’m going to make this next traffic light.”

He no doubt wanted to improve his overall time, but there was something deeper going on with him—he was having fun! By my estimation, he was comfortable on his Masi, feeling energetic, and eager to discover how many miles he could ride. His optimistic spirit of adventure reminded me of Mickey Mouse. But in Mickey’s storyline (at least in my silly fantasy version), he enters the STP unintentionally. Mickey begins his day at 4:30 a.m., peddling down a country road, and upon the next turn, he finds himself in a long-distance cycling event. Delighted with the challenge, he sets his mind to the journey ahead and draws upon his unique recipe for success, which is equal parts fortitude, faith, and luck. Mickey and his childlike spirit follow along with a pack of riders. He might finish the event or take a detour—finding himself in a cattle stampede with a group of cartoon cowboys. But either outcome is copacetic with Mickey since he has already won, simply because he is captivated by each moment and having fun!

But the 2018 STP wasn’t destined to be a lighthearted cartoon, as my sweet, optimistic Dan would soon discover. Our next checkpoint was immediately after the infamous Puyallup hill.

Driving tip: The streets in the Kent/Puyallup area have always been confusing to me, but I managed to wiggle around, avoid the course, and not get stuck on one of the many connecting freeways. If you’re planning on driving a support vehicle, and you’re unfamiliar with the area, I suggest you check out the streets before the event.

Stop at Spanaway before JBLM: at 54.2 miles – 8:25 a.m.
Miles traveled in the second leg: 33.8 at 12.68 mph

I parked the car on the side of the road on Military Rd., just before the Joint Base Lewis McCord (JBLM), and waited for Dan. This was a meaningful moment because it was our last place to rendezvous before the military base, which was not accessible to civilian folks just passing through. If I missed him here, I wouldn’t see him for another 33 miles in Tenino.

I stood near my car and cheered on the bicyclists, primarily because they had just completed the first potentially challenging hill in the course. Would Dan stop or whiz on by as he’d done at the Ikea meet-up? This time he stopped, and he rested for 25 minutes while he drank water. Did I mention the heat?

We decided to skip a Yelm meet-up because there are limited roads into and out of town, and I didn’t want to contribute to the traffic congestion. Yelm would have plenty of STP sponsored services for the participants, and he could always call me to pick him up if he decided to bag out early.

Our next rendezvous would be in Tenino, a historic townlet that I adore. If you want to see an old-fashioned railroad museum, a wooden money printing press, a rock quarry turned into a swimming hole, plentiful parks, and play-spaces, and friendly folks, consider visiting Tenino, Washington.

Stop at Tenino: at 87.8 miles – 11:00 a.m.
Miles traveled in the third leg: 33.6 at 15.51 mph

As Dan’s support, I was happy to wait in Tenino, which is an official food stop for the STP; and I was impressed with what I saw. The STP had set up essential services, such as bike repair and medical help. As the bikes whizzed past on the Yelm-Tenino bike trail, live music played, and a voice over the loudspeaker encouraged cyclists to eat the free, homemade cookies fresh from grandma’s kitchen.

I relaxed on the grass, delighted by the many riders dressed in costumes or amusing outfits. A girl in a colorful tutu was followed by a man sporting a whirligig hat, and a boombox strapped behind his seat. Families with children, on tandem bikes, donned matching Star Wars tops. A swarm of bumblebee-themed riders buzzed by and a polar bear inspired group used stuffed bears as handlebar hood ornaments.

Dan arrived, and at first, he didn’t think he’d need to rest for long; however, food has a way of turning five minutes into fifty. The cookies were a hit, and so was the watermelon. The temperature was soaring, and he rested under the trees, sucking down slices of ice-cold fruit. Between bites, he told me about his two near misses. Upon entering JBLM, just after the gate, he took the ninety-degree turn too fast, and his front tire skidded on the gravel. On the Yelm bike path, he was traveling in a tight group and didn’t see a chicken-pot-pie sized, orange bump (intended to slow crossing cars), which he hit square on. Both times he recovered and learned. His Masi was made for criterium racing—stiff with steep angles, not for pump tracks or skidding into military bases.

Dan’s next stop would be 13 miles away, in Centralia the official midway point at the 101.1-mile mark, where a plethora of services would be available to him. The temperature was in the mid-high nineties, but fortunately, Dan wasn’t showing any signs of heat stroke or illness. As with Yelm, traffic was our main concern, and we made a plan to meet after Centralia, in Napavine.

In Centralia, Dan had a massage and turkey sandwich, which he discovered was the protein his body needed. While resting for those sixty minutes, he was able to review the nuances of his adventure so far: his ultra-responsive (some would say twitchy) Masi, the hazards unique to city streets, the packs of tired cyclist, the occasional discourteous or totally novice rider, and the record heat.

Let’s take a moment to reflect back to part one of this almost epic adventure and the fact that we didn’t have enough time to scope out the entire route. Neither of us recalled Napavine—the town or the hills. Did we take a wrong turn during our pre-event reconnaissance? He was about to find out.

Stop at Napavine: at 113.6 miles – 3:00 p.m.
Miles traveled in the fourth leg: 25.8 at 11.91 mph

I drove to Napavine on I-5 to avoid the entire bike route. I knew instantly that we had missed this town because I would have remembered the sweet cluster of buildings surrounding a park named after a beloved townswoman, Mayme Shaddock.

The heat was taking a toll, causing the riders to stop at more of the support stations; and this popular site (hosted by the Napavine Elementary School) offered whole pickles and shots of the salty brine. The park was strewn with bikes, and folks splayed out on the grass. Despite the grueling conditions, the participants were friendly and civil. I didn’t witness one negative encounter. Quite the opposite. One cyclist (an active duty serviceman) noticed that I’d set down my glasses and walked away, and he kindly returned them to me.

I had last seen Dan over two hours earlier, in Tenino, and was slightly concerned that he was far afield, wandering the backroads of Lewis County. When he was able to text, he confirmed that he was still on track and not on a new adventure with Mickey.

When Dan finally arrived, he needed the break. Pedaling over the Napavine hills had exposed his lack of strength combined with the limitations of his ten-speed (five gears on the cluster) Masi. But overall, Dan deemed that the hills themselves were not that challenging, especially for those with lower gears.

Our next meeting place would be Castlerock, to which I would drive via I-5 in 30 minutes, while Dan would pedal past the world’s largest egg in Winlock (see part one), and up the killer Vader hill that we had driven on the day we scoped out the route.

Stop at Castle Rock: at 139.0 miles – 5:30 p.m.
Miles traveled in the fifth leg: 25.4 at 12.7 mph

The bike route runs outside of downtown Castle Rock, so I used my free time to explore the core of this quaint town, including buildings painted with murals that depict the area’s history. One locally owned shop, The Vault, offered both coffee and books, new and used. I reluctantly extracted myself from the shop’s comfy couch and crossed town to intersect with the STP.

At 5:30 p.m., a bedraggled Dan rode into the high school yard, and I asked him about the infamous hill in Vader. He had psyched himself up for Vader, but toward the top, he listened to his body and walked his bike to the crest. Even in his depleted, overheated state, he seriously considered getting back on his bike. But at his present speed, he didn’t think he could complete the remaining sixty-five miles before the STP gate closed at 9:00 p.m. Decision time!

“I could go on,” he said, “but I’d risk hurting myself.” His upper and lower back were slightly sore, but his biggest concern was his upper respiratory cold. Could his body handle cycling tomorrow? As we sat upon the grass at the high school, contemplating his options, he said, “I want an enjoyable experience the whole way, and I’ve reached my maximum capacity today.” If he was experiencing a let down from missing the goal by a slim margin, it was secondary to the accomplishments of the day. He had pedaled 139 miles in thirteen hours, which included long breaks to recover from the ninety degree plus temperatures!

Next decision: find a place nearby to sleep or drive forty miles to our cushy bed? Had we done more research, we would have taken advantage of the STP’s accommodations at the high school. Dan opted to go home for the night. He ate a sizable salmon dinner, and we treated his legs and back with acupuncture, a cold laser, and massage.

He looked over his bike and realized that the seat had slid backward, which was likely responsible for some tension in his Achilles’ tendons. His upper back pain was partly due to having not shortened the stem length (horizontal reach), and partly from being out of shape. He adjusted the seat, but if he continued his ride, he would have to endure a second day of bending beyond the ideal angle.

In the morning, he would assess the prospects of finishing the journey.

DAY TWO:

After a long sleep, he was feeling better than anticipated. The temperature outside was climbing fast, and I popped his two water bottles into the freezer while we loaded the car. Fortunately, as we pulled out of the driveway, he realized that he hadn’t packed his cycling shoes. However, I had completely forgotten about the water bottles, and we carried only one tiny spare in the car.

I dropped off Dan in Castle Rock, where he started his ride at 10:30 a.m. He had not changed his mind about walking his bike over the Lewis and Clark bridge (see Part One), and we planned to meet up near the approach so that I could give him his running shoes. In the meantime, I began searching for bike-specific water bottles. The STP had none to offer, neither did the only bike shop that was open, and my only option was Walmart in Longview. Unfortunately, the store was on the bike route, and I struggled to negotiate the traffic and avoid the riders. However, the store had bottles manufactured in the USA, and I completed my mission quickly.

With full containers, I hurried to the bridge (mile 154.5), only to find three lanes of cars, coming from different directions, all converging on that one bridge to Oregon! There must have been hundreds waiting their turn. We had forgotten about Saturday traffic going to the beach! There was no place to park and wait, and the weekend traffic moved so slowly that my wait in line could be hours. By grace, a kind driver waved, allowing me to cut in front of him. Miraculously, I could see the riders as they queued up to be escorted over the bridge. Where was Dan and his bright red Masi? Would he see our car and come for his shoes? Did he change his mind about walking over the bridge? Thirty minutes later, I still hadn’t seen him, and my lane of traffic was moving over the bridge. Was Dan already on the other side?

I waited at the Cornerstone Café (see part one), in Rainier, and when he texted me at high noon, he was already in Goble, Oregon. The temperature was oppressive, even near the Columbia River, and he had to have those larger water bottles for the remainder of the ride. To reach Goble, I would have to drive along the bike route on US-30 E. I was on high alert.

Stop at Goble Tavern: at 161.0 miles – 12:00 p.m.
Miles traveled in the sixth leg: 22.0 at 14.67 mph

The STP rest stop in Goble had a charm unlike any other, perhaps due to the Goble Tavern, which created an ambiance reminiscent of an outdoor music festival. Riders took turns standing at the water misters and replenishing supplies. We headed to the lawn in the back of the tavern, laid his bike upon the grass, and drank from the jars of free lemon water scattered about the space.

He had begun the day feeling fresh, and his trip from Castle Rock to Longview had taken less time than he had anticipated. He had indeed cycled over the bridge, going slowly over the dreaded expansion joints.

An hour later, Dan got on his bike and waved goodbye. He was tired but coherent, and I wasn’t overly concerned at this juncture. However, other cyclists were getting rummy in the heat, setting down phones and wallets. I espied a stray helmet in the Goble Tavern, and was about to turn it over to the lost and found when the owner arrived. He thanked me, and in a panic, said, “Where’s my phone?” But in the next moment, he realized that it was in his shirt pocket.

The scene in Goble reminded me of salmon resting in an eddy, gaining strength to make the final push upstream. If only the last forty-five miles of this route were as cool and wet as the Mighty Columbia. But the climbing temperature, now over 100 degrees, would be the biggest threat to finishing the event by the 7:00 p.m. cut-off time, if at all.

If Dan were able to overcome the heat, we would rendezvous in twenty-seven miles. The sky was clear, and the heat off the pavement on Highway 30 was scorching. On a positive note, the road eventually became multi-laned, which lessened the chance of cars and bikes colliding.

Stop at Scappoose: at 188.0 miles – 2:50 p.m.
Miles traveled in the seventh leg: 27.0 at 21.6 mph

I scooted along to the Scappoose mini stop, which was a narrow slice of scrappy grass and a dusty parking area adjacent to the road. There was limited shade from the trees; however, the STP had erected covered booths where they offered food, drinks, cots, and emotional comfort. Can you imagine having pedaled all this way, only to discover that the heat had robbed you of the last seventeen miles of the STP Classic? That’s what happened to several folks. The STP was well organized and prepared for this outcome—they loaded up the bikes and riders, and escorted them to the finish line in Portland, I assume, or maybe back to the Goble Tavern!

What was keeping Dan? He was thirty minutes overdue. When he arrived, he said that he had pro-actively rested and hydrated during that time to combat heat exhaustion, which he had witnessed in some of the riders. The last leg had been physically laborious, and his 60th birthday celebration was turning into a suffer-fest. I took his hand and lead him to the best amenity at the Scappoose stop—a lady, sitting in a chair, holding a hose. Whether or not you had money to donate to her chosen charity, she would hose you down! Twice if you wanted! Dan was reluctant at first, but after he was soaking wet, he realized that this cold shower would likely be the edge he needed to combat the outside temperatures that were reported as being over one-hundred and three degrees.

At 4:00 p.m., he was ready for the final leg of his STP birthday adventure. I prayed for clouds and extra protection as he negotiated the busy streets of Portland. Down the road a spell, I saw cliffs that shaded the riders, and the highway that sloped downhill. Easy pickings! I passed Dan and focused on safely driving over the St. Johns Bridge, where I would wait to take a photo of him as he passed by. This suspension bridge is picturesque, and the STP had staged photographers there to snap professional photos of the cyclists as they sped over the 2,067 foot long Gothic Cathedral-like masterpiece.

I waited, and waited, and walked around and waited. We hadn’t planned to meet at the bridge, but I certainly thought that I’d see him cross. A skateboarder wearing an official STP number whizzed past, but not Dan on his red Masi. The traffic was heavy, and fanning out beyond the bridge were several narrow streets, all with cars parked along the curb. There were plenty of distractions, and Dan could have easily passed by me.

At 5:30 p.m. my phone rang. “I’m at the finish line,” he said. “Where are you?”

Portland FINISH LINE!: at 205.4 miles – 5:30 p.m.
Miles traveled in the eighth and final leg: 17.4 at 11.33 mph
Total time on bicycle: 14.5 hrs; average speed = 14.16 mph
Total time with rest breaks: 20 hours

I located a straightforward route to the Lloyd Center (east on N Lombard St, and south on NE MLK Blvd), which avoided the cyclists, and arrived at the finish line twenty-five minutes later. Dan held up his official STP “Finisher” badge and said, “I dropped the first one they gave me, but they handed me a replacement.” As he spoke, the bell rang, and onlookers cheered as another cyclist passed through the gate.

The STP had created a mini-festival in a tree-dotted park, with music, food, and massage. The entrants received a voucher for a free dinner, and Dan traded his meal ticket for a delicious burrito. The heat of the day was not letting up, and we found a vendor selling blended strawberry lemonade.

I told Dan about the skateboarder, and he said, “I passed that guy on the bridge. I wonder if he was wearing a real STP number.”

We strolled around the park, checking out the vendors and informational booths, and on the ground, we found a “Finisher” badge, perhaps the same one that Dan had dropped earlier. We took the lost badge to the organizers and headed to our car.

But Dan’s almost epic STP birthday adventure was not over yet. On our way back home, after the sun had set, we stopped for food. The parking lot was bathed in an alien, green light, and I snapped a picture of Dan as he contemplated a journey to the moon on a luna-cycle.

Decision time! Set a course for the far-side of the moon, or go home to our cozy bed? Obviously, the birthday boy realized that a trip to the moon would likely require a bit of preparation and a solid night’s sleep. Tonight, we would venture home, and tomorrow he could pedal to the moon and back with Mickey Mouse, who no doubt would say in his typical perky way, “Woo-hoo Dan, we’re going to the moon!”

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BELOW are additional pictures, informative links, and a short-cut to PART ONE of our Almost Epic adventure.

Following are the PICTURES and LINKS that I thought you’d enjoy!

Cascade Bicycle Club
All the information you’ll need about the STP
https://cascade.org/rides-and-events-kaiser-permanente-stp-presented-alaska-airlines/stp-ride-details
https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=cascade%20bicycle%20club&epa=SEARCH_BOX

This club promotes bicycling in the South Puget Sound area
http://www.capitalbicycleclub.org/wp/

Dr. Andy Rosser
https://rosserchiro.com/
https://www.facebook.com/rosserchiro/

Thurston County Bicycle Commuter Challenge
https://rosserchiro.com/bicyclecommuter/

Lorraine Clarke at The Valley Athletic Club
https://www.valleyac.com/
https://www.facebook.com/thevalleyathleticclub/

Joanna Sather at Athena Fitness and Wellness
https://www.facebook.com/joanna.sather
https://www.instagram.com/athenapnw/

The Vault Books and Brew
http://www.vaultbooksandbrew.com/

Mayme Shaddock Park
https://discoverlewiscounty.com/outdoors/mayme-shaddock-park

Castle Rock Bike Skills Park
https://www.facebook.com/Castle-Rock-Bike-Skills-Park-153407048045082/

Tenino (Railroad Museum and Quarry Swimming Pool)
https://scenicwa.com/poi/tenino-depot-museum
https://cityoftenino.us/community/page/train-depot-museum

An STP riders brief guide to Lewis County
https://discoverlewiscounty.com/blog/stp-riders-brief-guide-lewis-county