The day started early. I awoke mildly uncomfortably damp in the enclosed atmosphere of the tent, condensation running down the walls. At least I had padding in the form of grass, which meant my rest was more satisfactory than the night previous. I don’t like waking up, especially when uncomfortable. My stubborn desire for sleep willing myself to reposition and my belief that another five minutes will somehow enhance my quality of rest is a daily tradition that I could benefit to loose. Outside, the world was waking too. Many early risers had already packed and were on the road. Our goal was to leave by 6:00 am, an ambitious goal, but completely attainable. Out tent layed just about 50 feet from a set of Port-O-Potties, so the spring-laden slamming door, ensured that sleep could not be attained.
After finally getting up, we tore down the tent, set our bags on the truck to Portland and gathered our bikes from the bike locker. We sat a few yards away from the road, looking over our bikes, adjusting a few things here and there.The first miles on the road were a bit stiff, but not nearly as bad as I had thought that it would be. We passed by a couple breakfast stops, each one bustling with activity. A dozen or so miles later, I wished that I would have stopped. I did not bring any extra food with me, or cash for that matter. I rode a good portion of the morning ride solo, taking some time to get reacquainted with my cadence and realizing that I had over-adjusted my seat the afternoon prior. Much of the course was along smooth rolling roads. Occasionally I would pull in-line with some other cyclists, taking turns pulling our impromptu team across the western Washington landscape. Finally, a rest stop loomed and I pulled in to grab some food, drink and take a break. Feeling refueled, I headed back for my bike and ran into my buddy, who was calling me, looking the opposite direction. We hopped back on our bikes and rolled down the road.
At this point, we were winding our way to the Oregon border. A couple hundred riders were being corralled just before the Longview bridge, waiting to be escorted across the bridge. We arrived just in time to catch the end of the wave going across. We were packed in much like we were the beginning of the day prior, two lanes and shoulder, packed with cyclists for the length of the bridge. As we pulled away from the bridge, a group of us formed with me at the head, where I stayed for a few miles, setting pace and powering up the rolling hills along the Columbia River.
Our next stop came in St. Helens, a familiar place, as I lived not far away from there until I was nine. I took some time to sit down on the cool grass and prepare for my last leg. I thought that the last leg would go by quickly as I was in familiar territory. It turned out not to be the case. I started to remember every upcoming hill, my tired legs reminding me that they didn’t want to do this forever. Eventually, the St. Johns Bridge appeared as I rounded a corner. As I approached the turn for the bridge, I remembered running up the hill from the other side the year prior for the Portland Marathon. It was a great feeling to get to the high point of the bridge and see the Portland skyline to my right. At this point I was glad that my journey was nearly over. Unfortunately there was a major difference between the marathon course and this one, no roads were closed. This meant that I had many stops and my overall speed dipped down as I was forced into the role of a commuter. I eventually made it downtown with my in-laws and friends waiting for me at the finishing gate.
There I was, done, finished with a 200 mile journey that had taken me through beautiful countrysides, along with nearly 10,000 other riders. Best part was that I didn’t feel too bad at all. Cycling doesn’t take near the toll as running, so compared to running a marathon, this was a walk in the park. I went of to The Dalles with my in-laws to visit, meet up with my parents and aunt and uncle and to get some well deserved sleep in an ever-so-comfortable bed. Can’t wait until next year! Who’s in with me?
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