Life Why You Might Want to Ride a Bike from Seattle to Portland (and Something That Could Make You Think Twice)
This past weekend marked the annual STP bicycle ride, an epic (at least it felt that way to me) 204.5-mile journey from the Emerald City to the Rose City. More than 9,000 hardy riders took to the highways, byways, and breakdown lanes of a course that was touted as mostly flat (true, with a few notable exceptions), scenic (ditto: see, as counter-example the industrial Portland suburbs), and fun (which, I guess depends on how you define fun).
It was pretty, with the temps in the low ’80s and the verdant farmland of Lewis County (who knew?) in particular providing a gorgeous backdrop to the seemingly endless miles between Chehalis and Castle Rock. The hills weren’t too bad, even for someone like me who had fallen woefully behind in his training regimen. [Note: it’s also hard to complain too much about the hills when I passed on one particularly long one a man riding a hand-cranked bike, a man riding a modified Big Wheel, and a man riding a goddamn UNICYCLE.] And there was that feeling of accomplishment as I rode through the triumphal archway, greeted by literally dozens of cheering fans.
I should mention the food. Despite eating anything and everything within reach, I was perpetually famished. The peppy rest stop organized by REI in Kent did much to assuage my hunger with their delicious pre-cut bananas and peanut butter pitas, as well as some great mid-’90s radio-friendly hits (“Hey Jealousy,” “One Headlight,” etc.). And I can almost feel good about recommending the Spicy Chicken Crunch Wrap from Taco Bell its layers of flavor got me through some tough miles. Even the pancakes at the official breakfast in Centralia were delightfully fluffy and vanilla-scented despite being in frightfully short supply. I am also now a connoisseur of Clif bars, though I never want to see one again for as long as I live.
To sum up: Although at times it was heart-crushingly difficult to get back up in the saddle after an all-too-brief rest stop, I’m happy I rode those miles. I am. Really. One word of warning, though, for those seduced by thoughts of acres of spandex, yellow jerseys, and gentle, undulating terrain: It’s nearly 24 hours since I last sat on my bike (now posted on Craigslist in case you’re interested) and I still can’t feel my ass.
see, this is why one rides recumbant bikes or uses unicycles - vasal pressure is a problem with bicycles.
but think of the being hungry thing as just a very efficient diet. pretend you're a model. yes, that's what it's like. minus the exercise, of course, but with all the drinking of water.