...is a long damn bike ride. My friend Ian (bike riding machine) would not agree. For him, 55 miles is a recovery ride after the 200+ mile Seattle to Portland ride he did in one day last weekend. But for me, bike newbie and climbing wimp that I am, 55 miles was a long ride.
All of my rides thus far have been on flat and fast paved trail rides that top out at around 25 miles, because I pull my kiddo in a trailer behind me when I ride. The trail means no cars, which is an important safety consideration I just won't compromise on when I have my child behind me. The flat is important because with the extra 70 pounds of weight to pull, every tiny uphill gets me up out of the saddle and just brutalizes me.
So I avoid hills and cars, and consequently am not comfortable with either.
Today was the day to push past that, and I knew that only way to get comfortable riding in traffic and push my legs past their comfort zone was to get onto the road, so I went out without the trailer or the kiddo. Luckily, I had a very knowledgeable guide in my friend Ian, who led me through unfamiliar territory and doled out a fair number of bike riding tips along the way.
We met up at the U Village and started off on the Burke-Gilman (familiar territory for any Seattle cyclist), following it north until it transparently joined the Sammamish River Trail (my home turf and definitely the most comfortable portion of the ride for me) at the North end of Lake Washington (paused at Log Boom Park to pee. I mean, ahem, for a comfort stop). At the end of the SRT in Marymoor park we turned south and followed East Lake Sammamish Pkwy along the east side of Lake Sammamish (duh) to Issaquah, where we made our first longer stop, pausing to get a cup of coffee at a little cafe.
At this point the terrain had been pretty non-intimidating: relatively gentle rolling hills, wide shoulders and few cars. In Issaquah the roads got a lot more crowded, and there was a lot more stopping and starting at red lights (a great chance for me to work on clipping and unclipping, but very nearly humiliating on several occasions when I almost fell. But not quite. Ian was really cool through all this traffic, and had me go ahead of him for my safety but yelled out turns, lane changes and such info as I needed to navigate the unfamiliar area.
Once we were safely past the bulk of the town traffic, Ian took the lead again and let us through the wandering residential neighborhoods of lower Cougar Mountain. After some time, we crossed NE 150th and rode SE 36th (a long smooth wonderful downhill) along I-90 to the I-90 trail.
The first part of I-90 heading west was a short-and-steep hill, then a clear and defined path onto Mercer Island. Now, I'm sure once you've ridden I-90 a few times, it becomes totally obvious where the trail is and where one should go, but I would have been lost (literally) without Ian around Mercer Island. It's possible Ian was leading us through a bit more of a residential route than the official trail runs (I honestly don't know) but I was surprised that the trail across Mercer Island seems to be just a road ride without any specific "trail" markings.
Once we were back onto the I-90 bridge, the ride was flat but I found it surprisingly intimidating to ride so close to the water. I knew there was no way I could crash into the lake (there is a fence, after all) but that doesn't mean I didn't have nightmare visions of somehow losing control, catching my front tire between the partition bars and flipping over that fence. The entire bridge portion I was telling myself "just go straight, just go straight, just go straight...."
The end of the I-90 trail off the bridge is a series of short but progressively steeper inclines. There's a mild uphill that (to my tired legs) seemed to go on forever, but was probably only 100 yards or so, then a few series of steeper switchbacks that further burned my quads. Then, with no momentum at all, you turn off the trail and up a vertical cliff of a road. I was in my absolute lowest, granniest gear and made it about half-way up this short incline when I almost fell over and had to bail out and walk my bike up the rest of the hill. I think if I could have gotten a good stand on it, the road wouldn't have been so bad, but I just couldn't stand. When I tried my thighs shook and I fell back into the saddle.
From the top of the hill was a nice series of downhills into Lechi and onto Lake Washington Blvd. This is an area where bikes out-number cars, and most of the cars have loaded bike racks on them anyway, so it's a pretty comfortable area to deal with traffic. Despite the bike friendly and scenic location, I was pretty burned at this point--it was mile 50--and I asked Ian what the end game looked like. I fully expected him to say we had another 20 miles to go (how the geography on that would work out, I do not know), so when he said it was about 5 miles to the end, it was like I had received a personal benediction from the pope. (Ian, that simile's for you.)
From Lake Washington we ascended up a few moderate hills and switchbacks, but the knowledge that the end was in sight made them easier. We joined up with the Lake Washington Loop, a well signed jaunt through residential back roads that kicked us out at the NW end of the Arboretum. We merged onto Mountlake, took an overpass up to the Burke-Gilman, and were back at my car in no time.
All in all, a great first half-century. Ian was a great ride leader, and was really classy about not mocking me when I almost fell over or slowed to 8 and 9 mph on the hills while he was rocking them out at 13 and 14 mph.
I wonder if I could do 100.... ;)
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