Greetings, readers of Ready to Ride; friends, family and supporters of David; RAO competitors/cohorts; assorted curious parties; welcome to all of you!

You have found your way to the dedicated microsite for David Rowe’s bid in the 2009 Edition of Race Across Oregon. And, I suspect this is no accident. You are here to follow up on David’s progress, to check in on him and to cheer him on as he makes his way through the arduous course set against the backdrop of beautiful Northeastern Oregon.

As you have likely already noticed, there is a prominently featured map which sports live tracking of David’s movements through the course; in the sidebar you’ll find David’s twitter feed (which I’ll be hijacking for the next several days while he focuses on riding), a link to David’s Interview on the FredCast, and a live-updating preview of the RAO 2009 Flickr set on David’s account.

And of course, here we have a separate blog set up for periodic posts throughout the day to provide more detailed information on the ride, the landscape and everything else RAO 2009.

Keep checking back for regular updates once the race kicks off (and perhaps some before and after). Keep those pedals turnin!

-Evan Rowe

Weighing in at a daunting 527 miles and traversing areas of the state that are rich in both elevation and heat, this year’s Race Across Oregon is no slouch. Any rider competing in a race of this magnitude has put in countless hours of training to become a well-oiled cycling machine. Physical strength, endurance, and mental determination are key factors to success, especially when competing against other racers and not just the clock. However, no matter how well prepared they are personally, no rider is capable of accomplishing such a feat on their own. That’s where we come in.

David is no stranger to lengthy rides. He’s participated in more brevets than I can count, and has ridden several 1000 and 1200 kilometer events in the Pacific Northwest in previous years. In each of those rides, he operated alone as a self-sustaining hybrid of organic and mechanical engineering; his mind, body and bike operating together as a single unit. As any of you who know him or have followed him for a while, these rides took their toll on him both physically and mentally.

For this race, one he hopes to finish in a time considerably faster than his previous ultra long distance sessions, he’s brought a crew of three on board to assist him with the task of conquering the course that lays ahead of him. The crew will be following by David’s side every step of the way, ready to assist him with repairs, refueling, and moral support. Read on to get to know better the three brave souls who will be joining David as he takes on what may prove to be the most challenging route of his cycling career. Read the rest of this entry »

And at this very moment, the race is underway! RAO 2009 has begun and the cyclists are beginning the first leg of their journey as they make their bid for the time station 70 miles away at Tygh Valley. Watch the flickr pool (and this post) for some more images from the race start, soon to come.

Dawn. 16.5 miles into the ride, waiting at the first “checkpoint,” so to speak. The race has been unsupported up until now, and this is the first point at which crews are allowed to begin assisting their riders.

From the van, and from these photos, the incline doesn’t seem all that noticeable. But, from the saddle of a Litespeed, the 35 mile ascent up Mt. Hood is definitely some serious work. It’s far from being the most difficult climb of the ride, but it’s no picnic. Still, the riders make it look easy as they breeze by the crew vans, most of them all smiles and in high spirits.

As the trip up Mt. Hood continues, the grade begins to steepen. While this certainly affects the rider’s speeds, they are by no means assuaged or any less motivated. They are working hard, and while the action from the perspective of the van is sporadic, it’s exciting to watch the participants as they pass (or as we drive past them).

Arriving at the peak of the first major climb, David makes his first (and very brief) stop to switch bikes out for the ride down the other side of the mountain. He’s switching over to his custom-built T-Rex, which he’ll ride for a few miles while we make some adjustments to the Litespeed. The exchange takes less than 15 seconds.

The goal is to rack up as little “stop time” as possible. It goes without saying that this directly affects the amount of time it takes him to finish, so we try to accomplish as much as possible via handoffs rather than forcing him to stop. We want to keep David on the bike, and we want him to be happy while he’s there. During these initial stages of the race, this isn’t difficult, but by the time we cross the 300-mile mark, he’ll be feeling the hurt, and the van will seem very inviting.

For now though, he’s in good spirits and he’s visibly enjoying himself; each time we leapfrog one another he’s got a big smile on his face. It’s a beautiful morning up on the mountain, and overall we’re looking at a great day for a ride. More to come from the first Time Station in Tygh Valley.

We’ve just exchanged bikes again at the top of a small climb in the middle of the descent down the back side of Mt. Hood. David is shedding his arm and leg warmers while we hang the T-Rex back on the bike rack and hand over the Litespeed. Bert runs to refill David’s water bottle and Justin hums merrily as he picks up the recently cast-off lycra limb warmers. As usual, I am dutifully snapping photos, although I’m feeling that my role is slightly more auxiliary in terms of its relative criticality. Still, I’m here to support my father in his efforts in any way I can, and after the innumerable hours of his personal time he donated to me in my sporting careers while growing up, joining his crew for the race is the least I can do, and I’m happy to be here.

Suddenly I realize the familiar tune Justin has been humming is a sea shanty, one of those commonly used in children’s cartoons and fictional pirate lore. I chuckle; Justin’s good humor is infectious and it’s hard not to be excited and jovial with him around. One of the vans parked behind behind us begins blaring Gloria Estefan from its hood-mounted speakers to provide encouragement for the rider its supporting; it’s hard not to laugh and smile.

After David finishes his pit stop and exchange, he hurries up the road to make up for lost/ground and time. We follow suit, quickly overtaking him and speeding up to the next turnout point. Most of our stops are purely for regular moral support and encouragement, and to determine whether we need to prepare anything for the next stopping point. The answer is usually “nope!” accompanied by a large grin.

Shortly after pulling out, our handheld two-way-radio starts spewing static and occasional feedback for no apparent reason. At first we think perhaps David’s radio button is being held down accidentally, but we determine quickly this is not the case. About four or five minutes later it stops, but over the course of the next half hour it periodically repeats the cycle. We’ve no idea if it’s being caused by interference or some strange glitch, but currently our best guess is that aliens are responsible; after all, we are supposedly traveling through an area rumored to have sightings of bizarre lights in the nighttime sky.

Whatever the cause, it doesn’t keep us from actually communicating, so it’s not so much a problem as it is an anomaly…or just a curiosity. For now though, we remain focused on the route and have our eyes set on the first Time Station about 20 miles from here. Onward!

We’ve climbed to the top of Mt. Hood and come back down the other side, making a rapid shift from the forested expanse of the mountain to the desert-like valley in the Deschuttes area. David has conquered the first 70 miles of the race in 4 hours and 53 minutes, an impressive time considering the majority of his journey so far has been uphill.

The descent into the Deschuttes River Valley was gorgeous, marked with rolling hills and a lovely palette of browns, creams, and faint greens against a rich blue sky. Pictures don’t do this area justice; it must be seen firsthand to understand its splendor.

Coming through the tiny town of Tygh Valley, we stopped off at a general store for refreshments while David continued on ahead. Not thirty seconds after pulling out, we were back in the relative wilderness. While it is gorgeous, there is a definite feeling of isolation out here. There are deserted shacks along the side of the road, residing on land that looks like it hasn’t been touched in at least 20 years. It’s practically something out of a movie or a story.

The challenge for me right now is juggling between writing, taking new photos and processing those I’ve already downloaded. I’m also trying as best I can to maintain some line of communication with civilization. Documenting the journey has occupied the vast majority of my time thus far, with chances to relax and take in the scenery being few and far between. Of course, this is a good thing, as I wouldn’t be doing my job were things any other way.

Now, half an hour after clearing the time station, we’re making another ascent up a narrow road on the side of a small mountain, the edge of which drops off into a steep grade with nothing but hard dirt, dry grass and some rocks below. It’s all great to look at, but both riders and crews alike need to be careful going through this area.

Initially, when we first met up with him at the 16 mile mark, David was somewhere in the middle of the first half of the pack. He has since been gaining ground on his fellow racers, using his strength as a climber to overtake riders on this long (and in places brutally steep) grade. He’ll have to make the entire run on his own though, as this climb is unsupported; crews are not allowed to stop to assist their riders until after the top. This is for challenge as much as it is safety; there is literally no place to pull off to the side of the road without obstructing other riders or non-race traffic.

As we drive past some of the racers at the head of the pack, who previously had much more distance on David and those in his proximity, I can’t help but hope by the time he catches up to us he’s managed to move up a few more positions, although finishing the climb itself is a victory all by itself.

After coming out of the unsupported climb with a fully depleted water bottle, David’s demeanor has shifted from excitement and jitters to one of determination and focus. He is by no means discouraged, and is still going strong, but he is now in the thick of the ride, his mind fixated on the pavement in front of him and managing his condition over the rest of the day in front of him.

The heat had already reached 70° as of 10:30 this morning, and it could get up to 85° or 90° during the peak of the day. Out here in large open areas like this, there’s little to be found in the way of protection from the sun. The only thing keeping the riders cool is their water and the air moving around them as they pedal forward.

It’s at this point in the race that the crews start to become further involved with their riders, managing their performance more closely and making more frequent hand-offs of food, water, supplements or what have you. Caloric intake (and output), as well as pills or mystery potions to alleviate pain, are meticulously recorded. Crews are in charge of making sure that their riders are taking in nutrients and calories at regular intervals so that they have the energy they need to keep up their pace.

As I mentioned before, the route for Race Across Oregon this year is a 516 mile behemoth that features beautiful scenery and loads of rolling hills, steep grades and almost total isolation. The starting line is in the parking lot of the Best Western all the participants stayed in last night, set against the gorgeous backdrop of the Columbia Gorge. Things kick off with a 35-mile, 4,700 foot climb up Mt. Hood and descends into the Deschuttes river valley. After crossing the river itself at Sherar’s Falls, it veers out east towards Condon.

The route will take the racers through the small towns of Ruggs and Heppner, uphill the entire way, then turns south down along 395. By the time the riders are going through the Battle Mountain area, the sun should be down, and they’ll be followed as closely as possible by their support vans. Eventually once the race leaves 395 near Ukiah, the course follows Forest Road 53 and makes its way back towards Heppner. From here, the route will take the riders through Spray, Service Creek, Fossil, Clarno, Antelope, Shaniko, Bakeoven, Maupin, Dufur and Forest Road 44.

Close to the end, there is a brief descent on highway 35 followed by a 2.5 mile climb past the Cooper Spur Resort, and finally the race finishes after a 1.5 mile ascent into the Cooper Ski Area.

The course is challenging, fraught with uphill climbs and high heat during the day. It will prove to be difficult for all of the riders involved, and finishing it will be an accomplishment they can be proud of regardless of how they place. Riders and crews alike will be working hard over the next 40+ hours as they jockey for position and make their bids for the finish line.

We’ve rolled through the small rural town of Grass Valley, home to (at first glance) about 5 houses, a general store, a possibly abandoned granary and a whole lot of dead trucks and cars parked in a yard and on a hillside. Also it has real, actual green grass, the first we’ve seen since coming down from Mt. Hood.

We’re now within range of the second time station in Moro. As we press forward we continue to see empty landscape dotted with power lines, barbed wire fences and wooden fence posts, with the odd bulldozer or gravel pile off in the distance. Generally speaking, things are fairly isolated out here, but even though it’s a lot of the same thing over and over again, somehow it all manages to look markedly different, which helps to keep the riders from becoming mentally fatigued.

Currently, we are discussing whether David will be taking a break when he reaches the Time Station. He’s been asking for one for about 40 minutes now, and we keep encouraging him to go a little further each time he catches up to us. Ideally we’d like him to go for as long as possible without taking a break, and if he can make it to Moro before he does so, that will be immensely beneficial to him.

“I’m feeling alright; I’m up against some negative mental chatter right now,” he told us at the last leapfrog point. Physically, he’s managing pretty well; at this point, he’s sore and is feeling some of the pain from the ride, but no more than he normally would on one of his training rides. The difference here is that he knows he’s up against a lot more race. He’s completed his first 100 miles now, but he’s got a little over 400 still to go, and his brain is already starting to challenge his will. It’s not unlike the classic miniature angel and devil on your shoulders. We’re doing everything we can to help out the part of him that knows he needs to keep riding.

We’re 7 hours in, and the temperature is still rising; at this point, he’s understandably got to be exhausted. On the plus side, the climbing at this point of the race is much more gradual, thanks to a series of smaller hills with quick descents immediately after to help gain momentum for the next. The majority of the race (especially this section) is uphill, and though he tends to perform best when he’s climbing, he’s getting tired and is really feeling the effects of the 100 miles behind him. By working with together with him, we’ll be able make sure he keeps pedaling and refocuses his attitude on the positive.

Being part of the race crew is an interesting and fun experience, to be sure. This is both Bert’s and my first time crewing for a cycling race, and both of us were commenting earlier this morning that if not for Justin, we’d have no idea what we were doing or how this was all supposed to work. We’re learning by doing, which is the best way to learn just about anything, but with Justin’s help, the process is quicker and easier.

At first glance, it seems like an easy task. We sit in the climate-controlled van, exchanging stories, sharing some laughs, and stopping occasionally to hand off a refilled water bottle or provide moral support. However, there are rules the crews have to follow, and our time in the van isn’t all fun and games.

During this stage of the race, and up until we either reach Heppner or 7:30pm, we are providing “leapfrog” support. It works a lot like it sounds; the van drives up ahead a ways, finds a place to pull off into the shoulder and waits for its rider to pass. Any necessary handoffs are made and the rider goes up ahead a few miles. Eventually, the van takes off down the road and speeds past its rider, and the process repeats.

The times at which the van is stopped are extremely useful for making alterations or adjustments to the rider’s equipment, and for reviewing the route map and determining the upcoming navigation. As the riders move forward, the van essentially serves as a mobile waypoint, directing them at turns, informing them of current mileage and alerting them to information about the upcoming stretch of road.

Later tonight, from 7:30pm until 6am, the support vans are in a mandatory follow or pacing mode. At this point in the race, vans are required to remain directly behind their rider, lighting their way during the night and available at practically an arm’s reach for any needs the rider should have. Up until now, handoffs have only been allowed to be made by crew members on foot, but as of now they are allowed to be made directly from the van as it moves along the road.

After 6am tomorrow, the van has the option of returning to leapfrog support, or remaining in pacing mode up until 7:30pm. During the daytime, the proper mode of van support is at the discretion of the crew chief.

Our role as David’s crew is to support him, which means that we are crucial to his completion of the race. Not only are we restocking his food and water and making repairs to his bikes, we’re monitoring his power output during the ride to determine how he’s performing against our projections. This will inform us on whether we need to make adjustments to his pacing, his nutrition schedule, or any other aspect of his strategy.

Of course, as much business as there is to take care of, there’s plenty of time for exchanging anecdotes, comparing personal gadgets, and getting all manner of interesting training tips and tidbits from Justin. The guy is a veritable font of information, and the nuances of routine management he has stored in his brain are not just impressive, but vitally important for keeping David’s performance at a peak level throughout the race’s duration.