Augusta 400K Brevet

Last Saturday I did my second 400K.  It was great!  It went about as well as a 400K could go.  I did the same course as last year, the Augusta 400K brevet.  Two things made this year’s ride easier than last year.  First, I couldn’t find the start location last year and left about 10 minutes after everyone else.  I had to ride the first 75 miles by myself, which burned a lot of energy.  This year, however, I knew exactly where we were starting, arrived in plenty of time, and got to ride the whole route with a strong group.  Also, last year it was cold, and it even began sleeting in the wee hours at the end of the ride.  This year, although it was only two weeks later on the calendar, it was beautifully warm and sunny.  The weather can go either way in late winter/early spring in Georgia.

Non-Scary Motels and Wee Beasties

For a 400K I stay in a motel the night before and after.  The one I selected this year was about 3000% better than last year’s.  It was cheaper, too, thanks to an online deal that I found.  Because I had to leave for the ride before the motel began serving breakfast, I had packed breakfast from home.  I’m so glad that even basic motels usually have microwaves and refrigerators in the rooms these days.  The refrigerator tripped me up, though.  I went off to the ride and left my two bottles of Heed, hard boiled eggs, and an apple in the refrigerator.  Fortunately, I had plenty of other bike food as well as cash for store stops.  I figured I could make it to the first convenience store and buy a couple of drink bottles that I could use for the rest of the ride.  But Daniel came to the rescue!  He offered me a couple of extra water bottles that he happened to have in his car.  He’s a good friend and always embodies the true randonneuring spirit of camaraderie.  Thanks, Daniel!

Daniel warned me about potential wee beasties in the bottles.  I didn’t see any, but they would have been a little extra protein anyway.  He should have been more concerned about the mixture of liquids that I subjected the bottles to.  Half a cup of mango-flavored Gatorade mixed with Huddle House bathroom water…mmm…

Spring Has Almost Sprung

Seven of us rode together for about the first 100K.  Ultra-cycling feels so different from other types of riding.  It’s such a moderate pace, but that’s exactly what it takes to be able to ride for hours on end.  I also love being able to take in the sights at an endurance pace.  Last weekend the daffodils, redbuds, plum trees, cherry trees, forsythia, and Japanese magnolias were a happy reminder that it’s almost spring.  Another indicator was the two-pack of Easter egg-shaped Snickers that I bought at the first convenience store control.

Not sure what I'm putting back in my pocket; I already et the Easter egg Snickers
(photo by Robert Newcomer)

STEM (with a musical interlude)

Our group whittled down to four – Brian, Ed, Ian, and me – who rode the entire way together.  Ian and I chatted a good bit.  I particularly enjoyed hearing about his work right after he finished his master’s degree in meteorology.  He went to western Africa to collect rainfall and soil moisture data, crucial information for local farmers.  Before Ian and his team began collecting data on the ground, meteorologists had to estimate area rainfall from radar.  I’ve been fascinated by meteorology my whole life, and I really enjoyed learning about how Ian was able to use it in such a meaningful, hands-on way.

My meteorological conversation with Ian reminded me of one of my more favorite cartoons that I drew some years back:

If I could draw more than stick figures, I'd love to have a career as a cartoonist.

Somewhere along the way, we passed Green Acres Farm.  Naturally, I started singing, “Green Acres is the place to be!  Farm livin’ is the life for me!”  Then I switched to my best Eva Gabor: “New York is where I’d rather stay; I get allergic smelling hay!”  Brian asked what I was singing.  I said, “We just passed Green Acres Farm.  I simply had to sing the Green Acres theme song.”  Ed deadpanned, “I couldn’t contain myself.”

Later, Ian and I were discussing all the amazing technologies that are right at our fingertips.  As an example, I told him about an anniversary trip that my husband and I took a few years ago to George Hincapie’s swanky Hotel Domestique in Travelers Rest, SC.  We had dinner at Restaurant 17, named for the number of Tours de France in which George raced.  Now, I love good food, and I’ve been to a number of nice restaurants, but Restaurant 17 is the type of place that I might visit only once every five years or so.  Although I’m adventurous in culinary matters (cooking and eating), I’m still learning.  One of the appetizers on the menu was charcuterie.  Surreptitiously, I held my phone down by my side and asked The Google what charcuterie is.  Robert and I ordered it, enjoying a delicious array of house made ham and sausages.

Ian and I were so engrossed in our conversation about charcuterie and The Google that we missed a turn by a church.  Brian and Ed whistled to get our attention.  I’m actually glad we missed that turn.  As Ian and I crested a small hill at our turnaround, we got to see the church’s sign: “There are no fire escapes in hell.”

After crossing the dam at Lake Hartwell and into South Carolina, Ian and I commented that it seemed noticeably lighter at that point on the route than it had the year before.  We attributed it partially to a slightly faster pace, putting us a little earlier in the day.  I also thought it was because this year’s ride was two weeks later on the calendar than last year, and doesn’t the length of daylight change most rapidly near the equinoxes?  Ian thought that was correct.  I told him I would research it after the ride, which I did.

The length of daylight changes throughout the year because of Earth’s tilt on its axis.  As a hemisphere is tilted away from the sun, the length of a day becomes shorter.  As a hemisphere is tilted toward the sun, the length of a day becomes longer.  Furthermore, the rate of change of the length of a day is not constant but sinusoidal.  I found this graph online, which, despite its poor appearance here, gives a good illustration of this inconstant rate of change (see the original, clearer graph at http://cycletourist.com/Miscellany/Length_of_day.html):

The horizontal axis represents a calendar year starting on March 21 and ending the next March 21.  The vertical axis represents the relative length of day.

This reminded me of one of the first things I learned in high school calculus, the derivative.  A derivative is the instantaneous slope, or rate of change, at any point on a curve.  Imagine drawing a tangent line at some point on the curve above.  It ranges from vertical at the equinoxes (approximately March 21 and September 21) to horizontal at the solstices (approximately June 21 and December 21).  The steeper the slope of the tangent, the greater the rate of change.  Thus, the maximum rate of change is around the equinoxes.  Similarly, the minimum rate of change is around the solstices.  (A horizontal slope indicates an instantaneous rate of change of zero, meaning that for a moment, the sun’s motion in declination comes to a stop.  In fact, the word “solstice” comes from the Latin word solstitium, which means “sun-standing.”)

This all means that the rate of change in length of daylight is more noticeable around the first day of spring and first day of fall and least noticeable around the first day of summer and first day of winter.  Ian’s and my hypothesis about why it seemed lighter at that point of the ride was correct.

Expect Adventure

Having gotten our nerd on in such stellar fashion, not to mention having ridden 201 miles, we were ready for the Huddle House control in McCormick, SC.  A waffle, some bacon, and a Coke really hit the spot.  The guys attacked the dessert menu.  Between the pie, ice cream, milkshakes, etc. that they ordered, I’m not sure they left much for our fellow randonneurs who would be arriving shortly.

We continued pedaling into Sumter National Forest on quiet roads with practically no traffic.  (I’d love to see it during daylight; it must be beautiful!)  Then, approaching mile 209, we saw signs for a bridge out.  There was a detour, but we took our chances that we would be able to get through with bicycles.  (Besides, none of us wanted to add any more miles!)  The bridge was most definitely out.  Shining our front lights down the embankment on both sides of the bridge, we picked the side where it looked like it would be easier to ford the creek.  Several months ago, I had gotten my off-road cycling shoes wet, and I still haven’t quite gotten the stink out.  I didn’t want the same thing to happen to my road bike shoes; therefore, I took off my shoes and socks to cross the creek.  It wasn’t too deep or wide, and I had no problems as I carefully portaged my bike across.  Brian got some good shots of Ed and Ian crossing the creek:

Ed

Ian

Time Travel Thwarted

I was grateful that I felt as good as I did for most of the way.  Now with 40 miles to go, I was definitely counting them down, but I knew that I would make it.  I played my usual end-of-ride mileage games.  34 miles to go: that’s like a Tuesday Worlds.  10 miles to go: that’s like riding from the county line to my house.  3 miles to go: that’s like riding from my house to town.
Even with the bridge that was out, we thought we were on track to finish before midnight.  We did!  253 miles in 17 hours, 50 minutes!  Wow!  Last year I finished around 3:00 AM, in about 21 hours.  What a difference riding with a group and warm weather make!  Also, I was so glad that I didn’t have to deal with the inevitable sleepiness that comes in the wee hours.

I was mildly disappointed that I wouldn’t be awake for the change to Daylight Saving Time at 2:00 AM.  I’ve never been awake at the actual time change.  Assuming I would still be riding then, I had kind of looked forward to the time change because it would be the closest I ever get to time travel.  I guess I’ll just have to go back and revisit the Little Free Library in Macon that’s shaped like the TARDIS:

My disappointment was fleeting.  I was much gladder to get back to my motel room and go to sleep.

Thank you to our RBA Kevin and to all my rando buddies!  I look forward to our next adventure.  Ride on!