How Three Tech Dudes Biked 500 Miles from SF to LA (Part 1)
A searing knife of pain sliced through my knee as I pressed down on the pedal. Burn. Each pedal stroke, igniting a flame within my swollen red knee. Cars whiffed by at 80 mph. My friends, no longer visible, as they pedaled into the distance. The pain was unbearable. My self confidence was shot……..
In Japan, misogi is a water purification ritual to reach spiritual enlightenment. In the west, it means to do something that radically expands what you believe is possible. This bike trip, was our misogi. San Francisco to Los Angeles. 506 miles. 10 flat tires. 21,436 feet of elevation. 65,880 calories burned. Patellar Tendonitis. Stranded with no ubers or taxi’s. 1000 foot climbs. Steel-calved 70 year olds. This is the story of our misogi.
The Call to Adventure
Three years ago, I was unemployed and living at home. The combination of a non-existent dating life & lots of free time, gave room for interesting ideas to dance in my head. One idea caught my eye: biking from SF to LA.
Telling my dad this idea was a mistake. He wasn’t pleased. He begged, made threats, used passive aggression. And eventually, I agreed to not go on this trip, if he helped me pay for part of my data science bootcamp. Negotiation FTW.
So I buried the idea. At least until I moved out.
After climbing the Month to Master mountain, I needed to find a new mountain. It’s the large goals that give our every days a sense of purpose. Biking from San Francisco to LA resurfaced and BAM, it had a WWE chokehold on my brain.
Assembling the Team
Finding people interested in this was hard. I sent texts, emails, FB messages, went into long diatribes at parties. Here was my pitch:
If you do the math, 500 miles/10 days = 50 miles per day. If we go 10 mph, that’s about 5 hours per day. 6 hours if we count breaks. If we sleep about 8 hours per day, that’s still 10-11 hours. Very do-able.
Despite my persistent & mathematical efforts at persuasion, I had no bites.
Until Raymond.
Raymond is my roommate who currently doubles as a robust bulldozer. This is a man who can party for seven days straight at yacht week and a man who loves triathlons. An adventurous fellow. Climb a mountain, take a salsa class, jump off a cliff, this is the dude you can count on to say “I’m down.” A man who lives life on the edge. I’ll let his dating profile pic speak for itself:
As we sat at our dining table, I prepared to give Raymond the full pitch. Before I could dive in, Raymond blurted: Oh, I’ve always wanted to do that. I’m down. That was easy.
For Brian, not as much.
A VR, product-designer and real-life “hype man”. After a night out, this is a dude who can’t sleep since he needs the hype to “settle.” Neurotic about injuries since he’s had problems with his back, feet, shoulder (which ultimately benefits him for this trip). A dude you can always count on bring up the energy level, but can’t count on to change a tire. I’ll let this instagram story speak for itself:
Brian needed convincing. He didn’t own a bike. But one night, as we were eating delicious Greek food, he said Fuck it, I’m in. He purchased a $900 hybrid Kona Rove. Team assembled.
As complete noobs to bike touring, we were in over our heads. We prepped by biking to San Jose, Sacramento and multiple trips to Hawk Hill in Marin County. The San Francisco summer days chugged along and soon, the date was upon us.
August 17, 2019 - San Francisco, California
This was the full route not including detours:
On August 17, 2019 at 12 noon, we started our cycling adventure at the busy, tourist-packed San Francisco Ferry Building. The first leg ended at the lighthouse hostel near Half Moon Bay. Here’s a picture of us at the SF ferry building:
I lead the initial legs of this trip through the coast of San Francisco, Sutro baths and down the coastline along ocean beach. We cycled through Daly City, which required a solid amount of uphill climbing.
If you’re a dude who skips leg day, an easy way to eliminate chicken legs is to cycle uphill. Cycling uphill is like pouring gasoline on the flame of your thighs. Every stroke ignites the fire while beads of sweat drizzle down your forehead attempting to cool you off.
In cycling elevation trumps distance. Biking 100 miles with 0 feet elevation is much easier than biking 50 miles with 5000 feet of elevation. Our first few days was low on the mileage but high on elevation, which meant a majority of our ride would consist of climbing.
Just as we completed a 200 foot climb in Daly City, google maps robotically commanded me to make a right in 300 feet. To our dismay, google maps didn’t tell us there was another damn hill.
That’s when Raymond, the bulldozer, started to crack.
Raymond, a normally tame, proper, positive person, exclaimed: Jeff, did you check the route we we’re going on?!? No more hills, okay! We’re not trying to kill ourselves.
Although what he said wasn’t rude, it was unusual. Raymond never gets upset. Something was up.
We ended at the lighthouse hostel and ate scrumptious seafood in Half Moon Bay. The next day, we had a 60 mile ride into Santa Cruz. I asked Raymond how he was doing and he stoicly replied: Terrible. I was worried.
The First Hurdle
About 15 miles in, we hit a 500 foot climb. Raymond lagged further and further back. When we reached the top, we took a break to fuel up on water, energy gels and bars. Raymond’s face had the look of death. Raymond unclipped his pedals, sat on the curb, closed his eyes and buried his face in his arms. He didn’t say a word for the next ten minutes.
At this point, both Brian and I were tired but not at the point of dying. Raymond wasn’t out of shape. He’s run triathlons, plays basketball, tennis and lives an active lifestyle. It was his back.
Imagine going into a gym, grabbing a 30 pound dumbbell and dropping it in your backpack. Then, wear this for literally the whole day. This was what Raymond was doing. Oh wait, he was also cycling uphill. Oh, and let’s throw in 500 miles to LA.
I meekly asked him if he was okay. He replied: I’ll make it to Santa Cruz. We cycled on.
Since I was leading these legs, I would periodically glance back to make sure everyone was in sight. After another 10 miles, I glance back and see Brian right behind me. But Raymond was nowhere to be found.
In a few seconds, I get a call:
“Jeff, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
END OF PART 1
Click here for Part 2!!!