photo courtesy of Marc via POBRE Facebook
2 August 2015
This year I didn't start to think about the Event century until far too late, and found myself without a team a week before the ride. Most of the Slugs aren't into 100-milers, so I usually have to start asking around in June. With all of my traveling and Bike Virginia training, the Event slipped my mind. I didn't even register until a few weeks ago.
My go-to guys for everything century are Statler and Waldorf. We got rained out in 2014, and this year Statler was coming off a heavy dose of antibiotics. Even with his TARDIS-sized Camelbak unloaded, he told me, he'd be slower than I'd want to be.
At the same time, Marc offered me a slot with his POBRE friends (that's "Philippinos On Bikes Riding Everywhere"), who would be faster than we are and only going 50 miles. We'd hang in the back, he said, and break off for the 100.
I agreed to meet Marc and his group at the registration area at 7:00 a.m., while at the same time not quite saying no to Statler either. When I rolled up at 6:50 a.m., taking the shortcut between buildings from the Hughes Road side, I didn't recognize anyone at the registration area.
The ride itself is only half the reason to show up at the Event. The other half is to see people I haven't seen in a long time. Today was weird; I felt like a celebrity. Ride leaders kept calling my name and pulling me aside. They wanted to talk to me about the decision I made last week*. Each one was on my side.
Statler and Waldorf, with Jud, collected themselves nearby. I was so tempted to just go with them. They're endlessly entertaining. My only concern was with time: Jack and I had plans that required me to be cleaned up and ready to drive by early evening. Biking to the ride start and back adds at least ten miles to whatever the century route planners would throw at us (it's always over 100 miles), which would add another half hour to my day. Also, the longer I'm in the saddle, the more likely it is that my back will start to hurt. I didn't say any of this out loud. Jud decided for me. In the most polite way possible, he told me I'd be too fast.
Taking a slow spin through the parking lot, I saw nobody I recognized. When I returned to the registration area, Statler and Waldorf were gone. I was about to contemplate a century solo when I saw Marc. He couldn't find anyone else either. We milled about a while longer, found one other person, and headed to the parking lot, where the rest of the POBRE boys were getting ready.
I was surrounded by carbon bikes, aero wheels, and men who looked to be half my age. Only a few of them were interested in the century. Another was in the midst of fixing his second flat of the morning. It was looking more and more as if Marc and I would be doing the century by ourselves when Rajesh rolled in.
Now we had a team. It was 7:45, late for a century start, when the three of us left the parking lot. We were well matched, though, and while we never did form a three-person pace line, we easily could have. The route took us southwest, into a mild headwind, to the Pinelands Nursery on Island Road, a traditional rest stop. For the first time in years, I didn't recognize any of the volunteers and didn't run into anyone I knew (although I did see Joe through the crowd but never had the chance to talk to him).
The next leg would be the fast leg, with uninterrupted straight stretches through the Pinelands, the trees keeping the crosswinds at bay. We were within a few miles of the second rest stop, in New Egypt, when Rajesh's feet began to go numb.
Feet were the theme of the day in New Egypt, where, shortly before our arrival, both Statler and Waldorf had been carted away by the SAG wagon. Waldorf, it seemed, had broken a pedal beyond repair, while Statler was sidelined by a disintegrated shoe.
Al, Ron, and Cheryl were working at this rest stop. I had to check in on Al, who, after last week's crash, will be off his bike for at least a month. We talked about wheels. I never did understand why he has so many to spare. Now that I've experienced two rear wheels being inoperable at once, I've seen the light.
I also got talking to Fran and Ron, down from Connecticut, who only had time for the metric. We got talking about rider safety and crashes. Ron gave me a quick lesson on how to put an elbow out to prevent a sideways collision. This is something he teaches all his new riders; I might do the same the next time I lead.
We left New Egypt with a tailwind and kept a snappy pace when we turned north. On Imlaystown-Heightstown Road we came upon a large, scattered group of riders. When we emerged on the other side, at Route 524 with a tailwind, Marc and I were alone.
The next rest stop, at the Clarksburg firehouse, was only a few miles away. Rajesh materialized a couple of minutes after we arrived. "There you are!" I said. "We lost you in the scrum." With his feet numb, he had no power. We sat in the shade and took our time.
After that, headwinds, from the west at 10-12 mph, gusting at 17-21 mph. Whatever speed we'd had, we lost. We limped into the final rest stop on West Manor Way, where I slurped down watermelon, had a sidebar conversation about ride leading with Don S, and chatted with Jim. I'd have talked to TEW too, but she was busy running around with watermelons.
Gordon Road is still closed to traffic, but passable for cyclists. The route home took a detour around it, but we decided to cut out a few miles and take Gordon Road instead. If I'd been any less trashed, I'd have stopped for a picture of the old utility poles rising out of fresh blacktop in the middle of the new road. Until they're gone, the road will remain closed.
In Mercer County Park, I waved goodbye to Rajesh and Marc and pushed against the wind by myself for another five miles, getting home with time enough to clean up and take a ten minute nap.
I haven't felt this beat up by a century in a long time.
(*With the Freewheeler Board's approval, I have, for the first time in 15 years of leading, permanently banned someone from my rides.)
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