#47: Stinky Century

Burlington County Panorama

6 August 2016

I left home at 6:15 a.m. Five miles later I was soaking wet and it wasn't even raining.

I was at Mercer County Community College for the Princeton Event century.  

In previous years, I've assembled a team ahead of time. This year I had nebulous plans to ride with Tom, who would go if it wasn't too hot, and Bob N (N for New Slug), who had never gone 100 miles. One week out, the weather looked iffy and I hadn't heard from Bob.

So I asked around to see who would be willing to take on a Slug as part of a team. Brandon, who'd been on a few of Tom's High Point rides, was cool with me tagging along.

A light rain started as I pulled into the registration area.  Ira was scowling wryly (he does everything wryly) at the sky. "We're gonna lose money," he said. It was early, though, well before 7:00, the official century starting time. 

The rain stopped, Brandon found me, and Bob appeared.  With Brandon were Ralph (a powerhouse) and a couple of others -- Joe and Ken -- whom I didn't recognize (but who knew who I was because of my, um, reputation).  Brandon said something about meeting someone at 30 miles: "I'm only going to stop for water at the first rest stop. I'll catch up with you guys later."

I texted Tom that we were leaving; he'd ride from home and meet us at the first rest stop.

Brandon was off like a shot, Ralph and Joe up with him. Sometimes I closed the gap, but I knew better than to push hard in the first couple of miles. Bob and Ken stayed behind with me. At intersections we'd regroup. 

At the rest stop in Clarksburg, Brandon took off, Joe and Ralph with him. The rest of us waited for Tom. 

I was so wet from the humidity that when I made a fist, water dripped from my gloves.  It rained for a minute. Tom arrived. I took a picture of Kermit while Tom grabbed a snack.

Somewhere between the first and second stops, one of my bottle cage bolts wriggled loose, again. I'd already tightened it before leaving the house. I asked if we could stop so that I could tape the bolt and cage to the frame. My hands were so wet that I couldn't get a good grip on the duct tape I carry with me. I managed a mangled piece, which would be good enough until we got to New Egypt.

We were just finishing when Brandon pulled up behind us. Right away, he took the lead.

In New Egypt, I got lucky: Al, working the rest stop, had a roll of electrical tape with him. I need to start carrying foot-long strips.

Statler and Waldorf arrived. "We're doing the metric," Neil said. "I don't want to get caught in thunder and lightning."  His tendency towards getting soaked matches mine and Tom's. It's generally understood that if one of us is riding south of the Pinelands, whoever is with us will get wet. I was ready to take my chances. "Looks like cells are forming already," he said as he pushed off.

Another curse bites the dust: We didn't get rained on. 

Bob had a flat at mile 65 (70.5 for me), which was the perfect time for a flat. None of us complained. I stretched in the grass while he and Tom put in a new tube.

We got rolling again, only to have Bob's tire go flat within five minutes. As luck would have it, Chris, doing his annual duty as SAG, arrived to help.

While that was going on, a lone rider pulled up behind me. "Is there some kind of organized bike ride going on today?"  He was new to riding, soon to switch from sneakers to cleats, to better sunglasses, to a bigger water bottle. He stayed with us all the way to the Pinelands Nursery rest stop, where I emailed him the August Freewheel. He lives in Bordentown; I think we'll be seeing him again on A rides.

Brandon was starting to fade, and Ken with him. It didn't help that the route took us into Bordentown, where we crossed Route 130 three times, stopped for lights, met with traffic, and got annoyed at what seemed to be a loop of roads that we really didn't need to be on.

Whenever we stopped at a light, I picked up a scent of stinky biker, and I realized it was me.  That was motivation enough to keep moving.

Somewhere east of Bordentown, Brandon and Ken disappeared off the back. In Groveville, Tom declared, "I'm done."

"When's the last time you did a century?" I asked.

"A couple of years ago.  I do centuries every few years to remind myself why I don't do centuries"

Fair enough. 

Bob, meanwhile, was getting more energetic as we got closer to 100 miles.  He had this one in the bag.

The last rest stop was on Sharon Road. This is the stop where all the cool people volunteer. Plain Jim and TEW were there, and Joe M for a few seconds. I hadn't seen Don S in ages.

Amid all the greetings, Brandon limped in, finished, but not done. Ken was with him, not looking a whole lot better. Tom was trashed.  Bob was raring to go. I was full of Gatorade and bananas.

I'm not sure if Ken and Brandon left with us, left long before us, or were still at the park when we pushed off for the remaining 7 miles to the college. All I know is that, when Tom peeled off for home and Bob and I turned onto Bresnahan, we were the only two on the road.

We weren't going to set any speed records, but we were going to finish strong.

When I got home, I headed straight for the shower without eating or stretching first. I did a load of laundry right away because my wet clothes were stinking up the bedroom.

Jack and I went out to run errands in the evening. That's when the rain finally hit. As the sun set, the sky cleared. In the parking lot of a local restaurant, I took a few pictures: