thursday and friday ride reports, and 421.26 miles if you're counting

Thursday morning my legs were nice and fresh after a whole day of not touching my bike, so I decided to go on the "A" ride. The day before had been the infamous Leakey Death Ride, so the crowd was pretty thin at the start and I figured I'd have to ride alone all day. Sure enough, soon after we took off about half the group rocketed past me at about 30 miles an hour, but I did find two guys who were going at a nice steady pace and I latched onto them. I ended up riding with them all day, actually. One was a Texan named George, and one was UltraRob. They set a solid pace and the miles flew by pretty fast. I did try and take my pulls, but apparently I was not fast enough because every time I got in front I got the privelege taken back away from me pretty fast. I decided not to care. These Southern guys are still bent on chivalry and didn't seem to mind one bit that I was wheelsucking all day long.

About halfway through we stopped at an apple cider mill with a store and cafe attached. I ate a giant piece of apple pie and chatted with George about racing for a while -- this was the sort of ride where when you're riding, you just ride, and you don't talk until you stop. When we left the pie stop, we picked up some more riders, including the director of Hell Week, Nick Gerlich. That guy can sure put the hammer down. I think we went 24-25 mph the entire way with him in front, and then when we got away from the gently rolling stuff and into the monster hills again (can't escape them for too long), he damn near killed us all. I hung on until about mile 90 but then had to drop back. George and Rob also dropped back, though, and I rode with the two of them until we passed Rob's campground, and then George and I fought the headwind the rest of the way into town. The course was officially only 98 miles, so just before we got to the finish I turned to George and said "As perverse as it is, I'm going to go up this road for a bit and make it an even hundred." George looked at me like I had just sprouted antlers, shook his head, and said "okay." I thought that was the last I'd see of him, but he turned off with me and rode the extra two miles too.

So I ended up with 100.26 miles for the day. Now nobody can use the "But it's the first century of the season!" bullshit on me when it comes time for the Ironman, because it ain't gonna work. I can say "I did that shit six weeks ago, foo', I'm sleeping in."

That night we met the whole Bella crew at an outdoor biergarten and drank way too much sangria, then wandered around town trying to find ice cream, which is none too easy when the whole town shuts down at 5:30 sharp. But we did eventually find one place that was open, and then we met up with some people Sascha and Scott had met on the road and chatted with them at their picnic table for quite a while. We got back to the room after ten and I promptly passed out.

Friday, day 7

This morning the alarm went off, Scott rolled over and smacked it, and we all fell back asleep. I was reawakened by Scott swearing at the coffee maker again, this time because it was overflowing. That thing is nothing but trouble.

We met up with the Bellas at the start, then cruised out with a chilly wind blowing and small drops of cold rain smacking our faces. It never did warm up much. Not to complain, considering 60 is still pretty balmy compared to home, but I preferred the sunny, 80 degree days we had earlier in the week. The group seemed to split up into two huge packs -- the group I was in had at least 50 people in it -- and I stayed with my pack until we came to the first rest stop. After the stop the pack broke up and for the rest of the day Nate and I were with Bella S and Bella A and two other people, one of whom had been in yesterday's hammerfest. It was a fairly uneventful ride. I was kicking around the idea of doing 20 extra miles so that I could hit an even 500 for the week, but when we got back we found out that tomorrow's ride is 85 miles and that'll be enough to get me there. Which was good. I didn't want to get back to the motel room and go back out to ride more.

And then I ate most of a box of Cheez-Its. Mmmmm, Cheez-Its.


Blogger Pete said...

Hell Week and a century? I'm in awe, you rock!

3/18/2006 8:19 AM  
Anonymous Annie's brother said...

MOST of a box of Cheez-Its? Wimp.

3/18/2006 5:44 PM  
Blogger Sascha said...

That's because we beat her up and took her cheezits and ate them!

3/18/2006 10:52 PM  

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