[Here is a special writeup from our mystery rider from Colorado, Larry. I am so glad he could join us on the ride this year and I hope he returns to ride with us next year! By far the strongest rider in our pack, he hung with us - Team C - the first day through all our tire troubles and general slowness to finish the whole 100 miles with the Penultimates! Thanks Larry, we had a great time!]
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| Looking fast on the descent! |
Any MSer who is reasonably adept at riding a bike owes it to themselves to try this ride. The challenge this ride offers, the phenomenal organization, and the relatively limited number of riders make it a real gem among MS bike rides. Thank you Maggie, Krista and Dave for once again putting on such an incredible Bike MS experience.
It can truly be said that Pedal los Pueblos is a ride for “Those Who Dare”. If I had been on my own I probably would not have done the century on the first day but of course, whenever you put 4 guys and one girl together the dares get bigger, even when two of those guys have MS, (me and our team captain). Screw the MS, screw the heat, never mind the piles of loose gravel on the road and who cares if we add a few hundred more feet to the climb that day. The century was not an option, it was a given.
Almost as soon as we got down from the out and back century and headed up the last hill before the lunch stop, our strongest rider had a flat tire. Could be the reason he was fish tailing around on the century loop descent. Everybody stopped but I figured that 4 guys and one girl were 4 people more than enough to fix a flat, so I headed on up that hill planning to wait at the lunch stop just over the top. Turned out I might have been wrong. Although bike repair on a hill, in the midday sun isn’t my idea of a good time, it’s possible my presence could have been valuable and had I stuck around we might have had an easier time later on.
At the top of the hill was a temporary, mobile rest stop manned by two very energetic guys. I generally don’t dismount right away when I stop after a relatively arduous ride and true to form, I pulled up to this rest stop unclipping one foot to rest for a few minutes before I dismounted. As I was standing over my bike, one of the guys came over and began to spray me with a misting bottle, a lightly scented misting bottle. A moment later, the other guy came over and offered to refill my water bottle, an offer I of course couldn’t refuse. When he brought my water bottle back he offered to clean my glasses. That was such an unusual offer that I didn’t understand it at first, but, when I figured it out, and as I’m sure anyone who’s ridden 58 miles uphill knows, they were covered in sweat and grime, I was ecstatic to have an opportunity to get them cleaned up. As a final Fête de la résistance , he offered a cold wash cloth to wrap around my neck. Wow! These guys are like super heroes or something, number 1 in the Nation, maybe the world. The fact of the matter is, after the pain of climbing the hills, enduring the heat and pedaling the miles fades away, it is all of the fantastic volunteers with a mobile rest area, or home made carrot cake cup cakes or banana bread and cookies that sticks in my mind.
Our little group met back up at the lunch stop and we all left together for the mostly down hill ride to the finish, hitting every rest stop along the way. The flat tire reared its head again in the form of a slow leak this time. We stopped to pump it up 5 or 6 times before we reached a rest stop where we could affect a permanent fix. The wind came up in the last 15 or so miles, getting pretty nasty at times with 20 to 25 mph gusts, but when you know your that close to the finish, a little wind won’t stop you. I finished the first day’s 101.5 miles in 7:20 saddle time, 10:08 elapsed time (yes, the rest stops were that good) with about 3,500 feet of ascent. I was tired and hungry and sore but I refused to contemplate what effect today’s century could have on tomorrow’s climb.
Day 2, the Truchas Hill Climb, or Why Selective Memory is a Wonderful Thing.
You have to ride about 12 miles and climb about 1,000 feet just to get to the Truchas hill and that’s good because it gives you a chance to work out the last of the stiffness from the previous day. The first five miles of Truchas are a wake up call for sure but they’re manageable, maybe the steeper grades in there don’t seem that tough because the morning air is so exhilarating and the legs are still reasonably fresh. But all of that changes rather abruptly when, at a certain point, you look up and see an impossibly steep hill looming just ahead.
This isn’t the kind of hill that you try to stare down, thinking “You’re not so tough, I’ve got you”. No, this is the kind of hill that says “I will eat you alive, I will bring you to your knees and make you weep and beg for air and strength”. Fortunately, I remembered this hill and I knew, although it was steep, 11% as I recalled, it was less than a quarter of a mile long. Yes, it was finite, it was possible, I had done it the year before, I could do it again. I humbly bowed my head and stared just ahead of my front wheel and I climbed that hill, slowly, very slowly.
What I did not remember was that this was only the first of the big hills on the way to Truchas, and they followed in rather too rapid succession. Over the next two miles there were 5 or 6 more hills ranging from 8% to 10% grade. I began to realize that my memory had tricked me and I started to scramble for some new thoughts on just exactly why I wanted to keep climbing these outrageous hills. What I finally settled on was that the descent of these inclines would be more than worth the climb. 3 miles and 40 minutes later I was in Truchas.
I can’t just jump off my bike after a climb like that, my legs would not be happy about it. Fortunately I didn’t have to though because almost as soon as I stopped and unclipped one foot, one of the rest stop volunteers presented me with a cyclotini, gatorade in a martini glass complete with a green olive on a skewer. A few minutes later and I did lay my bike down and stumble through the crowd to refill my water bottle. Oh, and BTW, I was not DFL, not by 20 or 30 riders.
The descent was indeed worth the climb. I reached speeds of over 49 mph without ever having a death grip on the handlebars. My bike performed flawlessly, it was comfortably solid at those speeds. The road surface was very good, the curves were broad and sweeping and there wasn’t any wind to worry about. It was pretty much just a matter of tuck and go, go as fast as you can, as fast as you dare. After all, it was why you climbed that hill in the first place.
I finished the second day’s 55.5 miles in 4:06 saddle time, 4:39 elapsed time, with 3,484 feet of ascent.
Pedal los Pueblos, for those who dare,
AMF
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