  23 August 2014 |
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Ride Photos:
click here for ride photos
I've climbed Mount Greylock from the north. And while sorely tempted to dismount, stayed in the saddle. I've summited the Mount Snow Climb at mile 183 of the 200 on 100. And stayed in the saddle. I've slogged my way to the 14,000'+ summit of Mount Evans. And stayed in the saddle. Then there's Mountain Road on the D2R2 160km loop. I never stopped ... but I did stop pedaling. Tough earlier climbs and the grade conspired to have me walking. Twice. So here's to you, Mountain Road. I'm tempted to attribute my relative lack of success to one of two factors: tire pressure or stomach pressure. As to the former, I had neglected to properly inflate my 'cross bike tires following the prior Wednesday's cyclocross practice. And while I don't run pressures in the 20s like the fast kids do, I was likely south of 50psi. Absent the off-camber curves of a cyclocross course, 70+psi would have served me better. Regarding stomach pressure, I made sure to eat along the ride, more often than not with real food rather than the best that Gu is able to pack in its Roctane packets. Nonetheless, eating didn't seem to be translating to digesting translating to fuel for the legs. Don't get me wrong, the food the D2R2 organizers and volunteers laid out was first rate. As was the ride overall. And they get the details right. The portapotties at the ride start and end? Equipped with small battery powered lanterns? "Why?," you might ask. For the campers at night, of course. One thing the D2R2 can't control--the weather. Unlike last year's beautiful sun, this year's ride couldn't quite figure out what it wanted to be when it grew up. With temperatures projected to be in the high 50s at the start and mid 70s early afternoon, I planned for arm warmers and a thin short-sleeved base layer. The walk to the car Saturday morning convinced me otherwise--only a jersey was warranted. Throughout the middle of the day, however, I found myself wishing I'd worn a bit more, not unlike the feeling given off by an overly air-conditioned space on a not quite warm enough summer day. Toward the halfway point of the ride, Marc let on that his surgically repaired wrist simply wasn't holding up to the pressures of rough roads and weak cyclocross brakes. Sure, Marc talks a good game about his many weaknesses, but trust me, that's all sandbagging. I rode the second half of a double century in which a broken chain turned his trusty Scott into a single speed. He may have been spinning 100+ RPM the entire second half of the ride, but spin it he did. So when Marc has to turn back, you know he's hurting. And unfortunately for him, he did not have the flatness of NJ ahead of him--he still logged 70+ miles and gobs of elevation before getting back to the parking lot. Prior to Marc's unwanted departure, we had the great pleasure of transiting (at about the 17.4 mile mark) E. Hill Road. Make that "Road." This pretender of a thoroughfare disguised itself as a steeply descending creekbed. Several mountain bikes bombed it. Several road bikes walked it. The bulk of the bikes, cyclocross in function if not skill, skidded, dabbed, and slid it. I'd love to give it another try sans traffic--I'm pretty sure I could clear it if only I channeled my inner Robert the J. (On a scale of 1 to his Wellesley 'Cross Tour, I'd give E.Hill Road an 8.) 
At one point in the latter half of the ride, I was following Dan and Anne down a gradual, straight, tree-lined descent on dirt. Ahead stood a pond. A glance at my GPS showed the road continuing straight. Straight through the pond. "Does not compute," I thought. As I got closer, I discerned that the pond was merely a large puddle cutting all the way across the road. Toward the edges, bicycle tracks suggested safe passage. I queued up behind several riders and then Dan and Anne. The rider immediately preceding Dan had his front tire stall, sending him off the side of his bike and full on into the puddle. My only thought was of despair. Or more accurately, Despair. As in Despair Inc.  (For those not in on the joke, Despair Inc. has made a mint parodying the "Teamwork" line of motivational posters. I've long thought that a business whose success depends on such fare lies likely on the wrong side of the success/failure divide.) The Article: Sep 2014 Bicycling Magazine (~18MB) The Route: click here for RideWithGPS  The Numbers: click here for Strava
Marc, Anne, and Dan Side view of the mountains Down the creekbed 1 Down the creekbed 2 11% Grade Irish eyes are smiling Dan downhill Puddle |
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