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heroes | jersey boy | logistics | ride Ride Sunday Sunday, October 24, 2010 Pre-start A challenge of long and particularly organized rides is the tension between riding and another of my amateur passions, photography. Despite the often picturesque terrain west of Austin, the ride won out, so please forgive the quality of the pictures. While none merit a "Wow," I hope that a few at least make you chuckle. I'll be adding a helmet cam--for stills, not video--to my holiday gift list. 
The drive from north of Austin down MoPac (named for the Missouri-Pacific rail line that it still parallels)
and out Highway 290 towards Dripping Springs passed quickly and uneventfully.
Having departed around 5:30a to avoid traffic near the ride start, I made quick time and pulled into the lot a few minutes after 6am.
Widely spaced temporary lighting created a surreal effect (click any bevel-edged image to enlarge), but I faced a very real task.
I needed to find a pedal wrench. The Coppi--named for the 1952 winner on Alpe d'Huez--fit me perfectly. My saddle provided the comfortable familiarity I'd want for the ride's later miles. My mountain bike shoes couldn't wait to clip into my SPDs. Only the Coppi's Look pedals stood in my way--whoever had tightened them had done so with more gusto than my Allen set could ungust. Even at this early hour, cars filled the lot and spilled cyclists readying for the ride. One by one, I approached and asked to borrow a wrench--surely, it'd take just a request or two. Well, two became three, then five, then ten. Eventually circling back a mere two cars from where I'd parked, paydirt ... and from the friend of a be-jerseyed Crack O' Dawn rider, no less. Several hearty cranks later and the Looks came free. I spun on my SPDs, tended to the rest of my prep (noting the oddity of applying sunscreen in the dark), and cycled a mile along the dimly lit highway to the already beginning to bustle start. Team Fatty I made my way to the congregation point for the 90 mile loop, connecting up with Team Fatties Kyle, Janeen, and later Jenny whom I'd met the day before at the Cedar Door. Eric joined us shortly, then Fatty and (not pictured) the Runner. 
The course 
The start Afer opening remarks by several speakers, the ride announcer called the start at 8:11am. The cyclists ahead cleared quickly and we were underway only a few minutes later. Fatty's plan was to ride fast to complete the 65 loop, then greet finishing team members and socialize through the afternoon. He and the Runner pushed a decent pace along the left edge of the pack, Kyle and me following. The four of us rode more or less together for the first ten or so miles. I experienced my first cow guards--a parallel configuration of roughly eight to ten 4" diameter or so pipes laid a few inches apart crossways in the road surface. Apparently, cows aren't able to navigate them. Or maybe they just don't like to. Bikes, however, can make the somewhat jarring crossing, but it's not uncommon to lose a water bottle in the process. At one point, we dismounted to fjord the ride's only water hazard. Measuring perhaps only 3" deep, the roadway underneath was incredibly slick and treacherous to cross. Many walkers stumbled and a few fell, as did one rider who ignored the volunteer's caution to walk. Highlight of the ride's first segment: a group of riders wearing "Cancer Sucks" jerseys. And the cow guards, of course. 
Kyle and I rode together to our first pause at Power Stop 4 (sponsored by none other than Power Bar, of course)
at the 36 mile mark and the point at which the 65 and 90 mile routes split.
Kyle chose 65 and I connected up with Steve (another new acquaintance from the Saturday get-together) for the 90 option.
Tandem I hung with Steve for a bit until he pulled ahead somewhere around the Power Stop we both skipped at the 40 mile mark. Towards the end of a long uphill grade at about the 45 mile mark, I came up on Andy (bib #82) and Allison (#81) slogging out the trademark "slow tandem climb." As we crested, I slid into their draft for what I expected would be the trademark "fast tandem descent"--they didn't disappoint. Through a series of ups and downs (more of the former than the latter, sadly) into a moderate headwind, we traded turns at the front, me pacing going up and then spinning like crazy to stay with the Avon CT residents going down. The fastest I saw on my computer was 36 mph ... about 6" off their rear wheel. Alison had altered the "I'm a survivor" sign on her back to read "I'm a thriver." 
I took a quick "natural break" at Power Stop 6 (52 miles) and parted company with my tandem friends.
I hopped in and out of several semi-pace lines, taking turns pulling and being pulled.
Experience has taught me--for reasons I've yet to really figure out,
maybe just the natural spacing out of riders--that I often find myself riding alone over the latter section of long rides.
Prepared, my iTunes-loaded Blackberry paired with a Bluetooth headset provided just the right company.
Along the way, the sun came out for the first time, highlighting how perfect the temperature had been while overcast.
I hit 54 miles at 11:40am and made a quick pit for fuel 9 miles later at Power Stop 7.
At 66 miles, I caught up to a rider wearing a red bib.
In the Tour, that signifies the most aggressive rider from the prior stage, but here I learned that it designated Ride Marshalls.
I promised not to run any stop signs and continued ahead.
At Power Stop 8 (69 miles), I halted only long enough to grab a quick picture ... of yet another rest stop.
Signs of the times Wanting to conclude my account with the end of the ride, I'm briefly hopping out of sequence to share some signs I snapped on the drive back to Austin. They need no further explanation. Although I have to say that the last one was funnier when I misread the second word. 
Exhibitionists Continuing the chronological break, here's a glimpse at some of the exhibits that peppered the post ride "village." 
By the numbers One final time disconnect, this time to share the numbers.
Doug Over the last 15 miles of the 90 mile trek, I rode with Doug from Virginia Beach. I didn't know Doug before the ride. In fact, I didn't know him until the 75 mile mark. Coming out of Power Stop 8, I caught up to him and another rider. I learned from their conversation that Doug was struggling a bit--he and the other rider agreed that the latter would push ahead. I fell in alongside Doug and we started to chat. I learned that he was a Navy pilot flying C130 transport planes. I learned that his brother Eric, 24, had been diagnosed with Leukemia 3 months ago, and that Doug was riding for Eric. As the miles rolled by, Doug labored, intermittently fighting leg cramps. As riders, we've all been there. And it's no fun. I didn't have much gas left in my own tank and opted not to push ahead. As we rounded a turn just inside the 5 mile mark, we found ourselves facing a not-all-that-long but decidedly steep grade. Out of the corner of my right eye, I saw Doug falter a bit. I told him that I had a bit of strength to spare, and that I'd be happy to share if Doug would pass it along to Eric when Doug was through with it. "Thanks," he said, and kicked my ass to the top. The finish We turned off of Highway 290 onto the final access road. Doug dropped his chain within sight of flags marking the finish (his only mechanical of the ride--none for me). I couldn't play Contador to his Schleck, so I halted a few seconds to wait. 
Just before riders cross the line, survivors are directed to veer right into a special chute while Doug and I
and the rest gave thanks that we were directed to the left.
Fatty greeted me--as he'd greeted other team members before and as he'd continue to greet those that followed--with a hearty "Congrats."
I responded, "Fight like Susan" and introduced him to Doug.
My day still had hours to go, but my story ended as I pulled my list--signed by Fatty at the start--from my jersey pocket and read through the names of fighters. 
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