Mandatory 252 Meeting
We got there late and the meeting was almost over--oh well. We were starved so we ate pizza--mistake number one--I ate like 22 pieces. Hey! That's my race number!
Dave Glasgow, John Heller, Eric Ewing, and Russ Goodwin are there and we all say hello. So Glasgow has three crew--we were hoping one would come over and help us. Ended up we were fine.
Gadsen Hotel
A Grand Old Historic cheap hotel. But we hit the sack, after setting the alarm for 1:15 a.m.--can you believe that? Riding 75 miles throught the mountains in the dark? As you can see below, people line-up to do it...
At the start of the Cochise Classic. 27 riders in all. I was dressed with my warm gear, which was a good thing because although the start in town was okay, after a few miles it was cold--The support crews could not follow for 30 minutes after the start. A lot of the guys froze the first 1o or so miles, and had to stop to get warm.
And we're off
So, like, it's dark and stuff--even with with Steve's hub I borrowed and my commuter lights, all I can see is the white line of the shoulder. The climbing begins and everyone starts to stretch out. Climbing is what I'm doing--climbing climbing climbing. Crews are coming by to drop off warm clothes to other riders. The fast riders are already in Bisbee, and I'm somewhere between them and the others.
It is a long loney climb and I'm nearing Mule Head Tunnel. I know that after the Tunnel I'll have a 7 to 12 mile ride down--oh yeah, its cold alright, but I am sweating like a dog.
When I get out of the Tunnel, its pitch black--and so starts the down hill... A coyote runs in front of me, surprised by the lights. As I'm gaining speed, the hub light gets brighter, and brighter--man, the hub light is getting pretty darn bright. I'm going about 45 mph down this road--an offical in a truck passes me, and he drives about a 1/4 mile in front of me with his lights flashing. This helped me to kind of feel safer going down hill at night at those speeds. I may have gotten up to 50 mph but I didn't want to look, mes amis, fearing any mistake would be death. I must tell you that the pavement of the hwy was pristine--and smooth--and as I've said, I was freakin' flying down the road!
I'm just at the edge of St. David, after flying down the Hwy 80 at 45+ MPH in total butt ugly runny-nose cold darkness. Its finally daylight and I've ridden about 70 miles. I'll change out the hub for my regular wheel, and get rid of anything I don't need to carry, mainly all my lights.
This is more like it--pulling into the Benson time station. I take a minute to eat half of a subway sandwhich. The gels and goo are not working for me. Coca Cola, Cold Cut Combos, and Caffine are my weapons of choice.
Hwy to Hell
Before I-10 was I-10, it was old Hwy 666. So you pretty much know it SUCKED the whole fucking time I was ridin that bitch! This part of the course sucked soooo much. I actually rode pretty fast--and started gaining on Rider 6. The shoulder was horrible, being littered with chunks of truck tire rubber, beer bottles, wire, bolts, shoes, gloves, bras, and just the wierdest shit.
Linda and I hung in there--her support was perfect. She told me I was gaining on Rider 6--that it looked like he was having problems. See I thought I was in last place and this would be my chance to not have that distinction. But I didn't want to try and race this guy. When I'd stop for a few minutes to get fresh water bottles, Linda would say, "He's 7 minutes ahead of you." Next stop, "He's two minutes ahead of you!"
Finally, right before Wilcox, on I-10, I passed Rider 6. He was not happy, and I did not want to stick around and share his misery--he was in trouble--and he didn't want to be last. So I thought it best to put as much distance between us as possible.
Perpetual Wilcox
Linda drove to the Wilcox time station to check us in. Here we got separated and almost had our first real disaster. Linda got stuck in the time station, then got stuck in a supermarket trying to buy me some ice and orange juice. I rode a good hour without any support and I was out of water, very tired, and getting hammered by a headwind. And Linda was not sure if I had gone ahead, or made my way to the time station and taken the alternate route, which riders could take if they wanted. And, Wilcox seemed to go on forever. "Wilcox next 3 exits." The sign would say, and then another sign would say something like, "Wilcox 6 miles." I had no idea where I really was and because I was so tired, I started thinking I fucked up somewhere and made a wrong turn--or Linda was involved in a firey collision with a tractor-trailer rig, probably carring thousands of gallons of high explosive aviation fuel.
22X, our sag vehicle...
But just as Wilcox faded, there was Linda with OJ, coffee, food! I just made it. And glad to get back on my feet because the worst part was yet to come!
Bowie to San Simon to Road Forks, NM
The sholder was graded for 13 miles, and every 20 feet a diagonal groove was cut into the shoulder. 13 miles of bump-bump--bump-bump--bump-bump... That was a nightmare! But I just had to accept it and keep going... Oh it was pure Hell...
One of our many Mantras plastered on 22X, courtesy of Susan Plonsky, our beloved RBA...
The only relief was that Linda told me I had passed the half-way mark.
After the shoulder became smooth again, I had a tough climb up to San Simon into New Mexico. But I knew I would be getting off I-10. Praise the Lord. If I had made it this far, I knew I would finish. Little did I know what was in store for me--on Hwy 80!!! God, the Calamity of the next 80 miles...
Road Forks Time Station
At the check in, I made my first real strategic coup. I did what I call the Russ Goodwin Manoeuver: I layed down on my old army pad and slept for about 15 minutes while Linda got my gear ready. I was already 20 minutes ahead of Rider 6 and when he and his crew rolled in, they though I was dead.
Allure Libre dans 22X
So instead of stopping and re-fueling/resting from a brutal ride on I-10, Rider 6 decides he must quickly rush off to get ahead of me. "Don't you want some water? Don't you want to rest? Don't you want something to eat?" The crew were saying. "No, No, I'm fine, I want to get going!" This was a fatal mistake. I rolled out a few minutes later. I knew I would eventually catch him again--but Gentle Reader, within a short few minutes, there they were by the side of the road having major problems. I don't think they even saw me go past them. Pretty obvious Rider 6 was finished...
Rain Wind Hail Lighting
As I cruised down Hwy 80, getting the job done and heading for Douglas, dark rain clouds loomed. Thinking that I might get rain afterall, the wind came. It was a headwind and then the road turned into climbing--9 mph was my top speed. I figured that at this rate I'd get to Douglas by 1 a.m. It was demoralizing. All you can do is keep going what seemed inch by inch. Linda pulled up with some hot coffee--that made me feel better. I think I road 9 mph for 10 long miles.
Rain came as I made it to the end of the climb. The headwind and climb lasted for about 25 miles. My top speed was only about 12 or 13 mph.
But I as I began to descend and gain speed, rain began to fall--the faster I road, the harder the rain seemed to come down...
Somewhere on Hwy 80.
The rain turned into hail and the wind blew like crazy! Actually the wind became a tailwind pushing me down the road--I think I road 23 to 25 mph through pouring rain and hail--I was not about to get off the bike, get in the car, and wait out the storm!
Lightening (ZAP!)
Linda told me she thought I was going to be hit by lightening. There were four really close ones that I saw dance across the road back and forth in front of me. Scary as Hell, but kind of cool. And the thunder was ear-spliting!
Later the other riders who dropped said the lightening was just too much and they feared for their lives! I don't blame them. It was insane--but oh so beautiful!
Here I am on the New Mexico/Arizona State Line, at a Border Patrol checkpoint. The rain has stopped and the sun is making its way down. The air is warm, fresh and clean. Rattlesnakes are on the road sunning themselves.
A few miles East of this monument, Geronimo and Gerneral George Crook negotiated a tready between the Apaches and US Army.
The rain has stopped and its clearing, plus I'll have about an hour more light. I'm feeling strong, and now it dawns on me that I might be able to finish with a good time if I push forward.
Douglas in view! O! The joy!
The last 20 miles until the escort vehicle takes me to finish were tough. I had one more long climb up into the mountains--which seemed endless... Linda asured me that I'd have downhill all the way in the last 8 miles or so. Halfway thru the climb, a strong headwind came up--so all I could do is stay low in the aero bars and dig in. I can't tell you how it felt when as I reached the top the climb, the lights of Douglas glowed about 4 or 5 miles in the distance! I was going to make it!
18 hours and 34 minutes 51 seconds.
C'est bon journey, mes amis!
1 comment:
Awesome! Sounds like you had a perfect sag vehicle and Linda was with you physically and spiritually. Excellent job finishing the race...makes me think about trying it next year!
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