C'est moi, mes amis! A la finis!
This was a tough one, mes amis--43 miles of headwind to the turn-around controle where lunch awaited. Steve and I rode strong, and surged remarkably far despite gusty winds. I had to hang on Steve's wheel the last few miles to the lunch stop because I seemed to have some kind of personal vendetta with the Forces of Nature today. I was not going to let the head wind break me--but I was hurting. The controle with food, water, and snacks was just in the nick of time!
The first part of the ride was uneventful but fun because everybody was feeling relaxed. John Heller, Eric Ewing, Paul Layton and Dave Peashock--and others--road the first 15 miles or so at a casual friendly pace. As people got warmed up and all salutations, gossip and stories of other rides got exchanged--things played out.
Paul and another recumbent bike fellow found their groove and moved on up. I could see Paul's new tail light for many miles until he either turned it off or was too far ahead.
Steve got his groove and was riding strong-- and I followed. We were moving right along and Dave Peashock stayed with us until the first controle. At the first controle I noticed one of the stronger riders from Phoenix just leaving the controle as we pulled in.
Eric and John were pulling a friend of their's along as it was her first brevet and she's never ridden over 70 miles. Well I got it in my mind to catch the woman from Phoenix and maybe get a pace-line going. The Phoenix people do ride strong. It took some time but right around Coolidge we caught up with her, but with our momentum to catch her we rolled past and dropped her after a mile. I bet she started out too fast with the really really fast guys like Sandiway, and blew out early. That's something you can't do in randonneering. But she probably gave it her best shot.
At the next controle, which was back at the starting point, we shed out warm clothes, filled up our water bottles, and grabbed our Camelbaks. We had to ride 43 miles West on Indian 15 to the lunch stop, and then turn around for the finish.
The Headwind was brutal Gentle Readers. Relentless is a word for it--and we slugged it out with the road, mile after mile. And really, we were riding strong--14 to 15 mph whereas last year, we would have only been able go 12--or even less. It was a headwind like I had in Cochise; a storm front is moving in the clouds and you can smell the rain. It is a lovely smell, but it rides that wind and that wind will kick your butt!
Out on Indian 15, I had seen mustangs. They're probably not mustangs but feral horses--which means that once they were domesticated, you know standing around endlessly in a stall or ram-shackle corral--but now they're free and running with the herd and they can't be re-captured. I saw about twenty of them peering down at us uneasily from a high ridge. They looked strong and defiant.
Miles ahead we see a group of riders and we start to make our way to them. Steve asks me if we should try to ride with them. They were the young, fit, looking guys at the bike shop controle--kind of cockey but you know how young dudes can be; they think they're invincible. Sooner than we thought, Steve and I were right there on their wheels. We said hello and they were all smiles--except one of the lads was in trouble--slouched over and bearly able to keep his head up. So it seemed the two would do their best to pull the suffering one to the controle.
Gentle Readers, I must tell you that I have been that fellow being pulled in by his friends--in fact I was near to the same condition about five miles from the controle. I needed water and food. I was running out of power--and the head wind was even stronger! Now we began to see other rides on their way back, and this was a good sign because it meant we were going to make it. And of course the other riders were flying because now they had the tailwind!
Steve was holding up fingers. "Four miles!" "Three miles!" "Hang on, Dude--two miles!" At last--Susan's truck! Food! I could write a book about the food, so I will say I stuffed as much of it in face as I could--then stuffed my pockets full of whatever else I could carry. Cookies, chips, power bars, granola bars, Double Stuffed Oreos if you can believe it! Two bananas...
Susan a la controle.
A tailwind like the one we had is like a dream. We rode for 47 minutes at speeds of 22 to 25 mph. We rode hard as we could, and sometimes we road at 27 to 30 mph. To gain back my strenght, I continuously re-hydrated and nibbled every morsal of food I had--until it was all gone--because I knew what would no doubt happen--and it did happen, Gentle Readers--
The last 12 miles, by Steve's account, was the distance we rode--once again--into a brutal headwind. The wind shifted as we made our approach back into Casa Grande. I began to lose heart because we had been riding so strong, and I wanted to blow away our time on the 200 km from last year. It looked like we would just have to settle for finishing, which we did, about 4:20 pm in the afternoon.
Dave Peashock at the finish of the 200 Km Brevet.
Steve had to leave and get back to Scottsdale. I decided to wait for For John, Eric, and Dave--and it was about an hour before the Phoenix woman showed up. Half hour later Eric and John showed up, and they had done the smart thing and stopped by Dairy Queen to get ice cream before coming into the finish--a tradition I think I'd like to follow!
Eric and John, Mr. D and Mr. Q
So we hung out and talked and ate some more sandwhiches left overs from the lunch stop--and cookies, and muffins! and more sandwhiches! And after a while I started feeling good about my ride and everything, knowing that no matter what, I can do this. Always will be the people faster and ahead of you. And you will be faster and stronger than others. But in the end we all made it.
Yours with Susan Plonsky, aka, French Toast
Allure Libre ! Viva les Rondonneurs!
