It took three years, but I finally made it! Why did it take so long to do this ride you ask? The short answer is, I'm a weather weenie for all but the most important rides, and even then, I tend to whine a lot. You see, today's ride actually started in late 2012, when I signed up for the ride after feeling stoked at the completion of the Tour to Tanglewood a few days before. Having ridden a solid century, followed by a metric century, I felt that this ride (63 miles) wouldn't be too much to ask from my legs. The registration fee wasn't outlandish, so I went ahead and signed up. There was about a week to go before the actual event and I was getting excited about the ride. What I hadn't considered was the weather.
That morning, I got up and had my gear ready to roll out, but looked outside and saw that it was rather wet. I looked at the forecast and it showed rain pretty much all day long. Hmmmmm, A couple of weeks before, I had ridden 65 miles in a steady rain at the Tour to Tanglewood, and quite frankly had my fill of that experience. I briefly considered going to the Tour of Farmington because, lets face it, I had paid for it. But thinking about all the cleanup that would be needed on the bike after riding in the rain, I opted against it. Like I said, "Weather Weenie." And yes, I did whine through the 65 miles at Tanglewood. Well, I wasn't riding the Farmington ride as I was expecting to, but I didn't want to let myself off that easy, so I went with plan B.
Plan B was a "B"oring ride on the "B"rand new trainer, that made me "B"itch more than riding in the rain would have. This was my first attempt at riding on a trainer, and I wasn't a fan of it. I always felt bad that I backed out of riding the Farmington ride, especially when I saw pictures of the "real cyclists" who had gone out and ridden in the rain. Yeah, I was a weather weenie.
When 2013 came around, I didn't really give Farmington much thought because my emphasis had been on doing century rides, or major climbing events. A metric century just felt like a letdown with all the other rides that I had planned. I really didn't give it much thought after that. Since I wasn't riding for most of 2014, I hadn't really considered it until right at the last minute when I thought I would try it. That thought was short lived since I crashed out and found myself without a road worthy bike at the beginning of September.
When 2015 rolled around, I had big plans once again, and I was focusing on the ultra endurance events yet again. After I rode in the Ride to Remember in July, I was pretty much done for the year. Well, I thought that I was. I ended up realizing that there was a lot of riding weather left in the year and decided to do the Tour to Tanglewood again for my 4th year. As I was ramping up training for two century rides, I happened to see a advertisement for the Tour of Farmington. There were four different route options, with the longest being 63 miles once again. It wasn't a full century, it wasn't in the mountains, but there was that twinge of guilt for the fact that I had missed it in '12 because I wussed out. 2015 was about second chances on the bike, so I figured that with it being a week before Tanglewood, it would make for a great training ride. I went ahead and signed up for it, for the second time.
As we got closer to the day, I was looking at the weather. The temperature was going to be perfect for riding, in the lower to mid 70's. The wind was looking rather docile as well. The only catch...rain. Yep, thunderstorm chances throughout the day, but it didn't look too bad. I cautiously told myself that I would be riding this year. The night before, it was looking like we would be good until about 11am when the chances were around 51%. Other than that, they were hovering in the low 40% range. It was going to be iffy, but I was going to try it. When I woke up this morning, I checked the weather first, before even getting out of bed. Now we were looking at 45-58% chance for storms starting at 6am, well before the actual start of the ride. It was looking like I was going to get wet today.
I rolled back over in the bed and thought about how comfortable it was, and how nice the fan felt. I think I'll just sit this one out...
Again....
What? AGAIN?!?!?!
What was I thinking?
Was I going to let the weather make me feel less like a cyclist once again. Negative! I got out of the bed, and decided that it was going to be what it was going to be, but I was going to be on the bike. I got everything ready and loaded in the truck before Toni got home from work. I got to see her briefly before she went to bed, and I headed out to Mocksville. It was cloudy, but nothing was falling from the sky at least.
I got there plenty early because I didn't know what parking would be like, or how long registration would take. As luck would have it, I got the perfect parking space between a fence and a mound of dirt so I didn't have to worry about anyone parking next to me. Registration took 2 minutes, 25 seconds...I counted. I really didn't count, but I was in and out in no time. That left me with about an hour to sit and chill out. There was no reason to get the bike off of the truck that early, so I just watched as cars steadily came in and spandex clad cyclists moved around getting coffee, and breakfast.
Drip
Drip
What was that?
Drip drip
Oh no, I haven't even unloaded yet and its starting to rain. Not much, but just a slight drizzle. Edmond, the cyclist getting ready nearby, looked up and said something to effect of, "uh oh, I think I felt something." Yep, it was raining. I had an immediate flashback to the Carolina Century ride from 2013 which I should have ridden in a canoe for. By the way, this is a funny read, and I was already reliving the experience in my head. But I was here, the bike was going to get wet if the rain came at this point, so I went ahead and started getting things ready.
To show you how early I had gotten there, they were handing out numbers on a first come, first served basis. By my early morning estimations, there had been (counts on fingers) just five riders in before me. It was kind of cool having a single digit bib number. At least it made it easy to remember. It didn't take long to get dressed, and I was happy to find that I had remembered everything that I needed. I always stress that part for some reason, and see myself pedaling without shoes. I moved up to the start line, and utilized the little trick that I had learned at Ride to Remember...get up front, its easier to start. There was going to be a staggered start with each mile group being separated to keep the start from getting too bunched up. It wasn't until recently that I learned just how nice that procedure makes the first few miles. Many thanks to the organizers for doing it this way.
I wasn't sure what kind of riders would be doing this route, and didn't know if I was going to have my doors blown off, or if everyone would treat it like a casual ride. I had done a little research on Strava, looking at the course layout and getting an idea of the climbing involved. In that research, I had seen speeds in the 18's and 19's, so I knew I would be in good company with similar riders to myself. The question came as to whether or not I would ride this one solo, or if I would attach to a group and share the workload. This seems to be the major question that I deal with on these event rides. This one was pretty easy to determine though since it was just a metric century. I felt confident enough in my abilities to handle this one solo which would ensure I would have a more enjoyable ride, and a safer one as well.
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| Is it just me, or is my head the biggest thing in this picture? |
I pulled out with the lead group that quickly got into position in front of me, and more passed me. Remember, I like warming up in the little ring for the first 10 miles or so, and that kept me a bit slower than the rest. At first, I wanted to give chase and secure my position in the front, but decided that I would be much better off just letting them drop me and let me ride my ride wherever I ended up in the line. I was instantly calm, not caring where anyone was around me. This was going to be a great ride, and the rain had stopped before even making the roads wet.
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| I'm in the yellow jersey centered between the two lead riders |
Within the first five miles or so, I was passed by a group on a slight downhill (I had topped out gearing and was coasting). As we came to the inevitable uphill portion, I saw that I was gaining on them. The closer I got, the more I realized that I wasn't going to be able to pass them and stay in front for long, so I just hung back well behind the line (don't want to be labeled as a wheel sucker). My heart rate was getting into sleeping territory, and to make matters worse, the lead rider was coming off line and going back to the rear. My presence was confusing to him as he appeared to want to fall in behind me, but was concerned with the gap. I told him to slide in, I was riding "my own ride" today. With that, he moved in to the last spot of the line, and I made my decision that it was time to make my move. I checked to the rear, and moved to the left of the lane. I went ahead and spun up the pedals and moved around them, and continued with the "sprint" in order to not disrupt their flow by them trying to grab onto my wheel.
When I had created a large enough gap, I backed down a little bit and went back to my warm up. There were a couple of riders which had been dropped that I came up to and passed which caused me to get a bit of adrenaline pumping in my veins. At 10 miles, I moved into the big ring, and settled into my cruising cadence. At about 15 miles in, I had moved past all but a handful of riders and was still increasing my average speed.
At some point in this section, I found out what Garry was talking about when he said to watch out for the "broken pavement." I saw the warning sign on the side of the road and began to slow down, which was not all that easy since it was on a slight descent. I was expecting a rough patch in the road, but what I saw was not that. There was a full section width of road missing, and about three feet wide. There was no way to go around, no point where there would be less of a "bump", it was just missing pavement. I grabbed the brakes, and slowed to about 15 mph, stood in the saddle and hoped for the best. It was a rough crossing, but wasn't as bad as it looked like it was going to be. Note to self...broken pavement is a bad thing, and should be avoided.
By 20 miles, I had found another group up ahead and found myself struggling to catch them. In fact, I lost sight of them within minutes of spotting them in the distance. We were on one of the few flat roads on the route, and it was into the wind. That was where pacelines shine, and I was feeling the effects of pulling 100% of the workload for my solo ride. I knew that there was no way I was going to catch them, but that wasn't my biggest concern at this point...
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| Nice road markings, my route was the white arrow |
After what seemed like an eternity, I found Hwy 21 and a most welcomed sight of a white arrow telling me to turn left. I was still on course, I was right to trust me! I was now out of the wind, and going downhill. My speeds were creeping back up again and I was feeling much better about the ride. Here is where my obligatory funny story comes in...
After passing a couple of stragglers from the group up ahead (nice to see I'm still on course, and not that far behind now), I saw a slightly odd sight ahead. There was a lady riding a hybrid bike wearing what looked like a regular white summer top and not a cycling jersey. There was no bib number attached, and she didn't seem all that "serious" for lack of a better term. I assumed that she was just out for a Saturday ride which was awesome. I came up behind and wished her a good morning and have a nice ride as I passed by. She smiled and we parted ways.
Not even a mile later there was a nice descent which I was going to utilize to make up some time. As I finished clicking through the gears, I saw the other group ahead of me. I had found them, and was in position to catch them! I poured on the coals, and saw my pace creeping up, but I also saw a blue pickup truck backing out of a driveway. The other group was able to get past it without missing a beat, but I was going to have to slow down to let him out. I feathered the brakes anticipating him to back out, and get into the oncoming lane as any other driver would do. Well, not this guy, he just slowly backed out and blocked both lanes with his truck before stopping right there. He wasn't even looking at me, so I knew it had nothing to do with a motorist vs cyclist grudge, but I was going to have to come to a stop. I grabbed the brakes, and managed to downshift a couple of gears as I came to a stop. Before I stopped, I could hear a female voice yelling from the porch of the house he was leaving from. Oh joy! I had found myself in the middle of a 10-16 (domestic dispute for you non cop folks). I knew better than to try and persuade the driver to move along, because experience tells me, he's probably just looking for someone to lash out at, and I wasn't going to volunteer for that role. He did hear my brakes and realized that he was in the road. To his credit, he flipped off the lady at the house and put his truck in drive to clear the road. Well, that was nice!
As I was starting to push off and get rolling again, what happened? The young lady I had passed a few minutes ago came rolling by, apparently not even breaking stride due to the truck. I had to smile at that. Here we had a a casual cyclist blowing past the guy on the race bike, in full kit. I really enjoyed that experience, and I hope that she did as well, because it was just that kind of funny. It wasn't long before I was back in full song though, and climbing the hill after the descent. It was a long hill, which marked the halfway point to the ride. It was on the hills I was excelling it seemed, and I found the group which had been eluding me for so long as we came to the end of the hill. There was a rest stop on the next road which reduced that group by a couple, and just a handful continued on without stopping.
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| Elevation profile showing lots of rolling hills |
They were back in my sights though, and I wasn't going to let them get away again. They had slowed and were situating some "on the road snacks" it appeared. They were riding two abreast, so I decided to hang back a little bit and let them get organized. There was no sense in sprinting ahead by going into opposing traffic, plus it was kind of nice to soft pedal after the long climb. They got back in single file and had seen that I was waiting in the rear. They did not get back up to speed immediately, so I took that as my invitation to make my move. I got around them, and continued hammering the pedals until I figured that I had enough room between us so as not to disrupt their paceline. By all estimations at the time, I was now in the lead for the metric century group, and that was a first. I have to say, that just turned into a bucket list item for me, and I had checked it off.
I continued out in front for pretty much the rest of the ride, but the strangest thing happened. I swear the group of four behind me must have possessed either a cloaking device, or access to warp speed because I would keep a periodic check behind me since I could feel my pace dropping a little bit. I could never see them, so I figured I was well ahead by this point. The route came to a stop sign, and decided to use this opportunity to switch water bottles in the cages. In just a matter of seconds, the four of them just appeared. Huh? How did that do that? Where did they come from? Hey, they are making the turn before me! I would then sprint out and get back in front again and wait until I couldn't see them again before backing off.
We played that game at least three more times at stop signs where they would come out of nowhere, just seconds behind me. In the last 10 miles, I was feeling pretty beat down, and was actually getting hungry. I had brought food, but hadn't felt the need to eat anything as of yet. Based on my training rides, I rarely need food on metric centuries now, and I figured that this would be no different. The difference was, I was putting out significantly more watts over this ride than I was used to in an attempt to stay out front. If I stopped to eat, I would get passed, and didn't know how many were in range to do that. With just a few miles left, I drank some water and kept it moving.
At 59 miles, I was on a flat portion of the road, and was feeling pretty well beat down. It was at that time, that the four riders came out of thin air again and blew past me. My feelings weren't hurt though, I know that a paceline is a very efficient machine, and I was probably the most inefficient rider on the whole course riding solo. The fact that I had made a paceline catch me, was just as impressive as leading the route. I held on to them from about 30 feet back as the last 3.5 miles ticked by. We had made it to the finish line, and I was about 30 feet behind the other four riders. I could live with that!
I did my stretching in the bed of the truck, and got my gear all loaded up before going to have a bite of lunch in an attempt to consume some protein. I had a brief chat with a couple of other riders who had done the 40 mile route. We compared notes on the road conditions. We all agreed that the roads were very rough out there. It actually reminded me of South Carolina for the second half. The vibrations that continually went through my body came close to shaking the molars out of my mouth. I'm sure that this factored into my fatigue levels by the end of the ride. it is just harder to ride on rough roads than smooth ones.
After I ate, I made my way back to the truck and headed home. I really missed Toni on this ride. She wasn't there to send me off, she wasn't there to celebrate when I finished, and I was still hungry because she had not been there to force me to get more lunch. The ride back was lonely without her, and it really killed the high I should have been experiencing for what I would consider an awesome ride.
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| Starting another row of bib numbers on the wall |
View the Garmin data here
After I had gotten home, I was still very much under the assumption that the magical four that I had played cat and mouse with for so long was the lead group to the ride, and I had come in right behind them. It wasn't until I started to look deeper into the information provided by Strava about the other riders on the course. It would appear that there was a rider that finished about 20 minutes before we had with an average speed of 23 mph! There were a couple others behind him, so I'm not sure where exactly I placed, but that really doesn't matter at all to me. I had a very strong ride, and like I said, I outpaced many a group of riders, and forced a paceline to catch me. I had made a great showing for myself, and am very proud of that effort. As a side note, to do this course at 23 mph is almost superhuman, and my hat is off to him!
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