Up at 4:30.... bags are packed, bike has new tires on it, out the door by 5:30. By the time I get to Newport at 6:50am, the fire station thermometer reads 1°. I'm not sure if it's right, but it's certainly close. I'm not so much concerned about my own temperature for the cold but my suspension fork. The seals begin to leak air some where below 10° and then the fork just drops to its lowest position. I figure I'll just lock the fork out and ride without suspension. Hopefully it will warm up in the next hour.
Pulling into the parking lot, the race's disclaimer "If you are considered not quite normal by your peers, this is probably a race for you" seems obviously true. There are way to many cars in the lot for 7am on a Saturday morning, to boot, these people are going to ride 30 miles, first crossing a frozen lake and and then ride snowmobile trails for several hours. What keeps going through my head is that for me, this is not a race, this is survival. Oh yeah, part of the mandatory equipment for the race is a fire starter and water proof matches.
Waiting at the start for the air horn (with an absurd amount of stupid folks like me riding this on a single speed), somebody behind me says: "it's only 30 miles, how hard can it be?". If you've never ridden in the winter, there are a few things to know about snow. For one, it can be very easy to ride. If it's cold, if there is a good crust, often you can get enough float with your tires to just ride. Running with under inflated tires you can get a surprising amount of traction. Things begin to change as the snow warms and there is traffic- something skiers and snowboarders would call "loose granular" forms. If your tires aren't wide enough to get float on this, you start sinking in and traction reduces incredibly. The amount of effort required to ride in these is astounding. On up hills, riding quickly becomes hiking.
By the time I cross lake Memphremagog, I'm hot- which is good to the extent I know I'm not going to freeze. Thankfully the wind is calm, which for this time of year is surprising. The riding is challenging, but my trusty Ibis Mojo handles things well. The Maxis 2.3 tires that I put on in place of my studded tires work well, though I wish the frame was big enough to handle 2.5 inch tires. There are aid stations well placed with heat and friendly people. The race is extremely well organized. By mile 15, I'm actually surprised that I've made it half way. The real grind for me hits as my blood sugar crashes around mile 23. I've been playing catchup with a group of people and able to keep the pace until the last down hill. With my fork locked out, arms tired I'm just not able to keep the bike stable at high speed... I'm fishtailing all across the course and my breaks are squealling just trying to keep the bike under control. I can see the lake below me and I basically go into the "limp home" mode. Thankfully I'm still warm. The folks that I've been keeping up with for the last two hours get further and further ahead. Crossing the lake again and I can see the finish line on the hill on the opposite side of the lake. The last hill is a slog, but crossing the line, Dan, the race organizer lets me know that lasagna and garlic bread just came out of the oven.
I guess the real test for anything like this is the "would you do it again?" question. The event was extremely well organized people were friendly, the folks running the aid stations were fantastic. Even the snowmobilers who must have been shocked to see so many wackos out on bikes were extremely friendly. I guess I'd say yes, though maybe I'll save up for a pugsley for next year.
Post new comment