because some schmuck – maybe the sideways swimmer? – couldn’t find his helmet. It had blown off his bike and was sitting a bike or two over. Ass. Like those nice ladies wanted anything to do with your helmet...) about inappropriate farm animals and I’m off. 
Now you know I’m having a bit of an issue when I stop and step over my bike instead of the running, flying mount that’s quite the norm... I figured that between the gale winds and the uphill boat ramp start and the 2.4 mi. swim I might be safer to just take it easy. So I gear down and hunker down and just start spinning and stretching my legs out up the hill – into the wind. (Have I mentioned that there was a lot of wind, and that it was coming straight 
down the hill? Just wanted to make sure that was clear…) It probably took me about 15 minutes to get up that first hill – I went just as far from side to side as I did forward. Some nice guy (read: smart ass) rode by me and said something like, you’re clipped in now get small, meaning to drop down into my aero bars and be a smaller target for the wind. Yeah, right. I was a bit more focused on breathing, moving forward and not getting blown over. Have fun Aero Man… (Note the wind blowing the sign almost horizontal above my head….yeah, wind.)Up to the main road and headed across the wind for the next 10 – 12 miles. Absolutely getting beat up by the wind – riding more sideways than anything else trying not to get blown off the road and into the canyons on either side. Oh, and did I mention that the rain had started at some point while I was slogging up the first hill? So now not only am I riding in some of the strongest winds I’ve ever ridden in (on borrowed, deep-dish wheels on an aero bike), but it’s on wet pavement (in the desert, where it never rains)! Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy! How lucky is THAT??
There are some fairly decent rollers through the first section which would be GREAT for my riding style if I hadn’t been holding on for dear life and on my brakes almost the whole time. It was somewhere during this time that I started crying
for the first time. I wasn’t quite sure if I had really signed up for all that, and not sure that I could endure it for over 100 miles. It was around then that I also made the decision that if it didn’t let up by 40 – 50 miles; I wasn’t going to make it. I was going to give up. I started thinking about all of the training and how Mom once voiced to me that they thought that if I had to quit this one I might not ever try one again and how when I first asked him if he thought I could do it Dad had answered no without much thought. Low point #1 and only about 30 minutes into the bike…fantastic.
So as the rain poured down, I kept riding. I also kept getting colder, wetter and more miserable. About 12 miles in the course turns – the only turn in the first 90 miles with the exception of the turnaround – and then the wind is behind you (or at least that’s what they tell you, it’s not really behind you at all, more like just off your right butt cheek). It’s also downhill around about 2 miles and there’s a bridge on a curve – and you’re still in the desert where it doesn’t rain. The wind reached it’s full potential, I was about to wear out my brakes, I was basically bawling and about then I started praying out loud. To anyone else I might have looked a bit crazy, and I probably shouldn’t use that tone with God, but it was getting me through what needed to be done.
I’m not entirely sure at what point the wind died down but I started to relax a little bit and feel a little more secure on the bike. I kept telling myself to just pedal and relax and I think I was going up a long, long hill. I passed 30 miles and was feeling decent again. It was freezing-ass cold and I was no longer feeling my legs, feet, fingers or arms (which could have contributed to the decent-feeling-ness) but I was making it up the hills and cruising right along. At some point in training I had figured out that I wanted to shoot for a 14mph average speed – that would get me to the cutoff in plenty of time. There was a lot of time where I was way below that speed, but I was evening it out on the downhills.
Watch out for those Japanese Tourist-like parents! They fly by you at Mach 3, then simultaneously pop out of all 4 car doors and start snapping pictures and screaming. They’ll get you coming and going….
There are some fairly decent rollers through the first section which would be GREAT for my riding style if I hadn’t been holding on for dear life and on my brakes almost the whole time. It was somewhere during this time that I started crying
for the first time. I wasn’t quite sure if I had really signed up for all that, and not sure that I could endure it for over 100 miles. It was around then that I also made the decision that if it didn’t let up by 40 – 50 miles; I wasn’t going to make it. I was going to give up. I started thinking about all of the training and how Mom once voiced to me that they thought that if I had to quit this one I might not ever try one again and how when I first asked him if he thought I could do it Dad had answered no without much thought. Low point #1 and only about 30 minutes into the bike…fantastic.So as the rain poured down, I kept riding. I also kept getting colder, wetter and more miserable. About 12 miles in the course turns – the only turn in the first 90 miles with the exception of the turnaround – and then the wind is behind you (or at least that’s what they tell you, it’s not really behind you at all, more like just off your right butt cheek). It’s also downhill around about 2 miles and there’s a bridge on a curve – and you’re still in the desert where it doesn’t rain. The wind reached it’s full potential, I was about to wear out my brakes, I was basically bawling and about then I started praying out loud. To anyone else I might have looked a bit crazy, and I probably shouldn’t use that tone with God, but it was getting me through what needed to be done.
I’m not entirely sure at what point the wind died down but I started to relax a little bit and feel a little more secure on the bike. I kept telling myself to just pedal and relax and I think I was going up a long, long hill. I passed 30 miles and was feeling decent again. It was freezing-ass cold and I was no longer feeling my legs, feet, fingers or arms (which could have contributed to the decent-feeling-ness) but I was making it up the hills and cruising right along. At some point in training I had figured out that I wanted to shoot for a 14mph average speed – that would get me to the cutoff in plenty of time. There was a lot of time where I was way below that speed, but I was evening it out on the downhills.
Watch out for those Japanese Tourist-like parents! They fly by you at Mach 3, then simultaneously pop out of all 4 car doors and start snapping pictures and screaming. They’ll get you coming and going….I’ve always been pretty decent at descending and apparently the Zipps help that cause. I was descending like a rocket and feeling fairly ok about life at that point. I still wasn’t sure I could make the cutoff and I still wasn’t sure I could do the whole thing, but I just kept telling myself to enjoy the ride and the scenery. And let me tell you, the scenery is flat-out amazing.
Gar’s parents showed up fairly early on and we hop-scotched for awhile. (Apparently I go downhill a bit quick to get a decent picture, but they made me smile a couple times and it helped.) I figured that Gar was right on
my tail and about to pass me at any moment – which was expected – so I just kept riding along. Somewhere around 40 miles in, the sun came out about the time I got to the top of a massive hill (which also signified the end of the smooth pavement). I spent the next few minutes blasting along at an alarming speed and having the time of my life – getting all sorts of odd stares from the guys coming the other way and I even caught some air a couple of times off of the bumps in the road. If ever riding in Bloomington on those sketchy roads for a couple years with Anna racing downhill has paid off – it was right then.
I had started to notice, however, a really annoying habit my bike had picked up. I kept dropping my chain anytime I shifted into my big ring. I did figure out how to shift and get it back on the fly – a trick I’ve been trying to learn for years – but I was starting to get damn angry. About a mile from the turnaround I couldn’t get it to pop back on and wound up completely locking up my gears – sending me skidding into the gravel on the side of the road to dislodge the bleeping thing (and there were plenty of bleeps…believe me). Got to the turnaround and things were starting to ache a bit in my hips and knees and then I was over halfway and – of course - uphill. Only a few miles to a PB&J and some fresh bottles. Also a chance to stand on my legs for a minute. Saw Gar coming flying down the hill and yelled at him that I needed help at Special Needs. Not sure if he heard me, but it made me feel ok.
Gar’s parents showed up fairly early on and we hop-scotched for awhile. (Apparently I go downhill a bit quick to get a decent picture, but they made me smile a couple times and it helped.) I figured that Gar was right on
my tail and about to pass me at any moment – which was expected – so I just kept riding along. Somewhere around 40 miles in, the sun came out about the time I got to the top of a massive hill (which also signified the end of the smooth pavement). I spent the next few minutes blasting along at an alarming speed and having the time of my life – getting all sorts of odd stares from the guys coming the other way and I even caught some air a couple of times off of the bumps in the road. If ever riding in Bloomington on those sketchy roads for a couple years with Anna racing downhill has paid off – it was right then.
I had started to notice, however, a really annoying habit my bike had picked up. I kept dropping my chain anytime I shifted into my big ring. I did figure out how to shift and get it back on the fly – a trick I’ve been trying to learn for years – but I was starting to get damn angry. About a mile from the turnaround I couldn’t get it to pop back on and wound up completely locking up my gears – sending me skidding into the gravel on the side of the road to dislodge the bleeping thing (and there were plenty of bleeps…believe me). Got to the turnaround and things were starting to ache a bit in my hips and knees and then I was over halfway and – of course - uphill. Only a few miles to a PB&J and some fresh bottles. Also a chance to stand on my legs for a minute. Saw Gar coming flying down the hill and yelled at him that I needed help at Special Needs. Not sure if he heard me, but it made me feel ok.
I grabbed my bag and relished the chance to chat with Ron for a couple of minutes while Gar came pounding back up the road. The special needs station was pretty slick – this little guy tried to catch your number as you went screaming by downhill and they grabbed your bag from the truck and put it by the road, then when you come up the hill (at a snail’s pace in my example) they call it out early and hand your bag to you as you roll through. The super nice volunteer tried to get me everything I needed in under 10 seconds until I laughed and told him that I was in no hurry, I was waiting on my buddy to get there to fix the bleeping bike. A quick derailleur adjustment later and a heavenly PB&J (3/4 of it anyway) and Gar, the bike, and I were ready to go. Found out that he wasn’t feeling so hot and was struggling a bit. But off we went again…headed toward the barn.My knees were starting to ache a bit and I had been battling a massive cramp in my left hip for about 30 miles at that point, not good signs but I decided to just kind of stick to the plan and keep spinning along. My parents disappeared again somewhere around mile 60 or so to not be seen again until transition – they got hungry. Gar had been ahead of me for part of the first hill, then dropped back and continued his own struggles.
I was trying to keep things under control with the heart rate and my knees and stretch my hip whenever possible – nothing too strenuous, I had switched into survival mode. I played cat and mouse for the rest of the bike ride with this hilarious chick with a beautiful accent – she totally rocked the uphills and I would go screaming by on the downhills. That made it a bit more entertaining. The wind showed back up as we got
closer to the lake and I hit another low point and struggled for awhile. Shed some more tears, cussed a bit more, wished my parents hadn’t disappeared and just wanted to be off of my bike. Was again struggling with whether or not I could finish and what the hell had made us decide to do this to begin with. It’s really hard to imagine the enormity of the whole thing at that point – you can’t really get past the little things that hurt. It helped to look out at the scenery and breathe. I was paying my dues and still surviving. (Taken just prior to the parental disappearing act, I believe while they drove by blaring Britney Spears….thanks kids.)I finally made the turn off of that damned road and onto the bike path – that’s at about mile 90 - 92. I knew that meant the dreaded “Three Sisters” was just ahead of me. Three fairly short but super-steep hills (18% grade) back-to-back that sap the life out of just about everyone. I wasn’t too worried about the Sisters, I had the gearing ready for steep and knew I could do it (thank you Hilly Hundred!). I also knew that these were followed by about 4 miles of “false flat”…where it looks flat but it’s really not, you’re headed up a slight hill and these just tend to drain whatever energy you have left. I pounded up the Sisters – some quality climbing and actual pushing out of the saddle actually felt good and was just cruising up the path in my own little world – I tend to do fairly well at false flats, something about just zoning
out and pedaling tends to work well with me. I knew most of the major climbing was done – but so was the fantastic scenery, now it was into suburbia. I was struggling again and getting more and more sick of my bike and this bike path is literally in the middle of nowhere, not really much scenery, no other people, just the occasional turn and bump. I still have no idea where this part of it is on the map, all I know is that it would be cool to have nearby to train on, but that it sucks majorly to ride on from mile 93 – 100. Between the hills, my hips, the weather (it was now drizzly again and a bit windy and just getting cold), my knees and my arms hurting I just spent most of the next 5 – 6 miles crying and suffering. But I kept pedaling, knowing that quitting out there wasn’t an option, some animal would be the first to find my carcass.
When we were looking over the maps in the days prior, Gar mentioned that at about mile 105, there was a nice, long downhill that started and that’d be a good point to start spinning out the legs, flushing them and getting ready for the run. I don’t know if that’s quite what I accomplished, but I know I rocketed down the downhill and didn’t pedal for a long time. I don’t know if flushing them out was even applicable at that point – I was just trying to get myself back into a positive mindset and trying to keep “on task”. I just plowed through the last miles wanting off my bike and wanting to be done.
I rolled into transition and had a hard time standing up, left hip and right knee were just angry and I was a mess. My right Achilles was also really pissed, which is actually a nagging injury that’s shown up a few times on long rides. I’m sure it’s related to the repeated motion of pedaling and can maybe be fixed by positioning. Most of the rest was just wimpy aches and in my head. I was surprised that my hamstring – another nagging injury for most of the summer/fall – wasn’t really angry at all. (Thanks Vern!) It had threatened a couple of times but never really started hurting like I’m used to.
My nutrition plan for the bike was to try to take a gel in the first little while on the bike and then start taking them about every hour. I wanted to go through a full bottle about every hour and take a salt tab every hour or so as well. That would put me around 200 – 225 calories an hour, depending on if I nibbled any of the Chewy bar I also had in the bento. I had one regular mixed bottle on the bike when I left transition, the aero bottle filled and a 3x concentrate bottle to mix out of. At special needs I picked up another concentrate bottle, had an extra “regular” bottle and refilled the Gu selection. I upped the salt intake from time-to-time as I felt a little crampy or wimpy, but I’m fairly sure I managed to stay somewhat on schedule. I left the “normal” bottle at Special Needs since I hadn’t touched the original one. I had managed to go through almost 4 bottles at that point though, so I did need to pick up the concentrate. As far as the nutrition goes, I felt pretty good at the end of the bike ride and don’t know that I would do anything differently. I probably missed at least one gel and 
wasn’t quite on time with the bottles, but again I felt pretty good – 112 miles considered. Most of my pain was aches and just related to how long I had been pedaling that bleeping bike.
They took my bike from me and I’m fairly sure I mentioned that I didn’t want to see the bastard for a long time. (Needless to say with a marathon ahead of me, that wasn’t a problem!) I was handed my transition bag and hobbled into the tent to decide if I could take on the third leg of this insanity. The bike ride humbled me completely and taught me the value of grit. I’m not sure that I could accomplish that on any other day by itself, let alone after that swim and before that run. There’s a reason this course is deemed the “hardest out there”. I felt every foot of the 9500 climbing. Bike Time: 7:40
Wouldn't it figure the longest part of the race has the longest part of the write-up??
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