Ride Report: Hub on Wheels

21 Sep 2008.

I was surprised. I expected the temperature to be cold, like it had been on my shakedown ride the day before. 40 anything Fahrenheit is not warm, yet as I stepped out of my car, I was surprised. The parking garage was surprisingly not cold. Pleasantly surprised, I opted to leave the leg warmers and cap in the car, and take only the arm warmers.

The cold really didn't seep into me until we were close to the start. The sun was obscured by the buildings that surround Boston's City Hall, and the wind that tears down those streets is brutal.

The start was... unique. Fast riders were to line up on the left (relative to the start line) and Slower riders were to line up on the right, the right being a far larger lane. No other guidance was offered, like, for example, what constitutes a fast rider.

Left to my own devices, I would say I'm a slow rider, 18+mph is pretty much my limit for long distances, and even that's limited (speed has not been a training priority for me). However there were people lining up in "fast" that claimed to have averages in the 12s. Not what I'd consider fast, but at least I knew I wasn't going to be the slowest fast rider.

5 Minutes to the start

The real reason I was lined up with the fast riders was I had met some nice cyclists while we were warming up in the few strands of sunlight that radiate across city hall park. One of which, George, a Marine from Hawaii, only started cycling this year and had already done the Mount Washington hill climb and a bunch of other charity and non-charity rides, including a century in Maine the previous weekend.

We, thanks to George, had lined up early and were only 20ft or so from the actual start line. It was assumed this would make our start much smoother than if we were farther back.

The Start Line

Behind us, there was a lady doing yoga in preparation for the ride. I never got her name, but she is a 4 season cyclist, or as she put it, "the fastest rider in February."

As the organizer took to the stage to remind the riders this was a "Ride not a Race," and introduce the Mayor of Boston, Thomas Menino, the energy changed in the peloton. Riders were now straddling their bikes, some had partially clipped in. The moment of truth was nearly at hand.

And then we were off.

After passing the start line it seemed like the majority of the slow riders drifted left, the organizers plan of fast-left slow-right a distant dream. I have never had to navigate through so many cyclists before. Despite being only 20ft from the front, we seemed to have at least a hundred riders in front of us. The problem with the slow riders isn't their speed, rather it's their inexperience. I can't zip by, I have to figure out what they are doing and plot the best course around them without scaring them. "On your left" only goes so far, especially in mass settings like this.

My solution? Expend a little more energy than I planned to break free of the group. Just after the on ramp to Storrow Drive, I switched to the big ring and powered it down the hill, a tad more aggressive than one would expect in a "ride." I quickly caught up with George who was waiting for others to join his intended break away.

We had three riders in our pace line and we poured it on. We rocketed by the "slower" groups in front of us. The best part of this being, as we did this, certain members of those groups would launch out to grab a wheel and join the train. In no time the lead riders were in sight.

It was at this point, as the road cleared in front of George, that I started having trouble keeping up. In traffic we were limited to around 24mph, but once clear George found another gear and took off. I kept close, to help the rider behind me, then pulled off, There was no way I was doing that pace over 50 miles.

I had planned my pulling off, so I was able to catch the wheel of a "slower" group, only going 20mph. Not that this was going to be a cake walk either, after D2R2 I hadn't really ridden my bike at all (Sept mileage: 18miles).

The problem with this group was they were inconsistent, sometimes blasting about 20, other times dropping down to 16mph. This meant that gaps were formed, and ever the good cycling citizen I took it upon myself to close these gaps. I figured it was the least I could do for hanging on everyone's wheels. Most of the time, when I tapped out my cadence I had a train following behind. A couple of times, unfortunately things didn't work out so well for the train, as I was let close the gap alone (i.e. didn't drag anyone else up).

The downside to this "good cycling citizen" behavior is you really start to wear yourself out. It is not easy to stay at the front of the train and close the gap. You can see the rider who's wheel you want, you stop thinking about the rest of the ride and become focused on his wheel. Energy conservation goes out the window.

In short order, I was dropped by this group as well. Left alone in no-man's land, I found a good recovery pace and just kept pedaling. At a certain point, I ran into George again. Turns out, someone up front gave him (and his train) a talking to about their pace ("This is a ride, not a race"). He grouped up with some others in our starting group and went on to enjoy the rest of the riding with them.

I soloed it to the first rest stop, choked down a gel and continued. The rest stop (like all first rest stops) was packed. I always hate stopping, when I start my legs are not there. To make matters worse, I was still smarting from my earlier efforts. It felt like this was going to be the hardest ride of my life.

One advantage, if you can call it that, of my predicament was my pace was slow, so I was passed by groups, groups whose wheels I could latch on to. One group that passed me (the only in this section, if my memory serves) was the Can Crash Cycling Club, known for their distinctive blue jerseys, with crash test dummy insignia.

the prophetically titled Can Crash Cycle Club

I paced them to the only real hill of the day. Of course, when I assumed pace setting duties, I wasn't expecting to be tested by a hill and unfortunately I popped. I hit the hill and had nothing for it. I pulled to the side, to let them pass, dropped to my granny gear and gutted it up the hill.

As I cleared the top I was pleasantly surprised to see most of that club on the side waiting for the last of their riders. Score. Unfortunately, I was not able to keep up with them as we approached the next bike path.

Unbeknownst to me, the lady from the start (yoga) was trying to catch up with me. She would commented later that I was a tough person to catch. The fact of the matter was I was consistent. I was feeling better and had found a good rhythm at 18mph, so that's what I kept tapping out. Later, at one point, she would blow pass me, only to be caught (and passed) a quarter mile or so down the road. Consistency has its advantages.

The bike path we were on was, simply put, a paved mountain bike path. Narrow, sharp corners and hills, a very technical path. It was in here that I caught the wheels of the Cans. A little aggressive cornering and hill climbing and I was back on their wheels.

At some point, I drifted off the back of this group as well, although I can't exactly recall when. Stopping for a red light, I was caught by another group, which included a fellow Mass Bike Pike Tour alum (with her distinctive Bianchi colored tires). She was hanging on the back of another group with a guy who had walked up the hill (at the time he said "I could ride up, but I want to save my legs to hammer later"). Anyway, on the back of this group, it was a different story ("You guys are way stronger riders than me.").

I digress, I dialed my cadence back to hang with this group (riding with people is far more fun than alone). However this didn't last long. We were entering some "hills" and the group was being splintered rather badly. At one point a lady with a white jersey (the lady in white), breezed past us. That's when I decided to pass. I slowly dialed the cadence up and easily passed the group.

At the top of the hill, we took a hard right, then had a pleasant descent. On the descent I could hear/feel the group catching up. I didn't want to get passed and have to pass them again, so I tucked in, making myself as aerodynamic as possible and succeeded in my endeavor.

Again, I was "stuck" setting the pace, maybe I should have let them pass...

After the hill, the 35 mile group merged with us. We're both going into the same cemetery entrance, albeit from opposite directions. Perhaps not the best way to merge the groups, neither group gave much quarter to the other. And what was worse from my perspective, now I had a full road of slower, sometimes inexperienced riders ahead of me. Needless to say, the pace dropped. Big time.

To the organizers credit, the duration of this chaos was limited. In short order we came upon the next rest stop. Which I skipped. I wasn't hungry, and I wanted clear roads. I didn't quite get them, as I still had to pass slower riders, but they were few and far between.

A little while after the rest stop (and after the rides had split again), I joined a spread out group of riders. A little boy and his mom were walking up the hill we were descending and the boy kept calling out "Hi!" to each passing rider. Unfortunately, no one was acknowledging his greeting. I don't think that's right. So after he called out his greeting to the person in front of me, I turned to him, smiled, waved, and said, "Hi!" His eyes brightened immediately as he enthusiastically waved back and said "HI!" to me. His mom, as well, smiled.

We would soon join the bike path that follows Neponset River to Dorchester Bay. The path was nice, roomy compared to some of the earlier ones, although this was the section the organizers had warned us about. There are two sections of this bike path that, for whatever reason, are not paved. The first section, early on, is a hard packed dirt/gravel mix. No handling problems for most cyclists, just a real fear of punctures. The second section was much trickier. It started as dirt. Right and proper hard packed dirt. Think walking path dirt. It then evolved into loose gravel. This is where your ability to handle your bike is tested. Unfortunately, again, the 35s and 50s were doing this together, so the trail was packed. I wound up riding on the grass to pass as many people on this section as I could, and ensure my own survival (touching wheels = bad).

The Reward: Boston's skyline

After taking in the sites on the water, we had to rejoin traffic on the roads. As we motored on the streets (again I was setting the pace for someone), we came to Morrissey Boulevard where the organizers had put out cones to separate us from the traffic.

It's funny, looking back with full knowledge, you pick up on things. One of the flag men telling something to a rider in front of me, who then pulled off the road after saying "thanks." Other riders were stopped in strange places with odd expressions. At the time I assumed they were tired and waiting for a friend.

The drawbridge in view, we can see a cruiser parked on it with an ambulance. Wow, a car accident, bizarre place for that.

That is when you see the body.

The legs outstretched covered by shorts of that distinctive blue.

The sight is only for a second before your position changes, making the ambulance obscure your view. A rider asks an officer, "Is he ok?" - "No."

On the side of the road, the whole Can Crash crew and some others, an officer crossing to talk with them. "He's our friend." The fake grass lain across the bridge for bikes to pass on. And you clear the ambulance.

The rider is face down, he is conscious, but the EMTs are not letting him move. Next to him a board, for him to be strapped to; they must be fearing a spinal injury.

As of this posting, I don't know his status. But based on conversations after the ride, I can piece together what happened. The draw bridge has slats for drainage, unfortunately they are North/South instead of East/West, meaning they go with traffic, put another way when a bicycle tire slips between the slats, it immediately stops and throws the rider. From what I heard, "He was thrown in the air" this must have been what happened. Given the organizers provided a safe lane for bikes to travel on (the fake grass), we can only wonder why he wasn't on it.

Sufice it to say, passing that scene dealt a big blow to the mood of the ride. It would take me a few minutes to recompose myself and get back on pace. I still wasn't 100%, until my favorite rabbit passed me again, the lady in white.

Eager to shake the funk, I jumped hard to catch her wheel and did it without any difficulty. A new invigoration filling my veins, I vowed at that point to jump at every opportunity.

Shortly after she passed me, she was caught out by a slower rider and I took the lead. Unfortunately, I missed the fact we were coming off a sidewalk and I probably should have looked for a ramp.

To late I saw, height difference. Off the curb I went. I believe she muttered a curse; I know she was far enough back that she would plot her course a little more carefully than I had. No worries for me, no harm done. I had enough time to post and bunny hop, just not enough to change course.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful, save we were riding through heavily trafficked roads in Boston's Financial district. We managed to navigate without much difficulty. Kudos to the Boston Drivers for putting up with us and the snags we caused (more correctly stated our marshals caused by stopping traffic).

The finish was setup brilliantly. Since this was a "Ride not a race," the organizers didn't want sprint finishes. The best way to accomplish that is to change terrain again, from roads to brick sidewalk and to fill the road with volunteers, including City Sports had employees who handed out musettes, Tour food station style. Very cool.

Two thumbs up. The course was extraordinarily well marked, with marshals at every "tricky" corner (and many not-so-tricky corners). The police were extremely helpful, closing some roads, and stopping intersection traffic at others. The views on the river were awesome, the woods were equally enjoyable. The food and drink was plentiful at the rest stops.

Distance:  48.45 miles
Climbing:   N/A
Ave Speed: 15.5 mph
Max Speed: 30.4 mph
Time: 3 hours 7 minutes 34 seconds

Ride Report: Mass Pike Bike - Day 4

17 Aug 2008.

The last day. I woke up extraordinarily early (~4am) and by 5:30am nearly the whole camp was awake and back starting to pack up.

So, on the fourth and final start of the tour our group was the first to leave camp, and continuing our tradition of increasing our numbers we were joined by two new riders, Michelle and Karin. Karin and Michelle had opted for the 50 mile routes each day, after Karin had a fall on the first day (bruising her knee pretty badly).

In short order, Michelle established herself as an extraordinarily strong rider, dominating every climb. At the start of one of the longer climbs she had shifted to her smallest gear, early and was starting to power the bike (out of the pedals and forcing it up). In contrast, I still had 4 gears to go before I was in the same position. When she started powering up the hill, we were together but as the climb continued and I started to downshift she just maintained the same pace until the top. Impressive.

Like Day 3, the views and paths on Day 4 were beautiful. Farms, mountains, vistas. Massachusetts at its best.

Somewhere, early on, we hit the first serious climb. A nasty steep (and somewhat long) hill, Arnie and Michelle went off the front, with me barely keeping them in range (read 4 or so bike lengths). After a few false summits we finally arrived at the top, next to a little babbling brook. On an aside, riding in groups is fun. Everyone talks and jokes, that is until a serious climb is had. Then everything goes quiet as the riders become introspective, trying to will the energy to complete the climb. At the top, of course, the chatter returns.

The real climb came a few miles later. A smaller grade, but far far longer, this hill put me in a spot of bother. Steep climbs are my specialty, that's what most of my training is on. Long sustained low grade (~8+%) are not. Either way, we all managed. No doubt helped by the fact we all knew there were only two serious hills on the day and everything else would be cake.

We turn off the road and begin a series of descents. We all knew the cue sheet warned us a five mile descent was soon, so we assumed the street we were on was that descent. The descent was fast, and a little more rolling than we would have liked. When we reached the end, Michelle commented she was disappointed in the "5 mile descent," she figured it would be less rolling. That is when I re-read the cue sheet. We were about the START the five mile descent. The previous road's descents were just an appetizer.

The cue sheet was right to warn us about the descent. It was fast, long, and winding. There's not much to say about it, the road was in good shape so we could fly with little fear. On the other side of the road were cyclists climbing this monster as we screamed down. Kudos to them and thank the route planners for not having us climb it.

Soon after the descent we came upon the rest stop. Because we had left early, we passed before the first stop was setup (this being the second). At the stop was the "A-team," hanging out and enjoying the food and shade.

In a stroke of genus the route planners placed the water stop next to Cushman Market in North Amherst. Great place, I recommend the Lox.

Replenished we carried on. At one point, pacelining our way through the flatter North Amherst roads. One anecdote. When traveling in packs, lead cyclists call out things for everyone else to watch out for (Cars ahead, hole, dirt, glass, etc.), these warnings are then carried down the line to make sure everyone is aware of the danger. As we pacelined through the North Amherst farms, the lead rider (Karin) called out "Cows Left," to which everyone Moo-ed!

As we closed in on the lunch meeting place, we happened to notice a fellow tour rider on the side of the road. We stopped to render assistance, but it turned out she had stopped to enjoy the view:

The Connecticut River, Hadley, MA

We arrived at the lunch stop and were served our choice of delicious sandwiches (I wish I knew from where). The names were whimsical and local in flavor, and the flavor combinations were divine.

The ride nearly over, there was only one thing left to do. Ride as a group down the Bike Path, into Northampton, down Main St, onto another bike path and end at Look Park.

Some of us were nervous about this portion of the ride. 82 riders of various speeds and abilities could mean accidents. Obviously everyone was thinking, get to the front to be ahead of the accident. We started rather abruptly, and the group, 82 riders strong, quickly overwhelmed the bike path. We restricted ourselves to on half of the lanes, but that meant if we passed someone they were engulfed for what must have seemed like an eternity.

What was "worse," as far as we were concerned, was everyone was wearing their tour t-shirt. Meaning, jerseys couldn't be use to differentiate riders. It took time to figure out who was ahead/behind you.

We arrived at the last rally point (before the Main st ride) and took over a parking lot. I positioned myself in the shade, close to the road, figuring this would easily put me near the front. The rest of our riding group (Team AZ) joined up here as well. The plan was to head out in mass, take one of the lanes, lead riders would stop for red lights, but once the pack started moving we would not stop (i.e. if the light goes yellow/red in the middle of the peloton we would not stop). Lead riders would pull off the front and perform rudimentary traffic control.

These instructions were relayed to everyone before we started the mass ride; however a modification needed to be relayed: We would pull over for Emergency Vehicles. The ride leader related that information to us and turned to confirm everyone heard him. However riders were chatting amongst themselves, seemingly ignorant of the message. I hollered, "Did everyone catch that?" Snap, everyone's head turns in my direction and some people say, "Hear what?" or "No!" I related, verbatim, what the leader had said then paused, waiting for some confirmation from the group. No confirmation received, I said something like "Go it" and gave everyone a thumbs up, to which the whole group responded in kind, "Yup!"

Message relayed, we headed out. The mass ride went as one would expect, save the local rider who was to lead us flatted within 200ft of the parking lot. The city of Northampton did not seem to surprised, or bothered by our presence. Taking is in stride. In no time we arrived at the end of our ride, Look park. For us 65 milers, 230 miles from our start.

We congratulated each other, exchanged email and business cards with those not returning to Sudbury. Then loaded our bikes and boarded the buses home.

Distance:  42.18 miles
Climbing:   ~2700 ft
Ave Speed: 12.2 mph
Max Speed: 37.0 mph
Time: 3 hours 26 minutes 55 seconds

Ride Report: D2R2

23 Aug 2008.

Short version: I abandoned the race after 10 or so miles.

The whole week I had adjusted my sleep schedule in preparation for the 6am start. The organizers wanted us to there 45 minutes before the start (5:15), and it takes me 45 minutes to get there (4:30 departure time) which means I need to get up by 4am in order to make sure I leave by 4:30.

Last night I packed my bags, put everything out so I wouldn't forget anything, and went to sleep.

This morning, everything went according to plan. I didn't forget anything and arrived on site just after 5:10. Massive Kudos to the organizers, I was worried about finding where to park, but out in the road they had put flag men with flashlights to direct cars into the parking field. Great Idea.

Registered, got my Brevet card, consumed some of their breakfast offerings, and returned to my car to change and setup my bike.

This whole week I had been on the fence over which tires to run, my commuter tires or my cyclocross tires. I even brought both tires to the race, in case I changed my mind on the day of. I made the decision here to run with the commuter tires. A friend who was also ridding had said they'd be fine and looking at the other riders tires I saw similar tread patterns.

Unlike Day 1 of the Mass Pike Bike Tour, when we were given the ok to go the peloton took off at a nice leisurely pace. The group stayed together until we got to the first hill, which I must admit was a bit more troubling that one would hope. No real issues climbing it, more navigating it. Trying to pick a line and gear taking the other riders in consideration is never an easy task. I wound up using a higher gear than I wanted, but it prevented me from touching wheels with the guy in front of me (and we can real close at points).

The route then briefly becomes a dirt road, which gives everyone an idea of what the day will bring. It is here I quickly realize, I should have followed my gut and run with the cyclocross tires. The dirt is moist and is quickly filling up the tread in my tires making them very slick. Not good.

Strangely this dirt road is relatively short and soon a nice asphalt road returns. And our second "serious" hill. The hill looks fairly easy, I've done worse. I shift and pop the chain jumps off the front rings. It's worth noting this has never happened before. A quick road side repair as the group speeds by and greasy hands and all I am on my way. (Tip for the future: If you have to grab the chain, turn your trash bag (you do carry a trash bag for your gel wrappers, right?) inside out and use it as a glove.)

The ride continues and again we turn onto a dirt road. This one is more densely packed so it seems to be less problematic. Note the word "seems." The first hill we encounter has loose sand, which my back wheel just slides through. Unable to put power down, I am forced to walk up the hill (until it gets hard enough to remount). It is worth noting, for my own ego. I am not the only rider walking at this point.

I remount and at some point in the next half mile encounter a similar problem (on the flat), where the back wheel just slides massively to the right. Unfortunately this time I am unable to unclip quick enough and I go down. Hard enough to tear my jersey and scrape by elbow pretty badly. Not hard enough to to any real damage.

At this point I am a bit behind, such that I can't see the pack anymore. I knew that was going to happen eventually, so I'm not to worried. I continue and things are working much better. We have a nice little down hill and some flat. All in all nice ride. Passing a jeep trail to my right, I think wonder if that's where I should turn off and reach back for my cue sheet... only to grab air.

This is bad. I don't stand a chance without the cue sheet, and what's worse, my brevet card, that which I get signed to verify I did the route, is in the same bag as the cue sheet (Another Tip for ya'll: Don't do that).

I double back. I must have lost it on one of the falls. To abbreviate the 30 minute search, I couldn't find it. I went over the area 3 times, no luck.

Now, if this was all that happened. I would have just returned to the start, got new paperwork, and restarted the ride. Unfortunately, during the doubling back (and once on the ride before), my front derailleur was giving me grief. Early on it was binding up the chain, bringing it to a full stop, then after no work on my part releasing it. That behavior continued and in addition now it refused to shift out of first (small front cog).

Now, let me say, for a month or so I have been having minor issues with my front derailleur, and I planned on bringing the bike in for service after D2R2. Looks like I should have done that this week instead of next.

So that's the ride report. This is the first event of any kind (cycling, running, etc.) that I've ever had to abandon. So you can imagine how happy about that I am. Needless to say, I will be back. Right now, I'm hoping next year (assuming my schedule permits it). We'll just have to wait and see.

Ride Report: Mass Pike Bike - Day 3

16 Aug 2008.
All light any time I woke up, I listened, hoping to hear that the rain stopped. Unfortunately, I just continuously heard rain. By 5:30am, I couldn't lay in the tent anymore, I had to start getting ready for the day.

I steeled myself, dressed in my rain gear, and unzipped the tent to find no rain. The rain noise that I had heard continuously was nothing other than the water falling off the leaves of the trees in the park. The sky was still overcast, but some blue was starting to shine in. The day was looking up.

The morning meeting (after breakfast) was interesting. Each morning, as I have indicated, each distance would gather together and go over cue notes, warnings, eatery tips, etc. This morning when the distance leaders broke announced their locations only two were populated. The 65 and the 30. There were no 50 riders. The prevailing theory, at least among the 65ers, is there are three types of people who ride the 50 mile: (1) Those that want to do the 50, (2) those that are scared to do the 65 (and over the course of the tour discover their strength and move up to 65), and (3) those that should be riding the 35 (who by day 3 have moved down).

By the end of the meeting, we (Myself, Donna, and Sheryl) had convinced Arnie (whom you may recall from Day 1) to join our group. Day 1's pace had taken its toll on Arnie, who along with another "A-team" member, had opted to ride 50 miles on Day 2. Our promise of an easy pace and fun riding partners was enough to convince him to rejoin the 65ers.

Ride wise, the day started out great. Direction wise, not so much. The cue sheet was a tad unclear about one of the turns (and, of course, the road didn't have a sign), so we wound up going the wrong way, and ended up in Spencer State Park (a very nice picturesque park). As we crossed the boundary of the park, I called for us to stop and consult the directions and map. Together Arnie, Sheryl, and myself formulated a plan. We would not back track, and instead tackle the challenging hill at the entrance of the state park, join route 31, and ultimately rejoin the route. Which we did without indecent, although it is worth noting the road surface of rt 31 is horrible (as it approaches 9).

After that slight detour, the ride was pretty and uneventful. The hills were long, but not overpowering. Donna wasn't as dominant on these hills as she was the previous day; but Arnie made up for it, easily powering away on each hill, and sometimes going back down to encourage others.

One highlight of the ride was cresting a hill in the center of some small town and coming upon a wedding.

Arnie and Donna looking on as the wedding commences

We watched the procession in silence, so as not to disturb the ceremony. We left when the officiator began to speak. The location was very nice, although the pink, white, and black bridesmaid dresses not so much.

Not much farther along, we crested another steep hill into yet another small town's common and meet with the "B-team" for lunch.

The Country Store had a special on Turkey wraps

The groups mingle after enjoying lunch

After lunch, the Bs left first, we rolled our bikes to take off soon after them. As we stood next to the Harley visible in the first picture, Donna complimented the owner (who was sitting next to it with his daughter) on the bike. Sheryl clipped in her right foot and took off. I, who ordinarily clip left first, thought, "hey that's a good idea, then if I fall I'll fall away from the Harley," and clipped in with my right foot and proceeded to fall right over onto my right side. Missing hitting my head on the Harley by inches. My knee was skinned pretty bad, my ego far worse as it was a stupid accident. On the bright side, I found a nickel.

Fortunately, I had a first aid kit packed in my panniers. So a little road site first aid (away from the Harley) was in order. Unfortunately my kit didn't have tape, so I couldn't wrap the wound like I really wanted to, instead I had to put one of the largest band aids and hope for the best.

Riding with a skinned knee wasn't too enjoyable. I'll spare ya'll the gritty details, but suffice it to say I don't recommend it.

As we made our way through the farms around Quabbin, we could see a large storm cloud heading our way. Unusual for New England, it was just one cloud, so we hoped we would miss it.

We didn't.

A light drizzle started and convinced us to put on our rain gear. As we streamed into town, we could see droves of people walking towards us on the other side of the road. Turns out they were fleeing the town's fair. We knew we had a checkpoint around here somewhere, so we navigated these tight roads. Tight normally, even tighter with cars parked on the sides.

As we arrived at the stop, the rain picked up, enough to convince Donna to put on her real rain gear (she had two pieces of rain gear, a basic light rain jacket, and a medium/heavy rain one). We headed off again, and not 5 minutes later the rain stopped completely. Total rain time: under 20 minutes.

The rest of the ride was relatively uneventful, if tiring. At one point we saw a group of randonneurs on their 350km ride heading in the opposite direction. We crossed a wonderfully picturesque wooden bridge and were rewarded with a horribly steep (but car free) climb. We saw two pacifiers tossed to the side of the road within 100 feet of each other. We had a Pan Mass rider (in a car) pull over to help us (he thought we were lost when we were just flipping our cue sheets, but the thought is appreciated).

By the end of the ride we were tired and the last road seemed to go on forever. Finally a sign warning of children and of the presence of a school meant our ride was at an end.

The sky appeared to be threatening rain, however when all things were said and done (camp was set up and showers taken) this is what we saw:

Rain in the distance, missing the campsite

...And clear skies for the night

Dinner was served in a Hall 0.5 miles away and the whole group (all 82 of us) walked there. The food, Northern Italian, was wonderful. Potatoes, Pasta, Divine Pork, steamed veg, salad, and desert. Delicious.

Some people were heading to a bar after dinner, but that didn't feel like our scene. Instead we returned to camp and being to nice a night setup our own make shift party. We setup incense to keep the mosquitoes at bay (it worked!), mixed our own cocktails (Vodka and Red Gatorade), and listened to the tones (thanks to Arnie's iPod speakers). In a short while we were joined by more and more people, each bringing a different offering (beer, wine, etc.). At our peak there were ten or so of us.

Obviously, we were a bit rambunctious and as 10pm approached we were chided a couple times before we finally acquiesced, cleaned up, and went to bed.

The stories and the company were great, making our "last day" party one of the more memorable moments of the ride.

Distance:  68.5 miles
Climbing:   ~5200 ft
Ave Speed: 11.9 mph
Max Speed: 36.1 mph
Time: 5 hours 44 minutes 56 seconds

Ride Report: Mass Pike Bike - Day 2

15 Aug 2008.
Thursday ended with group meetings. One of the main points of those conversations was the probability of rain on Friday (Day 2). Weather.com, Yahoo, and the local guys predicted a 70% chance of rain all day; refusing to localize it in the morning, afternoon, or evening.

This put everyone in a bit of a sour mood and most opted to head to sleep at that point, hoping to get an early start on day 2.

A departure from norm, breakfast was to be served at a local church. By the time I finished packing, setting my bike up, and helping my new ride mates pack we were among the last left at the campsite.

We headed out, no one double checking the directions we have been given the night before (which were, as it turned out, also written on the announcement white board). Since both Donna and Sheryl ("Team Arizona" on day 1), had lived in Whitinsville we proceeded to visit every church in the town trying to find the right one. Fortunately all 5 were within a few blocks of each other and it was a nice day for a walk. Eventually (with a little help from some returning from breakfast), we found the right church. Just one block outside our walking circle.

Once we started the ride, I assumed group leader duties. Pointing out obstacles in the road, setting pace, and generally making sure we stayed on track. The primary reason I assumed this job was because I had ridden the first third of the days course and new it without following the cue sheet.

Having ridden it I could warn of upcoming hill problems. Steep climb here, long climb there, etc. In no time we made it to Purgatory Chasm, the first major climb of the day.

Purgatory Road can be broken into 3 or 4 climbs. The first climb ends at the Purgatory Chasm, which we, of course photographed.

Donna leaving the sign after Sheryl recorded the moment.

Proof I was there or A statement on myself.

We arrived at the Chasm just as the 50 mile group's SAG vehicle (driven by Steve, a day 1 A-team member). Steve was nice enough to point the way to the chasm (in case we missed it).

Steve pointing the way to the Chasm

Before you read that incorrectly, Steve has a wonderful sense of humor and delighted in tossing humorous jabs at Donna, myself, and (presumably) anyone else who would get a laugh out of it.

So after taking our pictures and chatting for a while, we continued the climb. As would be the pattern for most of the day I would take the early lead on climbs then Donna would pass me about halfway up and slowly pull away until the summit. Sheryl, not a fan of hills, would sit back, crank up the tunes, and slowly spin her way to the top. That said, unlike nearly everyone else on the ride, Sheryl was the only person I saw who preferred to motor on after a long climb, instead of stopping. A testament to her strength.

At this point, we hadn't gelled as a group yet, it was me riding with them. There is a certain camaraderie that is born from shared suffering, and we hadn't gotten there yet.

After Purgatory, we were cruising and started picking off other riders, the culmination of which was catching up with the "B-Group," who had stopped at a corner store. They passed us in short order after that; but stopped again at a Dunkin Donuts before entering Douglas State Forest.

The would not catch us until around mile 25, when we began the real climb in the forest. As usual on this day, I had started strong, than petered out and Donna zipped ahead. When she was 100 or so feet ahead, the first of the B-team riders passed me on their way to the summit. When the second rider passed her, she decided to show them up, and without any clear exertion of effort, just motored passed them all the way to the summit and started her descent.

For the next 10 or so miles both teams stayed together with me setting tempo. I could give you all kinds of reasons why I always ended up setting the pace on these things, but the number one reason was most other leaders weren't sufficiently warning the pack of road hazards (broken pavement, etc.). From the front I could control the pace (to keep me happy and make sure we don't drop anyone), and give early warning to others.

This noble mindset paid off many times on this weekend, but the first real test being when the combined groups pulled off 16 onto Minebrook Rd in Webster, MA. The road was in extremely poor shape. The cue sheet had warned us, but nothing prepared us for what we saw. The road WAS pitted badly, but more dangerously the hills had slid filling the road with slippery sand.

The second I saw this, without even a second though, I launched myself off the front to scout for the group. I knew my bike could handle anything this road wanted to throw at it, and I knew I could handle my bike in the sand. I didn't know how it was going to impact the group, so I figured I'd give them as much warning as possible. And that's exactly what I did. I stayed 50 to 100ft ahead pointing of holes, warning of sand, hollering where it was clear, and where there were no options.

Be it a testament to my early warnings, or the group's luck, we managed to traverse the street without incident and arrived together at the check point.

It is worth noting, that pack members commented after on my pointing technique. If there was something on the left, I'd use my left hand to point it out. On the right, my right hand. On both sides, I'd use both hands. A technique I can't recommend, and I only used "emergencies" when I was threading extremely bad holes.

After the water stop, a lady in a Subaru paced beside us to ask whether we a team or a tour (and if so which/what). There is not much more to the encounter, obviously I provided the requested information, what I enjoyed was it felt very TDFie. I was leading a small breakaway and the team car pulls up to relate new orders, or whatever. At least that's how I saw it. Might have been the dehydration.

At one point, we were pacing along a nice flat and Donna calls for me to pull over. She might have said why, but I didn't make it out. I figured they wanted a break or snack or something. However, it turns out, they wanted to stop at a package store to pick up some Vodka for the evening's festivities. She asked the cashier if it was ok to return the bottle empty after taking it outside. The cashier assured her that was fine, but walked out to see what she had planned. I suspect he was pleased when he saw her only change it's traveling container from Vodka bottle to two cycling water bottles.

The ride was going swimmingly, no major issues, clear day, life was good; until we missed a turn on the cue sheet.

At the turn, reading the cue, I knew we were going off sheet. The mileage was right, the instruction was consistent with the terrain, the only thing that was wrong was I couldn't find the "brick building" the notes mentioned.

So we pushed on until we reached the next mile marker for a cue and the stop sign wasn't there. It was then we figured out what I had missed the turn. So we discussed the options: (1) turn around and redo the horrible rolling hills we had just done, (2) forge on.

Even though we didn't want to ride on Rt.20, which was our last hope to rejoin, we vowed "onward ever, backward never." Our hope was we could cut over on one of the cross streets. That was not the case. Fortunately we only had a breakdown lane and only had to go two blocks over to make the right turn. After that, it was a nice long climb to a picturesque farm, before the descents that ultimately ended in Wells State Park.

So, a day with 70% chance of rain turned out pretty nice. No rain during the ride, time to mill around, pick a camp site, setup your tent... life was good. Then walking to the showers, I felt a drop of moisture, then another and another. By the time I reached the showers it was down pouring. The rain's intensity would vary, but would not stop until sometime in the night (~3am).

Despite that, we all still congregated at the pavilion, where dinner was to be served, and chatted, laughed, some people even played UNO. Nearly the whole group was there when dinner arrived. Hot dogs, Hamburgers, extraordinarily good steak, and some sides I didn't care for as much (but those that did LOVED them). One of the big hits was this Greek couscous dish; for me the front taste was unpalatable, but the olive based rear taste was excellent.

Despite plans to have a whole campfire motif going, the vast majority returned to their tents after dinner to wait the storm out. That was at 730pm or so. Needless to say, everyone retired early that night.

Distance:  62.44 miles
Climbing:   ~4000 ft
Ave Speed: 12.6
Max Speed: 37.0 mph
Time: 4 hours 57 minutes 02 seconds