goonster
07-03-2006, 03:03 PM
Englewood-Catskill-Englewood
I was a little apprehensive, because I haven't been riding that much, failed to shed much of my beer judging fat and this was a brand new route. In the end, the following factors contributed to letting me complete this event well within my comfort zone:
- adequate sleep
- relatively comfortable weather
- a cooperative group
- excellent support at controles
Here is my meticulously planned and assiduously executed hydration and eletrolyte replacement program:
Water: as much as possible, whenever available
Enduralytes: craploads
Extra salt on french fries: yes
(all measurements are +- 3 mm)
The story of the ride, for me, was the chap who had done one half-ironman earlier this year, but had otherwise never done a bike ride longer than seventy miles. That's right, this 380 mile ride would be his first attempt at any triple digit distance. When I, and some of my co-riders, heard that . . . well, we were kind of gobsmacked. It just isn't done. The guy was obviously in very good shape, but it was sort of apparent that he just wasn't a seasoned cyclist.
Things went pear-shaped for him early. He flatted. He got lost. He fell over. He wasn't accustomed to riding in a paceline. The front der on his entry-level multisport bike wasn't set up optimally, so every front shift was dicey. On a short, steep hill he dropped the chain and got it twisted around the bottom bracket and chainstay in some kind of figure eight. I've never seen a drivetrain so fuxored. It took three people almost fifteen minutes to untangle the mess. Then he broke a shoe sole in half (!), but was lucky to have a spare pair available in a drop bag at the next controle. He also had serious cleat adjustment problems on the ride. I'm not listing these things to comment on this guy's riding abilities, but to demonstrate the kinds of things that can (and do) go wrong on rides like this and that have to be overcome en route without slinking off to your car.
Now this story takes an interesting turn, because this chap started to grow on us. After overcoming all the earlier troubles with good humor, he settled down into a steady rhythm. He stayed fed and hydrated. He was unflappingly positive without yakking too much. He kept up on the climbs. He didn't complain or get cranky. He was there at 3 am sharp for the agreed-upon restart time on Sunday. He didn't annoy us with blinking rear lights. He was one of us.
Leaving the last controle, with sixty miles left to go, he powered up a short incline and felt something go in his achilles. A co-rider, qualified to assess these kinds of things, diagnosed a partial tear of the tendon/muscle interface. End of ride. Some of us wanted to cry. Jim: it's highly unlikely that you're reading this, but you're a stud and a half and it was a pleasure to ride with you. In your honor, I'm giving up anti-triathlete snobbery. Well . . . for a while, anyway. ;)
Anyway, it was fun, but it wasn't easy. Peekamoose road was a nice climb at dawn, followed by a thrilling descent. The climb up to Mohonk was a little rough in the heat, but rewarded us with a gorgeous view. Harriman State Park gave us blessed shade and merciful grades, since our legs had 300 miles in them at that point.
I was a little apprehensive, because I haven't been riding that much, failed to shed much of my beer judging fat and this was a brand new route. In the end, the following factors contributed to letting me complete this event well within my comfort zone:
- adequate sleep
- relatively comfortable weather
- a cooperative group
- excellent support at controles
Here is my meticulously planned and assiduously executed hydration and eletrolyte replacement program:
Water: as much as possible, whenever available
Enduralytes: craploads
Extra salt on french fries: yes
(all measurements are +- 3 mm)
The story of the ride, for me, was the chap who had done one half-ironman earlier this year, but had otherwise never done a bike ride longer than seventy miles. That's right, this 380 mile ride would be his first attempt at any triple digit distance. When I, and some of my co-riders, heard that . . . well, we were kind of gobsmacked. It just isn't done. The guy was obviously in very good shape, but it was sort of apparent that he just wasn't a seasoned cyclist.
Things went pear-shaped for him early. He flatted. He got lost. He fell over. He wasn't accustomed to riding in a paceline. The front der on his entry-level multisport bike wasn't set up optimally, so every front shift was dicey. On a short, steep hill he dropped the chain and got it twisted around the bottom bracket and chainstay in some kind of figure eight. I've never seen a drivetrain so fuxored. It took three people almost fifteen minutes to untangle the mess. Then he broke a shoe sole in half (!), but was lucky to have a spare pair available in a drop bag at the next controle. He also had serious cleat adjustment problems on the ride. I'm not listing these things to comment on this guy's riding abilities, but to demonstrate the kinds of things that can (and do) go wrong on rides like this and that have to be overcome en route without slinking off to your car.
Now this story takes an interesting turn, because this chap started to grow on us. After overcoming all the earlier troubles with good humor, he settled down into a steady rhythm. He stayed fed and hydrated. He was unflappingly positive without yakking too much. He kept up on the climbs. He didn't complain or get cranky. He was there at 3 am sharp for the agreed-upon restart time on Sunday. He didn't annoy us with blinking rear lights. He was one of us.
Leaving the last controle, with sixty miles left to go, he powered up a short incline and felt something go in his achilles. A co-rider, qualified to assess these kinds of things, diagnosed a partial tear of the tendon/muscle interface. End of ride. Some of us wanted to cry. Jim: it's highly unlikely that you're reading this, but you're a stud and a half and it was a pleasure to ride with you. In your honor, I'm giving up anti-triathlete snobbery. Well . . . for a while, anyway. ;)
Anyway, it was fun, but it wasn't easy. Peekamoose road was a nice climb at dawn, followed by a thrilling descent. The climb up to Mohonk was a little rough in the heat, but rewarded us with a gorgeous view. Harriman State Park gave us blessed shade and merciful grades, since our legs had 300 miles in them at that point.