Outside I was surprised at how warm the air felt. It was warming from the earlier 35 F, or so, but it was still low-40's. Suited up, bike together, rf id chip strapped on, loaded up with water, hydration fluid, food, watch . . . I'm off for the staging area start line. I'm there three minutes before the field pulls forward on signal from the starter, and we're pedaling into a 14 mph wind from the WNW, as predicted. No gloves, as I'd expected I'd need, no knit cap beneath the helmet, either.
My gears sound smooth and quiet (thanks to the early-morning wash, degrease, and lube right after walking the dog!). Others around me look good on expensive bikes, nice togs, and jackets and jerseys from all over the NE. The parkng lot testified to the wide appeal of the race: Connecticut, New Hampshire, Virginia, New York, of course, Ontario, Montreal, Maine, Vermont, Maryland, and even a Pennsylvania . . . in fact I met one, while in the neutral zone, and he said "Yeah, about a four hour drive. But life is about moments, you know what I mean?"
This will be one of them.
I'll make it as far as the first of the longer hills before being dropped by the group. I caught up on the down side of the hill, but was tired enough to have a tough time altogether of staying with the main group after that when the next incline begins. The separation is achieved and I began the tour of singleton riding.
Later I was passed by two or three fields Cat 3s and Cat 4. Pretty fast groups. One is really small with the wheel car following afterward. Saw no real crashes or mishaps, but learned later at the picnic table that there was one who took a bad fall, was advised by medical / race staff to take an ambulance out of the woods to the hospital. Rider shook them off and got back on the bike and rode!!
Amazing.
Went on through the two feed zones picking up nothing since I had enough. A Jim from New Hampshire and I fought the ferocious wind coming out of the W, it seemed, and S, it seemed, as it appeared to follow us around for an hour and a half staying in our faces. I led and pulled the most, and he almost fell off, but we persevered. He caught up with me later, just before entering Cambridge and crossing the line and pulling much harder than before, said he couldn't precede me across the line after that helping hand offered back in the wind.
Nice guy.
Spectator barriers made it feel like any one of the finishes we watch on television, Versus or Universal Sports, from Italy, France . . . Kind of fun.
I nearly run over a pedestrian watching a cyclist tip over onto the ground, trapped in her pedals by the slow motion due to pedestrians . . . just before the rf id chip clip-off zone. Those babies, we are told, will cost us $200 if we don't turn them in.
Yikes.
3h 45m
I stripped of the damp gear, slipped back into jeans and a hoodie, and walked back into town for a look at the pageantry from close-up. Pulled pork sandwich in one hand, ale in the other, I sat down to recuperate. Bought another rider a bottle of water; he was looking a bit shaky, asked for water, was handed one out of a shaved ice-laden barrel then started drinking before he was told it is $1/bottle. He stopped drinking long enough to ask if he can come back and settle. I handed him a green back, and called it even. Our rider was feeling woozy.
My legs felt funny yesterday afternoon, coming home to see Gisele, after five and a half weeks gone from home, but I slept well, and am thinking about a little 30 miler to clear out the ol' lactic acid . . .
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