I would normally excuse my late-ness with a whiny complaint about how much that ride hurt, but in the spirit of il pirata, let's just say I've been busy at a 'clinic' getting my 'nutrition' ready for the grand tours.
Rolling into the Tevendale Homestead in the morning, we got our bikes out and suited up in our Mercatone Uno tribute kits, did a few lines of tribute coke. One of those things is true.
I missed most of the pre-ride riders' eulogy (death awaits on that mountain), due to a last minute batman tire pressure check. Unfortunately, I've never been good at the whole 'type-a' thing, so I wound up toodling over to the start as the powers-that-would-be proclaimed that the ride had begun. 48 miles of sometimes 200rpms and sometimes walking later I was tired and trying not to get smoke in my eyes. The fire pit/fire wood situation at the TevenCompound really needs some game-upping.
That was a terribly brief description of the ride. Let's call that the cliff notes "lite."
The cliff notes version:
I missed most of the pre-ride riders' eulogy (death awaits on that mountain), due to a last minute batman tire pressure check. Unfortunately, I've never been good at the whole 'type-a' thing, so I wound up toodling over to the start as the powers-that-would-be proclaimed that the ride had begun. 48 miles of sometimes 200rpms and sometimes walking later I was tired and trying not to get smoke in my eyes. The fire pit/fire wood situation at the TevenCompound really needs some game-upping.
That was a terribly brief description of the ride. Let's call that the cliff notes "lite."
The cliff notes version:
- Rolled at the front -casual 200rpms- to the first grade on Davis Shop, them some asshole (Bryan Lewis?) attacked the il Pirata-don himself and upped the pace. A cadence of 250 is a little beyond me.
- Leisurely drifted back to 30th or so on the Col-du-Fox, then settled into a 'grupetto' for the road section to Marmolada,
where I attacked, dropped my bro Zülle, and finally got the maglia rosaduring which I burned way to many proverbial matches keeping up with my derailleur-clad brethren of the road. - Got to see several friendly faces riding up the Mission Home climb. One friendly Design Physics couplet (todd and plassman?) and one short-bearded Metro riding in his traditional style: solo.
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| Marco Pantani |
At the start of Simmon's Gap, I came upon one "Downtown" Lester Brown having arrived late and taken his Pro Team Bus to the start of the first climb. He's a sponsored pro now. Must be nice. I hope I'm still faster than him...
Metro Pantani- The resemblance is uncanny - Having done unspeakable things to my body on the voyage to the tippity top o' the pop, I began descending and immediately came upon and freshly "KTFO" rider on a 30second memory loop. Stayed with Plassman the Medic until SAG arrived (what kind of unofficial hard-man's ride has SAG anyway. Refer to rule #5). Rallied. Descended.
- Brokenback Mountain consisted of very little riding for me. maybe 10%. Apparently it's steep? Who knew.
- Back at the top o' the pop again, but in significantly worse shape, I imbibed half of a Brooklyn Brewery chocolate stout and 4 munchkins. Race nutrition y'all.
- Witnessed a second wreck near the bottom of Simmons, though this time the bicycle-driver performed some sort of mid-road-rash levitation which allowed him to run away from his bike. He was hooting in pain, so perhaps not as magical as it could have been, but he still went from sliding-under-bike to jogging away in one graceful maneuver. Bikes=Magic.
The rest of the ride and day is a blur of Quadsworth preaching the gospel, Nachos, and Cramps, so there's not much else to describe. Something about pink knitted stockings, but I think those are mythic.
I blame the TevenSmoke™for the lengthy delay in this post.
Seriously promoters <Cat5ComplaintRant> straighten that out.
