6:15. As I pump, my front tire suddenly springs a leak. Now I have to
swap it. There's a tear where the stem meets the tube. Fortunately I'm
able to reach Locomotive on his cell. No sweat. He'll drive over to
pick me up while I take care of my mechanical at mile 0.0. I'm done in
about 10 minutes, still have two spares in my seat pack, and actually
have to wait several minutes until Loco and Greg pull up.
The drive into the city is uneventful, except when I suddenly spot
Afterburner in a minivan passing us on our left, giving us the finger.
I guess it's a guy thing. Phantom is invisible as always, though I
keep hearing ghostly voices coming through during my many phone
conversations with AB on that day.
Somehow, even though we keep close during the rest of the drive along
the LIE, we get separated at the toll plaza. AB and Phantom decide to
park on the east side and ride across town to avoid parking hassles.
We, in turn, have no problem finding a spot on the streets near the
start.
As soon as the 3 of us reach the starting corral for the 100 milers —
whaddya know? — they let us loose. No wait to speak of. There's no 30
mile loop around Manhattan this year. We head straight for the Lincoln
Tunnel, a few blocks away. We're only allowed through in waves of
50-100 or so, from what I can tell. As we wait to enter the tunnel I
manage to get in touch with AB. He's not too far behind and we agree
to meet on the NJ side of the tunnel. It's pretty crowded inside, with
everyone riding at different speeds on the down. Someone has recently
crashed in the downhill of the tunnel and the right lane is blocked
off. After we emerge we wait, and wait, and wait some more. Riders
simply stop coming trough and we figure that the tunnel has been
closed for whatever reason. Probably the crash. The sudden bottleneck
on the down was actually dangerous. I can't reach AB on his phone and
we decide to just ride on.
Truly wicked headwind fight us relentlessly as we crank due north
along the NJ side of the Hudson. The route takes us onto rolling River
Road, where we get some needed cover. On one of the climbs we pass Jon
huffin'-n'-puffin' Dobbs and Paul Hammerschmidt, of the Wheelmen. We
blow past them so fast on the climb that we almost miss the sighting,
never mind saying "hi." Jon hates us anyway.
Onto 9W and down through Piermont and Nyack. While riding through
Piermont I finally get a call from AB. He and Phantom were indeed
delayed by a temporary tunnel closing. They're about a whole hour
behind us. We all agree there's no point in waiting for them for that
long.
After riding through many areas I'm quite familiar with from my years
with the NYCC, we get into a new part of the ride that has been mapped
just for the MS centurians, roads I've never ridden before. Some
beautiful stuff, with many long and steep climbs. One particularly
long and steep climb breaks me and I have to stop a few minutes to
recover. I can't see the summit and don't know how far it is. My
Schwinn is not geared for climbs. After my break I catch up to Greg
and Loco at the summit. It's only another 100 yards or so. I probably
could have made it, had I known how close I was. Next comes the much
deserved downhill reward.
It has only been about 45 miles, so far. I'm anticipating the pain
that usually comes between 50 and 80, but it doesn't materialize. I'm
doing better than I expected. We're looking for a deli for a short
break because Greg (yes, Greg) needs one. So I finally found his
weakness: endurance. I was lucky to have softened his legs the day
before with our Triangle jaunt.
We just can't find any open deli. It's only beautiful country roads,
for the most part. No commercial strips. What were the organizers
thinking? We reach the last food+rest stop at mile 80. This is our
longest break, about 20 minutes. We had only stopped once before at
mile 40, at the farmers market store at the top of the climb near
Little Tor.
Greg wants a head start because he's cramping and wants to ride
"easy." Loco needs to spend some time on his phone with a new client
who called him during the ride. Business is business. Eventually the
two of us resume. Most of the southbound leg is extremely pleasant,
with a strong tailwind and few very manageable climbs. We have to stop
for a couple of minutes at a police-manned intersection while a convoy
of about 100 Harleys with police escort thunder by. Loco is feeling
like a second class citizen by comparison. Yes, vehicular
discrimination stings.
We're crossing the GWB back into Manhattan and Loco unclips one foot
at every chicane around the towers. As we approach the hairpin, I'm
perhaps a little too assertive in demanding to see him pulling the
turn without unclipping. He dutifully obliges and ends up plowing into
another rider on the other side. AKWARD!
Riding down Riverside Drive we blow past cars waiting at red lights,
Renegades style. At one particular red light, I spot a police car
waiting on the side street. An incoming taxi from the same side street
has the green, but seeing me approaching, hesitates (sometimes I
forget I can look quite intimidating in my skin-tight spandex).
Normally I would have just ridden right through, but the police
presence compels me to slow down significantly. Actually, I slow down
a bit too much, wobble, end up into the side view mirror of a parked
car and almost fall to my left. So Loco and I are now even.
We both reach the finish line in one piece and make a beeline to the
car, just a few blocks away. My computer reads just over 100 miles. My
average is a poky 15.8. Blame it on the climbs. My rear tire is worn
through and there are patches of tread missing, with the underlying
reinforcement completely exposed.
Greg has only been waiting a few minutes. He was able to catch a ride
for a while with a good group. Good for him. We thought we might still
catch him on the last leg, but he still beat us. We have barely opened
the doors to the truck when a passing motorist is already asking for
the parking space. We tell her it'll take us about 10-15 minutes. She
doesn't mind and waits patiently. That's parking in Manhattan.
After loading the bikes and buying something to drink for the drive
back (hot tea for the gals... I mean... guys, cold ale for me) we run
into major traffic as soon as we leave. Turns out there's some Polish
parade marching on 5th Avenue and the west side is total gridlock. We
decide to drive back west and north to the Triboro. Eventually we hear
back from AB. He and Phantom had quite a challenge of their own riding
their bikes back across town through that mess.
Congrats to Dubya on his fabulous time in the Twin City Marathon.
Congrats to Thor Hushovd for winning the World Championship road race
in Melbourne, Australia.
Looking forward to Dubya's Port Jefferson century in two weeks. Hope a
good bunch of you can join.
Beast
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