Huntsville 2008

Saturday was the annual Huntsville Century. The Beast arrived Friday evening to spend the night, just as I was finishing up a tear down, thorough cleaning, and rebuild of my bike. He brought me a wheel to use after I pulled a spoke nipple through the rim of my rear. I mounted a tire and put the wheel on and enjoyed the nice shiny silver drivetrain parts. I love a clean bike!

The next morning I went outside at o'dark thirty to load up the bikes to find it had been raining. Not such a big deal...the forecast was for partly cloudy and 80 degrees. Just a storm that had been passing through. Jake showed up, and Doug just a few minutes later, while the Beast stumbled through his morning routine. All loaded up, we pulled out for the 2 hour drive north.

It started raining. Then it started raining harder. I pulled up the weather radar on my iPhone and there were big orange/red spots covering up Hunstville! This was really looking like a bad day. Eventually, it slacked off, and when we got to the start, it was just drizzling. Following a quick change of clothes, and a not so quick wait in line to use the facilities, we were off.

This year we started mid-pack. The pace settled out and we were having a good time sorting out our legs and chatting with Jake (who was on his first century). It was still drizzling lightly, and my cleaning efforts from the previous evening were entirely negated as my ride was soon covered with mud splatters thrown up by my own tires, as well as those of riders around me.

The Beast suddenly realized that the group had split and there was a faster group a quarter mile up the road. Clearly that wouldn't do, so we began moving up until we were clear of the group we were riding in, and we began to chase. We closed down the gap quickly enough, and were soon riding with the first group on the road. As we settled into the rythm, I felt compelled to mention to Beast that I didn't consider the post ride meal to be sufficiently high quality to inspire me to arrive at the finish with the first group, but that he was free to get there as quickly as he wanted.

As the miles went by, our group began to dwindle. At some point, Jake and Doug had fallen out of the group and as I looked back over the fields on a left turn, I could see no riders within a mile of us. The Beast and I discussed it and decided we'd wait at the second feed stop for them to show, but we (especially me) felt pretty good and wanted to get as many miles in at this racing pace as possible before backing off to finish the ride. I kept telling myself I should ease up, that I'd pay for my efforts later, but I just couldn't do it. The drive to be the first one to reach the Elora Pentacostal Church (where food and drink supplies awaited) was just too strong. I wasn't first, but I was with them when we got there.

The Beast and I began riding back toward the start after 15 mintues had passed with no sign of Jake or Doug. We soon found them making their way toward us. Reloaded, and relieved, we headed out for the Lexie Crossroads Steak and Seafood house, where the third food stop was located. I was feeling the effects of covering the first 35 miles at an average 22mph for the most of this leg. My glycogen levels were depleted, and so I had to focus on taking in more energy sources than I was using, to get myself back to better levels. Lots of longish rollers and permanent rest stops (cemetaries) populate this part of rural southern Tennessee. It's scenic and, oh by the way, the rain had stopped about 15 miles into the ride, we were dried off and the weather, while cloudy, was very nice.

At Lexie Crossroads, we found the grill going, complete with the bacon wrapped filet, but in a new wrinkle this year, also bacon wrapped scallops. The beef was wonderful, and while I normally love scallops, the combination of hard aerobic excercise and seafood odor just don't quite mix. 18 miles later, through the northern-most loop in the Valley That Time Forgot we arrived back at Lexie Crossroads for yet another surf-n-turf snack before tackling the last 40 miles. One long climb awaits just a 1/2 mile from the stop, and then it's (theoretically) smooth sailing from there.

With 30 miles to go, my left knee started to bother me. I should mention that I'd fallen and hit it into the elevator door at my office on Friday, twisting it and making little pop sound. But after a few steps, it seemed okay so I didn't give it another thought. Until now. Every mile that went by it hurt worse. It finally got to the point that on any little rise I would be ejected out the back of the group like a paper bag out a car window. The Beast would roll back and help me get up some of the long rollers, while I was okay for a pedal stroke or six on the shorter ones and could handle those okay, for a while.

With 10 miles to go, every pedal stroke my knee felt like it was going to explode. Again, The Beast was an invaluable ally at this stage, making sure that I didn't fall too far behind, moderating the pace when I asked and generally keeping a positive attitude.

In the end, I finished. 107 miles in 5:46. It kind of makes me wonder what kind of time I lost from my knee bothering me. We finished this ride fast, but not as fast as we could have, so I'll avoid elevators next year and we'll see what we can do.

My ride with a TDF Champ

Just because a couple of lawyers lack the mental capacity to understand the science doesn't mean that Floyd Landis is a doper. On the other hand, just because one lawyer does undertand the basic freshman physics behind the assertion that the test result was flawed, doesn't mean he isn't a doper. The point of this, is that ASO and the UCI/WADA/USADA not-withstanding, Floyd Landis is a Tour De France Champion, who won (in 2006) after unleashing one of the most incredible breakaways in Tour history to gain back most of an 8 minute deficit. What Floyd did that day (Stage 17) is bigger than 59-0.

Saturday morning, Floyd Landis joined the weekend version of the Tuesday Night Pain Train. I had the chance to ride alongside Floyd for quite a bit of the ride, we chatted and I listened as he talked with other people in the group. At one point, a rider came the other way and hollered, "is this the Landis group?" Floyd who was right next to me suppressed the urge to respond, "I think so".

We took it easy (the way we used to) out through the neighborhoods of Mountain Brook and Irondale. Floyd rode near the back of the group, and camly drank his Starbucks at 18 mph, while carrying on multiple conversations.

By the time we hit Ruffner Road, the coffee was gone, and the caffiene had begun to kick in as Floyd moved to the yellow line and went to the front. I stayed glued to his wheel as the pace continued to increase. Coming over a small (to me, most likely un-noticed by Floyd) rise in the road, I shot over to the left and went as hard as I could. Going down the other side, I looked back to see a small group of 6 riders chasing me hard, Floyd camly sitting in with them. Further back, I could see the effects of the stick of dynamite I had just tossed into the group, as they began to break up, some chasing the chasers, others deciding they were done, or couldn't follow.

I was caught and the sat in on Floyd's wheel again until the last hill on Ruffner, where once over the top, Floyd came past me like a G5 passing a private single-engine, and eventually I lost sight of him for good.

I rode along by myself for a few minutes as some of the other riders began to catch me while I recovered from an effort I hadn't put in for a looong time.

My biggest impression of Floyd is that he is a geniunely nice guy. I spent nearly 30 minutes with him talking and listening to him talk. He was kind and gracious to everyone who approached him. He offered compliments and positive comments to everyone. I contrast this with talk that I've heard about some of the other successful riders and "world-class" athletes, and some that I've experienced first-hand. I put Floyd even ahead of Mario Cippollini (with whom I've also ridden), who probably only suffered from a language barrier that made him seem a little pre-occupied.

Anyway, to sum up...I rode with Floyd, Floyd is a nice guy, Floyd is very fast. I hung with him as long as I could. It wasn't enough, I wish I could have hung longer, but it was fun anyway.