It was early when I rolled out to ride to the start line. 5 am San Diego time. And damn was it cold. I think the official temperature was somewhere between “freezing” and “you should just crawl back into bed.” My knee ached immediately, as it is want to do whenever it gets abnormally cold. Naturally I hadn’t thought to bring any base layers, but even if I had, I wouldn't have worn them. I hate carrying extra gear that I’ll only need for a little bit, comfort be damned.
I started pedaling slowly. I only had 7 miles to go, and nearly an hour to do it. And even though I knew that the sooner I got up to speed, the sooner I’d warm up, my cold body practically begged me to take things easy, and to work up to a proper warm up. That basically meant that by the time I’d be rolling up to the start line, I’d be warmed up, only to have half an hour to kill before the sound of the gun, signalling the start of the event.
I rolled through pancake flat country roads as a dull, misty haze hung over my surroundings. I passed by innumerable fields and caught the attention of several cows, all eyeing me curiously. I can only imagine what they were thinking as they watched this goofy, latex-clad San Diego-based cyclist roll by. All I could think about is how warm it would be, sitting between a pair of them.
The ache in my knee spiked abruptly, and a handful of seconds later, I found out why as the local canal swung into view. How it wasn't just ice cubes, I have no idea, because I sure felt like one. Hell, I was positive my water bottles would freeze before I got a chance to drink from them. Several ducks floated along the waters, quite content with where the currents carried them, and I couldn't help but marvel how similar our lives were, if you ignore the fact that I wasn't covered in feathers, didn't have a bill or hollow bones, and would both sink and freeze in water if I had jumped in. Hey, you need something to occupy your thoughts when you’re cold and up early.
Eventually I arrived at my destination and settled in for a wait, which would end up being longer than expected, no thanks to a blown circuit, which resulted in a collapsed start line. But even than didn't slow us down too long, and at 7:05 mountain time, we were off: the HeArt of Idaho Falls Century had begun.
It was a huge loop, taking us along miles upon miles upon miles of country roads, essentially circumnavigating the city of Idaho Falls. At one point, we went nearly 20 minutes without seeing a car, we were that secluded. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.
The starting gun went off, and soon we were rolling along at a steady 20 mph, being lead out by a dune buggy, which was a first for me. Here's a brief video.
As we made our first turn, I saw one guy ahead of me. I looked back and saw one guy behind, all of us separated by about 10 meters. We linked up together within the first two miles, and our trio stayed like that for the next 58 miles. We formed a nice little paceline, or three man group. Each of us pulled for a few minutes, keeping the tempo right around 25 mph, before the lead guy peeled off and let the next guy in line take over. Within fifteen minutes, we’d left everyone else behind.
In less than an hour we blew past the 25 mile aid station and just kept on rolling, coming to the 35 mile aid station less than half an hour later. Why they were positioned so closely together, I have no idea, but the second one had been our pit stop of choice. Here we took a minute to introduce ourselves, make use of the local facilities, and grab a quick bite. Unfortunately, we delayed about a minute too long, as a group of four flew by our stopping point and kept on going. We rallied quickly, though, and our water bottles refilled, took off after them.
We chased hard, keeping up our tough pace, and at 2 hours 27 minutes, had ridden 52 miles. Our next challenge loomed just ahead of us, literally: Bone Road. On paper, it’s not that hard. 6.8 miles at 3.3%. Then there’s a short reprieve followed smaller section, about a mile at 5%.
Unfortunately, I underestimated the first section and pushed too hard, not realizing until it was too late that the goal I’d had my eyes on had been a false flat. During my hard charge, I’d dropped one of our group, Scott. After realizing my mistake, I dropped the pace to recover, but as a result our third member, Eric, kicked, leaving me in the middle to suffer alone. Once at the top, Scott and I linked up briefly before he surged on the final section, once again leaving me alone. What a jerk.
But man, once you finally come over the top, all of Idaho Falls is laid out before you, and it’s only then that you realize two things. First off, you can’t help but marvel at how spread out the city really is, with the center of the city relatively packed, surrounded by fields and the occasional farmhouse dotting it all sides. Second, you realize that all that climbing you did, you’re about to undo rather quickly. I can’t tell you how much fun I had, flying downhill at up to 50 mph. It’s riveting. It’s terrifying. And it makes you feel alive. Wanna see what it's like? Well, today is your lucky day!
Once at the bottom, I had an epiphany: I had 30 miles left, and nobody to pace in with. Without a group, I’d be hard pressed to make it back by the 5 hour mark, my unofficial goal. But I’m nothing if not stubborn, and after flying by a group that was content to go slower than I’d like, I settled in for an unpleasant hour and a half.
Now, in case any of you were wondering, holding 20 mph for an hour and a half, with a group, after having done 21 mph for roughly 60 miles, is challenging. Absolutely doable, just challenging. But having to do 20 mph for an hour and a half, solo, was just a bit too much for me, and after an hour, my legs finally gave up on me.
It’s disheartening, cracking after such a monumental effort. I’d poured out just about everything I had in the legs, but with 10 miles to go, it proved to be just a bit insufficient. Fortunately, I linked up with a group of four who were feeling a bit more fresh than I was, so I managed to hop onto their wheels, hanging on at one point just out of a sheer power of will not to be dropped again.
Finally, the last 2 miles approached. I knew my family would be there, and as luck would have it, it was my turn to take a pull. I summoned up everything I had left in my body. Every iota of strength, and every flicker of a watt, and began to lift the pace. First to 20. Then 21. 22. 23. As we came along the final 800 meters, I pulled us up to 25. I was gasping for breath, wondering, hoping it would be over soon.
It was then that I heard it. Someone screamed my name just as a car came flying by, and there were 2 of my cousins hanging out the windows, snapping pictures like every moment counted. Whether that gave me the strength I needed or summoned it from deep within me, I don’t know, but as we came up to the final 400 meters, I kicked as if there was no tomorrow. One last video. Promise.
I don’t entirely recall what happened next, or how much time passed. I have a brief memory of pictures being taken of, and with, me. I remember shaking hands, and having a cold Coke thrust into my weary, waiting hands. Then I was down on the ground, just trying to remain conscious. I wasn't joking when I said I’d pulled out all the stops.
Eventually I had a beer and food, followed by a coffee and another Coke, and let me tell you, after 5 hours and 20 minutes, covering 102 miles, each bite of food or sip of a drink was the most glorious thing I had put into my body in the history of ever.
Looking back over the event over the last few days, I could have done a few things differently, but nothing major. Overall, while I’d been hoping for something along the lines of 5:05, I’m still pretty happy with my finishing time. Especially considering the fact that my longest ride leading up to the event was only 88 miles, and even that was a few weeks prior.
When it came down to what mattered, I had what was important. My bike was clean, and had been given the love she deserved from the boys at Zumwalt's Bicycle Center, so she ran smooth and fast. I had my shades, courtesy of Spy Optics to keep the sun out of my eyes, and to keep me looking cool (which is more work than it seems!). I had my Team Ninja kit and lucky Unicorn socks on, so people would know I meant business. And I had Skratch Labs there to keep my hydrated in the heat.
Riding a bike is, like life, a learning experience, and while we may not always get the results that we want, we have to learn to accept the results that we earn. At the end of the day, I’m happy with how things turned out. I’ll take what I learned, both about the event and about myself, and I’ll apply it to other races. That’s all I can do in the end. I was raised knowing that if I didn't get the result I wanted, to learn from it and try harder next time. We can’t all win, but so long as you’re happy with how you did and know you gave it your all, then you sure as hell didn't lose. And in my book, that’s pretty damn good.
Till next time, keep the rubber side down, and your skin off the ground.
