It's early Sunday, too early, and overcast. The air is heavy. I probably should not have stayed up until 9 pm discussing religion with AC (the gospel singer), and Gin (the proto-pagan). There's lots of great people here.
My bike is in pretty good shape, for 20 years old. I strap on my dragon mascot and 80 oz. of Gatorade to the back. We start out with the rest of the riders... then... ***POP!!***... a tire blows after less than a mile. Well... THAT was fun...a quick tube change and I'm off again. I do pretty well for the first 20 miles or so... then the HILLS... that's when it becomes apparent that I haven't been training on enough really steep long hills, and my bike doesn't have a climbing gear on the crank. I plod to the tops, then zzzzzzzip down a bunch of hills... down hills at 38 miles an hour is fun, and cools me down. It was a very pretty ride, with lots of forests and scenic views. But the hills are Hell... I start developing a Christian theology based on the concept that "Hell" in the bible is misspelled. Dante's 7 levels of Hills also makes a lot of sense! It's certainly less wacky than some sects.
Then finally at about 50 miles, I ask for a pick-up to the next rest stop. The SAG (Support And Gear) van picks me up. It's humbling, and I hate it. We stop a couple of times to check on riders on the side of the rode, and I fix a couple of bikes. When the driver hears a radio call for a tech truck for another repair, he calls back. "This is SAG 4. We'll handle this. I have a rider who's just as good as a tech, and we're less than a mile away." That compliment helped my bruised ego.
At the lunch stop I get checked out by the paramedics.... sure enough, asthma attack from the ragweed pollen and mild heat symptoms. In the 90+ heat, I prepare to pack it in, ready to finish the ride in a van. Then the thunderstorms hit. Power lines are down, detours are made, and the SAG vans are asked to go back and sweep in the slowest riders. They drop me off at the last rest stop, which was about 20 miles from the end. But the rain had cooled things down, and knocked the ragweed out of the air. I'm not wheezing anymore, and feeling better. I think "Screw this, I'm unquitting", and get on my bike and head to Weston.
It rains on and off over the last stretch, sometimes heavily, and it feels great (who cares if my braking distance is doubled or tripled), and the hills are smaller than the ones I've trained on. It's actually a real easy ride now, and I get to Weston averaging about 17 miles an hour (I trained at about 14-15 mph).
It was a joyous welcome and I'm glad to pedal in instead of being driven in. I'm already thinking about next year. Lose a third of my body mass, either modify the old Peugeot or get a new bike that's actually designed for steep hills. Changing my training regimen to include trips in western Mass or the Himalayas, whatever. I'll be out there again, this time, not for 70 of the 100 miles, or even the one day century ride. I'm shooting for both days. I want to hear the SEF gang clapping as I pull into their rest stop on day one.
And maybe I can get more SEF-ers to ride. The Red Ribbon Ride earned just shy of $400,000 for AIDS charities. With a few more of us, we can help get them over that mark.
Regards, Cameron
Click here for Runa's story about the 2005 ride
Click here for photos of the 2005 Hogwarts pit stop
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