The Rensselaerville cycling festival indeed had it all

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride."

— John F. Kennedy

“Cyclists live with pain. If you can’t handle it you will win nothing.” 

— Eddy Merckx

The Rensselaerville cycling festival indeed had it all – from the web site…

“A delicate balance of epic ride and party time, for those who want the best of both worlds …the Medio Fondo includes some dirt roads, some difficult climbing, and gorgeous vistas along the challenging ascent into northern tip of the Catskill Mountain range.  You’ll ride past working farms, historic villages, and beautiful fall foliage colors.”

I like to refer to it as the ‘Hagens Berman Masochistic Fondo’.  How can something so fun and well intentioned end up on the pain cave end of the spectrum?  Lapse of good judgment:  First lapse – I planned this as a recovery ride for the previous day’s race; Second lapse – I stopped to take pictures at mile two; Third lapse – I didn't pack my own nutrition; Final and deadliest lapse – I pushed to catch up.

The odd thing is I've learned over the years that it’s predominantly about preparation and sticking to a plan.  It didn't take me long to figure out that my spur of the moment idea to dart ahead of the peloton and then stop to take pictures was hair-brained. The peloton passed me before I could get the camera out of my jersey pocket.  Andrew rubbed it in with a “You’ll need to ride faster than that to get a picture” shout out.  It was an oh-crap-I’d-better-get-back-on-my-bike moment.   Jen and I had discussed, prior to the ride, at which aid stations we would stop.  I’m not sure why, but rather than riding a reasonable pace to the first aid station stop to regroup, I decided to overdo it and attempt to bridge from group to group to catch up as quickly as I could.  At the 12 mile point, Jen had decided to sit up to let me catch up – Too late; I was already starting to hurt with over 43 miles and the bulk of the climbing to go.

A few HRRT riders regrouped at the 15 mile aid station.  The aid station had nothing that I considered suitable – I regretted not bringing my own nutrition. Pain really started to set in during the first sustained (8 mile) climb.  I started to feel those random muscle twitches that signal the onset of cramping.  The sustained on-asphalt climb turned out to be a precursor to a really painful stone road climb.  As painful as the stone road climb was, the stone road descent was sketchy – I passed a lot of riders with flats, but couldn't catch Jen. This was the second time Jen had to sit up and wait for me.

By this time in the ride, I had retreated into my primitive brain and was functioning in some sort of

instinctual survival mode.  The rest of the ride consists of very short flashes of high brain consciousness scatter throughout miles of a base-of-the-brain pain cave.  Flash – I was on a super smooth road descent.  I believe it reached a speed of 50 miles per hour.  Flash – “2.3 miles to the wall”.  I was already climbing, what the heck is the wall? Flash – I’m now riding straight up; Single-speed stomp, stomp, stomp; must keep moving.  No, don’t cramp now! I guess I made it to the wall.  Flash – Some random guy on the side of the road says “this next hill is a really difficult one”.  Thanks for that, random guy.  Flash - No relief from climbing during the last fifteen miles – fighting cramps and dead legs all the way.  Flash – It’s over and there is half a chicken, barbequed to perfection, lying on a plate in front of me.  Yum, I can now engage higher brain functions and re-enter reality.

In retrospect, the pain was mostly avoidable. However, I handled it and I won – I won a really cool raffle prize!