UCI Road World Championships 2015 - Richmond VA Day 8 - Final Report

Day 8

Slovakia comes through!

Today was the last day of the UCI Road World Championships in Richmond VA and the only race was the Elite Men’s Road Race, a short jaunt of 162 miles. (After riding just 2 laps of the course Friday night, I can’t imagine 16 laps of the same thing. Of course, I’m not a world class rider. I’m a hack, and an old one at that.) The weather forecast predicted a 50% chance of showers throughout the day with limited sunshine and a temperature around 75 degrees.

The good news was the rain never really made much of an appearance. There were some scattered showers here and there most of the day but they didn’t really seem to hit the course until around the final lap and, even then, it was a brief splash. 

As a result, crowds were very impressive; I heard many people who had attended other Worlds around the globe and they were saying these crowds were outstanding! I haven’t seen the numbers for the weekend but I’d estimate that well over 50,000 spectators attended today, alone.

The last Marshal

I was assigned to the corner of Harvie and Main Streets which had a crossing to be controlled and was asked to be there from 8:00 to 4:00. I arrived about 8:15 or so and set up shop. Another volunteer, Ken, appeared about 9:00 to join me but was only working until noon. We talked about how to manage things, what we’d experienced over the past week, and who we liked in this race. Ken and I got along well and we were both looking forward to today’s race. We also agreed that the city had done a yeoman’s job on the championships.

The Race

At 9:00, the riders left the start house at the University of Richmond campus and made their way down to the course. By the time the riders made it to our post, a breakaway of 8 riders had formed that included Ben King of the US. Ben was born in the Richmond area, still makes his home in VA and his parents live in Charlottesville, about an hour away. This breakaway managed to open up a 4 minute gap in the first lap and held it for the better part of the first half of the race. Every time they would come past, the crowds would go crazy. In watching the live feed, it appeared that the crowds around the course did the same thing. The riders interviewed after the race were saying that the crowds were deafening, even chill bump inducing.

The breakaway stayed out for a long time but with about 5 laps, 80 km or so, left the peloton reeled them in. Several other groups punched their way out for a brief breakaway but all were dragged back to the pack. By the 5 km mark, the entire peloton was back together and it appeared a bunch sprint for the rainbow jersey was imminent. At that point, they headed up the 23^rd street cobbled climb and things started happening.

Peter Sagan, Green jersey winner (top sprinter) at the Tour de France this year, charged up the hill and gained a tiny gap at the top. Turning the corner, he accelerated quickly and went into an ultra-tuck as he screamed down the hill with about 20 meters on his closest pursuer. At the bottom of the hill, he used the entire road to make the left turn and then the same on the right hander back onto Main street with about 1 kilometer to go.

Sagan had opened up a 50 meter gap as he charged up the rise to the bottom of Governor’s Hill. Making the right turn, he looked over his shoulder and began his final push, charging up the hill. At the top, he turned left again and charged up the last 650 meters of false flat that made up the finish of all the races this past week, burying his pursuers who just didn’t have anything for him after 162 miles of racing. He was the last World Champion to cross it this week, almost nonchalantly crossing the line with a smile and a wave.

Winners

Peter Sagan (Slovakia) in 6:14:37 – that’s quite a speed for 162 miles! (He was in stealth mode up until that last climb. It was quite a stunner!)

Michael Mathews (Australia) in 6:14:40

Ramunas Navardauskas (Lithuania) in same time as Mathews. He also was a part of the early break and did a lot of work today.

Alex Howes was the top finisher on the American Squad finishing in 12^th place.

Observations

The crowds were very excited today, and lots of people who knew absolutely nothing about cycle racing were out and about. My volunteer shirt caused most of them to ask me questions about the race and I had a great time today acting as a docent on the sport. I only made up about half of the stuff I told them.

For the first time, I was in a position that made me a target for the rider’s discarded drink bottles and I actually scored 2 of them. I never saw who tossed them so I don’t know who to thank. Interestingly enough, they’re smaller than ones I typically carry so I can’t imagine using them but I may keep them as souvenirs.

I’ve always wondered what riders do if they need to pee on a long race. Today, I saw one of them going while riding. He was cruising along the left barricade, riding with his left hand on the bars while holding his shorts open with his right hand and hosing down the fence over his left leg. I’m guessing the spectators on that side of the course were wondering what was going on as he went past. Fortunately, it was a sparse crowd at the time. Of course, now I’m wondering how difficult it is to do……

Richmond as Host

I admit, I had low expectations when this was first announced. The city government has a history of being less than spectacular in execution of big things. (Witness the “new baseball stadium” that is still under discussion; for about 10 years now.) This effort, however, was a combination of a separate organization (Richmond 2015) taking care of the details (especially the money) and the government officials acting as partners. The results were really outstanding! Were some people inconvenienced? Sure. You can’t hold something this big and not do that. But the group was small and, if they planned properly, the inconvenience was pretty small. 

The people that were bitching about it, were reactive instead of proactive and expecting things to be messed up.

I’m pretty sure that the crowds over the weekend weren’t enough to make up for the dearth of crowds in the early part of the week. No matter how they tried, the organizers just couldn’t explain the attendance in a way that business people seemed to understand. As a result, a number of restaurants and businesses had overly high expectations and were sorely disappointed. Folks that came in from out of town, who had been to other Worlds, said these crowds were huge. That’s good enough for me!

Was it worth it? A spectator asked me that question today. The jury is still out but my opinion is that it was, unequivocally. Big money came into the city, lots of tax

The River City, standing tall!

revenue gained this week, and the city looked really good on TV. I think that will mean a lot of future visitors to our town. It will also mean that we’ve proven we can pull this size of an event together and make it successful! That means future events, future growth, and future fun in the Old Dominion.

Congratulations to Richmond 2015 and all of the organizing committees! It was an honor to serve as a volunteer and be a part o this!

Congratulations to all of the new World Champions! You earned it with your efforts and your suffering!

I am a Cyclist

Well, not really. I’m an old (58 years), skinny-fat guy that occasionally rides a bike.

That’s usually the way I think of myself when I’m getting ready to take a ride.

If it’s a group ride, a gran fondo, a charity event, I tend to think more like “I’m a cyclist” because there’s a bunch of people that look like me out there. Baby boomers with a little more weight than they’d like to be carrying, all kitted up like their heroes in the pro peleton. (Perhaps I should be riding in more group rides!)

One reason I don’t think I’m a cyclist is that I’m convinced that I’m a really awful climber. This is caused by my power to weight ratio being out of kilter. That means I either need to develop the power of the Incredible Hulk without gaining any weight OR lose 25 pounds. This would probably require me to only eat really healthy stuff and not much of it. I’d also have to stop drinking.

To quote a famous philosopher, “Ain’t nobody got time for dat!”

Climbs I have done

Both of you who are regular readers of this blog know that I’ve done some climbs as part of my Tour de Cure rides up in Northern VA. (For purposes of this post, I’m categorizing a climb as being over a kilometer in length and a gain in altitude of 4 to 5%, or more.) The first year of the TdC I had to walk up one major climb because my ass cheeks were about to ignite and the second year, I was in much better shape and sailed up it like a boss. (Okay, I rode the whole thing without having to walk.)

Most of the riding around here contains some hills but there’s only one spot that meets the criteria listed above and it’s just barely got enough elevation change to make it. I’m so used to doing it that I just ride it without thinking about it, unless I’m at the end of a longer ride and it’s really hot or something.

All this to say that, I don’t have all that much climbing experience; certainly not enough to definitively state that I’m no good at this.

Until last weekend.

Giles County, Virginia

Last weekend, MB and I were invited by friends to spend the weekend at their second home in Pembroke, a small town in Giles County, VA. It sits very near the VA/WVA line and is bisected by the New River, the oldest river in the US. It’s also about forty minutes west of VA Tech (Go Hokies.)

Just one of many hills in Giles Co.

The weekend included three couples and we planned to play golf, play bouree (it’s a Cajun card game that combines poker, bridge, drinking and swearing) and play some music. So I brought poker chips, golf clubs, a cooler of beer, my guitar, and my bike. No one else in this group is much of a rider but I figured I could get a ride in Saturday morning before we went to the golf course.

After driving for three and a half hours, we arrived in Pembroke and followed directions to the house. I turned off of Rt. 460 and headed up a very steep hill for about a quarter mile before turning into their driveway.

All I could think was “I’ll have to climb that thing on my bike at the end of a ride.”

Several of us went to the grocery store for supplies, and took a drive down some possible routes that I could ride in the morning. The home owner gave me some recommendations about where to ride and, more importantly, where not to ride. Pembroke is known more for mountain biking than for road cycling and the concern was that I’d be mowed down by one of the locals. The roads there are either really narrow with barely two lanes on them or four lanes with high speed limits and no shoulder. Sweet!

We spent the rest of the evening eating a wonderful meal, drinking lots of good beer and wine, and playing cards.

The hills make you stronger?

Saturday dawned overcast. MB and I got up and got a cup of coffee and went to sit on the front porch overlooking the valley. There were large swaths of fog hanging down in the various valleys between the hills as far as we could see. Poking above them were the tops of the hills and what passes for mountains on the East Coast.

I had a little something to eat and then changed into a kit for my ride. Only one other person was stirring, sitting with MB on the front porch, when I pulled out of the driveway and headed down the hill.

I held the brakes the entire way down that first hill. I knew if I just let it roll, I’d hit a speed that would be very exciting going around the turns on this little road. I kept it around 20 mph as I dropped down to the main road.

At the bottom of the hill, I checked for traffic and shot across to the other side of 460. There didn’t seem to be anyone up although it was 7:30 in the morning. I thought country folk were early risers! I pedaled up the first street I came to, heading in the direction of the local recreation area and golf course we’d play later in the day. It was a smooth 2 lane blacktop, going slightly uphill. After about half a mile, the road turned left around a small hill and started going up at about a 5% grade. I continued up it for another few hundred yards and then it got steeper. I rode up that a little longer and just as I was about to go into the red zone, I decided to save the match and turned around.

I rolled back down the hill, well above the speed limit of 25 and then slowed to make the turn at the bottom. I continued to re-trace my ride until I was back to the main road.

Mamil - Not actual size

I went down to the next street and turned up that. This was one I had driven on the night before and I knew that it headed over the river, crossed a bridge and then disappeared around a bend. The homeowner had told me that it followed the river for a little while and then turned up to the top of Commissary Hill, whatever that is.

I rolled past some small houses and then a campground appeared on my right, next to the edge of the river. Lots of tents and RVs filled the available space and people were just starting to stir. Everyone who saw me stared for a lot longer than I’m used to; must have been the MAMIL in their midst (Middle Aged Man in Lycra).

The road rose up to cross a railroad line and then dropped down to a fairly new bridge which crossed the river. I rolled across that, looking at the old train trestle to the right which had been taken out of service some time ago; it was rusted and in pretty rough shape.

Kudzu in all it's glory

Back on the road, I cruised through an amazing kudzu display, draping all the trees in a lush green curtain. (If you’re not from around here, kudzu is one of those things that just moves in and takes over, covering everything in its path. This was no different.) The kudzu coating went on for a few hundred meters and then, abruptly, stopped.

The road I was on dropped down to follow the river and then began to swing back up and away from the river, heading to higher ground and wrapping around the large hill/mountain on my left. I kept spinning the pedals at a good cadence and managed to hold about a 12 mph pace as the road began to climb.

I passed some beautiful rock formations that had been revealed over the centuries by the river’s inexorable carving; one tiny molecule at a time. I’m fascinated by these, sometimes by the colors, but always by the millennia it took to do it. The patience of nature never ceases to amaze me and make me understand how insignificant we all are.

The road kept climbing and so did I. Looking down at my Garmin, which changes from one screen to another every few seconds, I could see that my average incline was 5-6% and that my speed was holding around 11 mph. And then I could see a graphic image of the road; it looked like a cliff! I wasn’t sure if this was real-time or predictive but I didn’t like the look of it. I tore my eyes away from the computer and focused on my surroundings.

As the road angled up, steeper, I shifted to the small chainring and kept spinning. My breathing was becoming labored and I could tell I was starting to really work to keep the speed up. I couldn’t see the top, only the road disappearing around the next turn or fading into the mist. The fog that I’d seen from the front porch was in this valley and I was climbing into it! My glasses fogged over and I had to look over the tops of them to see clearly.

More time went by and I realized that I’d been on this climb for close to 20 minutes. Part of me was thrilled that I’d been climbing this long; most of me was worried that I was going to keel over. I rolled to a stop at the side of the road, stood over the bike with my head down, and sucked air. Hard.

It took about 90 seconds to get my breathing close to normal. I took one last deep breath and climbed back on the bike, determined to get to the top. I was surprised how much better I felt after stopping for a breather! I held my cadence for another few minutes and finally saw a Stop sign through the mist, meaning I’d reached the top. I silently congratulated myself, vowing to make it to the top without stopping the next time.

At the intersection, I spun around and headed back downhill. It was so steep that I reached 40 mph almost immediately without pedaling and despite sitting up (maximum wind resistance). I coasted back down the hill, enjoying the wind and the return of my energy.

After what seemed a very short time, I was back on mostly flat ground, then rolling back across the bridge and the railroad tracks, heading back into town. I pedaled up and down several shorter streets looking at homes and small businesses before finally turning around and heading back to that ball buster of a hill leading back to the house.

Sisyphus on a bike

After crossing the main road, I stopped at the bottom of the hill for a quick re-group and a drink. My goal was to make the entire climb without stopping. In my mind, I could see all my friends standing on the front porch cheering me up the hill. (I was clearly hallucinating.)

I clipped in and started up, switching to the small chainring almost immediately. As I rolled up the first pitch and started around the bend, I shifted up until I hit the biggest cog. I was in the “granny gear” or the “if this gets any steeper I’ll be falling off my bike” gear. As the pavement rose, I stood up and stamped the pedals continuing to hold my speed. I finally got past the steepest part and sat back down, spinning hard to keep my speed up. I was grinning because I’d made it past a really steep section. I turned onto the road going up to the house and realized I was going to have to stop to recover; my legs were quivering and my breath was gone again.

I stood astride the bike for a minute and then started again. I knew almost immediately that I wasn’t going to make it all the way. If I could just get to the cross street so I could ride across the hill to recover, maybe I’d be okay. I focused on that street sign, driving hard against gravity, and finally turned left across the hill. As I rode along, I could hear MB hoot, meaning she saw me.

I continued for about 100 yards or so, and then suddenly had a plan. I would turn around, get a head of steam up and turn up that last pitch with a good head start. Yeah, that’s the ticket! I grabbed my bottle for one last drink, spun the bike around and accelerated towards the intersection. No cars coming, good!

I was going pretty fast when I got to it but was able to carve a wide turn and head up the hill. I was back in the granny gear almost immediately and was spinning hard, trying to keep forward progress. I was about to stand up when the first cramp hit my quadriceps and I decide to abort. I rolled to a stop and climbed off the bike, pushing it up the hill in the international cyclist’s walk of shame. Sucking air, really hard, too.

I made my way the last 100 yards back to the house, parked my bike, grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and told MB, “We’re never moving to a place with hills like this!”

Statistics

The big climb up Commissary Hill turned out to be about 6.7 kilometers with altitude gain of .4 KM. That’s an average of 5.9% and I know that some sections jump to 8-10%. I was curious about what that means in Categories that they use in the Tour de France and it looks like this was a Cat 3. That means there are only 2 categories that are harder. You know what that means?

I’m a cyclist. (Sort of……)

World Cycling Championships

Official Logo

Those of you that follow this sport know that the UCI World Cycling Championships are coming later this month, September 19^th-29^th. More importantly, they’re being in Richmond VA! I’ve arranged to be off work the entire week and have signed up as a volunteer in a number of capacities during the week. My plan is to drop a post in here every day with whatever I see/hear/experience during the event. Friday evening, I’ll actually be riding the Road Championship course in a fundraising event called Conquer the Cobbles with several friends of mine. Should be a good time.

I hope you’ll check back for my missives during the event!

Everyone knows it’s windy!

Ride Report on the Martin's Tour of Richmond 2014

Last Saturday was the Martin’s Tour of Richmond, an annual timed gran fondo put on by the Sports Backers organization; they put on a bunch of outdoor athletic events for the RVA. This was the third annual rendition of this ride and it keeps getting bigger and better every year!

This year’s event provided four different length rides, twenty nine, fifty eight, seventy eight, and one hundred one miles. There were over 1,400 riders signed up this year for all of the rides and I decided to do another century ride along with 392 other crazy people; the century had the largest number of participants.

The courses changed this year so that all riders began and ended at Richmond International Raceway, a famed NASCAR track. One of the cool parts of this ride is that it includes taking a lap around the race track before reaching the finish line outside. Looking at the course cue sheet and online profile, it appeared that the

This is RIR, Bubba!

new course would be much flatter than in the past and that was comforting to me as the last century I attempted, the annual Tour de Cure of Northern VA, I’d had to abandon to avoid killing myself in the Blue Ridge mountains when my legs were gassed. The online information would turn out to be inaccurate, of course, as my bike computer showed it having 50% more elevation change than the old course. 

Even so, it was a really wonderful course.

Instead of riding solo as I did last year, two friends planned to join me on the ride. Greg #1 would be riding his first century after taking up rode biking in the past year while Greg #2 would be returning to ride with me after dusting me by about an hour in the first event, two years ago.  Neither of them had as many base miles as me this year and expected to suffer, predictions that proved to be accurate.

Even though I had more miles in than past years, I was feeling anxious about the ride probably due to the Tour de Cure fiasco in June. The expectation would prove to be inaccurate as I felt strong the entire day.  Lucky for the Gregs!

Preparation is the key to something…sanity, probably.

I took time during the week to perform a tune up on Fast Eddy, cleaning off some road grime, cleaning and degreasing the chain, and then lubricating it, again. The result was that the bike felt great and shifted perfectly all day long. Mechanicals on a long ride just make the ride seem that much longer and, so far, I’ve managed to avoid one every big ride. I think it’s because I over prepare, which is totally unlike me; I’m not usually a belt and suspenders kind of guy but cycling is different.

Fast Eddy

I’ve also changed saddles this summer to a Brooks Classic hard leather model and the results have been excellent. With about 500 miles on it, I seem to avoid all the numbing that I’ve experienced in the past. I was looking forward to the century ride to see if that would remain the case.

Early start on a beautiful day

The scheduled time for the century riders was 7:30 and we all arrived, checked in, and were lined up in time for the playing of the National Anthem.  Right on time, the lead riders rolled out with their police escort leading the way. Their plan was to finish in about 4 hours. Their actual time was 4:30 due to the headwind that we all had to punch through over the last 40 or so miles. (More about that later.)

The rest of the riders moved smoothly out through the starting gate and we headed out on to Laburnum Avenue towards the city. The first seven or eight miles took us through the streets of the city, through the Fan neighborhoods and finally down a long hill where we hit 36 miles an hour just before crossed the James River for the first time on the Huguenot Bridge.

The newish Huguenot Bridge

The first of seven rest stops was placed in a shopping center parking lot at the bottom of that hill and we were going so fast, I’m not sure any riders stopped; most didn’t realize it was there until they were past it.

We turned onto Riverside Drive, a gorgeous winding road that parallels the river and it’s my favorite part of the Tour! The road is quiet and fairly untraveled, rises and falls along the river with some sweeping curves, and the early sun was coming over the trees making for some beautiful views. There were dozens of photographers set up along this part of the course taking advantage of the early morning light and our suffering (some of the hills are very steep so there are some stiff, short climbs) to show fascinating juxtaposition in their frames.

Riverside Drive

There are also some beautiful neighborhoods that we rode through and many people were out on their front porches or lawns, sitting in lawn chairs, drinking coffee and ringing cowbells and cheering us on. Little kids were waving and cheering, everyone was smiling and enjoying the weather (70 degrees and sunny) and it just makes for a great ride!

The second rest stop was in one of these and we stopped long enough to refill bottles, grab a couple of snacks, and hit the portable john.

As we crossed the river again over the Lee Bridge and headed into Shockoe

Are you home, Gov?

Bottom, Greg #2 started speeding up. I held his wheel and we left Greg #1 behind as we accelerated up a couple of hills and flew past the Governor’s Mansion. Our speed continued to creep up and I wondered if Greg had a lunch date and was planning to be early or something. There was no sign of the other Greg at about mile 25; we thundered on, heading east and out of town.

Suffering begins early

About mile 30, Greg finally started to fade when he was pulling so I took over and told him to just hold my wheel. I pushed us on until the next rest stop at mile 34. As we stopped, Greg said he was starting to suffer. I told him not to worry, I still felt strong, and just to let me break the wind for him. In only a couple of minutes, Greg #1 who we had dropped a ways back, rolled in and joined us.  He had hooked up with a couple of others and gotten a pull to catch us. We stretched, refilled, re-snacked for about 15 minutes and finally headed back out. (Stops that are this long are tough for me as my legs start to tie up and I have to work to loosen back up when I get back to riding. Anything longer can really be brutal.)

We rolled along for another nine miles or so and then came to the next rest stop at a fairly large park with lots of young families enjoying the day. We stayed there for about ten minutes this time and then headed off. Greg #2 was quietly suffering, trying to hang on until he felt better. That’s the key to riding a long event, I’ve decided. No matter how you feel, good or bad, it won’t last so just keep spinning the pedals until it changes or until you get to the end, whichever comes first.

We had one more twelve mile section until we got to the aid station at mile 55. I knew this one was key because the station after it was twenty miles away and we’d be turning back toward town and into the wind.  The ride up to this point had been fast (over 18 miles an hour average) and quiet, a sure sign the wind was at our backs. It was important, in my mind, that the stop there be a good one in order to set up the next section of riding.

But we still had to get there and this section had its own identity including a couple of long gentle climbs and some spots where we turned into the wind so we got a taste of what our future held. The road itself held some rougher sections giving it the consistency of a cobbled road; very uncomfortable to my hands and wrists but I gutted through it.

We finally came over the last rise and rolled into the aid station. Greg #2 immediately climbed off his bike and lay down in the grass. Greg #1 took off his shoes to give his aching feet a rest. I went and grabbed snacks for everyone before refilling bottles and stretching my back and legs. I couldn’t believe how good I still felt; strong, full of energy, and ready to get after it. It felt like I’d only ridden about twenty miles!

After about a 25 minute rest, we saddled back up and headed off. I kept stretching the entire stop in an effort to keep my legs loose and it seemed to help.

The hills make you stronger, the wind just makes you angry.

The next twenty miles were a combination of lovely and painful. The road wound through a number of farms, dead flat and into a 12-15 mph wind. I kept my body position low and just focused on spinning the pedals, managing to hold about 13 mph. The Gregs were unable to hold my wheel and fell off but I wasn’t going to stop if I could help it.

Between farms, the road would rise gently into some trees bringing some coverage from the wind but then adding a slight incline. I preferred this because I was able to hold a higher speed with less effort.

These two scenarios traded a couple of times and then the road rolled along between some marshy areas on one side and some housing developments on the other. About mile 69, we came around a curve and a nasty hill rose up in front of me. I downshifted to my smaller front crank and started up at a good speed, working my way through the rear cassette until I got to the 2^nd smallest cog. And then, I just put me head down and spun the cranks as evenly as I could, trying to not to go into the red zone. (This hill turned out to be about a mile with an average 5-6% grade. That’s nothing for the pros but for this old fart, it’s more than enough climb; one spot got to about 12%.)

I finally crested the hill and looked behind me. The Gregs were nowhere in sight as I regained my ability to breathe normally. I continued on for another fifteen minutes and rolled into the aid station. I was still feeling remarkably good, especially considering this last section, but I needed some nourishment. I’d pounded a couple of power gels during the last 90 minutes but now I wanted something to chew.

Pizza? Did someone say pizza????

The Gregs rolled in about 4 minutes behind me and found me standing in front of one of the tables eating slices of Papa John’s. It was the best pizza I’ve ever eaten, proving that hunger really is the best seasoning! The Gregs grabbed a few snacks, laid down, removed shoes, stretched, and got something to drink.

Yeah buddy!

I ate pizza. I probably killed one entire pie by myself. (A delivery of 20 had just shown up and it was hot and delicious.) I also drank my fill of water, had some Powerade, and refilled my bottles. I felt good knowing that there was only about 27 miles to go.

After about 35 minutes, I dragged the Gregs to their feet and we mounted our bikes and headed out. Almost immediately, we passed a woman riding a unicycle. Turns out there were 3 of them entered in the rides including one doing the century. As long as they made the time checks, they were good to ride and, from what I could tell, they would meet those times easily. I felt for them having to ride into a headwind with nowhere to hide from it although this woman’s uni had a set of aero bars on it!

One more stop and then we’re heading home!

The next session was flat with some gentle rollers with the continuing headwind. I lead the Gregs nearly the whole way and we held together well. We rolled into the stop and I pleaded with them that we keep it short so I didn’t stiffen up. They agreed.

I checked my phone and realized I had multiple calls from MB. I had turned on my RoadID app at the last rest stop, as we’d agreed, so she’d know my whereabouts. It has a function in it where it sends an “ecrumb” to her via text that allows her to

Never ride without it!

track me by my smart phone. Evidently, the service was so bad out where we were (rural New Kent County) that it registered me as not moving for a long time and sent her a warning text that I hadn’t moved for 5 minutes. She had been trying to track me down as a result. Once I got her, she let me know that the signal had finally moved and she wasn’t worried anymore. The Gregs overheard me telling her we were on Studley Road and they yelled that, “the road was named for me” since I’d been dragging them along. I signed off and we prepared to head out.

As we hit the road, Greg #2 took the lead saying he was feeling better. I tucked into his wheel and we rolled off and pulled away from Greg#1 again. We kept this pace for the next 40 minutes or so and climbed the second to last hill towards RIR. Greg is a really good climber and he started pulling away from me.

We turned onto the last road and climbed the last hill with Greg dropping me steadily. I started to catch him at the last traffic light but he swung the left turn and took off again, down the hill towards the entrance gate.

I pounded my way down it as best I could and turned into Gate 7 which has a pretty stout hill. I stood up to climb it and my left calf immediately cramped painfully. I sat back down and kept spinning my way to the top of the hill and continued on course to the track entrance, by way of the tunnel, to take my victory lap.

Low Speed NASCAR

I rode up into the infield and followed the ribbons out to the track surface for my lap in the opposite direction of cars driving on it. The official photographer was stationed at the end of the straightaway to take everyone’s picture and I smiled to show that I wasn’t actually dying. (I haven't gotten the picture yet but will add it later!)

I rode back into the infield, down the tunnel, past the two ladies who cheered their heads off for everyone that came by, and then around the outside of the facility and back to the finish line, stopping the timer at 7:59:04. (Actual riding time according to my bike computer was 6:23:41; the lengthy stops really killed my overall time.)

At the finish line, volunteers were handing out small bottles of Powerade and cups of chocolate milk which was incredibly delicious! Great idea and thanks to the volunteers!

Epilogue

The temperature was perfect for the ride, highs in the upper 70s with broken clouds and sun. The wind was the big story with a second half headwind of 12 – 15 miles per hour; it made for a tough day but I felt good about taking it on.

The volunteers were amazing, as they always are, friendly, encouraging, and smiling. The law enforcement personnel were out in huge numbers and did a remarkable job at keeping us safe at every intersection. (I understand that one officer was hit by a driver out on the road and I hope he heals quickly!) The course was well marked, easy to follow, and a joy to ride.

In short, the 2014 Martin’s Tour of Richmond was an absolute success!

Next year, Richmond has the UCI World Cycling Championships in September so we’ll be riding the Tour of Richmond in celebration of those. If you get time, come join us for either or both!