Day 13 Elk City OK (100 miles)

I woke up in Pampa TX to the sound of howling winds outside of my motel room.  Just what direction?  We had a late load - 7:30am.  Practically a day off.  I'm sleeping better; a good 7 hours or more per night.  Exhaustion has won out over the fear of the next day's ride.  I did wake up about 1am with throbbing thighs.  The trick is to lay on the floor and put your legs up against the wall - or, in this case, lay in the bed and put my legs up against the headboard.  It lets the blood flow down.  Not a terribly comfortable position, but I went back to sleep like that.

The temp this morning was 48.  But with a 30mph wind, it felt like 12.  All this cold weather; and it is almost May.  When is it going to warm up?  With all of my riding in Bermuda, I thought I was halfway decent at biking in hot, humid weather.  However, after biking in the freezing cold, snow and sleet, I've come to realize something altogether different.  I'm really, really good at the PlayStation.  What the hell am I doing out here?!

Our route today took us south back into town, straight into the headwind.  We left sort of as a group - but some of the faster riders got a jump.  I took off to catch up with them.  I wanted to get back into the pack.  There's safety in numbers.  Big ones look after little ones. And... to avoid confusion... in this case, I'm a little one. 

Randy was also a little late leaving and I hopped onto his wheel.  The trip back into town was only 3 miles, but it was a long, cold three miles.  Especially when you're all in shorts.  We caught the group at a stop light where we turned east.  The blasting headwind became a blasting crosswind.  We biked out of town at a pretty reasonable pace and eventually formed into a traditional paceline.  That is basically a single file with the rider at the front doing the brunt of the work.  When he get's tired, he peels back and rejoins at the end of the line.  It is then the next rider's turn.  There were seven of us.  One rider before it is my turn, we form the circular rotating paceline again.  We were making good time at an average speed of 22mph.  Very good considering the blasting crosswinds.

We continued like that until wind and steep hills separated us slightly.  We all made it to the first SAG at mile 33 effectively together.   We left a little more spread out, but hooked up again to form a paceline to the lunch SAG at mile 66.  Texas gave us a nice parting gift in the form of the smoothest road we've riden to date.  It was like silk and made riding so much better.  The pace got a little tough, and I dropped off.  But several of us met up at the OK state line, which was just about 5 miles from lunch.

After lunch, Paul, Brian, David and I set off for the final 32 miles to the hotel.  It was a straightforward paceline working at a nice clip.  Per caught up with us and the pace quickened.  I managed to hold on for about 20 miles, but the pace was just a little too fast.  In these pacelines, some guys are working at about 85% of their capacity, while others (me) are at 99%.  I can keep up, but it is a lot of work.  Whenever we top a hill after a long climb, it is easy to pick me out of the group.  I'm the only one gasping for breath.

"Hey dude.  You gonna live?"
"Probably ...[gasp]... not"

As we came into Elk City, I manage to catch the group due to traffic lights.  Once again, we met up with Route 66.  In fact, Elk City has a large Route 66 museum that I'd like to see some day.  Brian actually peeled off to take a look.  I'm comfortable running into a convenience store or fast food restaurant in Lycra, but walking around a museum in skin tight clothes is where I draw the line.  So I took a pass.

Scenery today was farmland.  Some of it even looked a little like south Georgia in places.  We hit another cattle feed lot and the smell was enough to knock me off of the bike.  The sky was clear and blue, but the real story was the wind.  The word all the cyclists use to describe it is "relentless".  It was coming from the south and we were heading east.  So that meant that it was in the right ear and out the left for most of the day.  Except when the road made a slight deviation north or south.  Then it was either a slight tailwind or a partial headwind.

I'm feeling pretty good these days.  My left thigh is sore when I push it... and that's what it takes to keep up with the front pack.  In the evenings, I'm exhausted and ache... but I've made it a point to go out to dinner with whatever group is headed out.  It is one of the best parts of the trip.  We got quite a group.

Tomorrow is 125 miles through the farmlands of OK.  It will be a lot of turns and navigation.  Then, on Sunday is our longest day... 145 miles.  That has got several of us worried.  We have another tough one on Monday, then a rest day on Tuesday. 

Day 12 Pampa TX (112 miles)

The day started out in Dalhart TX - a cattle town.  It is not a bad town, but the smell of the cattle feed lots permeates everything.  It smells like a stale, wet diaper.  Not quite nauseating; but definitely not pleasant. 

The hotel was a little old, but the staff were great.  We had water, fruit, snacks, rags (for cleaning our bikes) and even wine waiting for us upon arrival.  The bad thing about the hotel is that it is right next to the railway tracks.  And the tracks cross over a major road right by the hotel.  And the trains are required to blow their whistle when approaching the crossing.  Our rooms would actually shake with each passing train and the whistle blow would wake the dead.  The trains ran all through the night.  Funny thing is... I didn't hear any riders complain about it.  We all talked about it waking us up throughout the night, but we're so exhausted that we're all right back to sleep.

Luggage load was a 6:15am.  Considering the time change, we were loading a full two hours earlier than yesterday.  When I opened my door at 6:10am, I immediately noticed four things: 1) it was pitch black, 2) it was cold, 3) the wind was howling, and 4) nobody had changed that baby.  We loaded our luggage and walked our bikes a quarter mile down the road to a restaurant - no riding in the dark. 

By the time we finished breakfast, it was light and everyone was ready to go.  That's when I realized that I had two left gloves. You just don't ride without gloves - mainly because your palms will blister by the time the day is finished.  Mike let me use a pair of his, and I was able to leave with the group.  We almost immediately separated into two groups, and I was with the faster group.  Jay led us out, but set a pace that no one was able to match.  Finally, Russ took off after him - not sure if he ever caught him though.

The rest of us (there were nine) formed a double-line circular paceline.  We had an incredible crosswind, and this type of paceline reduced its impact.  There are two lines of cyclists riding in parallel.  The line on the left is slightly faster that the line on the right.  Once the first rider on the left passes the first rider on the right, that rider peels off and joins the line on the right.  About that same time, the last rider on the right moves to the left line and accelerates.  When the paceline is working right, it is a constant circular motion of cyclists and looks like a dance.  We were able to travel much faster than anyone of us could on our own.  We could only have this double line of cyclists because Texas has a very wide shoulder. Unlike smaller pacelines, the spacing between cyclists increases - we're not two inches apart; more like a foot or more.

We rode in this pattern for nearly two hours.  It is a great way to travel, but requires tremendous teamwork and concentration.  We were making great time, and I was able to hang with these fast riders.  I don't know if it is the new wheels or if I've just rode myself into shape, but I'm riding much faster.  We were traveling at about 25mph - a great speed considering the 20-30mph crosswinds.  When we pulled into the first SAG, Jay was there (see below) and said "Way to go dude!  If you come in first again today, we're going to make you pee in a cup." (a drug testing reference)

After the first SAG, we started back on pacelining.  Unfortunately, we had lost Wolfgang and Nico.  Both have their bikes set up for time trialing (i.e., solo riding) and wanted to ride on their own.  We were down to a group of seven, and the work was a bit harder.  I was able to hang, but the speed was picking up.  Once we hit about 31mph, my left thigh was starting to give out on me.  I had to drop back.  However, I had ridden with these guys for over 50 miles and was very pleased.

Right about this point, tragedy struck in that my Garmin Cycle Computer's display mysteriously cracked.  The computer was a gift from work (thanks Crystal and Sheila), and is a slick piece of machinery.  It shows my speed, my cadence, my heartrate, rate of climb, altitude and a lot of other cool statistics.  Furthermore, after the ride you download to your computer and the GPS element lets you see where you rode.  It does so much more than I just described, and it is my favorite toy.  I believe I can get it fixed, but I will probably need to ship it back to Garmin.  Bottom line: I will not know how much climbing we've done each day.  I have a simplier back-up computer (the one in yesterday's pic) that will get me through the ride.

Scenery today was just vast open pasture land.  We're starting to see oil rigs and modern windmills. Wind today was a real problem.  If it wasn't a crosswind, it was a headwind.  Like I said, it was blowing at 20-30mph ... and we had gusts of 50mph.  The toughest section was the last ten miles into the lunch SAG (at mile 82).  I caught up with the fast group (they had stopped for something or another).  The paceline was gone; the wind was just too tough and pushing everyone around.  Plus, we had hit the big climbs of the day.  So we were spread out over about a two mile stretch.

After lunch, it was just a 30 mile ride to the motel.  I started out with Jay and Karen, but just couldn't keep up the pace when we hit the first hill.  I just don't have a climber's physique.  I need to be 30 pounds lighter.  While we're at it, can I be a bit taller as well?  Don't think either is going to happen.  Mike joined up with Jay and Karen, and while I couldn't keep up with them, I could keep them in my sights.  They paused for some photos, and the four of us rode into Pampa together.  It is another pretty clean agricultural town.  I peeled off a couple of miles before the motel when I saw an ice cream parlor. 

I didn't come in first, but I was very pleased with today's ride.  It was great riding in the group.  I know I keep saying it, but... they're all a great group of people.  I was with a great group last year, and I lucked out again this year.

Tonight, we're at another Best Western and again they had drinks and rags waiting for us.  A bunch of us had dinner next door at a steak place where we learned that this horrible wind is a constant.  The staff there said that they get used to it.  Tomorrow, it is another "short" day.

Day 11 Dalhart TX (97 miles, 1820 feet)

Before I begin with today's ride, I thought I'd briefly discuss the daily distances we're traveling.  Over the course of this entire trip, we average about 120 miles per day.  The century ride (i.e., 100 miles) is the cycling equivalent of running a marathon.  If you ever enter a running event that is a marathon, there are often half-marathon and/or 10k options.  Likewise, cycling events that have a century will often have 30 mile and 60 mile options.  Rarely does a person new to running enter a marathon right off the bat; instead they start with a 10k run and work up from there.  Similarly, cyclist beginning long distance riding will first start riding 30 or 60 mile routes before progressing to a full century.  There are actually entire books that are dedicated to preparing a cyclist for his or her first century ride.  It takes many months to build up to that level of mileage.  And usually, after a cyclist has ridden a century, they take a fair amount of time off to recuperate - like a couple of weeks, a month, a year or a lifetime (once was enough).

When put in that context, the fact that we ride so much day after day is sort of daunting.  I actually try not to think about it.  Most organized cross-country trips average more along the lines of 60 miles per day.  The company that runs this trip has two more cross-country trips each year that have that type of mileage.  This trip, however, is the Fast America ride.

I mention all of this in part because today's mileage of "only" 97 miles can appear somewhat puny compared to the big mileage days we've been posting lately.  But remember, it is only 3 miles short of a century, which is in itself a nice achievement.

The word for today was "speed".  I've been dead last reaching the motel in the evenings on most occassions.  I remember after the third day, I was sitting around talking with Jay in the motel's courtyard when Randy came up.  Randy is an incredibly intense cyclist from New Mexico.  He bikes only at one speed - full out.  He has it cranked to 11 all day long.  Randy looked at me and said, "Man... you're hardcore.  You're out there plugging away all day long.  You don't stop.  You're the first one out of the motel in the morning and the last one in each evening".  Hardcore, huh.  Where I'm from we call that "slow".  Now that I know, I will use "hardcore" in its proper context.  Like:

I would have been here sooner, but I got stuck behind this hardcore truck.

I tried to explain it to him, but he just doesn't get it.  He's a little... you know... hardcore.

Today was the day I was going to be first to the motel.  Mileage wasn't incredibly long.  Fairly flat terrain.  And we were due for some kickin' tailwinds.  I knew luggage load was at 7am; my baggage was there at 6:45am.  I was going to get a jump on everyone.  However, luggage load was not actually until 7:30am.  So I was outside pacing in my biking gear for half an hour before Karen came out to open the luggage trailor.  You can't leave until you've checked your luggage and signed the sign-in sheet. 

By this point, most of the really fast riders are standing around the luggage trailor and chomping at the bit.  Karen sees me and says, "You want an early start?".  I say "You bet".  She opens the trailor just for my stuff and shuts it back again.  Thanks so much Karen.  I'm going to get a good ten minute head start on everyone.  As I begin to start off, the other cyclists all wish me luck (they're truly a great group).  I hear one of them ask "Hey... why does he get to leave early?" and I could have sworn I heard Karen say, "He can get an early start because he's a little hardcore".

The route was fairly straight-forward.  We ride back into the town of Tucumcari, a couple of turns and then on the one road to Dalhart.  By the time I was out of town, I was flying.  I was giving it all I had.  It was early and the winds hadn't really kicked up yet, but I was really moving.  One of my cycle computers captures statistics in 5 mile intervals.  The first 5 miles, my average speed was 18.2 mph.  The second 5 miles, it was 20.4 mph.  By the third 5 mile interval, it was 25.7 mph.  On flat terrain.  I was biking way out of my element.  I might not be the first to the motel, but I was going to at least be the first to the first SAG, which was at mile 25. 

As I approached that first SAG, I thought of something. I had not seen the SAG van.  I was going to get to the SAG location before there was a SAG.  Just then, I hit a wall of a climb and the van passed me.  I pulled up just as the van was parking.  I was the first there.  I had to wait for Karen and Barbara to set up.  (BTW, Karen helps with the first SAG, then hops on her bike for the rest of the day).  They have it down to a science and, if you get in the way, you may lose a hand.  There is a procedure that us riders have to adhere to.  We have to wash our hands, sanitize them, sign the sign-in sheet and then we can get food and water.  My left leg had the beginnings of a cramp, so I quickly got down a very ripe banana.  I also ate a granola bar and a cookie, and re-filled my bottles.  And I was off.  Off before anyone else had even arrived.

Scenery in these parts is open pasture land.  It is slightly rolling, and trees only grow down by creeks.  I was riding on a nice shoulder - but not too wide.  Traffic was strictly tractor-trailors.  As I looked out into the pasture, I could see a few old-fashioned windmills.  They were pointed in the right direction.  Not a direct tailwind, but coming from the SW - and we're headed east, so that was good.

I have honestly never ridden so hard in my life.  I wanted to get to the lunch SAG before anyone else, and that was at mile 66.  At mile 54, we cross the Texas state line.  No time for a photo stop; I had to take a pic while biking at 33 mph.  The shoulder in Texas was wide as a lane and smoothly paved.  In Texas, they sometimes drive on the shoulder, so there is minimal debris on it (other than roadkill).

I made it to the lunch SAG still in first, but not by much.  Russ and David (a triathlete from Southern California) arrived shortly after I did.  It was at the lunch stop that I realized what a tailwind we had.  It was pretty strong.  Barbara had set up at a rest area with picnic tables.  Nothing was staying on the table that wasn't weighted down.  If you made yourself a sandwich, you had to hold down the bread or it would blow away.  I grabbed a few things and then was back out on the road.

The final 31 miles were pretty intense.  At mile 75, the smooth road turned into chipped seal.  At mile 86, we hit the cattle feed lots.  Cows come here to be fattened up before slaughter.  The aroma is over-powering.  At mile 97, I made it to the hotel still in first.  It was twenty minutes before the next rider arrived.  I had covered 97 miles in 3 hours and 40 minutes.  My average speed was 26.4 mph.  Never again in a thousand years could I ride that fast for that long.

We lost another hour coming into Texas (we need to be more careful with those things).  Early yesterday, we crossed our 1,000 mile mark - a third of our journey is over.

English Mike (from last year's ride) has reminded me that every rider has good days and every rider has bad days.  Today I had a very good day.  My left thigh is pretty tight.  My back is hurting.  However, I'm feeling really good at the moment.  Tomorrow I go back to being hardcore. 

Day 10 Tucumcari NM (112 miles, 3547 feet)

Overnight low in Las Vegas was 23 degrees.  Not sure what that is in Centigrade, but it's gotta be about absolute zero.  By the time we loaded our luggage, it had warmed to a balmy 35 degrees.  I had broken out the leg warmers; I had hoped they were gone for good.  After yesterday's killer ride, I was moving pretty slow.  About two-thirds of the riders had left the hotel before I got on the road.

Today is a route for the navigationally-challenged.  Left out of motel; two miles up the road and another left; then straight.  That's it. 

I've read various ABB blogs about this day's ride for years.  It is supposed to be one of the best rides on the whole trip. I'd say it pretty much lives up to the hype.  And yet it was nothing like I was expecting.  Shortly out of town, you're into vast prairie country.  No trees... just grasslands for miles in all directions.  It is a climb at first; then it levels off after about 20 miles. 

You come around a corner and realize that you've been riding on top of a plateau and the bottom-land opens up beneath you.  It is a killer descent on a smooth road with curves and steep drop-offs on your right.  Unlike the similar descent on Day 4, it is not absolutely freezing and the roads don't have ice.  So, you're able to open it up.  Top speed was 46mph.  I'm still in search of the elusive 50mph.

Before I can get off the plateau, the headwinds start.  The lunch SAG isn't until about 80 miles into the day.  That was a long, long way to lunch with those headwinds.  You've heard me complain about them for the past few days.  I have found websites that give all sorts of metrics on how much power is wasted in headwinds.  But instead of boring you with all that, let me just say that on a day like today, it takes about 30% off of your speed.  So if you would normally be going 18mph, now you're going 12mph.  It really lengthens the day and builds character. 

We also had a pretty rough road surface.  In south Georgia, this would be the road surface used on very secondary roads.  A "chipped seal" is what I believe it is called.  It is a bit like riding over mini-cobblestones.  Tends to jar the rider and slow down the bike.  You could really tell the difference on the few concrete bridges we crossed.  All of a sudden, it would be like you're riding on a cloud; and moving fast.

About five miles from the lunch SAG, the road changed direction and the surface improved considerably.  We now had a tailwind and a smooth ride.  Whoa... what a difference.  I flew into the SAG all smiles and upbeat.  After the SAG, it was a strong crosswind.  In some places, I had to ride with my bike tilted towards the wind to keep from being pushed into the road.  About ten miles from town, the road surface was covered in small gravel (on the shoulder) and the wind was back into my face.

The town of Tucumcari is another small town through which Route 66 passes.  I've seen throughout New Mexico that they are trying to revitalize towns along Route 66 and the road is actually called "Historic Route 66".  Albuquerque had huge Route 66 neon signs that spanned over the road.  Anyway, Tucumcari is a pretty clean place; not prosperous by any means, but tidy.  There is an interesting story on how the town got its name.  The following is from English Mike's blog (Mike rode last year's Fast America Ride) and is used with his permission.

An Indian Chief had a beautiful daughter called Cari. Two young Braves wanted to marry her and the Chief decided that they should fight to the death for her hand in marriage. One was the love of her life, called Tucun (don't know what the other was called, Roy, Adolf) Anyway they had the fight and Tucun was killed. Seeing her one true love dead, Cari killed herself and fell onto the body of Tucun. Hence they called the town Thatdidntgotoowelldiditsville. This was later shortened to Tucuncari. Such a pity he wasn't called Cashun.

I really like this hotel.  It is a Best Western and they had rags (for cleaning the bikes) and a food spread waiting for us.  And it took the woman at the front desk about ten seconds to check me in.  After riding 112 miles, that's what you really want.  Despite all the wind, I made really decent time and arrived here right about 3pm.  What a change from yesterday.  
 
I'm suffering a bit from sensory-overload.  This ride today was truly gorgeous, but I've seen so many great things (especially here in NM) that it is hard to remember them all - let alone describe them.  I was thinking as I was riding today that if I only rode yesterday's or today's ride, I'd be talking about it for years to come.  But when it comes on the tail of eight days of 100+ miles each, it becomes something of a blur.
 
Tomorrow is supposed to be short - only about 100 miles. And we're supposed to have kickin' tailwinds.  I've heard that before.    

Day 9 Las Vegas NM (138 miles, 7863 feet)

I can take 138 miles or 8000 feet of climbing.  But... please don't give me both on the same day.

Before I begin, just a quick word on my appearance.  In theory, we're burning about 4,000 - 5,000 extra calories a day by biking these distances.  You'd think that after biking about 850 miles over 7 days that I'd begin to slim down.  No.  I learned this last year when I returned from my 7 days of biking weighing the same as I left.  However, then I lost 6 pounds over the following week.  Then and now, my body is retaining lots of water.  My face is puffy.  I have huge bags under my eyes.  My fingers are swollen so much that is difficult to get the biking gloves off.  My feet, legs and knees are bloated. I'm a mess.  Team Leader Mike says that it is not until the third week that you start to notice positive changes.  On the plus side - even after four days of biking in head-to-toe gear, I still have a bitchin' biker's tan.

Albuquerque sits in a valley with a large range of mountains to the east. These mountains are visible all over the city and are quite stunning.  Unfortunately, we are headed east. So today meant that we had to get over the mountains.

We started out about 7am with the entire group from the hotel parking lot.  Temps were in the mid-40's.  For the first time in 4 days of biking, I was not wearing leg warmers.  We were biking in Monday morning rush hour traffic, so our route had us take advantage as many side streets as possible.  I led the procession, but Jay quickly took over because the knew the way out of town.  Jay has been on this trip (or parts thereof) half a dozen times.  So he has the route down pat.  Or so we thought.  Jay's navigation technique was to shout back to the group "Do we turn here?"  "OK... right or left?".

The climbing began while we were in the city.  Sort of gradual, but always there.  The traffic lights served to separate the group of 15 riders into a few smaller groupings.  I managed to stay with five fast riders, mainly thanks to the traffic lights.  I'd fall behind; they'd get stuck at a red light; I'd catch up.  That lasted for only about 8 miles until they shook me.  Biking in traffic can be challenging, and today's ride had some hairy moments.  You really have to have a good sense of your surroundings and good bike handling skills when you're navigating across five lanes of traffic to get in the left turn lane at 30mph.

Then the climbing began in earnest.  It was those 6-8% grades that really slow you down and wear away at you.  But the views were stunning.  After a couple of hours of this, we're up in the Ponderosa pines.  It's like that opening scene from the TV series, Bonanza.  You can see for miles and miles.  It is absolutely amazing how clear the air is when you remove most of the oxygen.

I'm biking solo.  Faster than some guys, but well behind the leaders.  At one point, Russ (this very good racing cyclist from NC) comes up beside me.  Have no idea why he was behind me to begin with - must have been a mechanical problem.  Anyway, the climb is not too bad - about 3%.  He passes me and I watch him just book up the road.  It is like he's in a car.  Everyone in this group (save me) is really fast.  As I learned on the first few days: it's not the heat, it's the humility.

We are rewarded with some incredible descents and I hit my high for the day:  45.4mph.  Pretty exhilerating considering the sheer drop to my right.  A few things happen when I hit those speeds.  First, I'm pedaling like crazy and get into a tuck position.  Second, I move to the center of my lane (I'm going as fast as a car, I'm taking the lane).  Third, my focus moves way down the road looking for any approaching obstacles.  I'm sure that one day a strategically placed rock or pothole will wipe my stupid grin right off my face, but until then....  As a side note, I only attempt these speeds when we are on empty roads.

I come into the tiny town of Madrid.  They filmed portions of  "Wild Hogs" there and it is a great artsy community.  It is a tradition on this trip to stop at a particular store and get sticky buns.  I'm behind (as usual) and elect to keep going to make up time.  I see the van, Jay and Karen in town.  I don't see other bikers, but I'm sure they are around.  Once out of Madrid, the climbing continues.  Jay and Karen come by, but there's no way I can keep up with their pace on such a steep incline.  I do catch up with them at a convenience store where we all stop to grab a quick snack.  We sit down and talk.  I'm feeling pretty good.  I'm ahead of all those riders back in Madrid.  And then they break the news.  Nobody stopped in Madrid except for them.  Now I'm way behind.

We hit the interstate, and it is a good wide shoulder.  However, a pesky headwind that we've had all day kicks up a notch.  Despite the headwind, the climbing and the fact that I'm dead last, I'm feeling good.  The rest day must have paid off.  I actually start to reel in a couple of riders, and even pace one into the lunch stop.  That SAG was at a firehouse and they were nice enough to let us use the facilities.  We had chairs out and the sun was shining.  Life was really good.

I take off shortly after Scott and Rick (a very good biker currently living in FL).  We are on a deserted frontage road with a good surface.  Both Scott and Rick have a healthy respect for the steep descents, and I fly past them on a beautiful section of downhill.  They watch me blast on past... and completely miss the turn to get back on the interstate.  I realize my mistake when the road I am on turns to a dirt road.  So now I had to turn around bike back uphill  - bonus miles (and they're the climbing variety).

I've had my fill of interstate biking by this point.  They were just a few too many hairy spots.  The exit and entrance ramps are particularly dicey and require special care.  However, this section of interstate is great.  Little traffic and (like I said) a nice wide and smooth shoulder.  The scenery is gorgeous.  The sky is crystal blue.  The only problem is that we're still climbing and fighting an increasing headwind.

Finally, the climbing stops ... but the headwind continues.  I'm not even hitting 20mph on downhill sections where I should be biking at 30+ mph.  Then I hear the familiar "Hey Mikey!".  It is Jay, Karen and Mike (team leader Mike) working a paceline.  I've paced behind Jay and Karen several times, and it is a thing of beauty.  They both have an incredible consistent and smooth pedal stroke that I try to emulate.  You may think that pedaling a bike is a simple task.  And it is.  But to be a good, fast, long-distance biker, you need a fairly fast cadence (pedaling speed) that you can turn out hour after hour.  Anyway, I decide to hop onto Karen's wheel for a few hundred yards.  To everyone's amazement, I hang with these guys for several miles.  Mike and Jay are taking turns at the front - running into the headwind.  Karen is third, and I'm right on her wheel.  We're traveling at about 22mph - not bad at all considering the headwind.  This is where the consistent pedal stroke is so important.  Our wheels are perhaps two inches apart.  If anyone in front hestitates on their stroke, that will lead to a reduction in speed and there is a very good chance that everyone behind will go down.  It is a rush, and once again, life is good.

I eventually lose them on a climb.  Mike waits behind to pull me back up to Jay and Karen.  It works for a while, but I'm pretty beat and I get dropped.  By this point, we've climbed about 7000 feet and biked about 100 miles - most of that into a headwind.  I'm back to biking solo, but I'm really liking my pace.  I catch up with Brian, whose got to be around 6'9" and been pounded by the wind.  There's no place for someone that tall to hide.  We ride together into the final SAG, which is about 113 miles into the day.  It is at a rest area on the interstate - no facilities, but we have a picnic table.  I can't begin to describe the way food gets wolfed down at these SAGs.  Cookies, pretzels, apple slices, bananas, granola bars, chips and trail mix.  Pretty soon it is Brian, Rick, Scott, Jay, Karen, Mike (TLM), Barbara and myself.  It is a beautiful day, despite the headwinds, and we're all joking around.

Eventually, we all take off - one-by-one.  It is solo biking, which is just as well since I start to feel pretty tired by about mile 125.  Rick, Brian and myself exit the interstate together at mile 133 and go in search of the hotel.  We don't go through the downtown of Las Vegas, but just skirt it.  It looks like that town has something going on - not like Winslow or Blythe.  We bike as a group through light traffic; not in any particular hurry.  We're all pretty beat.  The hotel is on the far side of town, and it feels great to finally get there.

I shower and change, then go back to see Jim.  He is going to change the cassette (gears) off of my old rear wheel onto my new rear wheel.  He's already done it before I get there.  Tomorrow, I'll be biking with two new wheels/tires instead of just a new front set.

As seems to be the tradition with this stop, we all order pizza.  It has been a tough day.  Mike says that it has been the toughest day of the trip and, barring some freakish weather, they should all be easier after this.  I'm sore and tired, but feel pretty happy.  It was a ridculously long day.  The morning seems like it was two days ago and in a different state.  Nearly ten hours in the saddle.  Can you believe it?  I was there and it is still hard to believe.  Although the pain helps to remind me.

As a closer, I will mention that I apologized to Jane for not sounding too upbeat in my postings.  She said, "If it was easy, it wouldn't be interesting."

Day 8 Rest Day

Today was one of our two rest days.  It was a great day here in Albuquerque NM.  I spent the day doing chores.  Cleaning and working on the bike, washing clothes and the like.  The hotel also has a pool and a sauna, which were great.  I stayed off the bike, but did walk around the area just to keep the legs moving.

I got a chance to meet Per from Denmark.  Another one of these intense athletes.  Guess I will be seeing him only at breakfast.

Just a quick couple of stories on these first seven days.  I was talking with the staff and they say that last year was the hottest and this year was the coldest.  In past years, they've had entire groups skip ahead several days.  In one instance, several riders rented a car and drove to the next state.  In another, a group of riders caught the train and skipped several days.  I certainly can appreciate that.

Tomorrow is a tough day, but it should get somewhat easier the next day.  Tomorrow is our second highest climbing day and third longest mileage.  We're headed to Las Vegas NM.  I believe it is our last day on the interstate.  Tomorrow is also the first time I will be riding a day that I didn't ride last year (I only was signed up for the first seven days last year).  From here on out, it will all be new to me.

I want to thank all of you sending e-mails and posting comments.  It means so much and helps get me through these long days.

Stayed tune for the further adventures of 14 outstanding athletes and one middle-aged actuary trying to hang on.

Day 7 Albuquerque (137 miles, 3082 feet)

Last night we arrived in Gallup NM and stayed at a fairly new hotel (not motel).  It was sandwiched in between the interstate and the train tracks.  A 24 hour bowling alley downstairs would have completed the effect.  I was staying on one of the upper floors, which meant taking my bike on the elevator.  First up to the room; then down for mechanics; back to the room; and down in the morning.  Wouldn't have been a problem except for the fact that two tour buses of senior citizens arrived moments after I checked in.  These aren't like the "senior citizens" in our family; these are the type that get lost going down the hall.  At first I thought that I shouldn't mention them in the blog in case they stumbled across the blog; but I realized that ain't going to happen.  They haven't mastered elevator technology - computers are light years away.

Every one of them asked the same thing when they saw me in the elevator.  "So... you in a race?"  I'd explain that we were riding across the US, and questions would inevitably follow.  Like, "All the way?" and "Does your mother know?"  In my defense, I was exceptionally tired and not in the best mood - so my answers were always rather short.  They all traveled in packs and seemed to congregate at the elevator - not sure where they were going.  Husband and wife teams were the worst.

"Honey, you pushed the UP button.  We're going DOWN.  Oops... you did it again.  No... two UPs do not make a DOWN.  Yes... I know.  Three lefts make a right.  And four quarters make a dollar.  Just push the DOWN button, honey.  This nice young man wants to go race his bicycle."

When I got to my room last night, I immediately went for my recovery drink powder in my suitcase.  It is very important to get a load of carbs and proteins into your system as soon as you quit biking in order to refuel for the next day.  Those first 20 minutes after excercise are critical.  And then you need to eat again shortly after that.  Anyway, the big jug of recovery drink powder just jumped out of my hands, hit the floor and the screw-on-top popped off.  I was down on floor trying to scoop up as much as I could into an empty drink bottle.  Yum... my favorite.  La Quinta Citrus Carpet flavor.

We lost an hour when we crossed into New Mexico, and that was an hour that I desperately needed.  I was so exhausted.  Breakfast was at the hotel at 6am.  For the first time all trip, I went to breakfast in "street" clothes instead of my biking gear.  I'd change after I ate.  As I walked out of my room, I saw a hallway with two suitcases outside of each door.  Then it hit me.  The bus tour seniors!  They were all down at the breakfast area and it was self serve.  They had been there since 5am; and it didn't open until 6am.  It was total confusion.  I grabbed a waffle and went back to my room.

I mention all of this just to let you know my state of mind.  I was aching all over.  My thighs were burning just going up the steps.  I was frustrated.  I needed sleep.  And for the fourth day in a row, I'd be biking in leg warmers and layers of clothes -  it was freezing.  I knew we would be starting out on a very steep climb up to the Continental Divide and we'd have 136 miles to cover before I could get to the next hotel.  I did not want to go.  I wanted to cry.

But I did go.  Dick, Pacific Mike, Scott and I headed out on the road together.  We were riding directly into the rising sun and couldn't see a thing.  We were hugging the side of the road because cars approaching from our rear were going to have a hard time seeing us.  After ten miles, we entered the interstate.  By this point, the rest of the riders had caught up and we're riding as a group.  We were riding on the worst section of interstate we've seen, and I remember it all too well from last year.  You know those signs on the interstate that say "Caution.  No Shoulder"?  That's exactly where we were riding.  On the no shoulder.  It was gravel and crushed rock.  Every few feet would be a patch of pavement.  And on top of that, we're climbing. And tractor trailer trucks are blasting past us at 70 mph four feet on our left.  It was like this for miles.  No one could go fast.  I had finally found the great equalizer.  If only the whole trip was on gravel roads, I'd be able to keep up with the fast riders.

At the first off ramp, I said "heck with this" (or something along that line) and went up the ramp.  I came back down the entrance ramp and had jumped a good 200 yards in front of the group.  The shoulder finally widened and speed picked up.  We were still climbing and a few of the faster riders overtook me one-by-one.  We reached the Contintenal Divide at about mile 22 and stopped for photos at a tacky, closed tourist shop.  What a relief... only 115 miles to go.

Most of us left as a group, and we're on back roads (mainly empty) instead of the interstate.  It was slightly downhill, and we were starting to pick up a tailwind.  I was hanging with the faster riders, and we were picking up speed.  But under these conditions, I knew I could keep up for miles.  And then, my back bottle cage popped.  The hundred of miles of rough riding had loosened one of the bolts.  I looked down and thought "do I really need that bottle and bottle cage?".  Before I could answer, it rotated 90 degrees to the right and blocked my pedals.  I really wanted to keep up with these guys and thought, "how far can I coast?".  About that time, my mini pump that was attached to that bottle cage dropped off the bike.  Ok... I gotta get that.  I stopped to fix the bottle cage and each rider that passed yells "You need anything?"  "Nope...I got it."  Even a guy driving by with a mountain bike on his roof rack stops to see if I need help. 

It takes about ten minutes to get the thing re-attached. So it is back to riding solo.  Then I hear something else.  There is a noise coming from my front wheel.  We have some awesome descents later in the day and I can just imagine my front tire popping off at a most incovenient time.  I continue for about 5 miles before the SAG van passes by and I signal for him to stop.  Bottom line: it is most likely a burnt bearing.  Mike puts his personal Shimano Dura Ace front wheel on my bike (they cost over $1000 for a pair).  The noise is gone and, it may have been partly my imagination, but I can tell an immediate difference - I'm flying.  Tail winds are picking up nicely and I'm making good time. 

I'm about 30 miles from the lunch stop when I hear a familiar "Hey Mikey!"  It is Jay and he is with Karen.  They are riding sweep (soon to be known as someone-go-find-Mike).  We ride together for miles, and for the first time it is me setting the pace.  We are pumping along at between 25-30 mph - these are tailwinds that I have dreamt about.  My thighs finally give way, and those two pass me but I manage to hang on for a while.  The tail winds and descents continue.  I am able to hit 45mph on one nice downhill section.

When I reach the lunch SAG, I realize that I was not terribly far behind everyone else... despite wasting about 20 minutes on mechanical issues.  After lunch, Jay and I take off together.  We are the last out, except for Mike and Karen.  For the next 25 miles we ride together.  We're averaging about 25 mph (I can't over-empahsize that we had some incredible tailwinds).  I can't believe I'm keeping up with Jay - he's very fast.  I know for a fact that he is sand-bagging it a bit (lot) so that I can keep up.  He even stops to take pics of horses so I can catch my breath.

We enter the interstate again at mile 90.  It is a nice, freshly-paved wide shoulder.  We hit a huge descent and I say that I'm going for a personal best.  I hit 49mph before the tiny magnet on my spokes that is used to calculate my speed flys off.  Jay catches up and sets a pace is that is too tough for me.  I watch as he pulls away and becomes just a speck in the distance.  The nice road surface continues and traffic is quite heavy.  We reach a section where there is construction and the road goes down to one lane.  The shoulder is gone.  I exit the interstate and there, underneath the overpass are both vans.  They have to shuttle us up the road past the construction.  We divide into two groups.  The van in the first group heads 10 miles up the road to the next scheduled SAG.  My van, with only three riders, goes about 300 feet before dropping us off.  And I have a "van flat".  Somehow, when loading my bike onto the roof of the van, the tire had gone flat.  It takes about ten minutes for Jim to pull out the little wires that have become imbedded in my tire. Dick hangs around waiting for me.  I really appreciated that.

We bike the 10 miles to the final SAG, and Pacific Mike has hung around waiting for us.  We grab some food and head off to tackle 10-mile hill as a group.  At the top of the long climb is about five miles of flat riding before reaching the crest that overlooks Albuquerque.  It is quite a view; the city and surrounding area is laid out below us.  The descent into town may be the most incredible of the day, but the winds had become quite squirrely.  I kept my speeds to under 40mph.  It is Saturday and there's some sort of festival in Old Town.  We are in stop and go traffic for a few miles - our bikes are as fast as the cars in these situations.

We finally reach the hotel.  Average speed for the day was 19.6 mph.   Take out that huge climb to the Continental Divide at the beginning and the traffic at the end, and I would have been closer to 22 mph.  What a day.  The winds were great and that was evident on those sections where we turned back into it or it became a side wind.  Nevertheless, 137 miles on a bike is a long way.  I don't care if you are being towed behind a truck, sitting in the saddle takes its toll on your body.   I ended the day very sore, but in a much better mood than I had started the day.

Waiting at the hotel was Andy - a cyclist who had done this cross-country ride twice.  He lives in Albuquerque and offered to take several of us to the bike store.  I needed to see if I could get the bearings in my wheel replaced.  No such luck.  The wheel would need to be shipped off.  The mechanic opened up the bearings as much as he could and he could tell it was fully corroded.  Not surprising given the amount of biking I had done in Bermuda, where everything corrodes.  My options were limited.  There was no way I could ride on the wheel as it was getting worse with each mile - it would soon seize completely.  So I went with a new set of Mavic Kzyrium Elite wheels (they are only sold in front/rear pairs) with new tires and tubes.  And while I was at it, I had worn through a pair of bike shorts.  Total tab was over $900 - not a cheap sport.

Tomorrow is our first rest day, and it couldn't come sooner.  And good news - our rider from Denmark, Per, has arrived.  He looks like an incredible athlete and is all smiles.

I know this was an ridiculously long blog (sorry Briggs), but it was an incredible day and I don't want to forget it.  Just when you reach the point where you think you can't go any further, you're given a day like today.

Day 6 Gallup NM (134 miles, 3391 feet)

Last night, right before I went to bed, I checked the Weather Channel. It said that today, Winslow would have 20 - 30 mph winds from the West.  Tail winds!  I could not have been more excited.  I went to sleep like a little kid the night before Christmas.

When I woke up, it was 28 degrees outside (not sure what that is in Centigrade; maybe -12 or something), clear skies and the wind was ... dead calm.  It was like finding a lump of coal in my stocking. Most of us trekked across that big, empty parking lot to the McDonalds for breakfast.  Those with iPhones were searching the forecast.  Tailwinds would start later in the day.  I was all for waiting around until they kicked in, but that did not go over too well.  This group is just too gung ho.  I will note that the topic at breakfast was "what did we do on Day 3?".  Now I remember quite well, but several were drawing a complete blank.

Getting ready to leave, I found I had a "motel flat".  That is when your tire goes flat overnight, usually due to a small wire that worked itself into the tire the day before causing a slow leak.  Jim fixed that for me... but it was no early start for Mike.  Instead, the whole gang left en mass.  We went to downtown Winslow where we had our pic taken with the previously mentioned tourist attraction (basically what you see at the top of my blog).  Then we were all off. 

For being so gung ho, this group gets a little slow start in the morning, and I led the way for the first 4 miles until we got on the interstate.  Slowly, the fast riders started to join me.  We rode as a big group for a while.  I was thinking "this is nice; I think I will hang with them for the morning".  Then, after about 10 minutes of that, they started to pull away.  They're riding at a pace that is about 1 - 2 mph faster than I can turn out hour after hour.  Doesn't sound like a lot, but at the end of an eight hour day, that can mean that I'm out on the road for an extra hour.  Everyone is washed and going to dinner by the time I'm pulling in.  I have no doubt that I am getting stronger - but so are they.

Today's ride profile looked like a straight incline from Winslow to Gallup NM.  We climb almost 3400 feet over 134 miles.  No steep climbs - just this annoying gradual climb.  We're headed to the Continental Divide, which we reach early on Day 7.  With about a 15 mile exception at the end, we were on I-40 the whole day.

Today was also a day of flats.  Flat tires, that is. When trucks blow their tires and the debris is thrown all over the road, it makes its way to the shoulder.  Those shredded radial tires contain tiny wires that play havoc with bicycle tires.  You need to periodically stop and check tires; I pulled two out today before they got fully worked in.  I am also running very heavy, thick, wide (relatively speaking) tires.  Most everyone else is running light tires (and light wheels); that must be why they are faster...hmmm.  The downside is that they get flats.  One guy had four flats today.  They're no fun, but the staff will change them... if they are around when you flat.

Wind did start to kick in after about 40 miles.  I know it helped, but ... I wanted something that was going to push me up hill to Gallup.  Two days ago, this section of I-40 was closed due to high winds.  Cars and trucks were being pushed off the road.  We saw the evidence of those high winds in the large interstate signs that had been sheared off.  We're right behind this huge low pressure system that is spawning tornados in the Southeast. 

So today was basically about biking solo again.  For the most part.  I did ride some with Scott, Dick and Pacific Mike.  They are typically a tad faster than me on the flats and slight inclines.  However, when it comes to steep descents, my superior body mass (I'm 35 pounds heavier than any of them) and reckless abandon (caused by oxygen starvation) give me the edge and I can make up a lot of ground.  Not a lot in the way of steep descents today.

There's really not a lot of talking in groups.  If you're able to carry on a conversation, you're simply not biking fast enough.  Especially going up hills.  This would be a typical conversation from a climbing day:

Pacific Mike: You going to Haunted Burgers?
Atlantic Mike: Yeah.
Pacific Mike: Me too.

Twenty minutes of silence, followed by:

Atlantic Mike: I'm looking forward to it.
Pacific Mike: Me too.

We're usually not that chatty.

The landscape around these parts is high dessert plains.  We hit them at the end of yesterday's ride.  Wide open country.  You can see for miles and miles in all directions.  You can see it snowing in the next county.  Mountains and mesas are way off in the distance.  The closer we got to Gallup, the closer we go to the mesas until we were riding through them.  It is Native American reservation territory - poor, poor country.

Weather remained cold all day.  Wind was usually coming from behind, but shifted to our side from time to time - especially as we got closer to our destination.  When you stop biking, you shake.  SAG stops are all out in the open.  You try to get behind the van and trailor to get out of the wind, but it whips around.  When the trailor is open, you may get in there... but there's absolutely no warmth.  I'm bundled up; but, at the end of the day, it is still just biking clothes.  Skin tight Lycra shorts and tights.  I have layers up top, but they are pretty thin as well.  My shoulders and neck ache from the cold.  My face is all wind-blown.

While you're out on the road, you have lots and lots of time to think.  I think about the question I get a lot: "Why are you doing this now?".  The best answer I've come up with is "So I don't have to do it later."

If I don't sound too chipper, it is because it was a long, long day in some cold weather.  We got the same tomorrow.  If the wind had been coming at our face, I might have been a little happier.  Because I would have spent the day riding in the warm van.  My thighs are aching.  Out on the road, I sometimes want to get up and sprint.  That lasts all of about 10 seconds before the screaming pain sends me back down into the seat. 

Tune in tomorrow when the ride is expected to be pretty much the same.  I may just copy and paste on the blog.

Day 5 Winslow AZ (107 miles, 5206 feet)

I'm stilled a little stunned by yesterday's ride. I think I was too cold and exhausted when I was writing the blog to fully explain how cold and exhausted that ride left me. It was an unbelievable change of scenery and weather played out over a grueling ride. I was up fairly late doing laundry. One washer and dryer at the hotel, and all the riders were trying to clean their clothes. I had worn about a third of mine in a single day, and they were soaked. On the plus side, I managed to get a good six solid hours of sleep.

Today's ride would prove almost as difficult as yesterday's. We knew that today would be cold, so everyone arrived at the morning route rap session decked out in all of their cold weather gear. I was not able to get a jump this morning - I was moving pretty slow. We headed east towards Sedona with temps in the mid-40's. We hit climbing right off the bat and the scenery began changing by mile 10. The red rocks of Sedona are an incredible sight. We got some relief from climbing with a descent into the town - a nice tourist town set in the middle of red cliffs.

Climbing began immediately out of town as we entered the forest. The road narrowed considerably and traffic increased. A bit like biking in Bermuda. After a few hours, we hit some painfully steep switchbacks.  Most of today's 5206 feet of climbing came within the first 50 miles. And this was right on top of yesterday's 8500 feet of climbing.  Following the switchbacks were a set of long rollers leading into the town of Flagstaff and the day's first SAG. 

At the SAG, all riders were pretty frozen and taking refuge in a convenience store.  I actually removed a layer of clothing (a biking tee shirt) that was soaking wet, had a cup of hot chocolate and felt much better.  From that SAG, the route takes numerous turns through the university, down about 4 miles of bike path (the first bike bath since Costa Mesa) and out onto Historic Route 66, which is in desperate need of paving.

Just a quick note on Route 66.  It was one of the first national highways and built in the 1920's.  It ran from Chicago to Texas and over to California.  It was designed to run through the Main Street of numerous towns and other towns sprang up on it afterwards.  For several decades, Route 66 was the main road to California.  When the national interstate system was rolled out, it replaced Route 66 in many places and made it obsolete in others.  Towns that flourished when it was the main road to the west coast, started to die.  Our biking route will take us along this road or near it for the next several days.

Once outside of Flagstaff, it was onto I-40 and the snow started coming down pretty hard.  Because the short time I took at the lunch stop, I was riding solo and out front.  It was a very bizarre experience - riding all alone down the shoulder of the interstate in the snow.  And it was absolutely freezing.  After about 20 miles, I came across a mileage sign for Albuquerqe - 308 miles.  And we'll be there the day after tomorrow.  For the next 40 miles or so, there was a gradual descent and a slight tail wind.  Under these conditions, it was easy to crank along at a good speed.  There was one 5 mile stretch where I was able to maintain an average speed of about 25 mph.

The final SAG was at the exit for Meteor Crater.  It is only about 5 miles off the interstate, but no time for any sight-seeing on this trip.  Like many SAGs (Support and Gear), this was one set up in the middle of nowhere.  Barbara shoots ahead of the riders, parks the van and sets up a table with snacks.  It was too cold to stay around, so I shoved down about a dozen cookies, re-filled water bottles and got back on the interstate.  The ride into Winslow AZ was only about 25 miles.  Once again, I was able to make pretty good time. 

Winslow AZ is one of those towns along old Route 66.  I don't know if it is the way we come into town, or what ... but this town is dead and dying.  It is twin cities with Blythe CA. Lots of shacks and old trailors.  Maybe we just enter and exit on the wrong side of town, but I get the feeling there isn't a good side of town.  I will say that compared to last year, the town has improved significantly.  They have repaved many of the roads, added a nice wide bike lane and put in brick pavers.  For those of you that don't know, Winslow's claim to fame is from a single verse in a song by the Eagles (Take It Easy).  They've built a tourist attraction downtown around that song.  But we were staying out by the interstate.

We were staying across the street from last year's hotel, a Quality Inn - which is a misnomer.  This year's hotel was an EconoLodge - aptly named.  We overlooked a large empty parking lot in front of what looks like a long deserted K-Mart.  The staff cars in the hotel parking lot are all cars that I had forgotten had ever been made.  When's the last time you saw a Maverick?  And all the cars were stripped of paint from the sun and sand.  Like I said, this town is pretty dead.

For dinner, several of us walked across the street to a grocery store.  Once you're off the bike, you start to cool down immediately.  It was freezing and the grocery store, which looked so close, was about a quarter mile away.  But once in the store, we could have been anywhere in the US.  It was clean, big and modern - a complete contrast to everything else in this town.  We were content to stay in there for over an hour.

What a day.  I can't believe I started out west of Sedona.  Seems like days ago.  This day was my best day of biking last year.  That thought kept entering my head on today's ride.  It was so long and hard, but eventually you forget the pain (after the ride) and just remember the sights.  Maybe when I look back on this day in a couple of weeks, I will remember it with rose-tinted glasses.  But right now, I'm just tired, cold and sore.  This ride is really beating me up.

While the hotel has WiFi, it doesn't appear to extend beyond the lobby. So this posting will probably be a day late.

Day 4 Cottonwood AZ (103 miles, 8633 feet)

Before I begin, I found out this morning that there had been another trip to the hospital last night.  Another rider was severely dehydrated and needed an IV.  Three days of riding; three trips to the hospital.  Could we keep it up?

We spent the night in Wickenburg, AZ, which is a quaint, touristy cowboy town. It was nice and warm last night, but we had been warned that would change.  I checked the weather this morning and the temp for Wickenburg was 60 degrees.  The temp for our arrival town of Cottonwood was 57 degrees.  Being an actuary, I decided that the average temp for today's ride would be 58.5 degrees.  I could not have been more wrong.

I got my usual start, but this time with Scott - a rider from North Carolina.  By the time we got out of town, the temps were already dropping.  Fortunately, we were both wearing both leg and arm warmers.  We took turns pulling into a headwind - a nice pace, but we weren't going to kill ourselves this early on such a hard day.  Shortly out of town, you see the mountains in the distance. 

The first climb is grueling.  It goes on for hours at about a 6% - 7% grade and speed drops to single digits.  Even though he has a faster pace, Scott stays with me.  His mantra is "no riding in the van".  Once you hit the climbing, pacelines lose their advantage.  And that was clearly evident as the strong riders passed us - but this time, one by one instead of one massive group.  Everyone is fighting their own personal battle against the mountain.

About half way up, it starts to drizzle.  The desert around these parts is so dry, you have a hard time imaging that they get any rain.  By the time we reach the top, the temps have really fallen and it is sleeting.  The van is parked at the summit, and everyone grabs the clothes they put in the clothes bin for such an occassion.  For me, it is just a Gortex rain jacket.  Then we begin a crazy descent into the high mountain plains and meadows.  I love the descents.  It is the only reason to climb.  It is freezing cold, I'm soaking wet, sleet is pelting against my face and flying down the mountain, hitting speeds of up to 40 mph.  On tires as wide as a crayon. It is an unbelievable feeling that makes the climb worth the effort.

The fun comes to an end, and we begin our second climb of the day, this time heading up to the lunch SAG set up at a very small country store.  Temps have really fallen.  The SAG van is parked outside the store next to some picnic tables, but all of the riders are in the store trying to get warm.  As soon as I arrive, one of the very good riders collapses on the floor, suffering from hypothermia.  An ambulance is called and it is pretty scary for a while.  The good news is that a trip to the hospital is averted, and it is just a bundled trip in the van. 

At this point, team leader Mike opens up the luggage trailor and we all start to pull clothes out of our suitcases.  I grab wool socks, full fingered bike glothes, a Columbia vest, ear warmers and Gortex booties.  I do not have a helmet cover (to keep out the rain, wind and sleet) so Barbara and Mike fashion one out of a shopping bag.  No one wants to leave; this was the longest SAG I've seen this group take.  They usually want to grab some food, wolf it down and hit the road.  Finally riders start to take off one by one.  Scott and I leave as a pair.  As if on cue, it starts to snow. 

This second climb is just a tough as the first, but now we have to contend with the snow covered roads.  It is literally hour after hour of just turning the cranks and plowing up this moutain.  Gone are the cactus, replaced by pines.  The whole mountain is shrouded in fog.  I have my head down and just grinding out the pedals.  Scott shouts "Mike! Truck!"  I look up just in time to see a semi tractor trailor parked slightly off the road.  I run straight into it, face first and then bounce back.  My feet are still clipped into the pedals, so now I slowly fall to the side.  I have just run into a parked truck; good thing I was going only 6 mph.  Fortunately, there was no damage to the truck.  I made Scott take a picture of me (complete with shopping bag on my head).

The third and final climb of the day is the toughest.  I was traveling with Pacific Mike, Dick, Scott and Jim.  Again, no paceline advantage when climbing, but it was good to be in a group.  The descent into the small community of Jerome was ridiculous.  Fast, windy roads.  For the first time all day, we did not worry about cars passing us because they couldn't keep up with us.  My fingers were frozen, but it was an incredible descent.  We met up with several other riders at Haunted Burgers, which is the traditional stop on this day.  Afterwards, it was another plunge down to Cottonwood. 

This was another tough day with over 8 hours in the saddle.  Two days ago we were in 100 degree temps on the interstate, and today was 8600 feet of climbing in frigid temps.  Tomorrow is supposed to be very cold as well.  Not exactly what I was expecting.

Day 3 Wickenburg AZ (116 miles, 2999 feet)

First, let's go through the inventory of pain.  Left elbow: feeling pretty good. Everything else: hurts.  Feet hurt.  Toes hurt.  Hands hurt.  Fingers hurt.  Neck hurts.  Back hurts.  Seat really hurts. Hair hurts.  You get the idea.  Last night as a lay wide awake at 2am I thought "I probably should have brought some aspirin".  Despite the gallons of water I drank on and off the bike, I was still dehydrated.  We found out that temps on the interstate reached 100. 

Each night since arriving in California had about 3 hours of fitfull sleep.  So at 2:30am, I made a deal with myself.  I'd take the day off to give my body a chance to recuperate.  Day 4 is a big climb day, and I want to be in shape for that.  Five minutes before breakfast I decided that I should probably bike to the first SAG - it was only 40 miles out.  Once I got there, well it was only 22 miles to the next SAG - practically around the corner.  Then it was only 30 miles to the final SAG.  Not sure that I will fall for that ploy again.

The morning in Blythe CA started out perfect, except for one thing: it was in Blythe CA.  I'm sorry if you're from Blythe, but that town is dead and dying.  A complete contrast to Palm Springs where we had been the day before.  Anyway, it doesn't take long to get out of Blythe and onto the interstate.  I did my usual get out early routine.  The temps were ideal at 6:30 am - must have been low 60's.  What I failed to notice right away was that another rider was also leaving early.  It was Wolfgang from Austria (think Arnold Schwarzenegger, but a bit more determined).  He came up beside me, slowed and said "this headwind is refreshing".  I said, "Funny.  I was just thinking the same thing.  Except replace 'refreshing' with 'demoralizing'".  He took off and I could have sworn he said "I von't be back".  He is a great rider.

A few miles before the SAG (at the 40 mile point), I was able to catch and eventually pass Wolfgang.  He was on the side of the road changing a flat.  That meant that I was the first one to the SAG.  The staff were all confused; but the rest of the riders came in shortly.  The ride to the lunch SAG would not be as successful.  We were climbing, temps had risen considerably and we had a headwind.  The pacelines flew past me.  They're always real nice when they pass.  Each one says stuff like "Way to go, Mike" or "You're doing a great job".  Once again, Jay came to the rescue and paced me into SAG.

Just a quick word about pacelines.  If cyclists can ride in a line and very close to each other, there is a significant drafting effect.  Even the rider in front gets a slight reduction in drag.  By taking turns at the front, the paceline can travel much faster than a person on his own because each rider in the paceline conserves energy when they are not in front.  There is a danger, however, with pacelines. If your front wheel touches the back wheel of the person in front of you, you go down.  If the person in front slows up or stops pedaling for just an instant, there is a chance that person behind will run up on his back wheel and go down.  The person in front,and each peson behind, must maintain a very steady pace.  Furthermore, the person in front is responsible for pointing out road debris.

This part of Arizona is pretty desolate.  We spent about 70 miles on Route 60, which has been designated the "Loneliest Road in America".   It is just flat, empty desert with mountains well in the distance.  As we progressed, we saw more and more cactus.  Every once in a while, there is an RV park.  It is so strange - miles and miles of nothing, then this RV park in the middle of nowhere.  These are long term RV parks, with trailors that have been there for decades.  Who are these people hiding from?  Jay thinks it is a dumping ground for the federal witness protection program.

After lunch and about 15 miles from the 3rd and last SAG, Paul and Brian came up behind me.  They had mechanical issues that required help from Jim, the mechanic,which explains why they were behind me this late in the day.  Paul and Brian are both excellent cyclists and sandwiched me in between them for a paceline to the last SAG.  They purposefully kept to a slower pace so that I could stay with them.  We were hammering along at 20+ mph - this is a flat road with a pretty heavy side wind.  And this was keeping to a "moderate" pace - which was a good 5 mph faster than what I was doing on my own.  Everytime I was beat and thought I would have to drop out, the guys would slow up the pace until I could get it back together.  Like I've said before, we have a great group of cyclists and it is a pleasure to ride with each one of them.

Tomorrow (Day 4) is a killer day with nearly 10,000 feet of climbing.  Furthermore, it is supposed to be near freezing and precipitation is in the forecast.  I'm still in a deep deficit.  My legs are coming around, but it may not be soon enough.  Last year, my thighs blew up on one of the climbs about midway through.  I just couldn't continue and rode in the van for the rest of the day.  So this is fair warning that I may have to cut it short tomorrow.  We've already had two trips to the hospital, and I don't want to be responsible for the third.

On that note, the rider who went to the hospital last night for IV work was back and riding in great form today.  I don't know how.  If I had IV work, I'm calling in sick the next day.

Day 2 Blythe CA (137 miles, 2510 feet)

Today started out beautiful in Palm Springs.  Weather couldn't have been better - a little crisp and perfectly clear.  At lugguge load, I did my usual trick and slipped out just a little before everyone else.  This ride isn't a race by any means, but being out front is good for the spririt. Hall of Fame baseball player, Yogi Berra, once said "baseball is 95% mental; and the other half is physical".  Not sure those proportions hold exactly the same for biking, but it is basically the same. 

The neighborhoods of Palm Springs are gorgeous.  Our route took us down numerous streets including Dinah Shore Blvd and Frink Sinatra Drive.  I was able to stay out front until mile 27, when a speeding paceline of 4 riders caught me.  Jay (a rider from last year as well), dropped off and paced me into the first SAG stop at mile 48.  Not only is Jay an excellent and fast cyclist, he has an infectious upbeat attitude that makes him a joy to be around.  Those 21 miles riding together flew by; we were averaging around 20 mph.

After that first SAG, things began to get rather tough.  This section of the ride claimed all but three riders last year (we survived, but just had to ride in the van).  Last year's temps were over 100.  By this point today, we were in the 90's. We enter into an other-worldly barren box canyon and begin a 2000 foot ascent that seems to go on forever.  The heat, dry air and the climb really took its toil on me.  When I finished with the climb, it was onto Interstate biking.  I limped into the lunch SAG (mile 67) as the last rider.  I was suffering from a condition known as "hot foot".  Basically, the pressure of biking so much was causing my foot to go numb.  The pedals are pushing so hard on nerves in the foot that it feels like the foot is on fire with each downward stroke.  Taking off my shoes, sitting down and getting some rest did help.  But all too soon, I was back on the road (lunch stops are only about 20 minutes).

Back on interstate, we had a respite with the winds shifting to our rear; we also had some downhill riding as a reward for all of that climbing.  However, all good things come to an end, and the wind turned hitting us from the front and side.  I hit the wall at mile 110 - or thereabouts.  The final SAG was at only at mile 116, but I had dropped to a crawl despite the efforts of Pacific Mike and Dick to pace me in.  The SAG was at an interstate rest stop.  It was off with the shoes and down on the concrete floor with my feet elevated.  Now my legs started cramping.  And even though I was lying flat on the ground, it took me two minutes to get my head on the ground - I was locked into a permanent riders' crouch.  I was a site.

It was only 21 miles to the hotel from that last SAG, but I was in a painful place.  I limped in those last 21 miles on pure determination and at a touring pace - about 12 mph.  9 hours, ten minutes of biking.  That is over nine hours of sitting on a bike and cranking the pedals.  I was covered in salt.  I had lost the feeling in part of my left hand and right foot.  I couldn't stand straight when I walked into the hotel.  It had been the hardest ride of my life, but I made it. 

It is now after midnight and I'm doing my laundry.  One of the perks of a trip like this is that when the day of riding is over, you get to do chores.  Clean water bottles, wash clothes, work on the bike, etc.  While I am so glad I was able to finish today, I fear that I may have put myself into a deficit position.  I never thought lying in bed could be so painful.  I have purposefully omitted discussing the pain in my seat - but let's just say it is a sensitive subject.

On a positive note, the rider who went to the hospital yesterday is back and biking as much as he can daily.  Not sure that he can ride all the way to Savannah, but it is good to have him back.  Unfortunately, another rider went to the hospital last night suffering from severe dehydtration.  He is a very good and tough rider.  I have no doubt we'll see him back. 

The staff and other past riders have assured me that these first seven days are the hardest physically.  The heat, dry air, altitude and long mileage force you into shape.  This time last year, Jane asked me how much fun I was having.  "Nearly some" was my reply.  The staff, other riders and sense of accomplishment make it worthwhile.  Again, the e-mails and comments have been so encouraging.  I said it was determination that got me through those last 21 miles today, but it was really the thought of everyone's support that pushed me on. Thanks.

Day 1 Palm Springs CA (113 miles, 4214 feet)

Ever since I created this blog, I had hoped that Day 1's post would start with the phrase "what a difference a year makes".  Perhaps a more appropriate phrase would be "it's deja vu all over again".  No way you slice it, 113 miles on a bike in a single day is a long way.  And we had 4214 feet of climbing (I know... didn't mean much to me either until I started biking). And temps and winds were far from ideal.  But this is what I signed up for.

The first day activities start off with a ride down to Newport Beach where we dip our wheels in the ocean.  The idea is that we'll do the same thing once we reach Savannah.  Also, one rider is designated to wade out and collect a bottle of Pacific sea water that will be transported (in the van) to the Atlantic. I'm not too much for the ceremony thing and don't like to get sandy.  But I was selected to be the guy to wade out into the ocean.  I argued that it should be Pacific Mike, not Atlantic Mike... but no one cared.  So, today's ride started out sandy and wet.

I somehow managed to sneak off and get a jump on the rest of the riders.  Right after the dip, everyone was hanging around the restrooms, and I muttered something like "I'm going to see... how things are looking... up in Palm Springs".  That didn't last long, however, as at mile 8 the entire group (save one rider) flew past me in a paceline.  I could have jumped on to the end of the paceline, but dammit.... I left the Vespa at the house.

From time to time, I rode with a few riders that had fallen off the paceline.  But mainly, it was a day of solo riding.  I know the pace I need to keep so that I don't kill myself - or at least I think I know.  I shaved 2 hours off my total time from this ride last year.  I was still the last rider at the hotel.  This is really a strong group of riders.  As a side note, I will mention that one rider had to go to the hospital.  We hope he is better and can continue.

Scenery was spectacular.  Temps started in the mid-50's and the beach was shrouded in a fog.  By the time I reached the big climbs, temps were in the high 90's.  We had mild head winds, until we got close to Palm Springs where it turned into a slight tail wind.  We did a bit of interstate riding and it was the worse I've seen.  We're in a very urban environment and traffic was quite heavy for a Sunday.  I like the interstate biking much more once we reach the desolate areas of Arizona.

This day nearly killed me last year.  I feel so much better this year thanks to more training and a better attitude.  I would add that the tremendous support and encouragement from Jane has helped so much... but it was there last year as well.  I just am better positioned to use it now.  And I appreciate all the words of support from family and friends.  It means a lot.  Thanks.