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.