I was running a little late this morning. I was up late last night with the blog (two days worth) and didn't get my usual chores finished. So they were waiting for me in the morning. I arrived at breakfast at the hotel at 6:05am and the gang is all there. They're almost giddy with excitement.
We leave in a few groups. One group gets an early start; not a huge jump, but they want to get a headstart on some of the hammerheads. The next group is the hammerheads. I actually hang around for a few more minutes and wait for Jay. We are the last to leave. Vidalia is shrouded in fog. Jay sets a really good pace - about 21mph. It takes some time, but he reels in the hammerheads. We're within striking distance when we catch a red light. The chase continues, and we sneak into the pack.
In NASCAR, two cars working in tandem (one behind the other) can go faster than any single car. It is like that in cycling. Except we have only two wheels. And they're really skinny tires. And we have only a 1/8th horsepower motor. And that motor gets tired. So the NASCAR analogy may have been a stretch, but we're in the South. I like to think that by riding right on his wheel, I am helping Jay go faster. The vacuum that would normally be formed behind him, and pull him back, is formed behind me instead. In reality... Jay is doing all the work. But I like to pretend I'm helping.
Once we catch the pack, I work my way up just a bit to speak to Randy. Randy is a terrible paceline rider. He can't stand to be still. He works his way to the front and back again by riding in the middle of the road. He is pretty careful, but he'll be the first one hit if a car comes too close. Riding outside the paceline like that isn't very efficient, but Randy is always burning excess energy - 'cause that's just the kinda guy he is.
We are cooking pretty good. The first SAG is at about mile 30, in the town of Claxton - the fruitcake capitol of the world. About 5 miles out, Russ starts to set a serious pace. As we near town, he cranks it up to an insane speed. We have a slight headwind, and Russ is out front punching a hole in the air at 25mph. We're all hanging on for the ride. For me, it isn't easy. And I'm doing a fraction of the work that Russ is doing. Finally, Russ peels off and, as he is dropping back, I tell him "thanks" for all the effort. I glance over at him. Sweat is pouring down in streams. And for the first time in almost a month, I see a look of exhaustion and pain on his face. It doesn't get easier,.... you just go faster.
We are a little more than a mile out, and Paul takes over the pace. We're now entering Claxton and there is construction on the road. However, Paul is also setting an incredible pace. We can see the early group in the distance, and we're closing on them fast. The road is torn up in places, but Paul is still going full out. With nine other riders right behind him. Just as we nearly reach the early group, we get caught by a red light. We can see the SAG about 500 yards up the road. When the light turns green, I turn to Paul and say "race you". We take off and it is a mad race to the SAG. Flying through the streets of Claxton. We're all wearing our ABB jerseys and must look like something from another planet. Or at least, another country. As we pull into the SAG, Brian asks, "What was that all about?" And then he answers himself. "Because it is a lot of fun."
This is supposed to be a day where we take it easy and enjoy the sights. It is a day for reflecting. But this group is wound too tight for that. At the SAG, we learn that we are going at a pace that will put us at the beach two hours ahead of schedule. Friends and family will be meeting us for the wheel dipping ceremony, and they've been told it will be at 2pm - not noon. We take longer than usual at that "first last SAG". A few of the riders decide to take it down a notch and proceed at a more reasonable pace. They leave the SAG with a vow to take it easy. I hang back with the remaining riders, still buzzing from that wild ride into Claxton.
The ride into the lunch SAG (at mile 68) was at a near race pace. The headwind was picking up, but we're still averaging over 20mph. I took my turn pulling, and each pull nearly kills me. To me, this is the perfect way to end this ride. Going full out. At a pace that I never thought I could keep, and probably will never achieve again.
We reach the lunch SAG and pull out all the chairs. We definitely spend a long time at the SAG. Afterwards, we again divide into two groups. The rational group gets a slight headstart, with the remaining riders not too far behind. We turn off the highway that we'd be traveling onto a road with less traffic. Both groups meet up and we ride as one big team - almost in peleton fashion. I'm riding on the outside with Randy when he says "let's break away". I'm not particularly comfortable riding in this big group - there's still some traffic on the road and we need to get back to something more akin to a single file. So I am happy to jump to the lead. Nico takes it as a challenge and jumps. Followed by Randy. And Per. And Wolfgang. And so on. We're back to break-neck speeds. Nearly a month ago I was watching these guys fly by me - wishing that I could just go that fast. Now I'm actually going that fast. Who would have thouhgt it? Not me.
Finally the speed gets just too grueling, and I find myself dropping back. Once that gap opens, I know I'm doomed. I resign myself to the fact that I will be biking into Savannah solo. Or waiting for the other group. Just then, Per passes me. He had been dropped as well. I hop on his wheel, and he is off. He is on a mission to close the gap. I'm two inches off his rear tire. He later tells me that he didn't even know I was there. Fifteen minutes later, we're back with the group. We see that Reem has been dropped, and the pace "slows" to let her catch up.
We're entereing the outskirts of Savannah. We're coming through old neighborhoods with gorgeous brick homes. Live oaks don't just line the streets - in some instances they are in the middle of the street. I'm feeling great.... because I don't realize that Tybee Island (our final destination) is about 30 miles away. Savannah (the city) is not right on the ocean... it is a good ways up the Savannah River. I should know this stuff. We have a gap on the riders behind us, and we stop for one last guilt-free McDonald's shake.
The causeway to Tybee is a final reminder of how difficult this crossing has been. The road is narrow and traffic is very heavy. There is a 20mph headwind coming at us. The lead riders take it to a threshold pace. Once again, the wind is coming from a slight angle - so there is no relief unless we were to ride in an echelon. And that puts me out into the middle of the road. No way. I grind it out on what passes for a shoulder until I just can't hold on any longer. I drop off and was disappointed. A few minutes later, Wolfgang and David come up behind me and my spirits soar. I hadn't realized that they had dropped off earlier. The three of us ride into the staging area where we gather before the final assault on the beach.
Soon all the riders are the staging point. We have cold drinks and group photos are taken. Then we line up and proceed to the end of Tybee Island two miles away. As we turn down the road leading to the pier, people start to cheer. Not the riders. People on the side of the road. The beach is practically packed. Most are just there for the day... but they've been told that we are coming. There is a news camera crew. The walk across the sand is over a hundred yards. We carry our bikes and everyone on the beach is yelling. I wasn't expecting this. We all dip our wheels, and half the riders jump into the ocean. Wolfgang peels off his biking shorts. Thank God he was wearing that Speedo.
I can't believe it is over. I know I have to bike back the two miles to the staging area and the vans. We have the option to bike back to the hotel in downtown Savannah. It is about 30 miles away and it is not really an option that anyone takes seriously. The staff say that no one has ever ridden back to the hotel. We've ridden coast to coast... and that is enough.
FINAL NOTE - in a week or two, I will be back in Bermuda. I will put my comments on the banquet in a posting at that point. Along with my final thoughts on the ride. I want a few days to digest it all. I don't believe that is actually over. I can't believe I did it. I wouldn't believe it,... if I hadn't been there. Thanks again for all the emails and words of encouragement. Those kept me going when I wanted to stop.
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