Today was absolutely brutal in a self-effacing, thoroughly enjoyable manner. I participated in a bike race in Frankfurt and am currently trying to consume the excess burnt calories and avoid leg cramps.
Frankfurt is about 190km or so from Stuttgart and, today, about an hour and a half drive. I went with Sebastian from work and a friend of his. All of these guys are younger than me and don't seem to take nearly the preparation that I do for this sort of thing. We were headed to a 100km race with a total elevation gain of 1000m. Since I have not yet switched my bike computer from miles to km, I'll elaborate that it was about 60 miles and 3280 feet. For long rides, it's very important to know the exact distance as this is what your mind and body set a pace and motivation for. So, 60 miles of bike race. I was planning on being particularly competitive but I was going to participate.
First surprise was the size of the starting field. There was a pro race after us amateurs and people were out in force to see them. I snapped a quick over head of the starting field:
Absolutely thousands of participants here. All on expensive bikes. One of the things about Germans is that when they take up a hobby, they generally get the best equipment they can afford and throw themselves into it full force. (For those technically oriented, I never did spot a 105 group. Everybody was riding Ultegra or better and every tricked-out frame you could think of was here to see.) This was our staging area where we were started in groups based on how fast we thought we'd ride. Sebastian signed us up for the last one but we actually started rolling with a faster group.
I'll keep the milestones in miles because that's what I was reading as they happened. Remember, planning for a 60 mile race. We headed out fast, around 25mph and with so many people, there was a huge draft, which made for fairly easy pedaling. I was pushing a little and had to remind myself that I hadn't ridden 60 miles yet this year and needed to ride at a participate/finish level. So, cresting a hill around 27mph I think maybe I'm a little winded and need to stay in behind a group, mile 3.5.
The beginning of mile 14 was my first (completely neglecting the flat things I've ridden over previously) experience with a cobblestone street. Downhill, fast and thoroughly nasty. Almost mountain biking except no knobby tires. People were losing their water bottles and loose gear all over the place. No wrecks yet, though. The end of mile 14 was the start of the first hill, a 19% grade. Several people were walking. A couple of people went down, either from making a mistake or making THE mistake of being beside that person. Bursting lung capillaries all over again but I made the hill and told myself I had another 46 miles left in my legs. After that we were out of the city and into the countryside. This is another messy climb that I decide to leisurely take a picture of.
All of these, by the way, are one-handed from the bike.
The half-way point, mile 30, was the top of .......another hill! I should mention that all along this route are people cheering indiscriminately, making noise, shouting encouragement, and just generally spectating as you pass by. Through the several towns we went through, people lined the streets with noise makers, one person was beating a pan with a spoon from her balcony and kids were just crazy in general. It was actually a pretty good feeling to get so much support from all these people for just being an amateur participant. Mile 30 was also the first feed zone, followed by a down-hill gauntlet of empty water bottles and banana peels. I told myself I was half-way and ate my banana. Probably the best one I've had this year. The down hill from the mid point was as steep as the climb. Because of my weight, I was never a star hill climber in college. Cycling through the mountains is all about power to weight ratio and the smaller guys simply have less to haul up. My forte was descending and bridging(eating up distance between packs on the flats while pulling other people). So the down hill was damn scary but with cleared roads I was able to hit 45mph and get around some of those lighter people who passed me on the way up.
Somewhere around mile 35 was the cobblestone climb, which wasn't nearly as bad as the descent. Also during all this, support vehicles, police motorcycles, and ambulances are whizzing by the pack on their way to somewhere. I've seen it in televised races but riding in the middle of it was new.
Mile 40 was my first encounter with "weaving Basso guy." I was tired at this point and was reassuring myself that I could make 20 more miles. That's less than an average ride. I was with a large group and drafting so I was able to keep a good pace up. Basso is a brand of bike frame and weaving in a pace line is the worse thing you can do second only to jamming on the brakes and causing a crash. It's not cool. It's also not safe and people, me included, need to stay on top of their pace line skills if they're going to ride in large groups. So I get frustrated and pull the pace line for a while (ride in front to break the draft for others), leaving weaving Basso guy behind. Trouble is, he's riding about the same pace and I keep having to deal with his weaving. I'm not winning this race, but I vow to finish ahead of weaving Basso guy.
The last little town we went through was where we merged with the in-line skate traffic (also big here and they were racing too). 50km these f##ks were skating. Pace line tactics and all.
I think we're around 45 miles here and betting back into Frankfurt. The full name is Frankfurt am Main, which is the river that runs through it.
We're hitting around mile 48 or so here and, yes, I continue to ask myself, and answer, whether or not I've got the remaining mileage in me. The route is cleared and marked through the city, which is all that's left. Just after this part of the route, a casual bike decided to use the race course instead of the perfectly charming paved path beside it and I witnessed him receiving a thorough finger-shaking from another rider. Still playing pass and go with weaving Basso guy.
Mile 58 I see we're through the city and nearly done. Hell yes I can ride 2 more miles, I think. Mile 63, I'm on the highway and can see the staging area for the start. I am beyond what I've programmed myself to ride, tired, and I believe a bit disoriented Still 10 feet in front of weaving Basso guy, who is gaining. I pour on what gas I've got left and leave him starting to trail again. (switch to km) About 1 km from the finish, which is a big inflated arch we can see, I hear a big crunch and look back to see weaving Basso guy eating asphalt. No idea how he crashed on a flat, in the middle of a road, with no bikes touching him. But, I attain my race goals, finishing and finishing ahead of weaving Basso guy.
I am happy in this picture. I am also tired and crabby because my blood-sugar has dropped to non-existent. I decided today that after-race support is extremely crucial. After everybody got back into street clothes, we heading over to watch the pros go by. I think they were doing it faster than us. Here they are:
