The Long and Winding Road (Mike's ride report)

Day 1 – The Big Chill

By 5:00 Saturday morning, I was showered, dressed, and in the process of getting all Cheryl's and my gear loaded in the car. I stepped outside and immediately scurried back into the house for a jacket. The thermometer read 54 °F, but a 7-10 mph breeze out of the north made it feel a lot cooler.

When we arrived in Frisco to meet up with the rest of the team, most everyone was shivering and jumping around to keep warm, except Cliff (who was probably cold too, but just too ornery tough to let on). Even so, the mood was high. Gerry was bundled up in a pile of blankets, determined as usual to come out and see us all off.

Despite the swelling of the Wheeler Dealers' ranks this year, we're still a small team. That meant we had the dubious privilege of being one of the last groups to be staged for the start of the ride, so by the time we were turned loose on the course we were long past ready to get cranking and generate some body heat. But that's as much negative commentary as I'll make about the weather, because unlike last year it was beautiful and sunny both days, cool enough for comfortable riding, and not a hint of rain anywhere.

As usual, when you have a few thousands of riders vying for the same chunk of road as all the other riders (and trucks and cars and motorcycles), things are pretty crowded for the first couple hours. I started off trying to ride with Steve, Peggy, and Jason but by the first 5 miles had already gotten separated from them in the traffic. I just rode my ride, chatted with a few friendly faces along the way, and skipped the first two rest stops. Sarah, Lynn, and Rick were at break point 3 when I got there, so we left together and I got to ride with them for the rest of Day 1.

The north wind had been challenging us a bit all morning and, although we all agreed that it was better to have a headwind in the earlier stages of the day than the latter, we were glad when we turned west toward Lake Ray Roberts. The headwind was replaced by large aggregate chip seal, but we enjoyed the sunshine and joked about how all our dental work was rattling loose.

After the long trek across the Lake Ray Roberts dam, we came to Sanger and pulled in to break point 4 for lunch. There, our friends and family were waiting in their bright orange volunteer t-shirts to feed us Subway sandwiches and/or PB&Js (with Cool Ranch Doritos or one's alternate choice of Lays product). We didn't dawdle. Lunch, potty break, another dose of SportLegs, a shot of Pickle Juice Sport, some stretching, and then we were back on the bikes.

From Sanger, we turned east into a section of rolling hills, which brought us back to the reality that we weren't going to just coast the rest of the way. The descending/climbing rhythms on a recumbent are different from those on an upright, because we tend to descend faster and climb more slowly. So, when we got into the rollers I decided to stop fighting those rhythms and lost contact with my teammates after a 32 mph downhill. Then, after 5 miles or so of more up than down, Rick caught and passed me. He said Lynn was close behind and that Sarah was a bit farther back – but she was struggling a bit.

(back row) Bob, Rick, Steve, Mike, Cliff, Jason.
(front row) Shaina, Sarah, Peggy, Lynn

Sarah told us later that she may have been counting on a tailwind after lunch to make the trip south easy and became a bit discouraged when she still had to work. Still, when I reached break point 5 (or was it 6?), Lynn had only been waiting a few minutes, and Sarah rolled in less than a minute behind me. We took short break for snacks, more SportLegs, more pickle juice, more stretching, and (for me) some joking around with Chester Cheetah. Then we were back on the road.

Somewhere between Ponder and Justin, we got into a stretch of nice, smooth asphalt, with a tailwind and not a lot of motorized or bicycle traffic. We knew were were getting close to Texas Motor Speedway, and we took advantage of the favorable conditions to cruise along at a comfortable 18-20+ mph until the three of us crossed the finish line together.

Day 1: 82.6 miles, averaging 14.8 mph

Day 2 – Ups & Downs (and then Ups Again)

I won't lie to you: this was the day I'd been dreading for pretty much all of April. Any of you who have followed my training log entries for the past month will already know that I've struggled with my hill climbing this year. I knew from last year's MS 150 that Day 2 is the hilly one, and with over 80 miles on my legs from the day before I feared the worst.

On the up side, I did have the benefit of last year's experience going for me, so I knew not to spend the first, less hilly, portion of the day's ride hammering past pacelines and trying to humble racer boyz by passing them uphill on a recumbent (a year older; a year wiser). The weather was a little warmer and a lot less windy for the start, and most of the team elected to skip the lap around Texas Motor Speedway's track in favor of starting closer to the front of the pack.

There were no last-minute hold-ups like the one that… um… held us up, last year. No one crashed and burned on the way out of the speedway. Sarah and I thought we were in for a bad start when we came to a stretch a couple miles into the ride where the shoulder we were riding on was covered with glass and we had no choice but to ride right through it. Fortunately, when we got to a point where we were able to stop and check our tires, I was relieved to discover that my brand new tires didn't have a cut on them. Sarah said she only had a small sliver and, luckily, made it through the rest of the day without a puncture. Our good luck was holding.

Day 1 had shown that Rick, Lynn, Sarah, and I were pretty well matched, so we continued to ride together. Our strategy was to skip the first couple break points in order to get past as many other riders as we could, but when nature called a couple of us we all agreed that a brief pause at break point 2 for visits to the little blue houses was in order. While we were there, we stretched and dosed up on SportLegs – but no pickle juice. There wouldn't be any of that until break point 3, at about 30 miles. I was becoming concerned about a growing pain in my left achilles tendon. Rick was fighting a cramp in one of his calves. Nothing ride threatening at that point, so on we rode.

We were all feeling pretty good and decided our next stop would be break point 5, where we'd take a break to prepare for a couple long, grinding hills that we knew were in that stretch. I got a phone call shortly before break point 4, where I'd rolled ahead of the group after literally screaming my way up a leg-burning climb. Thinking one of the others might have had a problem, I pulled over and called back – just in time to see my group ride past. Crud! Now I'd have to blow through the next break point if I wanted to have any chance of catching the group again. Fortunately, as I approached break point 5, I spotted one of our lovely Wheeler Dealers jerseys and pulled in.

As I staggered off my bike, I could see that something wasn't right. Several of the Wheeler Dealers were clustered around Peggy, where she was sitting on a folding chair with a pained expression, flexing her swollen knee. I wasn't sure what the problem was, but Cliff and Steve were arguing the case that she shouldn't try to continue. Peggy, who is as tough and tenacious as they come, had never SAG'ed a ride in her life and desperately wanted not to make this MS 150 her first. Finally, a compromise was reached: Peggy would SAG to the next (and final) break point, where we'd all meet up and ride into Ft. Worth together.

If you're looking at the Day 2 route map and playing along at home, you may have noticed that break point 6 is only 4.9 miles from break point 5. “Why on earth would you place two break points so close together?” you might be thinking – and you'd be right to do so. Let's just say that the reason has to do with gravity – and not in a good way.

But we battled our way through the next not-quite-five miles to find Cliff, Steve, and Jason waiting for us. Peggy arrived not long after. With roughly 10 miles to the finish, we were all together again (except for Bob and Shaina, who prefer a more leisurely pace). It was time for the obligatory Wheeler Dealers In Repose (on a sidewalk at the last break point) photo. Last year, there were three of us; this year, eight. SportLegs, pickle juice… you know the drill, by now.

l-r: Lynn, Sarah, Rick, Cliff, Mike, Jason, Steve. (Despite appearances, Cliff didn't really have a splitting headache.)

We rolled into the outskirts of Ft. Worth en masse. Adrenaline was high, and even the policemen holding back the traffic so we could blow through the intersections seemed to get caught up in the excitement of the home stretch. We nearly lost Rick when he caught his wheel in crack, veered hard into the opposing lane of traffic, and made an amazing recovery to keep from crashing. We counted it as a blessing that there had been no on-coming traffic and kept rolling without missing a pedal stroke.

Finally, we caught sight of the steep half-mile climb just before the finish line. No amount of adrenaline was going to take me up that one any faster than 5 mph, but I managed to grind away. When I reached the top, my teammates had pulled off to wait for me.

“Keep going!” I heard Cliff shouting over the blood hammering in my ears. “Don't stop! We're right behind you and we'll all ride across together.”

So I kept pumping away. Left turn, right turn.

“C'mon, faster!” a police officer called out, as I approached her intersection.

Bite me, I thought. “Thanks!” I g-gasped.

We reached the red brick paving stones, and I slowed (even more) to let the rest of the group get positioned for our grand entrance to the final stretch. I pulled to the left, as planned, and Steve pulled to the right. We were supposed to form up with the three recumbents at the front and the uprights behind us, but Peggy never quite made it in between us (because Steve and I were going too fast, I'm told). I just hope the photographer managed to get us all in, because that would be a photograph suitable for framing.

Day 2: 74.8 miles, averaging 15.4 mph

Final: 157.4 miles

Epilogue

Like last year, our friends and spouses were at the finish line greet us with kisses and sweaty hugs. Brad, our manager supreme, took us all to the rental truck to load up the bikes, and we all made it back to the finish line in time to scream and clap as Bob and Shaina pedaled across the finish line.

Thanks again to all of you who sponsored me, and especially to Cheryl, my wife. Even after seeing how stressed out and overly-focused I was during all this, last year, she signed up for it again. I love you, Sweetie. I'd also like to thank the makers of SportLegs, Pickle Juice Sport, Advil, Clif Shots, Accelerade, and Fat Tire ale. Finally, I thank God for good health and the ability to participate in this event, as well as for His protection during two days and 150+ miles of riding.

Well, blow me down!

Earlier this week, I received an e-mail from Steve telling me how the previous weekend's randonneuring activities had triggered one of his chronic IT Band flare-ups. He went on to say that Peggy was really wanting to get in a ride this weekend and begged me to go out and ride with her.

[Okay, I can't go through with this, partly because I can't actually picture Steve begging, but mostly because Peggy's such a joy to ride with that he wouldn't have to.]

So Peggy and I arranged to meet up with our fellow recumbent biking buddy, “Corsa Ken”, this morning on Celina's quaint town square. The temperature was a mild 63°, but there was a stiff southerly wind that pushed the leaden clouds along at an ominous rate. I thought about suggesting that we just go somewhere for breakfast and plan another ride another day. The last time we'd done this ride, it had been so windy that the cross winds had us riding down the road, leaning at a 3° angle. I hadn't enjoyed it much, but I remembered Peggy riding (leaning) down the road, giggling at our lopsided riding style – so I didn't suggest a postponement.

We headed out, and although we had to fight the wind a bit, it wasn't too bad. At first. By the time we'd reached one of our usual rest stops at about 19 miles, the wind was picking up. After a brief discussion, we all agreed that we didn't want to do the full 50-mile route in the wind. Never mind the additional energy required to pedal into a headwind somewhere in the 20-30 mph range; we were concerned for our safety. As the morning progressed, the motorists along our route had become increasingly aggressive and weren't leaving a lot of room when passing. Our fear was that one of us might get pushed out in front of a car or truck by a sudden, strong gust of wind.

We headed back the way we came, often battling up hills against the combined effects of gravity and wind at speeds of no more than 8 or 9 mph. When we finally arrived back at our cars, I was tempted to kiss the paving bricks of Celina's square – but I still had a little pride left.

We finished 38.39 miles with an average pace of 13.7 mph and were impressed that it was that high. I took a vote to see if my partners considered the day's ride an “epic”, but as Ken rightly observed, you have to have at least one mechanical problem in addition to dubious riding conditions to qualify for epic status. Whatever else it was or wasn't, this was was my first pair of back-to-back rides of any distance. The 2008 MS 150 training season is now officially on.

My MS 150 (Mike)

The 2007 Sam's Club MS 150 is now history, and I've taken a day off from work to relax and to share my thoughts on the experience with all of you who have so generously supported me and the rest of the Wheeler Dealers.

Day 1

My lovely bride and I rolled out of bed at 4:15, finished loading the car, and headed over to the starting point, in Frisco. As usual, I was all keyed up and driving Cheryl crazy, but she took it all in stride and kept reminding me that we had plenty of time. We met up with the rest of the team, who were waiting nearby with the rental truck they'd used to transport their bikes over from the other side of the metroplex.

The sky started to lighten, and it became obvious that the weatherman had blown it again. Instead of hot and sunny, we were going to have overcast and windy. The good news was that for the first two thirds of the route, we were going to enjoy a 15-25 mph southeasterly tailwind.

One of the advantages of being part of one of the large teams is that you get to line up at the front of the pack when it's time to start. As a very small (but enthusiastic) team, we were in the very last group to be turned loose on the course. That was fine, because it gave us plenty of time for pictures, good wishes from our families, and last-minute baby feedings. We finally headed out around 7:30.


Sarah and I started out together, as we had planned. I felt good, and despite suffering a bit from allergies, Sarah was feeling strong as well. We began working our way through the pack, passing slower riders to find some open space so that we could relax and concentrate on our pace. Our original plan was to ride at around 15-16 mph, but with the weather looking rather threatening, we picked it up a bit to take advantage of the tailwind while we could.

With roughly a third of the first day's ride under our wheels (~40 miles), we approached the long ride across the Lake Ray Roberts dam. About half way across, it began to drizzle; by the end, a light, steady rain was falling. At around 45 miles, Sarah hit an oily patch on the wet road and went down. I heard, "AuuuUUMPH!!" and the clatter of metal on pavement that every cyclist dreads. Fortunately, by the time I got stopped and turned around, Sarah had already hopped back up and was standing by the side of the road, checking to see if all her parts and here bike's were still intact. She was shaken, but fortunately got off with a little scrape and what would probably turn into a rather uncomfortable bruise.

One of the hard-working volunteers with more jelly on her than on the sammiches.

Another mile or so down the road, our friends and family were waiting for us at the lunch stop. It was a good chance to regroup and eat the biggest peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I'd ever seen. The rain stopped for a bit, but started again as Bob (who had caught up with us at the lunch break), Sarah, and I started out again. I stayed with them for a while, but eventually felt like I needed to pick up my pace a bit and went ahead, trailing a trio of riders from the Feisty Devils team.

We rode in the rain for most of the rest of the first day—I've never seen my poor bike so filthy—but it had stopped by the time I rolled in to Texas Motor Speedway around 2:00. I rolled across the finish line to find my lovely bride cheering and waving at the finish. Cliff, who had finished quite some time earlier, was snapping pictures. I hopped off the bike to wait and cheer in the rest of the team as they arrived.

Once we were all in, we headed off toward the team and sponsor tents in search of liquid carbohydrates, which we enjoyed while swapping stories of the day's events.

Day 2

Those of us who had spent the night at Bob and Gerry's rolled out of bed at around 4:15. Some showered. Others ate oatmeal and drank Gatorade. Most watched the Weather Channel, which painted a grim scenario filled with rain, more rain, and (oh by the way) violent thunderstorms beginning around noon. Patrick (a.k.a., "The Prognosticator") rolled his eyes.

"It's not gonna rain," he announced confidently. "It was supposed to be pretty yesterday, and it rained on us. Today, they're predicting storms. It's not gonna rain."

When I took a couple bags out to the car at around 5:15, Elizabeth was standing on the front porch, and had been for a while. She hadn't wanted to ring the doorbell and risk waking Gerry earlier than was necessary.

Finally, we all piled in the cars, running late, and raced to the Texas Motor Speedway. We needed to be there, get our bikes and gear together, and gather inside the speedway if we wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to ride a lap around the track. We made it in time, rode our lap, and headed out the gate toward the starting line.

And then, instead of continuing on, we had to wait in a tightly-packed group to be sent off in groups again. Half an hour later, we finally got on our way. The wind was out of the southeast, which meant that we'd have a tailwind at times—but mostly we'd be bucking 15-20 mph headwinds, since we would be traveling west and south for most of the day. And this was the hilly day. With our muscles stiff from the previous day's 78 miles, we knew we had our work cut out for us.

Cliff, Sarah, and I started out together. With the threat of bad weather hanging over us, we decided we'd try to keep up a brisk pace until the lunch stop, taking advantage of the brief stretches when the wind was in our favor. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed like we had a much harder time working through the pack than we did the day before.

After fifteen or so miles of trying to stay together with Cliff and Sarah, I finally got stripped off by one too many careless riders and rode on ahead. I figured I'd pull up at the second rest stop (~21 miles) and regroup with Cliff and Sarah, but when they arrived, they blew right past. I hopped back on my bike and sprinted after them, aided by a fortuitous direction change to the north. It was during this brief stretch, with the wind directly at my back and a rare bit of downhill, I caught and blew by the paceline Cliff and Sarah were riding with, doing around 26 mph and accelerating. I believe it was around that time that I spun out my top gear and clocked my high speed for the weekend: 37.5 mph. But I didn't discover this until I'd finished for the day, because I was far too busy whooping and hanging on, at the time.

At 30 miles, I stopped to grab some lunch and to regroup with Cliff and Sarah. The route turned south into the wind from there, and the big hills were still to come. I wanted to be with friends for moral support, but also because I was afraid it might be my last chance to find them so that we could ride across the finish line together. I'd been having some shifting problems all morning, so after eating a chicken wrap and taking a bathroom break, I swung by the Plano Cycling & Fitness tent to see if Jesse could smooth things out for me. He said it was probably a case of the derailleurs being filthy from the previous day's rainy ride, but he did what he could.

We were just finishing up when Cliff and Sarah rolled in. I expected to have a bit of a wait while they got lunch, but it turned out that it was just a bit of good luck for me that they pulled in at all. They weren't going to stop for lunch, but the course volunteers were directing all the riders through the lunch stop, whether they were going to stop for lunch or not. I just hopped on my bike, and off we went.

The next few hours are a blur of wind, hills, and pain—for Sarah and me, at least. If Cliff was under any stress (aside from having to wait for us) he never showed it. Sarah had started out a little stiff, and the brisk pace of the first 30 miles had been hard on her. By the time we headed south into the wind and hills, she was suffering, but her competitive spirit never failed. Every time we hit another big hill and I thought she might not have enough left for the next one, she found a reserve of strength and was right back with us.

I think that watching her tough it out gave me the will to continue on through the seemingly-endless climbs (except the half of the climb at Eagle Mountain Lake, when both of us threw up the white flag and walked). I remember one hill in particular, as we came through the little town of Dido, just before the fifth rest stop (~60 miles). At the top of a long, steep grider of a hill was a sign that read "Dido Cemetery".

Tempting as it was, by that point, we didn't stop.

Finally, at 10 miles from the finish, the three of us stopped at the last break point. The Wheeler Dealers had agreed that we'd all gather at the last stop so that we could all ride across the finish together, so I called Cheryl to let her and the rest of our support crew know that we were the first to arrive. Then we settled in to wait.

After about 15 antsy minutes of sitting on the concrete in the now rather hot sun, we noticed a mass of black clouds rolling up from the south. After some discussion, we called again to let the support crew know that we had decided to continue on. We had come too far to risk not finishing because of weather, and we were already starting to stiffen up.

The long, steep grade on the final approach to Ft. Worth was one of those You've Got To Be Kidding moments, but we made it and regrouped so that we could ride across the finish line together. I can't wait to see the photograph of that moment. If the event photographer didn't blink, it ought to be a good one.

And Patrick ("The Prognosticator") was right: It never did rain on us.

Epilogue

Our whole gang was there to greet us with kisses and (despite our stinky selves) hugs. Brad whisked us over to the beer carbohydrate replenishment tent, after which we returned to wait with our group to cheer for the rest of the Wheeler Dealers as they came across the finish line.

Thanks again to all of you who sponsored me, and especially to Cheryl, my wife, who wholeheartedly supported me through this effort. I'd also like to thank the makers of Lodine, Clif Shots, Accelerade, and Fat Tire ale. Finally, I thank God for good health and the ability to participate in this event, as well as for His protection during two days and 150+ miles of riding.