140.6 – The Bike (aka 6:56:54)
Photos: Headed out on John Nolan Drive in Madison at the start of the bike; Loop 1 after the Foremost farm and right before Old Sauk Pass (bitch climb #1); Loop 1 climbing Old Sauk Pass (courtesy of my dad); Loop 2 in Verona (courtesy of Kristie); and thankfully almost done on the bike path in Madison headed back to Monona Terrace (courtesy of a Kraft-ie).
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I was a little concerned about riding down the other helix, what with my stunning bike handling ability and all, and the fact that it was raining pretty steadily (not hard necessarily, but steady at least) didn’t add to my confidence, but I made it down to the bottom with no issues. Other than a pretty good bump over one of the bridges (and the resulting bottle and CO2 cartridge carnage along the road near the bump—thankfully not mine), the ride out to the Alliant Center was uneventful. I have to admit, though, that a couple of the turns on the bike path were not all that fun—pretty sharp, especially considering the number of people attempting the turns at the same time. It was also the first time I’d ridden the part of the course between Monona Terrace and Rimrock Rd—prior to race day, we’d always just taken the straight bike path to Rimrock.
As we headed through the parking lot at the Alliant Center, I heard my name being yelled, and when I turned to find who was in the parking lot, I found Karen, a fellow Kraft multisport team member, cheering along the side of the route. That was wholly unexpected, but it gave me a huge mental boost as I headed to Verona. Shortly after I turned onto Whalen Road, I got another little boost as Chris, Anthony, and Drew from the Bike Shop hollered at me from the road—they were cycling back toward Madison on the other side of the road, and I actually didn’t recognize them until I heard my name and looked over to find Chris and the other two on their bikes. That was just the first of many times along the course that I was grateful for my very conspicuous Kraft jersey.
The main thing I remember from the ride into Verona was just the number of people I was riding with—quite the contrast from the training rides when it was just me (or, at most, Michele, Sue, Erin, Jeremy, and me). It was tough maintaining the 4-bike length distance from the bike in front of me (drafting is illegal in most tris), and, at times, I found myself riding two or three abreast as we pedaled our way into town. Of course, the muddy spray coming off the rear wheels of the bikes in front of me was a definite deterrent to drafting, so I did my good little triathlete duty and stayed back unless I was passing.
It was weird passing the bike special needs area on Paoli St. in Verona—especially since I knew that only 40 miles separated me from getting back to that spot. Other than that, I don’t remember much of the ride to Mt. Horeb other than the crappy weather, which at that point in the day involved ~15 mph winds, steady rain, and 50-55°F temperatures. I think the constant bike traffic and cat-and-mouse passing with some of the same people over and over again helped keep my mind from the stretch of the course that I detest—that being the stretch from Verona to Mt. Horeb—and the distraction of the numerous flat tires and guys pulled off to the side of the road to go to the bathroom helped, too. Also, without my Camelbak for water, I had to keep thinking about when the next water stop was, when I needed to refill my aerobottle, when I needed to swig my Perpetuem concoction, etc.—it seemed like I always had something to pay attention to, which kept my mind off the crappy conditions and the rest of the day.
I nailed the turn onto Hwy 92 (actually on both loops, which was great) and, before I knew it, was headed up the hill into Mt. Horeb for loop one. It was fairly apparent at that point that some of us had trained for hills and some had not—I blew by several people on the way up the hill, which, considering I was going pretty slow myself, was not a good omen for the three hills after Cross Plains for those folks. I made it through the aid station and my first bottle exchange without issue and got ready for Witte Road. I was pleased to see that we’d have crosswinds instead of a head wind on Witte—not that I was thrilled with wind in general, but it would’ve been a much more difficult ride with a headwind. As it was, Witte was just as fun as always—I love that road as I can get some great speed going down, but the love turns to hate in a hurry with the two killer climbs at the end of the road—even the good downhill momentum isn’t enough to keep me out of the granny gear on those, and race day was no exception.
Once I got to the farmhouse at the t-intersection at Garfoot Road, I started getting apprehensive for the wicked downhill, which I was guessing would be even worse due to the weather conditions. After climbing the first hill leading up to the downhill, I steeled myself and got ready to brake like nobody’s business, which is exactly what I did. The first part of the downhill is the steepest, and I don’t think I’ve ever gripped my brakes so hard in my life. I actually was a little freaked out by the first descent, but thankfully everyone around me was also riding conservatively, so we all made it around the curve at the bottom of the hill safely. From there, Garfoot got a lot easier—I still rode the brakes a little more than normal, but made it without issue. The road leading into Cross Plains seemed like it was straight into the wind, and I began to question if I needed to stop and put on my wind jacket. I decided to ride it out and see what happened after the three climbs—I figured I still had a long way to go and a lot of hard riding to come, so I hoped the chill I felt would go away. After bottle exchange #2 in Cross Plains, I started mentally preparing for the hills on Old Sauk Pass.
After rounding the corner near the Foremost farm, I saw the “official” photographer snapping pictures left and right, so I tried to look focused while trying to get ready for the climb. As soon as I started up the hill, though, I got a huge surprise—my parents, Kristie and Eric, and Steve and Kathy were all on the middle part of the hill cheering me on. Steve even ran with me a little while—I wish I could’ve thanked them more when I was riding up, but I frankly was completely anaerobic and unable to talk beyond a quick “hi”. It was awesome seeing them there—completely unexpected, which made it even more incredible.
Before I knew it, I was up that hill and onto the hill with the cell phone tower. Again, very much to my surprise, I had supporters on the hill—this time the three guys from the Bike Shop. Even though the hill was crowded with spectators (it felt very “Tour de France” for a while), I picked out Chris right away—of course, it helped that he was yelling my name. As with the first hill, I couldn’t really talk other than to say hello, but it was still very very cool. Thankfully, the cell tower hill is short (steep as hell, though), so I was up and over and on to the next adventure.
After a brief stretch of straight road, there is another downhill with a turn at the bottom—it’s a little ugly (well, more than a little as one of my fellow Kraft tri teammates, Mark, broke his collarbone in a crash at the bottom of the hill a couple of years before), and with the weather, I again rode the brakes pretty hard down it. The third and final climb is pretty much right after that, so I turned the corner and started up it. I was once again stunned to find supporters on the hill—turns out Jenny (the Iowa Stater we ran into Saturday night) and her fiancé were there supporting the Des Moines crowd and cheered for me, too.
After the final climb, it was back to Verona, but not before I saw Rosalyn (from IM Mondays) on the curve leading onto North Nine Mound Road. Between the supporters, the other cyclists, and the nutrition/hydration stuff, the first loop seemed to fly by way faster than it ever had on a training ride. As I rode into Verona, I was feeling great—even better when I heard Nate, Amy, Nicole, and Carrie (more Kraft-ies) cheering me on. Shortly after I passed them, Michele rode by me—I knew it was just a matter of time before that happened. As she rode by, though, she hollered over to that I better be smiling because I only got one shot at my first IM. As with other times when she’s passed me or I’ve passed her in races, it gave me a fantastic morale boost and sent me merrily on my way to special needs.
When I got to the special needs area, I actually rode way by my number and had to turn around, but eventually stood down from my bike and grabbed my bag. I need to mix up some more nutrition, so I grabbed the water bottle and my extra bike bottle with my Perpetuem and gel pre-mixed and started playing bartender. Easier said than done—at that point, my hands were cold and I was crabby, plus I had a headache that I had hoped would go away. Thankfully, I also had some Tylenol 8-hour in my bag, so I used my leftover water to wash those down. With the weather as cool as it was and with most of my training taking place in the heat, my hydration strategy was a bit out of whack, so I also took advantage of the Port-o-lets at special needs after a brief wait in line with others who overhydrated.
With the pit stop over and my nutrition safely restocked, I took off for loop 2. Loop 2 was pretty much the same as loop 1, except there was a brief 10-minute respite from the rain right as I took off for Mt. Horeb. It was fantastic only having to worry about the cool wind and not worry about being wet and cold for a while, but the rain came back shortly thereafter. Again, I spent so much time focusing on everyone and everything else around me that, before I knew it, I was climbing into Mt. Horeb for the second and final time. I had a welcoming party of sorts on the hill—Vardo’s parents (who were done volunteering by that point), her sister, and aunt and uncle were just pass the overpass cheering.
From there, it was down Witte Road again, then Garfoot Road, then into the @#$%! headwinds into Cross Plains before getting ready for the climbs again. I figured my parents and company had headed back to Madison, so I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t see them on the Old Sauk Pass hill again. I caved to a little bit of fatigue and got up out of the saddle for the last little bit of the climb—I was hoping to make it to the third hill before that happened, but all things considered, I was OK with it. Chris and the Bike Shop guys were still on cell tower hill, along with Dave, another Kraft-ie who actually signed up for IM WI 2007—he ran a little with me up the hill, which was very cool. I remember getting a bit frustrated, though—the crowds (while awesome) were crowding the route so much that it was brutal to pass, and I got behind a slower rider that I wanted to pass. I managed to pass him anyway, but was fairly irritated—or maybe it was just general crabbiness that it was still rainy and cold.
I had to get up and out of the saddle again for the third hill, but, by that point, I was so excited to be done with hills that I actually let out a yelp of joy. I remember chatting with a couple of guys riding down Shady Oak Lane—we were all pretty bitter with the weather and ready to be done, but we were also absolutely thrilled to be done with the worst part of the ride. Rosalyn was still at her corner cheering us on, which was cool, and then it was into Verona one last time.
Before I turned onto Main Street, I was stunned to see Eric and my dad along the side of the road. They were jumping up and down and cheering, and then, as I turned the corner, I saw my mom, Kristie, Kathy, and Jenny jumping and cheering, too. I didn’t expect to see them at all on the second loop, and I was thrilled. When I rode by, I hollered over to them that I wouldn’t even watch a football game in that weather—they thought I said that I’d rather be watching football (not necessarily the case, but at least I would’ve been inside at a bar instead of biking in the rain). Having passed them, I had 16 miles left to go—one more leg of the bike!!
I was ecstatic to turn onto Whalen and head back into Madison…at least until I realized that I’d be riding into a headwind the whole way back. It really was a cruel joke of nature that, after 96 miles of riding in the cold and rain, I’d have to ride the rest of the way into a significant wind. But, the momentum of the knowledge that I was almost done with the ride made it manageable—there were times, in fact, where it didn’t even seem like it was windy. I even managed to get up the hill at mile 102 (the “one last hill…now run” hill) in the second-to-easiest gear—not quite granny gear at least. After that, it was all downhill (metaphorically, at least) until I saw Madison in front of me.
As I turned into the Alliant Center parking lot on the return, I talked with a couple of guys around me—one of whom was just plain bitter. He admitted that he had basically peed on himself several times—more than what I wanted to know from a new acquaintance, but not all that surprising given the sheer quantity of guys I saw taking care of business along the side of the road throughout the ride. With that admission, though, I decided I’d rather be in front of him than behind, so I passed him and headed back to Monona Terrace. After curving around the bike path again, I finally saw what I had been dreaming of for at least the last 20 miles…the helix that would take me into T2.
I didn’t know how rough it would be to get up the helix, so I dropped into my little ring and started downshifting-turns out it was easier to climb than I was anticipating. At the top, I let out a big holler of joy, dismounted, crossed through the arch and over the timing mat, then handed Tack off to a volunteer—we’d had a good ride, and it was weird to hand her off to a stranger, but that’s the way it’s done. Before I knew it, I was running into the warmth of Monona Terrace and into T2…
As we headed through the parking lot at the Alliant Center, I heard my name being yelled, and when I turned to find who was in the parking lot, I found Karen, a fellow Kraft multisport team member, cheering along the side of the route. That was wholly unexpected, but it gave me a huge mental boost as I headed to Verona. Shortly after I turned onto Whalen Road, I got another little boost as Chris, Anthony, and Drew from the Bike Shop hollered at me from the road—they were cycling back toward Madison on the other side of the road, and I actually didn’t recognize them until I heard my name and looked over to find Chris and the other two on their bikes. That was just the first of many times along the course that I was grateful for my very conspicuous Kraft jersey.
The main thing I remember from the ride into Verona was just the number of people I was riding with—quite the contrast from the training rides when it was just me (or, at most, Michele, Sue, Erin, Jeremy, and me). It was tough maintaining the 4-bike length distance from the bike in front of me (drafting is illegal in most tris), and, at times, I found myself riding two or three abreast as we pedaled our way into town. Of course, the muddy spray coming off the rear wheels of the bikes in front of me was a definite deterrent to drafting, so I did my good little triathlete duty and stayed back unless I was passing.
It was weird passing the bike special needs area on Paoli St. in Verona—especially since I knew that only 40 miles separated me from getting back to that spot. Other than that, I don’t remember much of the ride to Mt. Horeb other than the crappy weather, which at that point in the day involved ~15 mph winds, steady rain, and 50-55°F temperatures. I think the constant bike traffic and cat-and-mouse passing with some of the same people over and over again helped keep my mind from the stretch of the course that I detest—that being the stretch from Verona to Mt. Horeb—and the distraction of the numerous flat tires and guys pulled off to the side of the road to go to the bathroom helped, too. Also, without my Camelbak for water, I had to keep thinking about when the next water stop was, when I needed to refill my aerobottle, when I needed to swig my Perpetuem concoction, etc.—it seemed like I always had something to pay attention to, which kept my mind off the crappy conditions and the rest of the day.
I nailed the turn onto Hwy 92 (actually on both loops, which was great) and, before I knew it, was headed up the hill into Mt. Horeb for loop one. It was fairly apparent at that point that some of us had trained for hills and some had not—I blew by several people on the way up the hill, which, considering I was going pretty slow myself, was not a good omen for the three hills after Cross Plains for those folks. I made it through the aid station and my first bottle exchange without issue and got ready for Witte Road. I was pleased to see that we’d have crosswinds instead of a head wind on Witte—not that I was thrilled with wind in general, but it would’ve been a much more difficult ride with a headwind. As it was, Witte was just as fun as always—I love that road as I can get some great speed going down, but the love turns to hate in a hurry with the two killer climbs at the end of the road—even the good downhill momentum isn’t enough to keep me out of the granny gear on those, and race day was no exception.
Once I got to the farmhouse at the t-intersection at Garfoot Road, I started getting apprehensive for the wicked downhill, which I was guessing would be even worse due to the weather conditions. After climbing the first hill leading up to the downhill, I steeled myself and got ready to brake like nobody’s business, which is exactly what I did. The first part of the downhill is the steepest, and I don’t think I’ve ever gripped my brakes so hard in my life. I actually was a little freaked out by the first descent, but thankfully everyone around me was also riding conservatively, so we all made it around the curve at the bottom of the hill safely. From there, Garfoot got a lot easier—I still rode the brakes a little more than normal, but made it without issue. The road leading into Cross Plains seemed like it was straight into the wind, and I began to question if I needed to stop and put on my wind jacket. I decided to ride it out and see what happened after the three climbs—I figured I still had a long way to go and a lot of hard riding to come, so I hoped the chill I felt would go away. After bottle exchange #2 in Cross Plains, I started mentally preparing for the hills on Old Sauk Pass.
After rounding the corner near the Foremost farm, I saw the “official” photographer snapping pictures left and right, so I tried to look focused while trying to get ready for the climb. As soon as I started up the hill, though, I got a huge surprise—my parents, Kristie and Eric, and Steve and Kathy were all on the middle part of the hill cheering me on. Steve even ran with me a little while—I wish I could’ve thanked them more when I was riding up, but I frankly was completely anaerobic and unable to talk beyond a quick “hi”. It was awesome seeing them there—completely unexpected, which made it even more incredible.
Before I knew it, I was up that hill and onto the hill with the cell phone tower. Again, very much to my surprise, I had supporters on the hill—this time the three guys from the Bike Shop. Even though the hill was crowded with spectators (it felt very “Tour de France” for a while), I picked out Chris right away—of course, it helped that he was yelling my name. As with the first hill, I couldn’t really talk other than to say hello, but it was still very very cool. Thankfully, the cell tower hill is short (steep as hell, though), so I was up and over and on to the next adventure.
After a brief stretch of straight road, there is another downhill with a turn at the bottom—it’s a little ugly (well, more than a little as one of my fellow Kraft tri teammates, Mark, broke his collarbone in a crash at the bottom of the hill a couple of years before), and with the weather, I again rode the brakes pretty hard down it. The third and final climb is pretty much right after that, so I turned the corner and started up it. I was once again stunned to find supporters on the hill—turns out Jenny (the Iowa Stater we ran into Saturday night) and her fiancé were there supporting the Des Moines crowd and cheered for me, too.
After the final climb, it was back to Verona, but not before I saw Rosalyn (from IM Mondays) on the curve leading onto North Nine Mound Road. Between the supporters, the other cyclists, and the nutrition/hydration stuff, the first loop seemed to fly by way faster than it ever had on a training ride. As I rode into Verona, I was feeling great—even better when I heard Nate, Amy, Nicole, and Carrie (more Kraft-ies) cheering me on. Shortly after I passed them, Michele rode by me—I knew it was just a matter of time before that happened. As she rode by, though, she hollered over to that I better be smiling because I only got one shot at my first IM. As with other times when she’s passed me or I’ve passed her in races, it gave me a fantastic morale boost and sent me merrily on my way to special needs.
When I got to the special needs area, I actually rode way by my number and had to turn around, but eventually stood down from my bike and grabbed my bag. I need to mix up some more nutrition, so I grabbed the water bottle and my extra bike bottle with my Perpetuem and gel pre-mixed and started playing bartender. Easier said than done—at that point, my hands were cold and I was crabby, plus I had a headache that I had hoped would go away. Thankfully, I also had some Tylenol 8-hour in my bag, so I used my leftover water to wash those down. With the weather as cool as it was and with most of my training taking place in the heat, my hydration strategy was a bit out of whack, so I also took advantage of the Port-o-lets at special needs after a brief wait in line with others who overhydrated.
With the pit stop over and my nutrition safely restocked, I took off for loop 2. Loop 2 was pretty much the same as loop 1, except there was a brief 10-minute respite from the rain right as I took off for Mt. Horeb. It was fantastic only having to worry about the cool wind and not worry about being wet and cold for a while, but the rain came back shortly thereafter. Again, I spent so much time focusing on everyone and everything else around me that, before I knew it, I was climbing into Mt. Horeb for the second and final time. I had a welcoming party of sorts on the hill—Vardo’s parents (who were done volunteering by that point), her sister, and aunt and uncle were just pass the overpass cheering.
From there, it was down Witte Road again, then Garfoot Road, then into the @#$%! headwinds into Cross Plains before getting ready for the climbs again. I figured my parents and company had headed back to Madison, so I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t see them on the Old Sauk Pass hill again. I caved to a little bit of fatigue and got up out of the saddle for the last little bit of the climb—I was hoping to make it to the third hill before that happened, but all things considered, I was OK with it. Chris and the Bike Shop guys were still on cell tower hill, along with Dave, another Kraft-ie who actually signed up for IM WI 2007—he ran a little with me up the hill, which was very cool. I remember getting a bit frustrated, though—the crowds (while awesome) were crowding the route so much that it was brutal to pass, and I got behind a slower rider that I wanted to pass. I managed to pass him anyway, but was fairly irritated—or maybe it was just general crabbiness that it was still rainy and cold.
I had to get up and out of the saddle again for the third hill, but, by that point, I was so excited to be done with hills that I actually let out a yelp of joy. I remember chatting with a couple of guys riding down Shady Oak Lane—we were all pretty bitter with the weather and ready to be done, but we were also absolutely thrilled to be done with the worst part of the ride. Rosalyn was still at her corner cheering us on, which was cool, and then it was into Verona one last time.
Before I turned onto Main Street, I was stunned to see Eric and my dad along the side of the road. They were jumping up and down and cheering, and then, as I turned the corner, I saw my mom, Kristie, Kathy, and Jenny jumping and cheering, too. I didn’t expect to see them at all on the second loop, and I was thrilled. When I rode by, I hollered over to them that I wouldn’t even watch a football game in that weather—they thought I said that I’d rather be watching football (not necessarily the case, but at least I would’ve been inside at a bar instead of biking in the rain). Having passed them, I had 16 miles left to go—one more leg of the bike!!
I was ecstatic to turn onto Whalen and head back into Madison…at least until I realized that I’d be riding into a headwind the whole way back. It really was a cruel joke of nature that, after 96 miles of riding in the cold and rain, I’d have to ride the rest of the way into a significant wind. But, the momentum of the knowledge that I was almost done with the ride made it manageable—there were times, in fact, where it didn’t even seem like it was windy. I even managed to get up the hill at mile 102 (the “one last hill…now run” hill) in the second-to-easiest gear—not quite granny gear at least. After that, it was all downhill (metaphorically, at least) until I saw Madison in front of me.
As I turned into the Alliant Center parking lot on the return, I talked with a couple of guys around me—one of whom was just plain bitter. He admitted that he had basically peed on himself several times—more than what I wanted to know from a new acquaintance, but not all that surprising given the sheer quantity of guys I saw taking care of business along the side of the road throughout the ride. With that admission, though, I decided I’d rather be in front of him than behind, so I passed him and headed back to Monona Terrace. After curving around the bike path again, I finally saw what I had been dreaming of for at least the last 20 miles…the helix that would take me into T2.
I didn’t know how rough it would be to get up the helix, so I dropped into my little ring and started downshifting-turns out it was easier to climb than I was anticipating. At the top, I let out a big holler of joy, dismounted, crossed through the arch and over the timing mat, then handed Tack off to a volunteer—we’d had a good ride, and it was weird to hand her off to a stranger, but that’s the way it’s done. Before I knew it, I was running into the warmth of Monona Terrace and into T2…
posted by roehr @ 1:34 PM
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