Uncompatible Systems

I wake up at 4:00 AM. This is terribly hard with my current schedule of staying awake until 1 or 2 AM and getting up at 9. To add to the hardship, only 8 hours earlier, some friends of mine were starting a 25 mile street race through New York City, the theme being METAL! Like Metallica, Motorhead and Gorgoroth. The wholesome kind of music that sings of desecrating churches and breeding hate. But I opted for the other kind of pain. Slow and steady, the kind that people don’t sing about either in honor or mockery. I’m standing at the starting line with about 50 anxious riders, most on fixed gear or track bikes and the organizer yells “now get the fuck out of here!” They ride off and I think of how my start tomorrow morning will be much less eventful. As the last riders are rolling out of the start, I see a police officer approach the organizer and ask him if he’s organizing a race. I quietly roll past and say “we’re just having a group ride tonight.” Literally 2 seconds after I say this, Dan G. yells at the straggling riders leaving the park “pick up the fucking pace, this isn’t a group ride!”

Priceless.

Then I go home, nervously pace around until 11:30 PM worrying if I have everything in order. I lay down at midnight and realize that I’ll only get 4 hours of sleep before I have to wake up to catch the 5:15 train to Princeton Junction.

The New York Times wrote an article about what Penn Station looks, sounds and smells like at 5 AM on a Saturday. I was fortunate enough to see that article unfold right before my eyes. At that hour, Penn Station is sponsored by njguido.com and their anorexic painted GFs going back home to New Brunswick after a hard night of dancing drinking at Crobar. There were pre-aged jeans, starched baggy button downs left untucked and a waterslide of hair gel. I roll up in some gay looking spandex tights (think ballet dancer) and a windbreaker all caffeinated and ready to ride.

I get off the train at Princeton Junction and ride about 5 miles to the starting line. It’s really cold out. I only have fingerless gloves because the high for the afternoon is 55 and I’m not interested in carrying clothes I’ll only need for an hour. My fingers don’t agree with my mind. I arrive in time nonetheless. According to my GPS clock I got to the start at 6:57 AM, which is 3 minutes early. But people are starting anyway. WTF? These riders are so responsible they even start early! Black metal tunes hammer through my head as I think about how un-metal this ride is going to be.

It’s nice out. Quiet. Looks like about 50 people came out for the ride this morning. After getting into town I pick up the pace to try and meet my 15mph average. I end up passing about 20 others. I settle into a good gear and someone rolls up next to me with the same bike. We exchange hellos and he passes me. It feels good to know that there’s quick riders out today. The first 33 miles are relaxing. Enjoying the NJ countryside before anyone else is awake. I find some guys who I can pace with and we chat a bit. Many of them are surprised this is the longest ride I’ve done. My other first on this ride is a Garmin Edge 305 GPS device. I programed the whole cue sheet into it. It hits most of the turns and lets out a beep when it’s time to make one, showing the route track and direction of the turn. Having this made me feel comfortable leading the pack after I tested it’s reliability.

We roll into the first checkpoint and I see the guy who dropped me at the start. I walk into the building and get my brevet card signed. 9h45 if I remember correctly. This nice old lady made us soup and there was lots of the usual endurance foods like cookies, bananas and bread. The guys I was with decide we’re going to stick together and I agree, figuring it’s best to be with people that know how to read a cue sheet in case my GPS does something unexpected. That doesn’t last for long as the group didn’t follow me out of the checkpoint and I only noticed after riding 2 miles up the road. I stop and get my cue sheet out, folded and in the front pocket hoping the others will roll up shortly. They don’t so I decide to wing it. I ride into the next town, which is right off the Delaware river bordering NJ and PA.

This is where the GPS slightly fails. Since there’s no road data in the unit, all I can see is a little flag from one turn to the next. The unit draws a line from these points regardless of the real path of the road. This works out if each point is on a turn because you’ll get there eventually regardless of any curves. I look for my next waypoint and see it’s about 6 miles from my current location, not even noticing the turn before the bridge over the river I happily cross the Delaware into PA and start riding towards the waypoint. Then I notice the signs look different and the road numbers have nothing to do with those even on the cue sheet. That’s when I realize I’m on the wrong side of the river. Not a terrible place to be in since it’s a river and I have to follow it anyway but I’m worried there won’t be another crossing before the turn I have to make on the other side. I look at the current and think of how funny it would be if I tried to flag down a fisherman in a boat to take me and my bike across for a fee. Things get all old-timey fantasy adventure game and I think of inn keepers and trolls at river crossings. I risk it and keep pedaling with the river always in sight.

It paid off, as there was a crossing (sans troll) less than a mile off from my waypoint. I back track a bit once in NJ again and turn up Mt. Joy road. This road’s name is mean joke for cyclists, as it’s ascent made me feel very little joy. Very steep. I hit the granny gear on the triple, biggest cog on the back and pedaling out of the saddle, doing a smooth and steady 5mph. Climbing into these hills didn’t stop there. It was quite challenging and I still managed to drop three others I found along the way. I also managed to catch up with the group with whom I was supposed to leave the first checkpoint. The group got larger and had a mild pace going to the second checkpoint. Most of it was climbing so drafts meant nothing. I tried to pay attention to the fastest climbers gears and pedal stroke, then match it. It worked well and I felt much more confident with my climbing skills.

We roll into the second checkpoint, I believe around 12h00. As I’m getting my card signed, I remark that this is a bit like being a bike messenger on the longest run ever. He tells me that this is how the old school races worked in France. Start en mass, get your cards signed with a time at checkpoints, fastest time wins. I eat a bunch but forget to top off my second water bottle. We leave with the group and retrace our steps back to the third checkpoint, which is the same location as the first. I start chatting with another rider named Sebastin. He’s a seasoned long distance rider who’s preparing for Paris - Brest - Paris. He tells me how he tried a 600k last year and couldn’t finish with 55 miles to go. He’s got a great spin and he pulls ahead of the pack for the final stretch into the checkpoint. I caught his wheel and relaxed a bit.

We get into the third checkpoint and I start eating a lot. I’m not too tired but I’m worried about calories since I don’t have much experience knowing how much I need. The organizer, Laurent sarcastically asks me “oh my, you’re eating so much what have you been doing?” with a charming French accent. Sebastin leaves ahead of the pack and I don’t ask any questions. I wasn’t trying to test my limits, just finish in a reasonable time. The four of us leave and the course splits off from the first route, despite the destination being the same place as the starting line.

We immediately hit hills and I drop the pack. I’m alone for a very long time and the GPS is working great at every turn. My legs feel fine and I’m keeping near the goal of a 15mph pace. Coming into the final stretch I catch up with Sebastin and we stick together for the last 15 miles. Rolling into the finish both of our cards get stamped with 17h02. 9th and 10th finishers out of 49 who started. Not bad for my first Brevet. I remember when 100 miles was long. Now it’s too short to even be included in the series.