it ALL StArtS At 40 it ALL StArtS At 40 - Spokes Magazine

ackroads continued from p.17
the last quarter of the century, Rick and Aviva own the
front of our pack. Rick had planned to ride alone but
saw Nadine’s post on the web forum and decided to
ride with a group.
Marianne is color coordinated with her bike, wearing
a pink jersey and pink bike gloves. She lives in
Alexandria and rides about 150 to 200 miles a week,
much of it commuting into downtown Washington.
This is her fourth century, although her first Back
Roads.
Aviva may be our most accomplished athlete. At 35
she’s a former Wall Streeter who was in New York on
Sept. 11, 2001. Now she’s a UCLA medical student
living in Bethesda while working at NIH. She’s done
several ironman and triathlon events, but hasn’t done
an organized bike ride since February and says she’s a
bit worried whether she’ll be able to finish.
Just past mile 15, we cross into West Virginia.
Unfortunately there’s no sign (or if there is, none of
us notice it) to mark the fact that we’re now participating
in a bi-state century. But we start noticing that
subdivision signs mention Charlestown and some of
the political yard signs are for a West Virginia congresswoman.
The first rest stop is at South Jefferson Elementary
School at mile 28. The expected energy bars, cut
bananas, orange slices, water and Gatorade are there
as well as a repair tent. Again the school is open and
I witness a rare sight: men standing in line to use the
restroom while the occasional woman walks right into
the “girls” room (it is an elementary school).
Our group gathers for a photo and then we head off
to complete the 50-mile loop that will take us back
to Clarke County High School for the second rest
stop. At about mile 42, I suddenly feel a wobble in my
back tire. I stop and check. It’s soft. Mike and I had
Our Passion
Owners: Ron & Trina Taylor, 2-time Ironmen
Trina's 2010 Wins: 1st - Luray Sprint Triathlon, 45-49
1st - North Face Half Marathon
Hoping to survive Savageman!
been at the back of our group chatting as we climbed
a hill. He slows for me, but I wave at him to keep
going. By now my tire is flat. I turn the air blue with
profanity. This is a new tire, only a few weeks old, and
it’s a Gatorskin, one of the toughest tires out there.
Additionally, there’s a tire liner between the tube and
the tire. How could I have gotten a flat?
I change the tube, never finding where either the tire
or the tube was punctured. As I sit by the roadside,
numerous riders pass by, most asking if I need assistance
or if I have all the necessary tools. I grumble
that I’m fine. Just as I finish putting the rear wheel
(why is it always the rear?) back on, a SAG wagon rolls
by. The driver asks if I’m okay and I foolishly say I am.
If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have asked for a
decent pump to inflate the tire fully. The small pump
I keep strapped to my cycle is only capable of inflating
the tube to about 40 psi rather than the usual 120.
So, with a soft back tire, I begin the last eight miles to
the rest stop. By now, virtually all of the full century
riders have gone by. Those that are still on the road
pass me as I ride very slowly. It’s a lonely feeling.
When I finally get the to school, my first stop is the
Spokes, Etc. tent where I pump up the back tire. I
mention to the guy manning the tent that I’d had a
flat and ask if he can sell me another spare tube since
I’m not sure why the first went flat. He hands me a
box with a new tube and says, “Have a nice day.”
Over at the food tent they’re serving pork bar-b-que,
hamburgers, hotdogs and beans. I ask if they have
anything like chicken or turkey and a woman says
they can make a Boca-burger if I’m willing to wait.
So I wait for it. This is the only surprise I have about
the logistics of the ride. I’d guess there are several
vegetarians or people who don’t eat meat on this ride,
so why wouldn’t they have a bunch of veggie burgers
already made up? A disc jockey is playing tunes and a
many riders are lunching under one of the tents.
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I’d expected my group would have begun the second
50 miles long before I arrived, but they are still there.
They offer to wait for me, but I repeatedly urge them
to go ahead so I won’t feel rushed. They ignore my
request and by the time I’m ready to go, all of them
are still there waiting for me. What a great bunch
of new friends. So the seven of us pedal out of the
school. It’s now high noon.
We pass some expensive farms and ranches as we
head to the Burwell Morgan Mill and the next rest
stop. As part of the ride, we’re allowed free admission
into the water-powered mill. Inside we can see the
enormous wooden wheels which once were so important
to this region’s economy. Food and beverage
tents are set up in a field below the mill.
Leaving the mill we slowly begin climbing. There is a
directional sign I find hysterical: Paris 4 Winchester
12. Hmm, let’s see, Paris or Winchester? Oh, not that
Paris.
Nadine starts having mechanical problems. Although
she’d had work done on her bike just the day before,
she suddenly loses her left shifter. She can’t get her
front chain out of the small ring and it’s making a rattling
sound as we grind away the miles.
We pass a couple of country clubs as we head toward
the final rest stop, at White Post (car) Restorations,
where we munch on the ride’s famous cucumber and
tomato sandwiches. I don’t learn it until we arrive at
the rest stop, but Marianne has taken a tumble into
some briars. Luckily Mike was with her to help pull
the nettles off and ply her with some electrolytes. At
the rest stop a worried Nadine hands her bike over
to the Specialized repair guys. Turns out she needs a
new cable. The cost is $5; Nadine has only $4 in cash.
They cheerfully take it.
Leaving the rest stop, we pass a massive white directional
post in the middle of a crossroads. I later learn
there is a sign claiming that the original white post
was put there by George Washington in 1750 under
orders from Lord Fairfax to show the way to the lord’s
estate.
Now comes the ride’s toughest part. We climb to the
crest of Tilthammer Mill Road and then go screaming
down the rough road. It’s the ride’s steepest descent
and my speed accelerates to about 38 mph. Not a
rocket, but fast enough. We pay for it on the other
side with two long, grinding climbs.
Then, surprisingly, we’re heading through downtown
Berryville. Up ahead is the high school. We’re strung
out along the road with Rick in the lead; Aviva and
I close behind, followed at some distance by Joe and
Nadine and later by Mike and Marianne. But we all
make it.
There is supposed to be a big bar-b-que bash post
ride. But by the time we get in, the bash is about over.
There are a few bar-b-que sandwiches left, not much
else. I later learned there was a DJ playing music and
giving away thousands of dollars worth of bike-related
door prizes including panniers and a camping tent.
I stand in line for my souvenir long-sleeve t-shirt and
water bottle. Then, after a quick chat with my fellow
riders, and Laura who has been patiently waiting for
the rest of us to finish, I head for the parking lot and
the drive home. It’s been a great way to celebrate my
birthday, flat tire and all.
A few days later, I chat with Mark Alpert to get his
take on the event. Alpert is ecstatic. He’d been deluged
with hundreds of complimentary e-mails from
first-time and veteran century riders. People were
excited “going to the ride, on the ride and after the
ride,” he says. “It opened up a new world of cycling
to a lot of people and that’s exactly what the ride was
supposed to do.”
About 100 volunteers helped make the day such a
success, including the dozen who spent their Labor
Day weekend painting the directional arrows that
were so important.
18 Winter 2010/11