The alarm woke me at 4:30. I had breakfast and got dressed for the ride. Yes, I wore the padded biker shorts. I also donned the Pelotonia jersey for the first time.
I left at about 5:45. Rather than going to the starting point, I simply left from my house. I did this because I wanted to get an early start so I could get to Athens in time for a fantasy football draft. Nine friends came to town and we had plans to meet at our favorite pizza place for the draft.
By leaving from my house as opposed to the starting line, I actually added about two miles to the journey. I began by going straight down High Street and then taking Lockbourne Road until I was outside of I-270. Shortly thereafter, I arrived at the first checkpoint just before 7:00, the time the riders were scheduled to depart from OSU. The volunteers were setting up at the checkpoint and they thought I was some sort of biking prodigy by beating everyone else to the stop. I explained I was no hero, just getting a head start.
I moved on and was still the first biker at the second rest stop. Again, I received undue praise and I explained it away once again. I was somewhere between 25-30 miles into the race and jokingly got to refer to myself as the leader.
After I left the rest stop I led for several more miles. At this point, there was a low-flying helicopter near me, so I knew the pack was closing in on me. (We had been warned about low flying aircraft, as it would be taking video of the ride.) This made me uncomfortable as again it seemed I was the leader of the ride - if indeed it was taking video of me. Shortly thereafter, a state trooper rode behind me on his motorcycle and got on his loud speaker to say:
"You are about to be passed by the fastest riders on your left!"
Moments later about 25-30 riders cruised by at about twice my speed. The burden of leading the ride was no longer mine. I was passed often during the rest of the ride.
The next rest stop was the conclusion of the 42-mile ride. I decided I was hungry and ate two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Normally I just do peanut butter sandwiches, but I realized I'm just fine adding strawberry jelly.
I took to the road again and approached the next stop, which was only 12 miles away. Originally I planned on it being a short rest, but then I was told the hills were lurking only a couple of miles into the next stage. I had thought the hills were two stages away, so I took a few more minutes to try to prepare myself.
I thought there would be more hills than there were, but I also thought they would be at less of an incline. Turned out there were three hills in a row in this stage and they were quite difficult. For a moment, I thought I might have to get off the bike and walk up. Many people did. But I remembered Chris Spielman talking the night before about remembering the pain that those with cancer had suffered as I was "sucking wind" in Southeast Ohio. No way I could get off my bike, even if I did go to the lowest gear. Volunteers were set up to provide words of encouragement as we rode and they had extras of them for the hills. That would probably be because they would need to call an ambulance if someone were to have a heart attack. I conquered the hills and there was a bonus rest stop immediately following. Then I continued on to Logan.
Speaking of volunteers lining the roadway, I found them to be very motivating. Some were overly helpful, nice enough to describe the terrain and how long until the next stop. One volunteer stands out more than others. That would be the only one who didn't seem to have words of encouragement. Instead, he lined the road just to wave his Cleveland Browns flag. Yep, I'm a huge Browns fan and got a good laugh out of it.
This is also the stage where rider
Michelle Kazlausky was struck and killed by a car that failed to obey a state trooper who was managing traffic.
Story here.
I was tired pretty tired and sore when I made it to Logan. We were forecast to sit at 90 degrees that day, but an overcast sky held us in the low-to-mid-80s. However, it looked like rain could end up being a possibility and I desperately wanted to avoid it. I ate 3/4 of another peanut butter and jelly sandwich, hydrated, and got back on the bike.
The next stage was incredibly flat almost all the way to Nelsonville. We eventually hit a couple of hills toward the end of the stage. Most people don't know where they are around Nelsonville, but thanks to many a visit to Nelsonville-York High School while doing broadcast work at Ohio University I knew exactly where I was. This started the nostalgia part of the ride as I coasted downhill towards Rt. 33.
It started about four miles from Nelsonville. The first raindrop. Then another. And another. Soon it was a sprinkle. Since I was traveling east to west at the time I knew there was a good chance there was something heavier awaiting me. I pedal harder. About a mile and a half to go. The sprinkle turns into a fairly steady rain. I pedal even harder. As I enter the more populated part of Nelsonville the steady rain turns into a downpour. I can't pedal any harder because I am going downhill at a quick pace. I could lose control in the middle of traffic if I go any faster.
The next checkpoint was at Hocking College and I was still a mile away. This is where my Southeast Ohio expertise helped me out. I cut off the course by about half a block and waited out the storm under the shade of the Nelsonville train station. I was too worried that everyone would compete for minimal covered areas at the checkpoint, so I was content to wait it out by myself while getting on the horn with friends who could check radar.
I ended up waiting almost an hour, but things calmed down and I left as the rain tapered off to a sprinkle. It stopped soon enough and I was on the final leg to Athens. The other reason the train station was so convenient is that I know the bike path begins right behind it. I jumped on the path, cruised by the Hocking College checkpoint and resumed the course toward Athens. This part of the ride is very flat and I was well rested from waiting out the rain.
An hour later I made my final turns in Athens. A left on Union Street. A right on Shafer Street. Past the soccer field and track. Past the baseball stadium. Next to the cherry trees. There it was. The finish line. There were a couple hundred people cheering for every rider. I cruised in to the applause and words of thanks and crossed the finish line. I had gone 106 miles on the day and I felt very accomplished in what I had done.
I had someone take a quick picture, but I had to get back on the road. I still had one mile to go. I went around the back of the Convocation Center and took a left on Richland Avenue. One last hill up Richland and across the bridge. (I gave serious thought to taking my bike inside the new student center so I could simply take it up the escalator with me.) Scripps was in view. I turned left on Court Street. And for those of you who may not know, Court Street is a brick road. I made a painful descent to the end of the street. There it was on the left. Courtside Pizza, the site of my fantasy football draft. One hundred seven miles in the book.
