The trip started out great in Ft. Morgan, where we had a free hookup for the RV. We also found a great chinese restaurant and met an RV neighbor, Jim, who we ran into for the next 3 days in the oddest places (wal mart, the beer garden at Ft. Morgan, and finally at his mom's house in Brush).
Friday we got a late start because FH had forgotten his shorts and had to run into wal mart to get something to wear while riding. Then we were talking in the truck and missed the exit for Wiggins by 16 miles and had to double back to it. When we got to the registration FH's name was on the list but mine was not so I had to manually register.
We finally got on the road around 1130. There was a strong headwind as well as soaring temperatures (it was 102 degrees F). Although it was supposed to be the "easy" day it didn't feel easy at all. Luckily we arrived at Ft. Morgan and the RV in one piece. We went to the beer garden and had the first of many Especiale beers made by the O'dell brewing company for the pedal the plains ride.
Saturday we got started at 8 am due to some logistical issues (the signage for ptp wasn't great so it was hard to find, for example, where to drop off our luggage, which was being transported for us to Sterling). The head wind again was unrelenting. About 20 miles into the ride we stopped at an aid station and the cleat for my left shoe fell off. Luckily FH was able to fix it so that I could ride to the next aid station, at around 39 miles, to get a replacement screw. Unfortunately, at that station, I picked up a goathead and after eating some cantaloupe came back to where we had dropped our bikes and my front tire was totally flat. FH changed it and we continued riding. All was great until my front tire went flat again on the only downhill stretch. I'm not sure how I didn't wreck. FH fixed the front tire again.
At the above mentioned aid station at mile 39 I was starting to bonk because I had only eaten animal crackers, pretzels, and cantaloupe. There were burritos at the 20 mile aid station but I hadn't gotten one because I wasn't hungry and I figured they would have food at the other aid stations. Wrong. Anyway, I decided to try a drink mix called Skratch at the 39 mile aid station, which did make me feel better, until my stomach decided it wanted nothing to do with Skratch. So there I was, riding along a desolate field, feeling like I had to poop. It sucked. The heat and the wind didn't help.
I started to feel a slight ray of hope at mile 65, thinking in less than 10 miles we would arrive at Sterling. But it turned out Sterling was 77, not 74 miles away. And we had to go up two big hills to get there. And of course, only 3 miles away from Sterling, my back tire went flat. We didn't have a new tube to fix it so we patched an old tube and that got me to Sterling. It took every ounce of will power for me to ride the last 5 miles to Sterling. I wanted to quit but luckily FH was there to kick my ass and make me ride.
I would like to take a moment here to apologize to the female riders of ptp. It was I who went into that small, 3 bathroom and 3 shower locker room and pooped the place up. I know it smelled horrible, and believe me, I felt bad, especially after FH saw some of you leaving the locker room because of the smell.
My back tire went flat again while we were at dinner. The bike repair people were gone for the night so we decided to patch another inner tube FH had and hoped it would hold air.
I will spare you the comments about sleeping in a tent on a football field with no shade and with 300 people we didn't know. Next year we are going to a hotel and not camping. Also, they forgot to turn off the sprinkler system for the football field so the bottom of our tent was drenched in water.
At 430 Sunday morning I woke up with a horrible pain in my stomach. I ended up pooping for about 3 hours straight. Given that the ride was 65 miles, after we had ridden 110 miles the previous day, I was worried that I wouldn't finish. FH was also bonking as we left Sterling because they didn't have real breakfast food available to the riders.
By mile 16 FH and I were looking like the walking dead. But when we stopped at the aid station they were selling burritos. I ate one even though I was worried about my stomach. But my stomach was fine (drank a shit ton of water to wash the Skratch out of my system).
My back tire went flat again 2 miles from the next aid station. I was counseled to ride in the middle of the road and to stop getting fucking flat tires. And I admit that I was so tired when another rider passed me and said something like "keep going, almost done!" or "whew, this is so much fun!" I would give them the finger.
By the last aid station, mile 50, FH and I were like "fuck this shit, I want off this bike!" We bought two new tubes and hoped I would not get another flat. Then we took off riding toward the finish, all out. We were averaging about 17 MPH and passing people like crazy even though the ride was uphill. Around mile 53 the wind was FINALLY at our backs and we rode to mile 69, the finish, in an hour and 15 minutes. The speed was partly due to a misunderstanding on FH's part that the beer garden would close at 3 pm and that we would have to hustle to get a beer (there was NO WAY we were going to not have one last especiale beer after all we had been through). We got to the beer garden at 230.
After a few celebratory beers, and gathering our luggage, we headed back to Ft Morgan for a shower in the RV. Then we went to Cables and I ate a 1/2 lb hamburger and about 2 potatoes worth of french fries while trying to not watch too much of the broncos game since FH recorded it to watch tonight. We were so exhausted we fell asleep around 7 PM and didn't wake up until 630 this morning.
So, 7 dead rattlesnakes on the road, 6 flat tires, 2 lost screws, 710 ounces of water, later, we decided to do the ptp next year. But this time we aren't camping. And we'll start training more than 3 weeks before the event (I figured out I rode 300 miles to train for a 183 mile ride - kind of stupid).
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| at the start, friday at Wiggins - I put the sticker on my bike in the wrong place and it was getting caught in my back tire so FH had to move it |
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| sunday, at the beer garden, exhausted but with a medal and a beer, happy ending! |
