My wife nudges me out of bed.
"Get up. Your alarm is going off."
"Huh? What? Uhhh yea. Thanks." I mutter. I then rub my eyes to clear the fog from my head after enjoying a bottle of wine with my wife on the Cliff House Hotel veranda last night.
"Go do your bucket ride thingy. Be careful. I'll sleep in then breakfast on the veranda." She pulls the sheets up and falls back asleep.
The Pikes Peak Cycling Hillclimb starts early - 6:15am in the dark. I left instructions with the hotel staff to have my car out front with a cup of coffee at 4:30am sharp.
"Hellooooooo. Anybody here? HELLO!!" Still nothing.
I walk into the back office covering my eyes in case the night shift is in a compromising position. Still nothing.
Maybe someone is outside? I push on the front door. Locked. Damn. Trapped like a rat.
Pick up a phone in the lobby and press "0". Ten feet away I hear and see the front desk phone ring. Of course nobody answers.
Maybe the kitchen? Hopefully the chef is already at work preparing breakfast. Locating it I enter cautiously.
"Are you my 4:30?" a polite young lady says looking up at me.
"Uhhhhh. Yeaaaa?"
"Sorry sir. Running a bit late but want to make sure your coffee is fresh and hot. I'm brewing it right now. Your car is out front. Here are the keys."
"Great. Thank you."
"Ummm. Yesssss. Exactly like Lance...well...except for my lack of world class athletic skills, multi-million dollar sponsorships, private jets, drug use and cheating. Other than that - yea, we're the same."
She laughs and hands me a cup of coffee. "Breakfast is served till 10. Today it's stuffed french toast, frittata, huevos rancheros, fresh fruit, apple crumb danish, local Colorado bacon and of course Pikes Peak Coffee. It's all wonderful."
"I know. My wife will enjoy it while I suffer. I mean she'll enjoy the breakfast - not me suffering. Come to think of it she'll probably enjoy me suffering too."
"Good Luck."
The Pikes Peak Hillclimb statistics are truly epic: 12.4 paved miles, 156 turns, 4,725 vertical feet, starting elevation 9,390, finishing elevation 14,115 with a 7.2% average grade. Cycling-wise it's a "HC" rated climb which stands for Hors Categorie in french but translates into Holly Crap for a flatlander like me.
"Riders Ready.......Go!" says the announcer.
It's a fast start. Riders attack just like Custer at Little Bighorn - with the same success. The pack shrinks as the road goes up through beautiful forests, hairpin turns and snowbanks. My legs burn with lactic acid as I struggle to get oxygen.
The front group is now four riders strong - or weak in my case. Others set the pace while I desperately search for some climbing legs. Three miles later my legs finally feel good and I push harder. Soon it's just two of us above the tree line on a series of never ending switchbacks like those in the Alps and Pyrenees.
Eventually(it felt like forever) the finish line comes into view. Someone yells "84" (my number) quickly followed by "Don't score 'em."
"Aren't you timing fondo riders?" I ask while gasping for air.
"No. You're the first but we're only doing racers."
So the gran fondo riders are not timed. Maybe next year a 6th grader with a watch and note pad can do what the paid officials sitting behind $10,000 worth of laptops, high speed cameras and race timing systems didn't.
Anyhow, thanks to my 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Hester, I quickly calculate my Official Unofficial Pikes Peak Hillclimb time at 1:30:43 since we started five minutes after the racers and the big ass finish line clock read "1:35:43" when I crossed. Overall good enough for a top twenty finish but light years behind the winning race time of 1:12:59.
As I bundle up a volunteer offers me breakfast. A quick scan shows bananas, apples, granola bars and cold drinks. Hmmm, it's 8:10am. If I bomb down the mountain and make a mad dash to the hotel I might make breakfast on the veranda. I make a beeline for the bike.
My descent is crazy scary fast. 15-25-35-45mph, brake hard, dive into a hairpin turn and then do it all again without sailing off the road into oblivion. My jacket works as an air brake due to the broken zipper but with the added bonus of making me look like the Michelin Man. The rims glow and brakes smoke but the views are beautiful. Seeing mountain ranges, blue lakes, checkerboard farmland and cities far below remind me of the view from an airplane.
At 9:28am I pull back up to the hotel tossing keys to the valet. Walking up the veranda steps I see my #1 fan - ok, my only fan - drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.
She smiles. "Have a seat. I waited for you."
I kiss her. "Thanks."
"How was your ride?"
"Great! Let's have breakfast and I'll tell you all about it."
She just smiles.
John is a former faux pro racer enjoying life as a geriatric cyclist in search of great bucket list rides to keep him in shape and out of trouble - well, at least in shape.
He writes about his Bucket Rides in all their variety and glory for Granfondo.com.
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