The Real Ale Ride -- Up the hills, down the beers in Texas!

By Daniel J. Curtin, Jr.

"You should know that the beer ride is always harder than any road race."

That was the response I got after the 2015 Real Ale Ride when talking with Kim from River City Market Racing about how fast and hard the ride had been. I hadn't planned on it being that tough, but I also planned on riding the 80-mile route with the front group, so it really depended on who showed up to do the same.

The Real Ale Ride is an annual event put on by Bicycle Sport Shop and hosted at the Real Ale Brewing Company in Blanco, Texas. As a shop employee I've done the ride whenever I've had the opportunity as the roads and scenery surrounding Blanco are some of the best within such a short distance from Austin—just an hour's drive.

The ride offers routes of 15, 30, 50, 65, and 80 miles. For the past couple of years I've wanted to make Real Ale a 200k day with plans to ride the 80 mile route as well as the 35 and 15. With a fully supported route and rest stops every 12 or so miles and the quiet roads, why not? That was the plan this year. Until mile 12.

In attendance there were indeed some "heavy hitters" as my Bicycle Sport Shop teammate and I like to call the faster guys and gals in the Texas peloton. On the day, local legend Erick Benz flying the flag for local cycling advocacy group Bike Austin, the hard men of DNA presented by AustinBikes, a couple of teammates from Steiner Ranch, and ATC were all on hand to up the pace apparently in a bid to get back to the post-ride beer and BBQ as quickly as possible.

As the masses gathered for the day's ride at the brewery I caught my teammates near the front and doled out some savory rice cakes I had made. Knowing that the front group would stop once, if at all, at any of the rest stops, I wanted a real food option over gels and other sweets. Almost immediately after the National Anthem, the ride started and those riding 80 miles rolled out of the brewery property and onto 281—with me on the front.

We stayed a large group for the first few miles, everyone finding a wheel and wondering when during the ride the rains that have hammered Central Texas for the past 10 days would return. The first big stretch of the ride after getting off 281 is a run down 102 and that's where the race for the beer started.

At roughly mile 9 there's a punch climb with pitches that crest 10% according to my Garmin. My teammate rolled easy up the left side of the group and for fun I went with him. We didn't know it at the time, but the little hill is a Strava segment, and Joey wound up 4th and I was 3rd. Next year we'll know to go for it.

And for the next couple of miles we kept this rhythm up. Someone would go to the front and accelerate and everyone that could would sit on the wheel in front of them. By mile 12 what had been most if not all of the folks riding the 80-mile route was now down to 23. And I knew that the pace we were rolling and the winds we were fighting meant I was unlikely to want—or be able—to make it a 200K day.

The group worked fairly well together, folks still chatting when in the middle or on the back, and working hard, but not overly so, on the front as the wind was still fairly favorable. We made the run into Kendalia and did the lollipop section of the course that made the 65-mile route the 80 miler and as we made the left onto 473 back in Kendalia we started seeing folks who were on the 65 mile course. For us that was mile 32 and 1:30 into the ride.

From here the course starts to undulate more. It's not that the first part is flat, but the road seems to roll more than earlier and there's a little bit more exposure to the elements. By this point there was a good mist about the air, punctuated with brief breaks in the moisture, save for the road surface. When it wasn't actively misting, it felt humid and slightly uncomfortable. I kept telling myself it was better than being blazing hot.

After the turn at Kendalia the group started to get punchy. We were single file for a good ways and with the winds that meant getting near the front and pulling the group along or getting guttered up against the yellow line trying to find any available draft. I floated to the back of the group and decided I had had enough. At mile 40 or so I was 1:55 in and wanting a break from the action I floated to the back to get a snack out of my pocket and watched the remaining 18 riders hammer on.

I wasn't alone for long as I found the wheel of Davis Tucker of 1400 Miles fame. Davis is an experienced rider and racer and does a tremendous job racing the profile of prostate cancer awareness with his 1400 Miles charity ride. Davis was riding the 65 mile route and I was happy to have his wheel to sit on for 10 miles as we caught and picked up another rider that had abandoned the front group.

At about mile 50 Davis and our other companion stopped at a rest stop while I kept rolling on. This was my longest stint solo from about mile 50 to 59. Not to say there weren't other riders out there, there were. Plenty of folks to say hello to and encourage along the way. But nobody to share the riding workload with meant being extra careful to eat, drink, and pace myself. Especially on the 3-mile climb into the fog and mist from miles 52 to 55, or thereabouts. I mentally committed to the next rest stop and paused just long enough to say hello to some folks there and refill my two bottles.

The turn towards Blanco off 1376 and onto 1888 is 21 miles out and this year the stretch along that final road was into a cross-headwind. By this point my legs and my head were done and I was sure I wasn't going to want to do another 45 miles solo when I was finished. No 200k today. I was 3:02 into the ride at mile 60 and was coming to the realization that most likely anyone I came across was going to be someone that wasn't going to be able to help me. Most of the 80 milers behind me weren't going to catch me and I wasn't going to get close to the front runners of the 65 milers. Time to grind it out.

But I did find some help. Two guys that had been in that front group on the 80 mile ride came up from behind and we rode together for a few miles. One of them dropped off the pace on a short climb and I shortly followed suit. I then found a gentleman riding the 65 mile course on my wheel. I pulled off to let him take a pull and he surged some. I sat on and then took another pull. The same sequence of events took place over the next mile or two and I was over it. I saw a group of riders—5 to 7—coming up from behind and I sat up, ate, drank, stretched, and let them ride up to me.

I've never been so glad to see folks from Brad Houston's legendary Gruppo VOP rides. I knew these riders from early Wednesday AM hammer sessions. I knew they could ride well, were strong, and that they'd drag me all the way to beer if I let them.

And I did. We passed the rider that had been surging on me just a mile or so earlier and swept past riders wrapping up short distance options. Tom from the group that was pulling my dead weight along simply put his head down and got on with it.

And then we were done.

The leaders on the long route had averaged 21 for the ride while I surprisingly went 19.7. I would have assumed it slower without the constant benefit of a group. I rode up to the brewery (parking was down the road at the local high school) and had a beer and talked with friends about their days. I mentioned I'd never felt that beat up after any road race that I could recall. Others agreed. It was fun and the after ride party was great with the majority of riders sticking around for beers and BBQ and to socialize and talk of future ride plans. I made short work of lunch and headed home for a nap.

The beer ride is always harder than the road race.

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