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| Head down, I work through the rollers. I am lucky as the awful weather, that hit the folks later in the day, has yet to arrive. Soon, I exit the rollers and am riding along a freshly paved shoulder. There are several good luck messages written for me but one is better than the rest, "No one #*!?s with Gordo". Chuck left that as a pleasant surprise. I laugh out loud and continue to power along. I feel fantastic and am riding at sub-5 hour pace. Pass a few more pros and continue to ride well. Some of these guys are going through rough patches and I wonder when mine will arrive. I don't have to wait long. My first hints come with the small hills on the out-and-back, all of a sudden the power in my legs is gone. I have to stand to climb the hills. At the bike special needs, we turn and are greeted with a stiff headwind. Time to get aero. For a short while, I think about the people who will have to head into this wind twice. Soon it is a game of survival for me. I see my chase pack - hungry, looking very fresh - I know it won't be long until they are upon me. Soon they are with me and, not long after that, they have dropped me. My nutrition is right on the edge. It is quite cold out and I feel like my stomach is not processing what I am putting in it. I am peeing a lot and scared to increase my hydration. My legs and brain make a tactical decision to slowdown and see if that helps my energy intake. Truth be told, I am looking for an excuse to ease off and fell for this mind trick. The climb to Yellow Lake is one of the toughest things I have ever experienced. My legs are gone, people are dropping me and I see my five hour bike split drifting away. At the start of the climb, Charlie Cooper passes me like I am a road sign. No man that large should be that quick in the hills. I am in my 39/21 and have no where left to shift. I have no idea if I will be able to make it up the hill. Towards the middle, a spectator yells, "knees, knees" and that helps me get some cadence happening again. With fear in my heart I make the final right bend towards the top. My spirits perk up when I see that people are lined three deep on both sides of the lane. They are only four feet apart and screaming at the top of their lungs. I am crying but can't spare the tears. I give everything I have to get up the hill. I am riding so hard that I can't open my eyes and am a little worried that I might ride into someone. I glance up every 4-5 seconds to make sure I am on track. The noise is incredible. I soak the energy and somehow manage to get up the hill. Over the top and I am suddenly alone beside the lake. There is no traffic, no people, no riders. Just me, my rapid breathing and a racing heart. This is another form of shock and gets me moving again. Back on my aerobars, time to go home. The ride back to town seems to take a while, is not very pleasant but I know will be over shortly. There is a headwind coming up Main Street and I have to use my small chain ring. Five hours is not on the cards, but I see that I am looking very good for sub-10 overall. I am exhausted, my legs have gone south for the winter and I have serious reservation about my nutrition situation. On the bright side, Lori hasn't caught me. |  Time to run a what?! |