My loyal readers will remember that last year I declared that that was my last 200K, based on the fact that it had ceased to be arrowed, and real men don't use cue sheets. In my case I was pretty sure that even if I put my manhood at risk by using one that it would turn out badly anyway.
When this year rolled around, I got the bright idea that I could use my new found expertise with my GPS to find my way. Despite that fact that for the first several years I owned it, the only function on it I had successfully used was the time of day, I had had a recent breakthrough, i.e., I had programmed a route with it, set out, and actually returned home. So, flushed with success, I figured I could program my GPS and find my way on the 200K. But I figured I better have a backup plan.
My usual modus operandi is to start out with a fast group until the first checkpoint, then get dropped somewhere in the middle and end up riding the rest of the ride alone. This is fine if there are arrows, but if I find myself sans arrows and being cue sheet challenged I might as well be in darkest Africa. What I needed was a native guide, someone who actually knew where they were going that I could follow.
I thought of several candidates right away: Melinda, Bruce and Dave. So I started putting feelers out. I emailed Melinda who encouraged me to do the ride and said she would take care of me. I was a bit dubious about that, since the last 200K I did, I rode with Melinda for quite a while. By "with Melinda" I really mean behind Melinda, and at one point being overcome with guilt, I decided to take a pull. This gave Melinda the opportunity to rest, whereupon she promptly dropped me like a stone. But remember, I had plan "A," the GPS.
I preregistered for the ride early on, but mentally gave myself about a 30% chance of actually doing it. This was a Paris-Brest-Paris(PBP) year, so in order for the qualifiers (i.e. brevets) to happen early enough to for this event, the brevets were more than a month earlier. So, it was going to be cold. On the plus side, the route was not the usual one to New Hampshire, but a very flat one to Dighton Rock (an old CRW century). But if the weather looked at all iffy, I was ready to bail.
As is not atypical for New England, especially this year, it snowed on Friday. This was a bit off-putting but it was supposed to be clear and get up to 50 on Saturday. I was still on the fence as to whether I'd do the ride, but I figured I'd go through the motions anyway.
So I dragged out my 50 year old alarm clock, and set it for 5:30. Not having a very rigid work schedule, this is about the only time I ever set an alarm.
I woke up very early, and on one of my bathroom runs realized that it was past time and the alarm clock hadn't gone off. I was a bit off schedule now, so no time for breakfast, I chugged the remainder of a container of orange juice, and off I went. I live a few miles from the start at Hanscom Field, so I usually ride to the ride. I figured if the ride over was awful, I'd just say hi to the folks at the start and go home. It was cold going over but the roads were dry, so I really had no good excuse. I was surprised to see lots of folks there, apparently undeterred by the snow and cold.
I had programmed the route on my GPS a few days ago, put fresh batteries in, so I figured I was good to go. One thing I forgot was that I have an older unit which doesn't allow more than 50 waypoints on a route. Turned on the unit, it started calculating, and came back with a message to the effect "Sorry, dude, no can do." So much for plan A.
So now I really, really had to find someone to attach myself to. Happily, all three of my targets were there, Melinda, Bruce, and Dave, so I decided to do the ride. All three of them are faster than me, so I quickly decided if I had any chance of staying with them, I needed to exercise my wheel sucking skills. As long as I didn't do any work at the front, I had a good chance of hanging on. This actually worked very well. I was riding with the dream team, Melinda, Bruce, and Dave, along with a few interlopers.
I cleverly managed to stay away from the front and it looked like the plan was going to succeed. I did on occasion find myself in front, but I was careful not to work too hard when I was there and not to stay there very long. Bruce and Melinda were doing most of the work, and the rest of us were just glad to be there.
All was going well until the second water stop, where we picked up a tandem in the group. My first thought was "Take me home, tandem." This was a very flat course and this was obviously a strong team since they were ahead of us until the checkpoint. Unfortunately, what happened was that riding with us gave them a chance to recover, and when they went to the front, the pace picked up considerably. What had been a manageable ride turned into a death march, where I was hanging on for dear life. I had to hang on at least until we got back to where I knew where I was (which was pretty close to the end).
I did in fact stay with them and made it back, but it was a near thing. So, unless I can find a more reliable GPS or a domestique, this really is my last brevet.
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