My Trans Iowa V6

My good friend and fellow twisted cyclist Ken and I headed to attempt this year's Trans Iowa. This was my second try at this race and with a couple of confidence building rides under my belt, I felt good about the weekend. That didn't mean I wasn't scared silly, but sure that I could put forth a good effort.

Nervousness mounted right up to leaving the hotel 3:30 Friday morning. I was constantly second guessing what to wear, what to pack, where to pack it. Would my tyres work? Why didn't I leave the fenders on? What was I thinking trying this ride? Just the usual pre-race jitters.

The morning started out much warmer than I planned, so even at the start line I was changing things around. The nice thing is that my basket performed beautifully. Only very minor changes to make it perfection (I'm thinking of a custom bag). We rolled out a little after 4 keeping towards the back of the pack. We are no speed demons, so it didn't make any sense to be in anyone's way. Of course the leaders were off like crazy (those guys are insane!) but the rest of us were strung out in a matter of a couple miles. We quickly found ourselves on gravel and the mud started flying. I was wearing a pair of clear lens glasses and they were great since my tyres were flinging mud all over (as were all the tyres around me). Unfortunately, they didn't stay clear for long so into the basket they went and soon I was digging mud from my eyes on every downhill.

We rode with a number of riders for about 10 miles and it started to become too much back and forth for me to stand. So at one of the risers I cranked into the pedals a little harder and put some separation from the rest of the folk. Ken and I were then more on our own when the mist turned to slight rain and he wanted to cover his saddle (it's almost always a good idea to follow Ken's advice when it comes to riding). Shortly after, we thought rain jackets would be wise. And they were. It rained quite hard for about 30 min (I really have no sense of time at this point) which at least washed off some of the mud. Unfortunately, it created a whole bunch more.

The rain subsided and things were rolling along quite well up until somewhere around mile 30. The first B-maintenance road came into view. I saw 4 riders scrambling to the sides of the "road" (see previous post picture). Tyre tracks and footprints littered the entrance, all veering to the grass ditches. I thought I would see how bad the mud really was and charged toward the edge of the road. I made it about 15 feet before the bike bogged down and I couldn't move at all. Nothing to do but walk. It was roughly a mile we had to traverse the ditches of this road. A few places we had to cross to the other side, causing mud to pack up around the tyres immediately if they were allowed to touch the road. But what did my bike in was the cornfield. Remnants of stalks are still plastered with mud all over the frame.

Now that we were riding again my legs felt like lead. There were some good rollers right away and I thought I was working way too hard to continue for 275 more miles. But I know how the long distance thing works and that it is possible to recover so I wasn't worrying about it too much. As I followed the cue sheets, I started calculating distance and time. It wasn't looking good. I knew we had to kick it up in order to make the cutoff. I marveled at the truth that was being revealed by Ken's comments the night before; "You know, there might be a chance we won't make the first cutoff if it's really soupy."

We were about 10 miles out when this stuff was rolling around in my brain. I felt pretty good at that point. I had eaten a tiny bit (thanks Carrie) and the adrenaline was pumping from knowing what we had to do to make the time. I mentioned to Ken that we would have to work to arrive in time. He told me he was working. As much as I wanted to take off and try to make the first checkpoint, I know that paying attention to Ken when it comes to riding is the smart choice. So we rolled along into Monroe about 10 minutes late. Jim and Kevin from Hiawatha Cyclery were manning the stop and it was nice to see some friendly faces. I think they were more disappointed we wouldn't be continuing than we were.

We moseyed up to the Casey's (a staple in most IA towns) and snacked out front, making the plan on how to get back to Grinnell. I realized I needed to drink some more as I had consumed about 4 oz of water over 45 miles. Another sign that continuing on would have been VERY bad. That surely would have come back to haunt me. A change of upper layers and we were ready to limp back.

For some insane reason, we decided to follow our route we had just come, back a ways to avoid some busier paved roads. It turned out just fine, but it does make me question our general thinking when it comes to riding bicycles. The route dumped us out onto a highway and we made our way via blacktop from there, stopping for some drinks about halfway. I felt the hinting of leg cramps and figured some chocolate milk was the ticket. I saw a quart container and almost bought it, but then chose a smaller bottle. After finishing it, turns out the "smaller" bottle was a quart also.

With the winds picking up, it was a slow ride back to the hotel. As this race is all about traversing the back roads of Iowa, the last 3 miles into town were ridden on gravel. By that time, the road was good and dry, but the wind in our face kept our pace low. Ken, always thinking, had cold beer ready for us when we pulled into the parking lot. A quick rinsing with a hose at the hotel, some fuel for the van and us, and we headed for home.

It was nice to rehash the ride coherently on the drive home. Mistakes were talked about. Plans were put into place in case TI V7 happens. All-in-all it was a great couple of days. Even though that was way too long of drive for a 81 mile ride.