Welcome all literary critics, connoisseurs of Pulitzer prize winning
journalism and trouble making cyclists. I do have to apologize for the rather
lengthy delay in reporting on our latest non race/cycling escapade - Gran Fondo
but it has taken that long for my brain and body to rehydrate enough to be able
to put a thoughts to keyboard.
In what is fast becoming the marquee event of the summer we had our
largest turnout to date for an MRC non race with 14 non racers looking to man
train around Ulster and Sullivan counties.
While the MRC is devoted to the worshipping of carbon fibre and mastery
of the Italian dialect is a must we, of all things, do not exclusive club as
was evidenced by the participation of Murp was aiming to dominate the time
trial bike division.
Displaying the focus and technique to fast transitions Murp arrived at
the casa in a spray of gravel in dust, hopping out to sign in, then departing
in another hail of gravel as he raced home for the proverbial “forgotten
cleats”. Those astute enough to realize this meant a delay in the start headed
for the man cave and a final translation of the course and a pre non race beer.
Once again displaying his mastery of the
transition, Murp once again arrived in the “transition area” at full speed
sending some non racers running for cover.
.
Fortified for our date with pain, the peleton headed up the 420 foot
climb up the driveway and rolled out toward our date with destiny and the first
stop was the climb up 44/55 to Trapps bridge. The tone for the day was set at
the base of the climb with Frank, El Obamaor, Senor Agua and Fat Chick taking
off while the rest of us formed the autobus and socialized up the slopes. The
day’s first KOM points went to Frank, El –Obamador, Senor Agua, Fat Chick and
then, in a true douche bag binky sucking move, MacGyver who sucked C-Dubs wheel
like a hooker sucks a John at the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel and shot around
in the final 200’to take the last points.
Taking count at the summit we were down one with the Murp no where to be
seen. After a 5 minute wait we canned the no drop policy, agreed – f*#k him and
off we went for the next summit. Turns out our triathlete had broken a spoke,
ran a couple miles with his bike to get a new wheel and then set off to
rendezvous with the troops at the Ashokan – true MRC harden the fuck up
attitude. The summit of 44/55 results were the same only this time Top Chef
slotted in for 5th. The descent down the back side had us hitting
the high 40’s at which point we discovered that the most excellent spoke cards
suddenly became weapons of death as they dislodged from wheels and came at
anyone behind like ninja death stars.
Top Chef, displaying superior bike handling skills picked up in the
dojo, managed to dodge C-Dubbs death star. At the bottom Top Chef and C-Dubbs
pulled to the for the return trip bottle drop, but more on the significance of
this later.
Rolling along the pain train, or in these conditions the sweat train,
was derailed when Flying Frank (not to be mistaken for summit conquering Frank)
flatted and we all stopped for the repair and Tibetan goji berries that Sherpa
Braveheart had in the massive supply pack he was carrying.
In true no MRC no drop style we waited for the repairs to be completed
and then pace lined it to the supermarket/aid station where we discovered that
Flying Frank was no where to be seen (apparently the victim of another flat
with no spares). Rich the Masher volunteered to head back and then meet up with
us at Bread Alone by riding the second half of the course backwards. Knowing
the next KOM points were a short climb right out of the supermarket C-Dubbs pulled
a classic cheese dick move and jumped the pack on the roll out for an early
lead up the climb. Maintaining a steady tempo and looking good for a potential
summit victory C-Dubbs was derailed when his bag of gu and drink mix exited his
jersey forcing a dismount. The summit was another Ground Hog day with Frank beginning to take a stranglehold on the KOM jersey.
Next up was the 12 mile climb up Peekamoose with the usual crowd going
at it for the points only this time the heat and humidity was starting to take
their toll with non racers getting shelled off the back. Waiting on the summit,
where Frank had secured not only his second growler but the 50 Kroner prize for
the Cima Coppi and a lock on the coveted KOM jersery, we were caught in a
downpour that brought back memories of last years rainfest.
Then through the mist arrived the seasons first summit guppy, 3 Beer
Rossi followed by Sherpa Braveheart who was being to strain under the load he
was carrying.
The ensuing descent, the steepest in the area, was done in a total
downpour with everyone, except Braveheart, hard on the brakes. Our master descender
was seen speeding off into the mist on a course straight to the official MRC
team car/support vehicle where we would dine on the finest cuisine of the far
east later in the ride. Meanwhile the rest of the gang did a bit of
choo-chooing until we arrived at one of the favored stops of the MRC – Bread Alone
– where the crew stormed the espresso bar and caused a meltdown by the help.
Just as we were wrapping up the doubles in rolled Flying Frank and Rich the
Masher, having ridden the course backwards to meet up and get to ride the same
roads the other way. Well somehow in the flurry of orders the Masher’s sandwich
was passed over and as we mounted up to leave Rich was forced to jam as much
into his pie hole as possible before wrapping the rest up for the jersey pocket
(nothing quite like a turkey and mayo sandwich sitting in the jersey pocket for
an hour in the sweltering heat).
Still shaking from the double espressos we headed across the Ashokan
reservoir and a rendezvous with Braveheart and the MRC sag wagon.
First priority was to Towelie off, translate the course map and set off
for the Sampsonville climbs and our arrival at the base of the 44/55 climb where
Top Chef and C-Dubbs revealed the superior doping methods of the MRC – pure Peruvian
coca leaf tea.
And this tea had been brewing in the sun for a couple of days with
multiple bags in each bottle to ensure that we had a superior attitude and
superior state of mind for the final 5 mile climb. Despite the bottle advantage
we were carrying the results at the summit were the same with Frank nailing
down all 3 growlers, the Chima Coppi 50 Kroner note and the coveted MRC KOM
jersey. With Braveheart cheering us on at the summit the shattered pack rolled
back to HQ in smaller groups to a fired up grill, cold yeasty malted beverages and
the Tour de France.
Check out the gallery of shots from Braveheart.
