Pain Train Has Arrived - Woooo Woooo

That my friends summarizes in 3 minutes and 42 seconds what El Obamador dished out over the course of 6+ hours during this year's Big Indian Scalping, and to be honest by the end of the ride it would have been less painful to leave the empty coffee pot at Feltcher & Sons than to have finished even one of the 5 climbs on slate for the day.

Participation at this year's BIS was, as in the past, on the light side due in part to the known beating at hand but also because the Stewart Six Pack was the following day. Now if you have the fortitude of El Obamador then there wouldn't be any issue, you would ride Big Indian and then go out the next day and kick ass and win your class, but then again El O isn't your ordinary rider nor is his side kick our own Drill Sargent Brian "Man of Steel". Seeing it was only going to be the three of us I was the proverbial Wall Street meat in a Marine Sandwich in what was sure to be a rather brisk pace (my bladder nearly emptied at the mere thought of just how much this was going to hurt). Coming at the end of a 3 week build for the Death Ride this was assured of being doubly painful. The one comforting thought was, if you survived, the reward at the end was an outdoor table at Aroma Thyme Bistro, ice cold margaritas and finely crafted IPAs.

The non race was to encompass the climbs of Sugarloaf, Frost Valley (Big Indian), Peekamoose, Red Hill & Cragsmoor as the bonus at the end (nothing like riding past the finishing point only to know you have a 3 mile climb to go! The warm up climb to Round Out Reservoir was reserved enough to lull yours truly into a false sense of security that would soon give way to a world of hurt so dark that even those into S&M would be using their safe word. Turning onto Sugarloaf, in what I am positive was a predetermined decision, Terry Tate inquired about checking out Glade Hill Road (aka The Elevator Shaft) which turned into a mile plus slog up slopes that occasionally dipped below 12% and regularly were pushing 20+%. Suddenly seeing red and with my heart beating louder than the woofers in a pimped out Compton Low Rider I was off the bike and hiking not once but twice. I am sure at this stage I had this look

WTF, this is the first climb and we aren't more then 10 miles into this century......MOMMY!!!! Sugarloaf showed a bit more mercy but as the Marines pedaled off into the distance I suffered and hiked and suffered and did countless impersonations of a Ulster County guppy. And just when I thought it was all over we turned onto Red Hill Road and doled copious amounts of misery. At the summit this really summed it up

The reward in it all, a spectacular view at the summit and then a descent that had one's taint pucker, carbon rims melting (praise Allah I had the Cx bike with disc brakes) and speeds topping 46mph - RIGHTEOUS!

With the first climb in it was a quick pit stop for water refills and egg/bacon sandwiches to replenish the empty tanks.

Breakfast Break

Knowing the day would be long, hot & sunny and with the TdF on the roads C-Dubbs enlisted in the MRC division of the French Foreign Legion.

Tour de France Legionnaire

Just up the road from breakfast at Tiffany's was our rides namesake - Big Indian climb. At 13 miles in length, while long, this would be like a ride in the park compared to everything else to be dished out. Big Indian also offered up on amazing 13 mile descent into the town of Big Indian and what was promised to be long gradual descent to the mandatory espresso stop at Bread Alone.

The One and Only - 13 miles up/13 miles down

And Obamador being Obamador rather then recovery it was flat out all the way to Bread Alone. I put everything on the table just to suck that wheel like I was sucking chrome off a trailer hitch. I mean Christ, when you have to pedal flat out to stay in the diesel engine's draft you know you're fucked for the end.

What I Think of the "Recovery Portion" of the ride

Our Terry Tate Revving Up For Peekamoose

Mercy was something in short supply today and the ascent of Peekamoose was another ugly one with a perfect double axel dismount being performed before I hoofed it up the last 20% grade. I mean really what the fuck am I doing to myself?

The final climb up Red Hill promised to take us deep into deliverance country and not knowing what lay in store in dropped into our favorite Peekamoose supply station and stocked up on water and ammo for the final ascent.

Restocking before going deep into Peekamosse Territory

The descent made all of the suffering worth while and there is nothing quite like blowing past a State Trooper on the descent and not getting a ticket. With the heat and humidity enough was enough and the climb to Cragsmoor was scrapped in favor of the parking lot a Aroma Thyme where the celebratory tomahawk was displayed.

Scalped!

One margarita in and this really sums up my not so superior state of mind. Remember next up is the Chinaman 100, details to follow.

Totally Spent