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No Sleep Till P’Town

Sunday, June 27th, 2010

Yesterday morning I was up before the sun for another epic adventure to build up towards the Ironman.

By 5:45, me and about a dozen other endurance freaks gathered at the Boston Common, mounted our bikes, pointed South and started pedaling.

Destination: Provincetown. The very end of Cape Cod. 135 miles away.

We knew we had to get there by 7 pm or we’d miss the ferry bringing us back to Boston and we’d be stuck there for the night.

You’ve gotta love it when you can do such an epic ride with a group of awesome athletes and friends. Having great company for +8 hours in the saddle makes all the difference in the world.

The sun was out, my legs were feeling strong and the smiles just kept coming. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

At the half way point, we stopped at the Sagamore Friendly’s for some refeuling. They delivered my pancakes before I got my silverware. I was so starving that I just dug in and started tearing apart the pancakes and dipping them in strawberry syrup and eating it with my hands. Note to waitresses everywhere: don’t get between a triathlete and his food. Oh, and keep bringing over that big pitcher of water.

The P’Town Crew chowing down

Back on the road and we kept cranking along. We still had another 60ish miles to go.

Thankfully the second half had much nicer roads as we officially entered Cape Cod and rode up and down the dunes and through some gorgeous neighborhoods.

At about 70 miles in, I hear someone yell out “TRAKKERS?!”

I didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to anyone in our group, and all of a sudden Trakkers Pro, Dede Griesbauer pulls up alongside and starts chatting. Too cool. We chatted about race plans, I oogled over her sick Shimano Di2 setup and before I know it she blew past our entire group and faded off into the distance. Gotta love surprise team meetups.

The biggest surprise of the ride came at around mile 90. I ended up leading the paceline for a solid 10 miles or so and felt really strong. We had some pretty fast riders with us and I kept expecting them to come up and make me either their dust. It never happened. I didn’t even realize that the tight paceline had formed right behind me until we stopped at the next major turn to make sure everyone had caught up to us and I got a few compliments about leading the group and keeping a fast even pace. Gotta love surprise compliments on skills I didn’t even know I had! Warms my heart. It also helps when we are at mile 90 and everyone’s legs are sufficiently drained and no one’s egos are threatened by sucking the wheels of slower riders.

Once I rolled through the 112 mile mark, I did a mental check. At this point at Rev3, I’d be getting off the bike and starting the marathon.

My legs? They actually didn’t feel too bad. The idea of running didn’t make me want to punch someone in the face, it actually seemed pretty pleasant after all day in the saddle! Could I run the whole 26.2 miles? Maybe only with a miracle, but I have two more months to squeeze out some extra run fitness. More than a training ride, this adventure was more of a confidence booster than anything else.

Nutritionally, I felt like I really nailed it too. While my effort level was way less than the bike course at Quassy and there won’t be a breakfast stop for strawberry pancakes, potato chips or beer at Cedar Point, I think I have a nutrition plan that I can trust. I started off the day drinking a TON (2 liters) of First Endurance EFS. Since it is less concentrated than liquid shot, starting with something that was easier on my stomach didn’t give me the GI issues that I had at Quassy. For the second half of the ride, I survived on straight water from my camelbak and a water bottle full of First Endurance liquid shot on my bike frame. I still have to work on the frequency of sipping on the liquid shot, but that detail shouldn’t be too hard to nail down and test.

Cruising down the Cape Cod bike trail

At around mile 120, we made our last stop of the day in Wellfleet. The Beachcomber.

Seriously, how could you ride past this place and NOT stop for a beer?

Pretty awesome views, right?

People were apparently very surprised to see a bunch of cyclists stroll up to the bar and grab a few beers and corn on the cob. I thought there was a good chance that because of the hot stink that we were laying down from 7 hours of sweating out in the sun, we would be ostracized.

Surprisingly, it was the exact opposite. Several groups of cute girls approached us and asked what the heck we were doing, how the hell we got there from Boston and were sufficiently impressed with our bad-assness. If I was a single guy, apparently strolling into a bar smelling like BO and wearing a cycling kit and leg stubble (I haven’t shaved since Rev3 Quassy) is apparently an AMAZING way to pick up chicks. Like fish in a barrel.

We stuck around for the last few minutes of the USA vs Ghana game. We lost. Got eliminated. The whole bar was silent, slowly dispersed and we jumped back in the saddle to finish the last 15 miles to Provincetown.

These were definitely the hardest miles of the whole route, probably simply because I knew we were getting close, but I wasn’t getting there nearly as fast as I wanted. I was eager to get off the bike, venture around P’town and toss back some ice cold beers. The last few miles were straight, flat and lined with beach cottage after beach cottage. The whole road smelled like beer, lighter fluid, charcoal and seaweed. It doesn’t sound like it would smell amazing, but it had me grinning from ear to ear.

Once we pulled up to the Provincetown pier, I rewarded myself with a pulled pork sandwich, onion rings and a root beer. EVERYTHING tastes better after 135 miles on the bike. My face was covered in ketchup and BBQ sauce like I was a 2 year old trying to eat spaghetti, but I didn’t care. I was just happy to have made the journey with an awesome crew.