By Scott Swanson
6/3/2007

For those of you who are numerically inclined:

164 miles, 14 hours total, 11 hours 15 minutes bike time.

And now, the rest of the story:

Does one apologize for only riding 164 miles? That.s the feeling I have. I.m still irritated that I didn.t finish this one. I pulled the plug at 8:00pm after riding for fifteen minutes in the rain and growing gloom. My best projected finish time would have been 9:30pm, and I didn.t care to chance becoming a large splat on someone.s right front quarter panel.

Dare I say I rode at a bit slower pace? I had fried myself last year by going out too fast and getting dehydrated. This year, I let everyone ride away from me and then rode alone. As opposed to Dave, I burned only 6594 kcal. However, I did not cramp. At mile 130 or so, I could still pull 20mph on straights.

The valley below the ridge top road was glorious. At midpoint, I was still strong and hydrated. I had done the first half right, albeit a little behind schedule to finish by dark. Unlike Dave and John, I knew exactly what was coming - the valley of the shadow of death.

Last year, I boiled in the breezeless pit, wondering how long it was going to last, not knowing that I was going to have to claw back every inch of descent. I threw a fist in the air at the top of that 15% grade. This time, I cruised down the road in my small ring. I stopped by the car. I wanted very much to put the bike on the rack and say to hell with it. But I knew I couldn't. I'd climbed it with no gas in the tank. I had to do it again. And I did. I mumbled under my breath all the way up "you are not going to make me quit." And so I climbed. Did I feel heroic at the top? Nope. I felt stupid that I had had to kick myself in the ass to climb it. But every memory I had from turnaround last year was nothing but a haze of pain. This year, it wasn't so painful

But gentlemen, another hundred miles is a long way, even after turnaround. I had been working fifteen-mile laps in my head since mile one. Thirteen laps, that's all I had to do. Less than three times my Iowa City day, not so bad, right? The wind starting hitting me on the open road and I quoted Rocky Balboa: "You ain't so bad!"

I did have a laugh around mile 120. I crossed paths with Team Twister and Team Dog. They have a group ride every year on this day. While riding after some of them, a large black pickup with three late-adolescent morons with more testosterone then WADA's ever seen came up behind me on a hill. They had to wait for a car coming downhill, and they laid into the horn (yeah, it took all three of them to operate the horn). In fact, even after the car passed, they still just sat behind me and kept up the solid horn blast - as though it would make me move over. However, they didn't know that I was a SAWG-approved DICE rider. I simply kept my pace until the top of the hill and then politely waved them by. I momentarily considered pulling a Bart Wellens by clipping out and side kicking a nice cleat-shaped gouge in the black paint but, as Ron White says "you can't fix stupid." I let stupid dogs leave.

I got somewhat of a second, third, or fourth wind. And a head-, cross-, and tailwind, take your pick. Not feeling pain was feeling strange. I was working it down the road, just bleeding off the miles. I tried to just keep everything on an even keel. I passed my stopping point from last year. Now I was in both new and old territory. At Metamora, I knew I was going to make it when I hit 150. I had some elation when I saw the fifteen and three zeroes, even better the sixteen and three zeroes. And then the rain started. Okay, I thought. I started in rain, I'll finish in rain. And then (for the who-knows-what time) I did the math for when I would pull in. And that was it. Put a fork in it, it's done. Back in the car. Five minutes later, lightning. Ten minutes later, downpour.

Discretion is the better part of valor, yadda yadda yadda. I was in a pretty black mood. I still hadn't finished. I've started to feel better; nothing else to do, it cannot be changed. Various people have had good things to say to me, and I appreciate all of it. But I have unfinished business.