Bike MS, Part 2: Under the Rainbow

Sunday, June 30 - The day begins abruptly with a knock on my hotel room door. I roll out of bed and glance at the clock, which reads 4:15 am. Aaack! The alarm (which I had set for 3:45) did not go off, and we're supposed to be leaving right now. Should have used my phone instead - let this be a lesson to me.

Luckily I am packed and ready to go. I throw off my pajamas and struggle madly into my cycling gear. Scooping up helmet and backpack, I'm out the door in record time.

Downstairs the hotel has set out drinks, yoghurt, and hard-boiled eggs for the early-rising cyclists. I grab an egg and wolf it down, along with my leftover pasta from the night before. As we walk through the dark to the shuttle pick-up point I drink an entire bottle of water and reflect uneasily that I'm already behind on hydration - will just have to make the best of it.

While waiting for the shuttle, rain begins to fall. Snowcatcher tells me that thunderstorms are forecast for the early afternoon, and we'd best do the shorter 60-mile ride today if we want to avoid some potentially nasty weather. (This is fine by me - my leg is still hurting, and the saddle sore has shown only marginal improvement overnight.)

We arrive at the campus and collect our bikes. The clouds are rosy pink with sunrise, and a full rainbow appears overhead:

A happy omen for the day.

Lizard and Snowcatcher kindly lube Iris's chain...

...then we're off on the second leg of our journey. The Lizard rides with us for the first few miles until our routes diverge (he is doing the longer 73-mile ride).

Snowcatcher sets a good pace, and soon I am several hundred yards back. The rain has stopped, and my shadow appears far off in a field to my right:

Over my shoulder is another rainbow:

I call Snowcatcher, but she's too far ahead to hear me. I kick up the gears and pile on the steam so as to catch her and make sure she sees this second rainbow. My tires spinning on the wet road throw droplets and gravel up my backside.

Soon after I catch up to Snowcatcher, there's a telltale "pfft" and I look down to see that my rear tire has gone flat. (Dang!)

What should be a simple operation (rolling the tire off the rim)...

Photo courtesy of Snowcatcher

...proves unexpectedly difficult due to the fresh glue, which doesn't want to let go. (My tires are tubulars, or "sew-ups", and are cemented to the rim.) The glue stretches here and there, but I can't thoroughly break the bead.

Photo courtesy of Snowcatcher

But help is soon at hand, in the form of a Colorado State Patrolman. His hands are larger (and stronger) than mine, and in no time at all the flat tire is off and the new one being stretched on.

Photo courtesy of Snowcatcher

My hero! :)

Photo courtesy of Snowcatcher

And we're off again, headed for the first rest stop.

A third rainbow floats faintly over the hills ahead (look for it just over the four signposts):

We pass beautiful amber waves of grain...

...and are soon at the first rest stop, where my first visit is to the bike support tent to get my fresh tire fully pumped up with air.

Gluten-free goodies there make me think of my sister:

Suddenly a FOURTH rainbow appears! This is our lucky day. :)

Watered and fed and pumped up, we take off for the next rest stop. Along the way, an unprecedented fifth rainbow appears in the sky. What a morning!

Snowcatcher chasing the rainbow

My fresh tire has now developed an ominous thunking sound with every revolution. I stop several times to check that the brakes are aligned and that nothing is impeding the wheel, but can't find the problem. There's nothing to do but head for the next rest stop where expert help will be available.

The views continue to be lovely...

...and we reach the second rest stop, my tire going thunka-thunka-thunka all the way. I call Mr. M to ask his advice, and he immediately produces several possible reasons for the noise, ranging from a misaligned valve stem (least dreadful, and easily fixed) to a popped thread inside the tire (most dreadful, and possibly dangerous as it could lead to the tire exploding at speed).

We wheel Iris up to the bike support tent (and I use this term VERY loosely), where I explain my predicament to the volunteer.

"We don't work on sew-ups," is his reply.

!!!!!

"Do you think it's popped a thread?" I ask. "Can you at least tell me that?"

To give him credit, he looks at the tire and says he doesn't see any signs of it, though he does notice a bulge near the valve stem. Having conceded this much, he more or less washes his hands of us - so we wheel the bike to the side to do the best we can on our own.

Iris is flipped over, and (after a few struggles) her rear wheel removed.

Photo courtesy of Snowcatcher

The valve stem is just slightly cockeyed, so we deflate the tire, remove it from the rim, then carefully put it back, trying to keep the valve stem perfectly upright.

It's cockeyed again, so we try again, without success. Finally Snowcatcher suggests cocking it in the other direction before we put the tire on - this may even things up.

Her suggestion works! We pump up the tire, the valve stem at the proper angle at last. With the help of a friendly bystander, we get the wheel back on. By this time my legs are speckled with dirt and my hands absolutely black with grease. I clean them as best I can (which isn't enough for me)...

This is AFTER cleaning....

...then we're back on the road. The thunking sound is gone (hooray! we fixed it!) and I'm ready to pick up the pace.

On this leg of the ride I discover an unsuspected streak of competitiveness in myself. Every time a faster group passes me, I want to catch up to them and follow along - and several times I do.

Paceline!

It's an amazing feeling for this pudgy 50-year-old Wisconsin housewife, to be racing along in top gear on a 28-year-old bike, keeping up with guys that are in much better practice than I am. What a kick! Who cares if my leg is sore and I can't find a comfortable sitting position? The day is beautiful and the mountains are smiling at me.

But I can definitely relate to this team's name:

We roll through some gorgeous countryside:

And before we know it we've reached Rest Stop 4. It's time for lunch.

Salty and sweet:

A carb-loaded plate rests on grease-speckled legs:

Tallulah takes a nibble of summer squash:

Another cyclist walks by, needing the help of a cane and his wife's hand:

"I Ride with MS"

THIS is why we're riding.

Lunch time over, we hit the road with hundreds of others.

The ever-helpful and friendly State Patrol watches over an intersection:

At Rest Stop 5, we eat ruby-red plums...

...and don leis to celebrate the nearness of journey's end. (Purple for me, of course, and pink for Snowcatcher. We are nothing if not coordinated.)

Skies become cloudy and lowering on the last leg of our ride. There's thunder in the distance, and veils of rain over the mountains.

The air is close and warm as we climb the last long grade; medics wait at the top with bottles of water for anyone who needs it. A few miles and a few climbs more, and we reach the finish line, where crowds cheer all the finishers through, and medals are handed out.

Whew! Time for some ice cream and dinner....

Totally organic :)

Rested and fed, our plates and utensils properly disposed of (this is a no-waste ride)...

...we head back to the truck to load up the bikes for the drive back to Snowcatcher's house.

(When we get there, I am drooping with fatigue, but Snowcatcher is fresh as a daisy. "Let's dye some yarn!" she says ... so we do. Photos to appear in another blog post.)

Fatigue and pain aside, this has definitely been the best ride of my life. :)

~ ~ ~

It's Saturday July 6 as I write these words, and hard to believe that nearly a week has passed since we finished Bike MS. Iris and I arrived home safely, to be reabsorbed immediately in the rush of "normal" life. I still miss the mountains of Colorado (Wisconsin, though beautifully green, seems awfully flat in comparison). My tendon is still sore, but the swelling has gone down, and I hope to take a short ride tomorrow (my first since last Sunday).

Tremendous thanks to Snowcatcher and Lizard for inviting me and hosting me. Extra kudos and gratitude to the Lizard, who put my bike together when I got there on Friday, then spent his Sunday evening taking it apart and packing it up again for the plane ride home.

Special thanks and hugs to all of you who generously donated funds to support me on this ride. And I am very grateful for all the cheerful and encouraging comments left by patient readers of this blog.

Thanks most of all to my dear Mr. M, who can no longer ride the way he once did, but who introduced me to serious cycling and taught me everything I know about riding: how to sit, how and when to shift, how to climb, how to descend (if only he could have given me some courage along with the excellent advice), how to brake safely at speed, how to change a tire, how to clean the tires while rolling, and much much more. I would never have made it without you, Mr. M, and I carried you in my heart the whole way. :)

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