The weather report for Saturday was heavy cold rains with 15 to 25 MPH north east winds for most of the day. At breakfast a fellow rider said it was very somber. I laughed and said with my body I feel like it is my last meal before I am executed.
I do not know if it was due to the weather report or not, but there were almost 100 cancellations. The Pan Mass Challenge (PMC) had 1424 registered riders. 1326 riders showed up, with the breakdown as follows: 1260 two day riders, 66 one day riders, male/female ratio was 74/26 %. I can understand if a rider cancels do to medical reasons, but I am amazed on why anyone who has sponsors drop out because of the weather. I had over $4,200 in paid pledges when the ride started, with, if I collect from everyone, $5,800 in total pledges, making me a Heavy Hitter for 6 years in a row, and a Lead Heavy Hitter (someone who raises over $5,000) for the first time. There was no way I was going to drop out of the ride, even though I felt that I would not make it, let alone not walking up any hills.
The ride started at 6 AM. I had on a light weight rain jacket because it was chilly. The skies look like they were going to clear. At the two mile point while climbing the first hill I caught up with Tom Phillips. At 72 he was our oldest rider this year. I slowed down to stay with Tom, figuring I stay with him for twenty miles until the first water stop. As soon as we got to the top of the hill, Tom tells me he wanted to catch up with his daughter-in-law, and starts pulling away like I'm standing still. It took me three miles to catch up to him again. I passed him on another hill and kept going, thinking to my self so much for feeling sorry for Tom. At the seven mile point I stopped to take off my rain jacket, as I sweating to much. The hills were many and fierce. The first water stop was a welcomed sight. There is a theme associated which each stop. It looked like it was the same girls that were there last year except they were dancing to Elvis Presley this year. The weather cleared by then, low 70ies and low humidity.
The next thirty miles were real brutal. I figured wrongly that once I finished the next twenty I'd be home free for the rest of day one (the PMC added some more hills from the 40 to 50 mile point). There was a brutal hill at the 30 mile point. I did not think I could make it, then I thought of the people who were mentioned in Honor of my dedication sheet. One of my sponsors came down with cancer this year. Her husband, a co-sponsor asked me to make this my fastest ride ever for his wife. I said I would be thinking of her, but I would be lucky to finish the ride. We tell our loved ones who have cancer to fight it, and here I am getting ready to quit. Thinking about her got me through to the next hill, where I was thing of another sponsor who gave her sister a bone marrow transplant. For the next thirty miles of hills I went through that whole dedication list, as I had an advanced copy with me for the ride. It got me through to the 50 mile point, where the rest of the ride on day one was easy.
At the 40 mile point I took a Motrin as a precaution, as my left knee was bothering me. I did one thing that I normally do not do on the ride. I ride my brake hoods when going down on steep hills. I do not like going to fast on steep hills with lots of turns. I use the so called glue on tires called tubular tires, where the tire encloses the tube, and is glued on to the rim. Problem is that if you use your brakes to much the rim heats up, bringing the glue to a boiling point, where it vaporizes, plus the air in the tire heats up, and as heat goes up, so does pressure. I run my tires at 110 PSIG. With no glue on the rim, and a much higher pressure, the tire can blow, or fly off the rim due to a lack of glue. To solve this I use the front brake first, then shift to the rear break as I just want to slow my descent. I saw this most beautiful hill, a steep decline, wide, freshly paved, and straight. I called this my hill, as I let go of my brakes and went for it. I hit a top speed of 48.3 MPH. It was a great rush. I thought about it afterwards. If I had a blow out or a car pulled in front of me it would be hard distinguishing MOI from his red bicycle <grin> but I did not care.
Lunch was at the 63 mile point. I did not feel like eating to much so I just had a pasta salad and Gatorade, and was on my way. The rest of the ride on day one was a piece of cake.
I got in at 4:30 PM at the Mass Maritime Academy (MMA). My berthing was on the Patriot State, the training vessel of the MMA. At first I was not to thrilled, as I remember last year sharing a tiny room with three other guys. I was pleasantly surprised as I had a two man stateroom. I smiled as the person that I was suppose to share the room with was a no show, so I had the place to myself. I'll have to let the PMC know I want the same roommate next year <grin>. I was cut up a little bit with saddle sores, so I used some baby powder in my next day bicycling pants to cut down on the chafing. At 6:30 PM Billy Starr (the founder of the PMC) asked told us there were 6 riders still out on the road, including Tom Phillips. Over 1,500 riders and volunteers line up in a 100 yard horseshoe to cheer on them on, especially Tom Phillips. It was an emotional experience.
I got up at 3 AM Sunday morning. I tried to find my bike as it was moved to another building. Bicycles are not allowed on the ship, unlike the berthing in the barracks. I found the bike, put my luggage on the truck, ate breakfast, took a Motrin, then waited until 5 AM for an early start. I had my rain jacket on because it was chilly. As I was starting to climb up the Bourne Bridge my glasses started fogging up and I was sweating heavily. I waited until I got to the top of the bridge to stop and take off my glasses and rain jacket. I could not wear my glasses until the first water stop on day two. I made a joke to Billy Starr as I was leaving that water stop "I'm the Tom Phillips of today, (pointing to my self) last one in at the P-Town Inn".
The roughest part of the ride is always day two. You are pretty much beat up from day one, and there are hills all over the place the first 20 and last 23 miles on day two. I knew I was going to make it before I started out on Sunday, but I also knew I was going to walk up that big bear of a hill in Truro, and sorry, I was not thinking of anyone on day two, including my dad. All I was thinking was to get this ride over with and get out of here. The next 20 miles were uneventful, except the ride was taking its toll on me. When I got to the second water stop a fellow rider saw me in a daze, and was asking if I was OK. I was munching down a few peanut butter sandwiches, and said I was fine, just looking for some Gatorade. I was asked by another rider if I was going to do it. I felt like Rocky in the boxing ring between each round, saying out loud twice "I'm going to do it". I smiled and said to my friend, "But those last five miles I'm staying straight on 6". He smiled and knew what I was talking about. The last five miles since 1991 has you bear right off of Route 6 to take the back way in to the P-Town Inn. It has nothing but up and down hills, and that is the part that I truly hate about the ride. Prior to 1991 it was a straight shot in on Route 6, all flat.
I nearly "bonked"out at the 159 mile point. I wasn't taking enough water on that stretch of the ride. A family off to my left side was offering lemonade. I initially passed them and kept going, then I felt myself getting very weak. I quickly turned my bicycle around and had three glasses of fresh lemonade. I talked with the people as to my reasons for doing the ride. I thanked them for the lemonade and was on my way.
At the third and final water stop of the day I made sure that I ate plenty more peanut butter sandwiches and Gatorade. I took two Motrin and was on my way. As I was approaching what I thought was the biggest hill of the ride I was looking for my two favorite girls. They were no where in sight. As I was going up the hill I was thinking this is too easy. A couple of miles down the road confirmed my worst fear, as I saw the "Hill". I would have been forced to walk up that hill if it were not for them. As I was going up that hill they were yelling "Brian, Brian". I heard more voices from above led by my mom and dad saying the same thing. As I was down to 2 MPH going up the steepest portion of the hill I was worried that my left knee would give out. At that point I felt a spiritual push on my back and I was up to 6 MPH, and I knew I made it. I wanted to stop at the crest of the hill to say thanks to those my two lovely girls but they were too busy cheering someone else, so I continued on my way.
There were a few more back roads before the course turned onto Route 6. At the 184 point my rear tire blew out. I was by the familiar sand dunes. I was having trouble ripping off my old tire. My hands and arms were so weak from running on my brake hoods that I had problems ripping off the old tire, plus being on sand I had to keep the rim on my foot to prevent the sand from getting in to the rim and glue. I was thinking "where is the sag wagon when I need them". I finally got the tire off and put the new one on. I was having problems with my bicycle pump. The valve stem is a Presta Valve, and on my pump I have a lock in device to lock the pump on the valve as I pump up to 110 PSIG. I could not get the pump onto the valve for proper engagement of the lock in device. I did check the pump a week before and it was OK. Fellow riders were asking if I need help. I waved them on, as I knew they were hurting, and help would shortly be on its way. Finally a sag wagon showed up and pumped up my tire. He offered to put my wheel back on and I took him up on it. He and I had problems putting the wheel back on. Two times the quick locking device felt like it wasn't engaging, and it took three tries to get it right. He advised me to go all the way on Route 6 to the P-Town Inn to save time. I lost 45 minutes of valuable time fixing the tire.
At I was approaching the turn off on the part I hate, I decided to go by the official route at the 187 mile point, as I had too much pride going for myself. That and the fact a guy was blocking the access to Route 6 pointing the way to that right you have to take. I knew I could make it as long as no one blocked me off a hill. As I was approaching the first hill I saw an older lady walking her bike up that hill. She was in pain, and was staggering over the lane. I'm running out of gas and said to myself "Please do not cut me off as I am struggling up this hill, as I will turn this bike around and reclimb it again."I passed her, and as soon as she got up the hill she got on her bike and passed me. She did this three more times on me, getting off her bike on a hill, and walking up, except she was not staggering over the lane. When I passed her the fourth time she said to me is the ride over yet. I informed her that there was three more miles to go. She did not walk up a hill again. She told me after the ride that I was her inspiration to keep slugging out the miles. I smiled and said thanks.
As I was approaching the P-Town Inn I stopped my bike, looked up to the sky and said thanks to God. I rode in with that warm feeling that I did all 192 miles without walking up a hill. My six year record is intact.
You all know why I do it, losing so many members of my family to cancer. This past year I lost another uncle to brain and lung cancer, and another uncle is fighting colon cancer right now. My step mom came down with cancer for the second time. There are less success stories with my family history of cancer, but we do win one every now and again. My sister, who came down with cancer while expecting her first child two years ago, is living proof that we do win our battles against cancer. She is in remission and has a healthy baby boy.
In closing when the good Lord tells me to take my final bicycle ride, I hope I will be remembered as someone who tried in his own small way to make it a little bit better world for all of us. I go to a place where troubles are all the same and every one knows my name, that is why I do the PMC. Until next year.
Brian M. Richards.