7-14-10 Day 39: Poplar, Montana to Glasgow, Montana: 72 miles in 8:32 hours. Rt 2 west the whole day.
Going to tell you something…..I’ve done Ironman triathlons; I’ve gone nearly 28 mph for a 40K TT with a brain just totally numb from the pain; and I’ve suffered like a dog mentally in several “bad” marathons, doing everything I could do just to finish the damn thing – forget the PR! Today ranks right up there with the above mentioned - from a mental standpoint. I’ll tell you, it took all I had to force myself to mentally not crack from today. The weather reports was for a “windy” day, and that was brought home on the Weather Channel by that little windy icon for today’s forecast. I was prepared to buck up and have a tough day, but what I endured was beyond that with the headwind. The wind was out of the west/northwest at 15-22 mph with gusts of 35 mph! Yes, thirty five freaking miles per hour gusts.
I got up early today so I could get an really early start so as to maybe beat the wind, which seems to get worse and worse as the day goes on. So I was up at 4:50 AM and on the bike at 5:40 AM, a new PR for getting on the bike in the morning – yes us sports schleps always seem to tag something with PR! I had eaten 3 peanut butter/jelly bagels for fuel. So I got out on a cool morning where the temp was 53 degrees. Then, like some kind of ditz, I got muddled up and road around the town of Poplar trying to get back on Rt 2 west. God, this place is just unbelievable , what with the really gnarly housing and these “wild” dogs sleeping in the streets and just roaming all over the place barking. I had one chase me and I put it down getting the hell down the road. Finally got oriented right and west I went – into an already stiff headwind.
Two miles down the road I knew that today was going to either totally break me or totally make me. That wind was just neverending and in your face ferocious. Was all I could do to maintain a 9-10 mph average while trying not to cook myself. And I’d have to alternate with in the saddle in like 3 different positions – low, upright, and seat forward – and then when my arse was just totally sore, out of the saddle for like a half mile to a mile at a crack. Started out using the cog that was about 4th from the top. Two hours in I had to concede and to the 3rd from the top and back down to an average of 8-9 mph. I hit the town of Wolf Point about 2.5 hrs in, and I’ll tell you what, if it were like noon, I’d of bagged it right then and there – a total cop out but the wind was just sucking the energy of of my legs like a bloody vacuum sweeper. But, having started at 5:40 AM, it was only 8:15 AM when I pulled into town, and the weather looked good – other than the fact that the wind was just howling out of the west/northwest.
And honestly, I really wanted to see if I could actually deal with that wind for a 72-mile day. So I stopped at a quick shop and got a Dr. Pepper and some ice water, and like a NASCAR pit crew, I was off and back on the bike in 10 minutes. The sign in town said that Glasgow was 49 miles away, and a smaller town, Nashua, was 35 miles away. Took a big swallow and on I went, doing the math in my head, and figuring that I’d be in the saddle anywhere from 7-10 hours, based on how much worse the wind would get. And man did it get worse, much worse. Soon I was just struggling at 8-9 mph, so I bumped it up to yet another easier gear. Now my average was 7-8 mph. It got so bad that I started doing anything to NOT think or dwell on the wind. I started singing out loud, at one time singing the Ballad of the Edmund Fitzgerald, where I changed the lyrics to “Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the WIND turns the minutes to hours.” And it did. Between my cyclo computer and the mile markers, I just had to NOT look at either. The singing got me going for a while, and then I started thinking back to the beginning of my trip and trying to go over each day of cycling to try to pass the time and take my head out of the wind game. That worked to.
Made it through another little town, the town of Fraser, where I was planning on getting a coke and a cookie or something, but this was another gnarly little town on the reservation and I did not want to turn off of Rt 2, which is what you had to do to get there, and go test the waters of the place. So I just kept riding and was hoping that I could make it up to Nashua. And again, always doing math in my head for getting to the destinations. And what with Nashua being 35 miles from Wolf Point, I had figured that it would take me 4 hours at 8 mph to get to Nashua. Yup, 4 hours to go 35 miles – actually more than 4 hours! But I just looked at it as if it were 4. And in the town of Fraser, I was just two hours into that four hours. “When the wind turns the minutes to hours,” I kept repeating to myself. I was just determined to not let the headwind get into my head like it had done a couple of times last year when crossing Canada.
My alternating in and out of the saddle became a kind of game I started playing, going like a mile ITS and then a mile OTS, but I wasn’t using the mile markers, I was just kind of guesstomating it. Another hour went by and the wind continued to pick up, again forcing me into the easiest cog in the back, and down to like a 6.5-7.5 mph average. When I’d go OTS, I could actually go faster, putting it in a big gear and just slowly plodding along with these big lopping pedal strokes. My new goal was a 7 mph average for the rest of the day, so between ITS and OTS I was hoping it would add up. About 3.5 hrs into that four hours to Nashua, I was just really starting to feel like my legs were beaten to a pulp, the quads were sore and my low back and shoulders were sore from the OTS riding. My thumbs were even going numb from putting pressure on the grips when OTS. Man I needed a stop. Now I was prepared to stop if need be and grab some stuff out of my manbag, but I really wanted to just park the bike and sit down and collect myself for a bit with an ice cold coke and some grub, so I kept pedaling to Nashua.
It just seemed like it would never appear, and as the miles ticked off the wind continued to pick up in intensity. There were these gusts that would just hit me like a wall, where I’d have to get out of the saddle and just crank like hell to maintain a silly 6 mph – on the flats! I mean I was literally laughing out loud at how insane it was, how insane I WAS to do this ride. Finally saw some buildings up a slight roller and about two miles away. And it seems that whenever you really want to end something and take a break, that the wind just howls like a witch, like it’s out to make your life so damned difficult for that last stretch, to make you suffer more than anything for just a little longer.
Now Nashua is the end of the Indian Reservation, and I was pretty good with that, and at that line was a little dinner. DONE. I was off and parked and walked in there like I’d just taken a couple of shots to the head by Mike Tyson. I mean I was just totaled. The waitress gave me a couple of glasses of ice water and then a fountain coke. I’d done that 35 miles in 4:15 hrs! Sounds totally crazy, but that’s no joke – and I was DAMNED happy with it. I ordered the special: Burger of choice and side dish. Got a macaroni salad with the burger and consumed in like 15 min, just enough to not loose much time, but enough to get a bit of a break from the wind and rest my legs, arms, shoulders, butt, neck…….pretty much my whole body.
Some folks in the booth next to me asked where I was going and I told them Glasgow for the day. And they said it wasn’t far, just 14 miles up the road. I told them with the wind that 14 miles could very well be 1000. Figured that it would take me 2 hours at 7 mph.
Got rolling again, but this time I was counting down the mile markers. The gusting was just crazy hard, and very frequent by this time of the day, forcing me to a mere 5 mph in the saddle and 6 mph out of the saddle. In, out, in, out, just following the mile markers going a mile in and a mile out. And I counted them markers down, one at a time. By the time I got to 3 miles to go I really felt like I’d accomplished something huge. I mean physically this was just brutal, but it was the mental component that was even tougher. Finally rolled into Glasgow and hit a downhill and saw a sign for this motel, an efficiency called the La Casa. DONE. Thirty five bucks for the same gig as usual: regrig, microwave, coffee maker and some coffee. Good deal, and I was just flamed. Showered for about 30 min, just standing in there and soaking up the hot water rolling down my beaten body. I did the ride in a totally ridiculous 8:32 hours. Now the guy at the motel told me that this was the most vicious wind they’ve had here in a month. Ok, I’m good with getting that one under the belt, and doing like 2-3 of these kinds of days in a row…..NOT! Don’t know if my mind and body could do it. So I was really glad to hear that this is not the norm. Now I obviously expect headwinds, but 35 mph gusts – that’s just unreal to ride in for 8 plus hours. Went to Subway and ordered 2 foolongs. Finished 1.5 and took the extra .5 back to the motel for later. Also picked up a sixer for later. When I finish this blog and after I talk to Judy, it’s beer-thirty for sure.
hardest day i ever spent in the saddle in the san luis valley in co. pedaling down a mountain pass because if you didn't pedal you would stop, 85 of the hardest miles of my life, godspeed man.
ReplyDeleteWhaaaaaat dude. New tales of torture and misery. Nice dude. Sounded lika complete and total gong show. Good work!
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