Apple Cider Century,
September 30, 2007
Buck Hales
After all the anticipation, finally
Sunday Sept 30th, the day of the Apple Cider Century in Three Oaks, MI arrived.
I was on the road by 5:30 and rolled into Three Oaks before 8 EDT. There were
thousands of bicyclists getting ready to ride, there was quite a buzz in the
air as we registered, got our course maps, and then ate breakfast at the fire
station. I mounted my trusty steed and was on the road by 9:00 sharp. These
events are very relaxed and riders start whenever they are ready and keep track
of their own time if interested. I zeroed out my computer and headed out.
Within the first half mile someone’s mirror fell off their beater mountain
bike, nearly causing a big accident as everyone swerved to miss the road
hazard. One of the truly charming things about the ACC is the wide range of
participants, from grocery basket beaters to ultra-light aero tri-bikes, some 5000
riders in all. Of course only a few hundred do the whole 100. There are rides
of 25, 50, 62 and 75 miles. All rides intersect at various points on the
course, especially at the 2nd sag stop in New Buffalo-- 43 miles into the 100
mile course, half-way for the shorter rides. As I settled in to the first miles
of the ride, I found myself in a pack, a club of riders, in matching jerseys,
some 20 or more of them. I was swept along, though had to keep braking as they
were going along at a leisurely 18 mph. I stayed right with them, keeping to
the back of the pack, until we got to the first big hill about mile 8 and the
whole group of them rode away from me like I was standing still. Yikes I
thought, I really have not ridden on many hills, no way I can
hang with this group, though drafting them would have made my ride easier. It
was rather hectic being in the peloton and not
knowing anyone. Soon, though, I was alone in my team of one and felt no
pressure or urgency, after all I still had 92 miles to go. It was a beautiful
day, starting out in the low 60s and not a cloud in the sky. There was a bit of
wind, but so far it was just beautiful. I really enjoyed the bucolic scenery,
the corn fields rolling hills small farms with wooden fence lines, cows and
goats, pumpkin patches, weather worn farm houses and barns. I rolled happily
along, probing my body to see how I felt. I was a little sore in the ilial psoas, a little tight in my
knees, but pretty comfortable. After the first big hill the course was only
mildly hilly for several miles and I warmed up nicely, got into my groove and
pushed the pace. In a very short while I made it to the first sag stop at mile
22. There were 100s of bikes there, a psychedelic display of jerseys and
riders. The accepted norm, apparently, for these events is too tight of a
jersey which reveals the ample guts of many of the men, average age probably 45
years old. I felt nearly svelte in my Grateful Dead bike jersey. I had my first
taste of apple cider and a cup of potato soup, yum! a
banana, some water and was back on the road in about 10 minutes. So far, so good. The ride to the next sag stop at 43 miles
was uneventful, except for the terrible broken pavement in Union Pier. It seems
that the nicer the homes are, the worse the roads. Feeling good, just after 12
pm and it was nice to have a bit of lunch. A cup of potato
soup to wash the PBJ sandwich down. I ran into my old buddy Zeck and his riding mate Denis. They were doing the 50, had
started at 7:30 and we converged at this sag stop at the same time. We enjoyed
conversation and the food, filled up our water bottles and they took off. I had
to wait in the bathroom queue for a while when they took off.
Just a few miles into the next leg, there was a stretch of dirt road we had to
cover, just about 1/2 mile at the most. As soon as I hit the pavement and
rounded the corner, I saw Zeck and Denis standing by
their bikes. I asked if they were ok, yes, just resting their butts. On ward! I
knew from my experience last year, and also from what I'd heard about the
course, that all the really big hills were between miles 60 to 80. I dreaded
this part of course, fearful of my lack of preparation and hill training. I was
a bit surprise when I hit the first really big, and
very long hill at about mile 55. I tried to push the pace up the hill, stood on
my pedals a bit, but realized it was way too big and long of a hill, so I
geared way down and spun my way up and over. At first I was sucking air and my
quads were burning, but I crossed the threshold, got my second wind and kept
spinning. All I could muster was 6.6 mph. I didn't care, as the panic subsided
and the fear was replaced by the surge I felt as I crested the top. I decided
at that moment to hammer the down hills and hang on, do what I could to get up
the hills. So many riders coast down the hills, or crest the top and stop to
rest. I found that I could gear up all the way to the highest gear and crank at
35 mph going down, and catch my breath! My strategy carried me up and
over the next several hills. When I got near the top of short steep hills I
stood on my pedals and marched right over, keeping my speed and momentum. When
I hit a hill that was too tall to climb standing up, I geared down and
spun. My friend and bike guru Giulia's words
resonated as I pushed on “rpms are your best friend". I kept shifting
gears, a lot, to keep my cadence high. I also knew that I should stand
and peddle frequently to take the heat and pressure off my butt and
crotch. Other than feeling a bit winded and my fingers going numb,
especially my right thumb, I felt great. I was greatly relieved, none the
less to make it to the 67 mile sag stop at Scio Springs.
By now, only the long distance riders were on the course, and every one was hot
and tired by this stop. I knew I needed to eat something, but I felt
nauseas and had fierce cotton mouth. The water was from a well and tasted
like metal, and the Gatorade was so sweet and thick, tropical fruit punch, it
was difficult to get any fluids in. So I lay in the shade amongst the other
riders, and relaxed. I stretched, cooled off and enjoyed listening to the
conversations around me. Not to mention the enjoying the view of the very fit
riders—amongst them the “Polar Gods” a group of triathletes,
who discussed their 16 mile run the day before, and doing a 100 mile ride today
for training for Hawaii. And the family of six on the big ride, kids aged 5 to
10. Someone asked the dad, who was wearing a skeleton jersey, what is was like
having 4 kids. He said when he only had two it was man-to-man defense, but once
you had three kids, you had to shift to zone defense, so having four kids was
really no harder than having three. Wow! I had finally cooled off,
ate a bit, drank some of the fluids, and rallied myself. I felt pretty good, but
was worried-- after all the hills were the biggest between miles 60 and 80, and
it was only 67 miles when we stopped.
I started out with a group of young men who were wearing fine looking wool
jersey's and a two tattooed nose-pierced fierce fit looking women in their
group. Immediately we hit a big hill and it was tough getting started. A
guy rode past me and he was breathing rhythmically, loudly through his mouth,
and it reminded me to breathe. They took off, and three or four of the guys
stormed up that first big hill. I decided to pace myself and spun over the hill
in a low gear. When I got to the top I saw the fast guys had pulled up to
wait for their crew, so I took off. I hammered the downs and hung on for the
ups. I felt great, very strong and was glad to be doing the ride alone and not
riding with a group. Soon the course turned south. We headed into
It was a brutal stretch-- 28 miles to the final sag stop. I rolled into
the 92 mile stop and as I walked to the bathroom I had a huge emotional rush,
total body goose flesh and tears in my eyes-- I knew right then I was having
the ride of my life! I was nailing this sucker! I didn't stay long,
only 8 miles to go. I had one last cup of potato soup and chatted briefly with
a pair of fit looking guys on a tandem hauling a 2 year old in a burley.
I hit the road, with one big last hill to climb and I took off in a hurry,
riding strong and fast. Half way up the big hill I dumped my chain. It only
took me a minute to roll it back onto the front gear cluster. The worst
part was the grease. Nothing else wrong, so I was back on the road and
finished just behind the threesome. It was 5:00 pm sharp when I rolled into
TOES: 8 hours out, 6:21 rolling, 16 mph average, top speed 35 mph, low speed 6.6 mph. (2 hours faster than last
year!). I felt great, excited, happy and
relieved! That spaghetti dinner was great! I saw the rest of the 67 mile
sag stop riders at the end. The polar gods, the tattooers and the threesome. We all shared feeling
of camaraderie and a sense of accomplishment. This was my last long
training event before the