Anniversary Ride

Ever have one of those days, that when they end, just as you're falling asleep with eyes that are smiling even half closed you think:  "That was a really amazing day, If I were stuck in Groundhog Day the movie and had to live one day of my life, over and over again, ad infinitum and the choice of days were mine this would be that day, or if not The Day, then certainly in the top five I can remember." ?  July 9th, 2015 was that day, or one of them, at least for me.  Given that fact, it seems only right to document it (in order to relive the day later through photos and firsthand accounts) in greater detail than the slapdash FB post that serves as our version of an online journal via social media.  I didn't plan on blogging about it but since I haven't written anything for Jenn for our anniversary, this will have to suffice.

Tradition (now in its sixth year) holds that on our Anniversary we ride together, preferably somewhere new, always somewhere interesting. This year, with the tour of Utah Ultimate challenge looming on the horizon deciding this year's route was easy (and bonus, it had a purpose).  Some of the route Jenn has already ridden in the (now defunct) women's version of the Rockwell Relay so she knows that terrain,  but the climb out of Park City up Marsac Ave. to Empire Pass and then over Guardsman is new ground* for her and having done this before (and after 23 years I am aware of how Jenn's mind works when it comes to races) I know she will appreciate knowing what she's up against and how to prepare (mentally and physically) for it.  So we opt to re-con the Ultimate Challenge route**, most of it anyway, 110 miles and 10K of climb worth, to mark twenty three years of marriage.  You won't find a century bike ride through three counties, past four State Parks/recreation areas and over two mountain ranges in any listing of  traditional or non-traditional anniversary gifts, but neither one of us is complaining.  It's a gift that suits us both.

*except it turns out it's not, she ran this route in the Park City version of the Red Rock Relay, but, as she will find out, doing it on a bike is a different animal altogether

**everything except Little Cottonwood Canyon, cause you don't want to open all your 'presents' early, plus this is supposed to be a fun ride.  In the perverse way that we find this fun.

Screen shot of the proposed ride.  I want to say on the flat screen it looks benign,
but even in a faux 3-D topographical rendering it looks formidable

So Thursday morning ~7am we roll out.  We've dropped the boys at Jenn's sister's house (yes, on one of my top five days we are kid-free, don't judge, for all you know the other four are all about our kids... yeah, how would you know) so we don't have to worry about how and what they will do to entertain themselves, what they will eat or how they will keep out of trouble. The original plan was to start as close to dawn as we safely could without wearing helmet lights.  Two weeks of 100+ degree weather will make you reluctant to ride much past 10am, and this ride is going to take the better part of the day, even if we are hustling, which, since it's not race day, is not our plan. Fortune smiles on us however (it's like Mother Nature wanted this to be a Groundhog Day candidate and was doing all she could to help) and the high temps for the day aren't expected to be above 75 (mid July, crazy).  I actually bring along arm warmers and debate a windbreaker because if it's that cool in the valley it's bound to be quite chilly at 10 thousand feet.  It's in the fifties when we finally get under way and I wear the arm warmers for the first hour of our ride.

Arm warmers?  Check.  Time to strap on your shoes and go dancing.

0715 mile 0 Old Mill Golf Course Park and Ride (and that's exactly what's on the agenda)

0815 mile 17 top of Little Mountain/Emigration Canyon I snap a few photos and notice I have a FB message from my friend Josh.  He's the guy that sold me the Ridley that I still adore and which constitutes the closest thing I have to an extramarital emotional attachment.  Josh is a bike guy.  He works in the industry, knows and or is connected to anybody and everybody who works in the industry locally.  He might not be The bike guy, but he's our bike guy.  So when he messages you out of the blue, it's generally going to involve a deal that's too good to pass on (or he wouldn't bother you).  Jenn's been talking about an upgrade for her faithful 6/13 for a while now but I guess I didn't think she was serious because when I read her Josh's message it's with a chuckle "that silly Josh, we're not buying a bike today or any time soon"

Hey I have a great deal on a really nice bike for Jenn if you are interested. It's a 2014 cannondale Team Synapse SRAM Red. Super clean.

Let me know if you want to look at it

I share the text with her only because she asks what I'm doing.  Jenn tells me to get more details, mainly the cosmetic ones because, like eating gourmet food, you ride a bike first with your eyes.  If it doesn't appeal to that first sense you're unlikely to let it have a shot at the other four, despite the fact that this is Josh and he doesn't deal in anything but top (top) end equipment.  It may or may not pass the curb appeal test but unless you are under contract to ride professionally, it will definitely be an enviable machine, no matter what your current mount is. We're running a little behind schedule (that and I don't take Jenn's interest as anything more than polite inquiry) so rather than respond we hop on our bikes to drop down to Mountain Dell Reservoir (Jenn's favourite part of the Big Mountain ride) and head to the first real climb of the day, the 5 miles and 2000 feet of Big Mountain that take you to the Salt Lake County line.

0900 mile 26 summit of Big Mtn (7600 feet) we reach the edge of Morgan County snap a few photos

and find a kindly older cyclist resting on the guardrail to shoot a few photos of both of us

Yep that's fog in the valley below.  It would be hard to draw up more
perfect conditions for a day-long bike ride

And then, almost as an after thought I shoot Josh a text:

You got a photo? Also, paying for your kids' education = overrated

Also-Also, what colour is it?

Back side of Big Mountain/Morgan County, uncharted territory for us but beautiful.  We'll have to do it again... and I guess we will in less than a month. 

Apparently he didn't get the fourth off and now he's taking it out on our bike ride
Thanks sheepdog.  I thought you guys couldn't get enough of chasing the flock. 

0945 mile 35 East Canyon Reservoir and State Recreation area.  We encounter a good sized flock of sheep and a sheep dog who is having a moment to which every parent of teen-agers can relate.  I sympathize completely but pedal carefully.  I've had run-ins with wild life on my bike.  Assuming the fauna in question weighs more than fifty pounds the exchange generally ends worse for the cyclist than the creature on four legs.  

With serious climbs like Big Mtn, Empire and Guardsman passes in front of you it's easy to dismiss the minor bumps that show up on the elevation map.  This 1.5 miles of double digit grade hill is just such a climb.  Looks even steeper and more menacing from the seat of your bike. 

It rhymes with Jennifer

1015 Mile 45 we make it to Henefer in exactly three hours. Ultimate Challenge Day (ideally) we will be here by 9 am, before the heat becomes a factor at all.  Our pockets are still full of food (energy bars, chews, gus and baked potatoes, so food of a sort) but our water bottles are running low.  The plan is to hit a gas station/food mart in Henefer, get some chocolate milk and maybe some Gatorade and have a snack, but we take the wrong turn out of Henefer (away from the business district, if indeed there was one) and soon we are well on our way to our second Lake/State Park.

Echo Lake, still smiling cuz perfect bike ride so far.

More Echo Lake.  Are those clouds?  Probably nothing to worry about.

1100 mile 55 we arrive in Coalville just as our water bottles run dry.  We've covered half the distance and more than a third of the climb in just under four hours.  Time for a break.

Chocolate milk, olive oil roasted potatoes with salt and parmesan, 
pancake sandwiches with almond butter and jam
and gatorade.
You could ride across the country on that (and it feels like we almost did).

We find a convenience store with outdoor patio furniture for retirees (of which we met more than a few in our brief visit to Coalville) and as I scroll though our photos I notice Josh has responded to my text.  I forgot we were pretending to be in the market for a new bike.

I will get one for you

The bikes get a rest in the shade.
Jenn's (first) Cannondale is blissfully unaware that it is about to be
 given emeritus status 

I would say "who even wears them?" but I've only spent 15 minutes here
and I've already received my answer... several times

There's only one way in and one way out of Coalville, but that doesn't mean that either of them is the right way, so Jenn checks google maps and gets us pointed in the right direction.

After Coalville we roll through Hoytsville and take a detour (literally) that seems like the right way but turns out to be an interesting and bucolic (ok, more bucolic) side trip.  We stop roadside, Jenn checks the smart map on her smart phone and we're back on course, if not on schedule, which we have no schedule other than the gathering clouds of which weatherunderground  tells us are 50% likely to be full of rain and thunder (and 50% not) pretty much starting at 2pm.  So we hustle down the road to Wanship and head east.

1300 mile 70, Rockport Lake and State Park, wind is kicking up (the first thing even remotely resembling inclement conditions so far) but we tuck into the drops and power on.

1335 mile 75 Brown's Canyon Road.  It's a five mile double dip climb that is easy compared to others we have and will encounter.  It's on this hill that I think of how much lighter the Ridley (there's a reason the model name is Helium) is than the 6/13.  It's not the reason Jenn is dropping back on the hills (I've told her about the nightmare that awaits us after Park City and she is wisely conserving) but it certainly doesn't help.  I love, love this bike.  Jenn loves her bike too, but is it possible there's room in her heart (and our garage) for another?  I mull it over in my mind not because I seriously think it will happen but because you have to do what you can to keep your brain engaged when you're in the sixth hour of your ride.

1345 mile 80 Summit County, just outside Park City clouds are gathering and the higher we climb the more serious they look.

We roll into downtown Park City about the time weatherunderground said we may or may not be getting wet.  We stop at a Maverick, eat the rest of the food in our jersey pockets and I check the route map to make sure we don't climb the wrong street.  Every road in Park City is steep and we've already done 6500 feet of climbing, no need (and no energy) to ride up a dead end road.  That's when I see that Josh has dutifully tracked down some photos of Jenn's suitor.  

I show her the picture and she makes the sound you make when you see a puppy, only minus the tenderness and with a bit of lust... OK there was no puppy, it was all wanton desire. This bike spoke directly to Jenn's id.  If she was still resisting the idea, that resistance was token at best.  I didn't have time to consider the wisdom (or lack thereof) in showing Jenn that text from Josh, we had other things to worry about, mainly the darkening skies, the not-so-distant thunder and the nine (mostly vertical and mostly 10-15% grade) miles between us and Guardsman pass.  We get back on our bikes and get to it.

We've been praying that the rain would wait and mostly it did.  Marsac avenue was steep, wet and windswept but it could have been much worse.  The road goes for about 2 miles at 10% grade then pitches to 12% just before the Deer Valley/Empire pass junction.  After that things are manageable (there's even a brief descent) for a mile then the real misery begins.  Two miles of 12-15% grade. It's road so steep you can't bear to look at it so you just look at your cranks and tell your feet to keep turning them, your lungs to breathe regularly and your heart not to seize in your chest, and it all works even though at the time it feels like it can't, not for one more minute. 

The bridge tells you you're almost there, just 50 agonizing meters to the switchback.  An 8% grade has never felt so inviting as now.

1440 mile 90 Top of Empire Pass 9000 feet.  Jenn just climbed one of the worst stretches of bike-able pavement in the state and cleaned it (without weaving) and that after 90 miles and 7000 feet of climbing on the odometer.  It is strong work and impressive.  It's also very cold and very windy.  Glad we brought the arm warmers.

1520 mile 92 Guardsman pass 9800 feet. All our climbing (Ten thousand feet worth) is done.  Time to raise the bike in triumph only the wind (of which there is not a little) won't cooperate.  It's all down hill from here.  Jenn gets on her bike and goes all Canadian Bodsled team power tuck on me.  Watching Jenn descend is oddly gratifying.  As her husband I know I'm supposed to feel envious, maybe even threatened but I don't, far from it. Jenn is never more in harmony with her bike than when she is going downhill fast.  If the 6/13 is making an argument against being replaced this textbook descent is a strong one.  I pull myself from the revery and decide I'm ready for the ride to be done.  We've been going at it now for more than eight hours.  I make Jenn and her rapidly disappearing bike my carrot and I get serious about getting speedy but no matter how small and aero I make myself on my bike, how late and light I get on the brakes in the turns or how much I pedal when the BCC descent flattens I can't quite catch her.  She stays in my sights but just out of reach and would have surely beaten me to the bottom were it not for construction that held her up.  We finish the last two flattish miles of the canyon together, pedaling into violently gusting winds that push us all over the road.  Glad they waited till the last five minutes of our ride to make an appearance. 

1600 Mile 110 No matter how much you love riding your bike, few things feel as good as removing your cycling shoes after a long, hard ride.  

1800 4500 calories.  Not on our plate but burned on our ride today.  The best thing about riding that far, that long and burning that many calories is finding rewarding ways to replace them.  We opt for our favourite Thai place, Mekong Cafe.  Chances are we would have wound up here on our anniversary date regardless.  It's just nice to not feel conflicted about how much we are eating and would have eaten even if we hadn't spent the entire day sweating for our supper.  It's while we are waiting for our food that we talk seriously about the lime green elephant (greyhound would be a more apt metaphor) that Josh stuck on my phone.  Jenn tells me she was planning on getting a new bike by next season anyway and though Josh generally has a deal lined up on a monthly if not weekly basis, I know him and he wouldn't be pitching this bike to Jenn if he didn't know it would be perfect.  Josh sends me one last text telling me he's bringing the bike to Thad's so Jenn can test ride it.  And of course so Thad can tells us we'd be fools not to buy it.  So we go and unlike the 6/13 which has always been 1/2 a bike size too large for Jenn, the Synapse suits her down to her shoes. Even the seat post is set perfectly when she gets on it, cause that's the way Josh rolls.  The bike itself is art on wheels and Jenn is past infatuation and has move on to smitten heading  on a crash course for completely whipped.  

It wasn't the way I had planned for our day to end and it certainly wasn't what I planned for an anniversary gift.  But this is much, much better and honestly the only way to improve upon what has already been a day I would look back on fondly for a long time.  We've reached a new level now.  Almost Groundhog Day worthy.  Only way to top it would be to make out on the couch like teenagers while eating the perfect boysenberry pie and catching up on stages of the Tour de France that we've missed.  Which is exactly what we do.

As the day ends I ask Jenn how did we get so lucky.  How did we end up together, perfect for each other.  And (because according to our oldest daughter Jenn is enlightened while I'm a romantic) she responds.  It's not lucky, it's a lot of work.  I know what she's saying. We've earned this happiness and it hasn't come easy.  At times it was like climbing Marsac Avenue when all you could do is grit your teeth and try to maintain forward momentum but on nights like tonight (and so many other fortunate nights past and to come) it feels as natural and easy as reaching over and stroking Jenn's hair before we turn out the light.  

So  thank you Jennifer for 23 years.  You are a part of every one of my top five days that I would gladly live over and over again

Happy anniversary.

xome

Epilogue

Unlike Relays from years past we arrive at the finish line in time to go shower up before the awards ceremony.  No we won't be making any appearances on the podium but we have a history of great performances in the post-race raffle.  One year I won a T-shirt and a bike based baby carrier that allows you to use your child (along with your helmet) to prevent head injuries from front end collisions on a bike.  Too bad Jennifer and I are out of the baby-business. Maybe use it on the grandkids? 

The I-bert bike carrier:
Really questionable technology
or idea whose time has come? 

Another year I got bibs and two free entries into the Tour de St George.  Kim, in fact, is wearing a pair of shorts that Thad won at last year's raffle( the raffle doesn't know your gender or size, only that you're a winner), so given our history we want to be present.  Also we would like to know how the speedy teams, the riders we want to train ourselves into being and whose finish times we aspire to match, finished.  Unfortunately our best efforts on the road allow only for showering, not for napping.  Probably a good thing, at this point if we actually allow ourselves to slip into R.E.M. sleep we probably won't wake up until Sunday evening.  

  

Case in point, the winners of the Co-ed competitive category (team SBR-WBR aka Fat Cyclist) slept through the awards ceremony.  So we arrive at the park scrubbed but still sleepy and mill around with the other dazed riders and snack on the wraps and cupcakes that Rockwell has provided.  Jenn can't eat any of it, so instead she drapes herself on me, literally.  I feel like I'm wearing her as a mink stole.  She hasn't been this comfortable with public displays of physical contact since we were engaged and for briefest of moments I tell myself "she's seen my prowess on the bike and now can't get enough of me" until I realize that she has actually lost the ability to support her own weight.  If this post-race malaise were a medical condition I would call it 'Relay Rickets'.  It's fatigue on an elemental level, where your bones go bendy, but not at the joints.  I'm reminded of a science experiment I did in third grade that involved a chicken bone left in vinegar for three weeks.  The acid leached the calcium out of the bone giving it a rubber band-like consistency.  That is Jenn (and Thad) right now, they are Cyclists as rendered by Salvador Dali, melting into the St George Sunset.

Photo Bomb courtesy of Cort's wife.  Rockwell Relay staff have been awake
for the same amount of time the riders have, driving the route instead of biking it.
They are undoubtedly tired too, but caffeine can still have this effect on
them.  We, on the other hand, are past that point.

As predicted, we clean house in the door-prize portion of this event.  Let's call it leg thirteen of the race and we own it.  Kim gets a $200 gift certificate from Hyper Threads (all four of those teams, wearing their own apparel of course, finished in less than 28 hours) which should make Kim hyper-fast when she's wearing their kit.  Thad scores some blue tooth based ear buds for riding, I won an equipment bag and we all scored Gnarly* energy supplements and Gnarly* protein powders.  Not a bad haul at all.

*not an adjective but the product name.  Which, yeah gnarly is not a word I associate with something I put in my mouth, so probably a pass.

Sure the riders who finished fastest got a trophy shaped like a sprocket,
but really who are the real winners here?

The awards ceremony gives you a chance to track down riders you met and with whom you became (literally) fast friends as they shared in your season of suffering out on the road. Jenn spots the rider she dubbed 'the Green Machine' who is actually 50% of team Broken Spoke Bikes a pair of cyclists that split those 525 miles and 25 thousand feet of climb two ways.  I'm beyond impressed as I recall the look on Kim's face as she arrived in Hanksville, how broken I felt when I crawled onto the back seat of the truck in Torrey, how exhausted and relieved Thad looked when we came back to him with one last bottle.  How spent he and each of us looked and felt when our three shifts in the saddle finally came to an end.  I double all that 

The spokes may be broken but they are not.

suffering in my mind and go to shake their hands, slap them on the back and give them their well earned propers.  What they have accomplished is a first for the Relay.  It will likely inspire others to make the attempt, just as likely those individuals will be first-timer Rockwellers because I'm having a hard time believing that a rider knowing what's out there would come away thinking "that was great, but do you know what would be even better...?" Then again, these are avid cyclists and endurance athletes we are talking about, crazy feats of strength and suffering are kind of their thing, so maybe look for a new competitive category in 2016?  Just don't look for my name on that list, next year or any year. 

Teams, those that were slower than us (and that percentage went up quite a bit this year) continue to roll in as the awards ceremony progresses.  These teams (and At Dawn We Ride--At Sunset We Finish is among them) have been going at it for almost thirty six hours. I feel their pain, because I have been there, multiple times.  When I hear them call out At Dawn's' team name I go over to talk with them because I know they are first timers and I also know something of what they have experienced over the last day and a half and I'm curious what their opinions and thoughts are about the last thirty six hours of their life.  I ask what they think and would they do it again?  Rider #4, the one still straddling his bike and dripping sweat gives me the 'too soon, way too soon' look that I anticipated, two of the other four give me a frightened look, like I just threatened them as opposed to making a friendly inquiry but the fourth rider gives it some thought and then nods his head, slowly at first and then more emphatically and says "Yeah, yeah I'd do it again, but only with these guys." Pretty soon all four heads (including the one dripping sweat from under his helmet) are nodding in agreement and there is a chorus of "yep, but only with these guys".  Score one more Rockwell Relay team bond forged in the furnace of Utah's southern desert.  One can only guess at how much and how closely they trained prior to the event, but they've shared six months worth of cycling memories compressed into two days time.  And though it hardly compares to actual combat they've fought together in the proverbial trenches and have now probably seen each other at their best and worst, at their extremes of stress and fatigue, physical as well as psychological. It's an experience that will not soon be forgotten.  I'll be surprised if we don't see another At Dawn We Ride team in 2016, albeit a wiser, more seasoned, more prepared and yes faster version of the team that joined the Rockwell graduating class of 2015.

The award ceremony over, we head out for a well earned victory meal and like a hungry pride of lions we are interested in one thing and one thing only: meat.  We've given our muscles about eight hours worth of serious pounding and now our body craves protein above all else.  Kim suggests ribs and maybe steak.  Perfect.  We drive to the sports grille she recommended and as we are walking across the parking lot, Jenn, with the same slightly confused look on her face common to nearly every Rockwell participant we've seen in the last two hours, says "I'm freaking out, we're in St George, but I don't know how we got here. I mean... I... Know how I usually get here... but... how did we get here?"  The sotto voce quandary is just the last in a series of surreal moments that began about the time the sun dropped behind the horizon Friday night.  Each one of us hears what she is saying, all the words make sense but none of us can formulate a plausible answer, or if we can it will take too much effort.  In the restaurant we are handed menus that appear to be written in Hebrew and for some reason our server will only speak to us in Portuguese.  We are four well-educated, literate adults and between us we can't remember how to order food in a restaurant. Fortunately the encrypted menu has pictures and the pictures are of meat. Stacks and stacks of meat.  We point to a few, and the Portuguese waitress brings us food, which we consume, greedily and the world slowly begins to make sense again.  The rest of the evening passes in the same dream-like fog to which Jenn gave voice with her existential  'where am I and how did I get here' soliloquy.  At some point we must have gone to Nielsen's frozen custard and purchased two pint sized and one quart sized containers of custard, the flavours of which, how, when, and by whom they were consumed is still a matter of debate as the only evidence that it happened at all were the empties we found the next morning. 

Collectively we wake from our coma sometime mid-morning and head to the traditional Sunday brunch spot that Thad (a frequent visitor to SG) introduced us to several Relays ago.  It looks like a dive from the outside and like the Patio in Blanding, the cover of the book is a pretty good indicator of what you will see inside as well, but man the food is great.  If you're looking for a delicious omelette (no waiting) I don't know why you would go anywhere else. With ten straight hours of sleep under our belts we're able to semi-lucidly evaluate our performance and crunch the numbers.  The results are mixed.  On the one hand we logged the best finish time ever in five tries and not by just a few minutes either.  On the other hand, of the eight co-ed competitive teams that registered we finished sixth and only seven competitive co-ed teams actually posted an official time.  So kind of a feather in the cap/slap in the face sort of scenario.  Regardless of how we finished in the pecking order, we had a great time. I think Thad and I both were wondering what to expect.  The idea of riding it with our spouses was a bit of a lark, one I think we didn't anticipate actually happening. Rockwell Relay is generally a four day bro-out with a bike race as a backdrop (and our previous results have reflected that) but after last year's debacle we decided we'd had enough of that.  Riding with our wives would assure us of a team that would come fully prepared to ride but there was no guarantee that it would be entertaining or even the least bit fun.  We assumed it would but (as earlier and frequently stated) lots of things can happen in 500 miles of constant riding and many of them can be bad.  Bad with buddies you can leave on the road and go back to your life when it's done.  Bad with your wife goes home with you, sleeps next to you and is angry at you on the couch and at the dinner table.  The flip side to that is if it turns out well (which it did, and then some) it's about as good as it can get.  What we ended up experiencing was the ideal:  near perfect riding conditions, an unbelievably enjoyable ride with a team that worked well together, supported each other in suffering and laughed, lots (and lots and lots).  If there was one missing piece it was the fact that we didn't compete.  With the exception of one crew, every other similarly staffed team was done racing for more than an hour by the time we crossed the finish line.  Even over omelettes, without all the results available it was evident that there was room for improvement, things that could be done better, more efficient training, different leg assignments that might better match team member's strengths, more regimented nutrition, more focused workouts all with the aim of improving our performance.  But Thad and I are both still feeling a bit cagey, we've done this before and we know better than to make 'we'll get 'em next year' pledges while still firmly in the grips of the Relay hangover.  Better to reminisce about the ride, relive the high points, lament the missed opportunities and (before split times are posted and collated) congratulate ourselves on our strength in the saddle.  

It's somewhere in the midst of this discussion that Jenn throws out "You know, if you ever want to get on the podium you're going to need us."  Followed by a slightly uncomfortable silence.  It's likely a true statement.  As a men's competitive team we have never been closer than 8 hours from the eventual top contenders, as a co-ed crew we are less than two hours away, that would mean shaving 10-15 minutes per leg which seems imminently doable.  I can almost hear Thad mulling it over.  He's far from committing to anything but at the end of the day he's a competitor and a numbers guy and these numbers intrigue him. Whether or not Jenn knows this or intended to do so she has planted a seed in the most fertile part of Thad's race focused mind, the part that tracks watts and functional thresholds the way investment bankers track bond prices and prime interest rates.

Confusing pop art or cautionary tale?

It's about this time that I excuse myself to use the men's room and I reacquaint myself with Pugilistic Utah In a Santa Hat (oil on canvas)  I forget about this painting every year till we return to Jazzy's Java and Juice (and Rock and Roll Diner) and every year it troubles me because, what does it mean and perhaps more to the point is it possible I am just imagining it (it's so bizarre)?  Is it a visual hallucination brought on by Relay stress, like the Zombie-walkers on Boulder Mountain which were actually observed by dozens of race participants and quite real, the only question being why were they there? Similarly, why Angry-Fightin' (but still festive) Utah in the Jazzy Java water closet?  In light of the conversation I left at the table I see it in an entirely different context.   Granted, the only context I previously attributed to it was 'that's gotta be the best white elephant gift ever' but now it seems to carry a deeper meaning and message. If in a year I want to be back here completely satisfied with my Rockwell experience on every level (including competing for a podium spot) it's going to be a fight.  No hibernating for the winter.  Come the Holidays I'm going to have to pass on the egg nog, say 'no thanks' to the second helping of Christmas ham and when I do indulge in the season's culinary traditions I'm going to have to match that indulgence with an equal portion of firepower on the trainer and in the gym.  The Relay Race that bisects the state every June is a brawl, better put on your gloves and your game face and get to work, starting now.  

I return to the table to find Thad silent as sphinx but Kim and Jenn are already planning next year's race, critiquing their individual performances, mentally trimming their weight, increasing their leg and core strength, improving riding techniques, eating like an athlete, and plotting training regimens.  That talk continued as relaxed our weary muscles in the hot tub, while we packed for home and pretty much the entire drive north.  They may have only planned on nibbling at the Rockwell bait but ended getting deeply hooked.  They want more. I suppose neither Thad or myself should be surprised.  Whether or not there is a reprise of our performance remains to be seen.  One thing's for certain, no matter what happens:  The Honeymoon's Over*.

*next up: Tour of Utah Ultimate Challenge.  Saturday, August 8th.

Rockwell Relay 2015: The Ride of Our Wives part 4

Part Four:  If it's a new day, why is it still dark?



Moab Leg 8 Details

Distance:	36.1 Miles
Start Elevation:	5,983 Feet
Finish Elevation:	6,632 Feet
Total Ascent:	1,998 Feet
Total Descent:	-1,345 Feet
Net Elevation:	649 Feet
High Point	7,838 Feet
Low Point:	5,809 Feet

Leg 8 Notes

Shortly after leaving Henrieville you will pass through the small towns of Cannonville and Tropic. In Cannonville at mileage 3.4 you can find a visitors center for the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. After Tropic enjoy the views to the west of Bryce Canyon National Park from below. At mileage 10.9 you will enter the Park. The road winds up the canyon with spectacular red hoodoos all around. Yes, the official name is a hoodoo. Reach the summit at mileage 14.4 and stay on top the plateau for about 9 miles, then begin the decent into Red Canyon. Again more hoodoos in every direction and pass though the 2 red rock tunnels at mileage 24.4 and 24.5. At the bottom of Red Canyon take a right in UT-89 and finish the leg into Panguitch.

Like I said earlier, Thad covers* the Boulder to Henrieville midnight run like a Japanese bullet train in express mode, arriving in 3hrs 20min.  We know he's coming in hot so when we get to the exchange we park and scatter to battle stations.  Kim heads into the church bathroom that the denizens of Henrieville (population 159, though on the second Saturday in June that number increases almost exponentially) are kind enough to loan us, Jenn hydration and lights: helmet and handlebars (Thad gave us complex instructions on how to get said light set charged which I probably would have promptly forgotten even with a full night's sleep and a clear head but which Kim and Jenn,who at the time was bombing down boulder mtn's** south slope must have figured out cause lights are on and blazin') and I get bento box, saddle bag and tail light duty and working together we manage to get Kim and her bike to the exchange chute just after Thad arrives.   We do give back a couple of those hard earned minutes, but only a couple.  And really, Thad has only himself to blame (why so fast Cap'n Engar?)

*Upon further review, only 20 cyclists did that leg faster than him this year, not 33 like originally reported.  Crazy. I'm still trying to process that. 


** (also, from previous blog entry) Post race addendum.  A male cyclist's time was listed along with the QOM finishers as the second fastest.  This has since been amended and Jennifer actually took the third spot (podium finish) on the Boulder KOM/QOM climb (woot-woot). In the awards ceremony they only recognized the King & Queen respectively which is a good thing because otherwise we would have to call up the Rockwell Riders and organizers and hold a post hoc podium ceremony and photo op, I would insist upon it.  That said, it was a brilliant performance on her first time doing Rockwell against veteran riders.  

"There were breakfast burritos? Where?  When?" -Kim 

Kim mounts up, somebody probably gives her a whack on the bum, and she disappears into the pre-dawn darkness, pedaling (again) into uncharted territory for us.  Cyclist 4 has only had to use a light once in my recollection and then only for about 30 minutes.  Most of Kim's second go-round on the bike will be done in the artificial light she carries with her.  Having sent her off, we return to the (as voted by riders) best exchange spot in the race aka the Bountiful Bike Shops' Breakfast Burrito stand (now in it's third year and an established Rockwell Tradition, great job guys, and thank you).  I've been looking forward to this ever since my stomach settled, somewhere back on Boulder Mountain.  I told Jenn about it and she made (and carted across half the state now) gluten free crepes in anticipation of this her first hot meal in almost twenty four hours.  It's the beginning of the "this is best thing I've eaten in ..." refrain which is uttered with increasing frequency (and for the humblest of foods) as we grow more and more weary of consuming items that come from our jersey pockets and include the word 'energy' in their packaging.  Jenn consumes most of her burrito and gives the rest to me (she's not sure how her stomach will react and she's probably still a little unsteady after her red line performance on Boulder Mountain) which is good because I was still hungry after one.  Thad, recently of the PR, uber-wattage midnight run through Escalante, kills two full burritos and is probably considering a third but we have a rider on the road, in the dark, who happens to also be the mother of his children, so we pack up and leave the eggs, hash browns and sausage to the other Rockwellians.

Kim's first leg featured her longest climb, this one is the steepest, but shorter.  Lots shorter (I thought) but in actuality it's more than a dozen miles of climb.  Some gorgeous scenery as you move into Bryce Canyon National Park but the big effort Kim and team Taking Turns' gave on day one that got us to Capitol Reef in the light of day is now costing her the majestic views of Bryce Canyon's hoodoos as she climbs the 15 miles from Cannonville to the high desert plains outside Panguitch in darkness.  I wish I could say we were right there with her, that our collective 'off the bike' energy propelled her to the heights but that would be less than accurate.  What I can recall are at least three separate roadside conversations that were variations of:

Jenn:  (startling herself awake) "wha, wha, did she pass us already?"

Thad: (twitch, snore, mutter something like 'stupid burrito' then pass out again)

Me: "I don't know, I was asleep."

Jenn "You're supposed to be watching, you've slept more than any of us."

Which, true, but at this point that's like being the member of a leper colony with the most remaining digits, possibly noteworthy but hardly helpful.  None of us are in any shape to offer more than the most cursory assistance to our rider.  We've always said a dedicated driver (really two) would be ideal but have never actively pursued it but probably should. We needn't have worried though, If Kim's battle with the desert roads from Lake Powell to Hanksville left any scars, physical or psychological she's showing no signs of it now.  She handles the solitude, the cold, the dark, the hill, the washed out and reduced to one pot holed-gravel lane near the summit of the Bryce Canyon climb with aplomb.  Meanwhile we are are waging our own personal wars with fatigue, cramped quarters, even more cramped muscles and the after effects of roadside breakfast burritos.  Thad, after a valiant effort, loses said battle and returns his Bountiful Bike blue plate special to its mother earth.  The incident has Jenn (who has tossed her cookies exactly twice in the last 35 years, the second time resulting in a trip to the emergency department) worrying that he will be unable to finish his last leg and she begins doing the inevitable arithmetic in her head, mentally dividing Thad's remaining miles among us.  I know better however.  'Juice has got strong legs and an even stronger heart and lungs but he has a semi-weak stomach and is prone to motion sickness. He's done some serious spinning on twisty roads at speed and elevation.  He just needs to puke a little.  Give him a breath mint and a nap and he'll right as rain, I'm confident.  Jenn isn't so sure but goes along, because what else can she do?

Tradition holds that I make a hash of capturing this idyllic race moment as our rider tucks through the double arches in Red Canyon as I screw up the photo.  This year  it's still semi dark when Kim gets here and by this time she has already sent us ahead to the exchange, so you get this perfect rendering lifted from Google images (sans cyclist)

Within a few minutes of 'the Burrito Incident' Kim blows past our roadside pitstop, yell's "Team!" startles us to activity and when we chase her down for a 'last call!' and she cuts us loose to make the final run into Panguitch.  It's lighter now, though the sun has yet to show itself on the horizon.  It's cold but has been colder, even later in the day in years past. Again, these conditions will be hard to improve upon, ever but those same idyllic conditions leave me standing in front of my duffel bag like Jenn in our closet on Sunday morning, wondering what will be the right thing to wear.  I'm still debating as Kim rolls in to the exchange at 6:50 AM, logging a more than respectable 2 hr 48 minute finish arriving exactly 12 hours (almost to the minute) since she and I did this same thing in Hanksville. These last 4 legs are bound to be covered in far less time.

Legs 9 and 10 have changed several times due to the conditions that can exist
when your anticipated route includes mountain roads that climb above
10,000 feet.  The online race bible has not been updated so we will use this
screen shot provided by the ever resourceful Jenn.

Unlike previous Cyclist 1 legs, leg 9 (at least the revised Duck Creek Re-route) features some significant downhill.  A welcome first for my now road weary legs.  Of course before you get to the downhill you climb, climb some more and climb some more after that.  Also, your joy at finally being allowed to bomb a descent is tempered by the knowledge you have from past rides, and now the updated in hard copy but not online race bible, that every foot you go down you will have to climb again (again).  Couple that with the early hour, the unpredictable temperatures, the lack of sleep...  Boy, sounds like we're working on a theme re: this race.  Have you noticed?  But as with earlier legs of this race, conditions couldn't have been much better.  I climbed and climbed and then climbed some more after that (see above) and didn't see much in the way of other riders or teams for the first half of the ride. Both Jenn and Kim have told me (multiple times) that I looked good, strong even on this section of road which I think probably had more to do with the terrain we were covering as opposed to how hard I was pushing.  You tend to develop a very keen sense of sympathy pain for the guy (or, new this year to us: /gal) in the saddle as you see and then drive effortlessly up the hills he/she will have to pedal.  You know how tired your own legs are, how unwilling you feel to hop back on your bike and your soul groans a little every time you see the road pitch up and keep climbing. It can make a very journeyman-like effort appear absolutely heroic to the exhausted observer.

Just past Panguitch lake I see my first cyclist and work on reeling him in, it takes a bit but I do so and am just beginning to congratulate myself when I realize he's not wearing a bib number on his jersey or bike, just a guy out on an early Saturday morning ride and probably wondering why I look so pleased with myself for passing him.  I do catch the lead* rider of team Daisy Chain (eventual women's competitive champs) just before Mammoth Creek Road and I tell her about our upcoming reprieve from the constant climbing.  It was welcome news for both of us.  As I climbed out of the Duck Creek Depression (both geographical and emotional, dropping a thousand feet just to climb those same thousand before you even turn a crank on level ground will get you down in the mouth) we began encountering runners of a Zion-based Ragnar race whose route coincided for about thirty miles with that of our Relay (and yeah, I caught and dropped dozens of them).  

*yeah I'm congratulating myself for beating a girl.  If nothing else this ride completely erases any antiquated notions like being 'chicked' on a ride or inequality of gender.  If you're still on your bike and pedaling at this point, you are an athlete and a strong one, simple as that

About a mile from the exchange, not certain because there were no helpful and encouraging two miles and one mile left, blinking road signs like there have been on previous legs (I'm not implying the Ragnar runners stole them, but they are the only other people up here and if I were running at this altitude, encountered a sign that told me I was done in a mile and then later found out it was lying, well I would at the very least go back and find that sign and throw it in the bushes, just sayin') I get passed by Jared and another rider he is working with.  He gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder and a 'good job, keep it going' and pedals off, like he has a special arrangement with gravity that I don't. Which of course he does and if said arrangement were expressed as another Rockwell Relay math equation it would go something like this:  

Where X=the weight of the climber from Team Taking Turns With Spouses:

Jared = 2/3X  

Which yields the predictable result in split times.  If you remove all the teams who don't post a split time for this leg (and there were about a dozen which means teams are getting too tired to remember how to ride through a timing chute or more likely are skipping legs, taking a nap and driving to the next exchange) I'm about the same for this leg as the others. Faster than some, but slower than a lot more.  Bottom line is, to be competitive in this race you need a true climber, not just a guy who doesn't mind riding up hills. It also means that while we were sleeping and having disagreements with each other and the food we ate in Henrieville, Kim was busy catching and dropping (again) cyclist 4 from Jared's team.

I make the Duck Creek exchange in just over two and a half hours, and at ~9:30 am I unstrap and deliver the time chip to Jennifer one final time and though this race will go on for us well into the afternoon, my part of it is O-ver!  It's about this time that cyclist 3&4 start thinking "You know those hills really aren't that bad and there aren't that many of them. It would be totally worth it to climb them if I could be done right now."   And, to an extent (and that extent may or may not involve having your will broken and your soul bruised) they are right. It feels great to be done.  

Still working off Jenn's resourceful screen shots

Each cyclist gains at least a passing knowledge of the terrain with which his/her other three teammates will have to contend but you study your pages in the race bible like it truly is Holy Writ and your cycling salvation depends on it.  So Jenn knows what she has coming or at least believes she does.  The theme of this leg is descent, almost 5k worth of descent from close to ten thousand feet near Cedar Breaks down to main street in Cedar city.  Lots of things can happen to roads at this elevation and from a cyclists' standpoint, most of them are bad.  One year the planned route had not been opened yet because snow hadn't melted, another year a massive mudslide closed down the canyon for six months.  Even on the best years, like the one we are currently experiencing, the roads at this elevation pitch and wind dramatically. It keeps things visually engaging and on any other day would be the sort of adventure you love to have on a bike but today is not any other day.  Jenn is confronting the limits of how well prepared you can be basing your knowledge on what the race bible and first hand accounts from past riders can tell you.  It's easy to dismiss this leg when you compare it to what you had to do by yourself, in the dark of night on Boulder Mountain.  And it's a valid point, the two are far from comparable but this leg still has climb, 1500 feet worth and now at altitudes above nine thousand feet on muscles that instead of being allowed to recover have been used harshly and badly mistreated and are now struggling with the limited oxygen they are being supplied.  

In short (as previously stated) Rockwell Relay gives no free passes and Jenn is receiving a personal witness of that fact.  I tried to warn her this leg will fool you.  There is climbing, a ride over Suncrest worth of climb.  Those vertical feet are stretched over 14 miles as opposed to the 4.5 of Suncrest but it's steep at times and you will be tired.  Very tired.  In every way you can be tired.  Only Jenn knows if she took that advice to heart and to what extent she was unpleasantly surprised  by leg 10.  By her own admission she could have done it faster but I feel that way after almost every ride, training or racing, that I do.  It's that selective memory, universal to all endurance athletes that clouds out the pain and misery and keeps you coming back for more.  Keeps you believing you can improve on a result because when you are reviewing your numbers on Strava you are filtering out the recent burning of your lungs, cramping of your muscles the pounding of your heart, and the throbbing in your head.  

Support at this point in the race dwindles, inevitably.  First day we are all standing roadside
giddy with cowbells in hand.  Now we are down to two in the truck (generally asleep) and the driver
awake only because she has to be to drive sticking a head out the window and shouting
"You OK?"

So whether or not Jenn could have climbed harder or faster is a matter for personal debate one that has brought all of us back to this race, year after year.  The descent (and again, that's 2/3 of this leg but less than half resulting time) is another story altogether.  Even if you are confident and skilled at going down hills (check and check for Jennifer), Cedar Canyon is a terrible place to ride your bike.  Lots of traffic, not much shoulder to work with, crappy roads (this is mudslide territory and the slides that don't wipe out the road still leave plenty of gravel, rocks and boulders to contend with) and the ever present crosswinds that threaten to push you into a guardrail or oncoming traffic at any moment. Jenn handles it all without difficulty.  Perhaps not as fast as she may have liked but you're really not going to make up or lose a lot of time here.  They do move the exchange point away from the convenient park at the mouth of Cedar Canyon to a less convenient and far less inviting middle school parking lot near downtown.  The route forces riders to stop at lights and cross busy roads, delaying Jenn's arrival just enough to make me worry that something untoward may have occurred up the canyon but just before I tell Thad and Kim that I'm heading back to check on her, our rider pedals into the exchange smiling the smile of one who has met the Rockwell Relay head on and defeated the portion allotted to her. Done and done, Larsen half of Team Taking Turns' anyway.  Time to relax in the truck.









Moab Leg 11 Details

Distance:	41.5 Miles
Start Elevation:	5,871 Feet
Finish Elevation:	5,362 Feet
Total Ascent:	1,224 Feet
Total Descent:	-1,654 Feet
Net Elevation:	-509 Feet
High Point:	6,467 Feet
Low Point:	5,295 Feet

Leg Notes


After leaving Cedar City make the 1,000 foot climb to the Iron Mountain Pass where early Utahn’s settled in 1850 as part of the “iron mission.” After the pass at mile 30.0 arrive to the quaint town of Newcastle and follow the Bench Road through the ranchlands until you arrive to Enterprise.

Leg Nicknames: Forty Miles of Charmless Road, I expected more from town called Enterprise, Hit the Showers and simply Merde!*

*Thad insisted on that last one and bases it on his experience riding through the thoroughly visually and olfactorally unpleasant, wind swept farm roads of east Iron County and for my Francophone readers I looked it up.  It means dung.

Another nickname for this leg could be "Are we seriously still doing this?  Still?  Seriously?" The answer in triplicate rhetorical form is "Yes, we are.".  Thad is geared up, water bottles full, tires pumped and legs ready to churn and he has to sit on that simmering pot as he watches one team after another meet their rider and send them off.  Having done this before he knows how long, hot, windy not to mention bleak this leg can be.  He could use some company, if for no other reason than to break up the monotony.  He chats up every rider* that mounts up and sidles next to him in the chute gauging their level of fitness, confidence and suitability as a much envied and rarely available at this point in the race, ride partner. He's generally encouraged with his responses and prospects and then equally saddened as they pedal off, leaving him like a refugee waiting in camp for his visa to be approved.  

*one of them turned out to be the orthopaedic surgeon who reset their son's broken leg several years ago.  He is tall, lean and athletic looking.  If the rest of his team is in similar shape you would think they would be much closer to St George at this point.  Thad asks him what his power will be on this leg and is told that [Dr Van Bouren] will try to hold 260 watts.  Thad tells him he averaged 248 on his last leg causing th egood Dr to do a double take and re-evaluate the cyclist he's talking to.  He asks if Thad is the team ringer and if so, why is he not riding cyclist one.  Legitimate questions and ones we will surely re-visit prior to 2016

After half a dozen prospects come and go (including Jared's cyclist 3 rider) Jenn arrives, gives Thad the customary smack on the bum for luck and tells him get to it which he does in very Thad-like fashion.  If you come to Rockwell seeking drama (ie will our rider make it to the next exchange?   Will he crack and give up?  Will the conditions be too tough, the race too challenging, the wind and heat too formidable) then Thad is not your ideal teammate.  He comes prepared to get the job done and then rides exactly the same way he trained putting down the exact numbers* he knew he would not surprising himself in the least by his performance.  If you want drama choose a 'Real Housewives of...' to watch but don't try to find it by making the 'Juice a member or your team.

*possible exception (again, still) his soon to be the stuff of Rockwell Legend midnight run through the Grand Staircase Escalante Monument

the penultimate bottle exchange. good thing we went back for one more

We let Jenn get changed and cleaned (as much as you can do those two things in a port-a-pottie in a middle school parking lot), find some food* to eat and go track our rider who (big surprise) is taking care of business. He has already started catching (and after a few hundred meters dropping) riders who left Cedar City before him, so the sting of waiting to ride has been lessened somewhat and now the biggest competitor he is facing is the heat and (you knew it couldn't stay away forever) the wind.  The former is the real deal, the latter is still manageable especially compared to past stints he has put in on this road.  We hand him a bottle and he sends us up to the top of Iron Mountain, about the midway point of his ride and after all his climbing (or all that he remembers there is) is done.  We waves us from there to the exchange to wait for him with the assurance that he won't be long.  We drive the indirect distance to Enterprise and it feels loooooong and hot and dusty and though none of us says anything we are all thinking 'that's a lot of ground to cover on one water bottle' " Then Kim does say it "That felt like more than 20 miles, didn't it?  Do you think we should maybe go back."   Which we debate longer than we should because Thad cut us loose and if we go back we might lose more time at the exchange if Kim isn't ready when he comes in.  Even if you're not competing for a podium spot, those lost minutes befuddle you as you play the multi-layered 'if only' game in the months ahead. Kim has been married to Thad for almost two decades.  I've ridden thousands of miles with him, have plotted and planned for this race for months and years, we know how he thinks even when he doesn't say it out loud.  Finally we just give in and figure if he doesn't need us we will hustle it up team style like we did in Henrieville and have Kim ready on time one way or another. 

*Arby's, which like a lot of things we do this weekend is only OK within the 'normal rules of demeanor and decorum, sensibility and sanity don't necessarily apply here' bubble that is the Rockwell Relay

The decision to go back turns out to be the right one, a game saver even.  Thad is still 10 miles out (turns out there was still one more hill, this should come as no surprise to any of us at this point, there is always one more hill) when we get to him, pedaling into the hottest hours of the day with maybe a swallow of water left in his bottle and another 35 minutes of hard riding ahead of him.  As soon as he sees us he looks absolutely relieved, rescued even.  He promptly swigs the last of his liquid and reaches out graciously for the last bottle we brought.  We speed back to the exchange (again at a new locale, not in the parking lot of the Truck Stop/Convenience Store (with bathing facilities where it usually is) which is actually half a mile closer than the old spot which turned out to be exactly where Thad was willing to ride, and not a meter more.  Kim mounts up and heads south, into the heat to brave the steep hills and violent crosswinds of Veyo.  I rack Thad's bike and drive him to the Truckstop/YMCA so he can shower up.  He has done this every year and swears it is the best five-buck Truck Stop shower on the planet.  Which, like me claiming that the parking lot in Escalante High School the best pavement for sleeping seems to be damning with the faintest of praise but Thad swears by it and we won't be leaving until he gets his shower so we leave him to it. 

Moab Leg 12 Details

Distance:	39.6 Miles
Start Elevation:	5,362 Feet
Finish Elevation:	2,687 Feet
Total Ascent:	1,020 Feet
Total Descent:	-3,658 Feet
Net Elevation:	-2,675 Feet
High Point:	6,175 Feet
Low Point:	2,687 Feet

Leg 12 Notes

What better way to finish the Rockwell Relay than with a 3,000 foot plus decent into St. George. Pass through the cedar and juniper rich mountains south of Enterprise and then descend down through the ancient volcanoes near Veyo. The route follows the St. George Marathon route into downtown. Obey all traffic rules and stoplights in St. George. If desired the 3 team members can meet up with Cyclist #4 at the north end of Diagonal St. to finish the last mile of the course together. Follow Diagonal St and follow the signs flags to Bluff Street park. Victory! You have made it and deserve a good rest and time to relax. The Bluff Street Park is the ideal place to sit, lay down, or nap in the shade and get the rest you need. Congratulations!

Gauging from Kim's mood, she has been looking forward to leg 12 for some time now, and not just because it means this race against sleep deprivation and the elements is almost and finally coming to an end, rather it's because she will at last be riding on roads with which she is familiar.  The final 20 miles or so follow the St George marathon, which she has run before, almost exactly.  Also, she and Thad have ridden these roads on training rides so unlike the previous two legs she knows exactly what she is up against.  That knowledge is a knife that cuts both ways however.  On the one hand she knows the hills, when they come and how long they last but she also knows how violently the wind can blow through Veyo and all along Highway 18 leading into St George.  In fact, on one of the aforementioned rides she had her helmet practically blown off her head, blown to pieces in fact, by a particularly violent gust that coincided with the passing of a semi truck.  So she knows a little something about how bad it can get.  It's not that bad today but it is windy and it is hot.  St George-summer hot (the calendar and the farmer's almanac are finally paying attention to each other again).  I said it before and I'll say it again now, we all did our part to help move the team along from Moab to SG, but Kim got more than her share of weather extremes.  So we keep an eye on her for the first fifteen miles of her leg.  We swap out a bottle and stay close until the lion-share of her climbing is in the books.  

Before I can get the camera locked and loaded
Kim is across the line and ready to dismount
for the last time

Just before Veyo she waves us off and we book it into town only it's further and flatter and up hill-er than the race bible would lead you to believe.  We're not surprised by the fact that what appears on the page does not necessarily accurately depict the reality as seen from a bike seat.  We're used to that by now but the memory of Thad being nearly reduced to a desiccated hulk is fresh in our minds so we debate between the two of us whether we should go back to check on her one last time.  Having done this before I vote no, these last fifteen miles, even in terrible conditions can fly by, she will be at the finish before we know it.  Jenn  is for going back we look to Thad for a deciding vote but he is nowhere to be found.  To be precise, his body is in the back seat but his mind?  I've never actually seen a lobotomized person but this is the way I would imagine they might appear and act.  We repeat the question, several times and finally Thad breaks his thousand mile stare and says "I'm literally having dreams about the conversations we are having while we have them. So?"  So we opt to head into town and it proves a wise decision because we are only there for about ten minutes when the PA announcer calls out "We have another rider finishing, Team Taking Turns With Spouses!" (standard second or two of awkward pause) and then:  "I don't need to know the details."  I laugh because finally somebody treats it like the innocent joke that it is.  That and because we are done and done in record time.  Somewhere north of Veyo Kim makes it her goal to finish her last leg in less than two hours and despite winds that have blown the inflatable Rockwell podium backdrop out of the park she does exactly that by less than a minute but she does it.  Every member or our team lead busy lives, all of us have had to make sacrifices to train properly but for Kim the majority of her training while going to dental school full time and relentlessly studying for boards (I'm quite sure that many of her sessions on the trainer were done in front of a laptop with test questions as opposed to Seinfeld re-runs on Netflix) and her dedication coupled I'm sure with Thad's ability to squeeze the most results out of limited time and availability has paid off for her and for the team.  Together Team Taking Turns' has managed to shave almost twenty five minutes from the best result we've recorded with the fully loaded testosterone teams of Relays past.  It's a result that falls squarely between Thad's what we should expect and better than we could have hoped.  In short, as husbands and teammates we are both pleased but not necessarily surprised. 

Kim get's a well and hard earned congratulations from race organizer Dan Stewart

The numbers don't lie, across the board, leg by leg, split by split, our wives have equaled the best efforts of their predecessors, and if you match them against total time on the bike for cyclists 2 and 4 as an aggregate year by year they beat them, hands down. It's a game performance on their parts. They have done themselves and the Relay proud and it has been an honour to ride with them.

Next up:   Part five, Epilogue (what's next?)