Sport does the 90 hour--Part deux

I forgot to tell you about some of the more entertaining things that happened during the ride. I think it was Thursday morning when the six of us were leaving Loudeac for the second time that I had my "Lance" moment. It was dark at 5am and even though we had our lights on it was tough to see when we were going down a steep hill at the beginning of this part of the ride. Well, at the bottom of the decent there was this sharp S-turn that I missed. I went straight across a field of grass. Luckily there were no fences or deep ruts or my ride would have been over right there. I got my butt out of the saddle, relaxed my arms and hoped for the best. The mountain biking I did helped and I was able to hook back up with my friends on the road. I don't think they even realized what had happened since I was at the back of the pack at the time. (Lance did the same thing in the Tour this year when Beloki fell down in front of him but I didn't even have to dismount like he did.) Shortly after that we were cruising along when Margo said she was having trouble keeping up and staying in a straight line. It turns out she was riding on a flat tire for a while and didn't know it because she was so out of it from lack of sleep. That was our only mechanical problem the whole ride; pretty lucky.I have to tell you how nice and supportive these people were to me. When I was having my back spasms, we would stop once in a while so Margo, Annaline (and her sister at the controls) and Janet could rub the sports creme the doctor had given me on my lower back. (Notice how I had only the women do this job--I have pictures.) And it wasn't just the friends I rode with that were so nice. I told you some of the stories in the earlier letter but here are a few more (I'll also be sending you some news articles that talk about the ride and every one of them talks about how good people can be to each other even when they are strangers.) Alexei, my Ukrainian friend, told me that on the first night he was getting cold and he had forgotten to take leg warmers so Leroy Varga, my 76 year old friend from Dover, NJ, lent him his leg warmers. I asked some riders from Texas for some ibuprofen to reduce some swelling I was having in my ankles, feet, hands, etc. etc. and they were glad to give it to me even though they might have needed it latter on. Remember Hank form New York; he began the ride with Alex from Peru, now living in the D.C. area. At the beginning of the ride he lost a contact lens and Alex had to raise his hand so Hank could follow his lead in this pack of thousands of riders; not easy to ride with one hand in the dark with all these riders around you. There are hundred if not thousands of stories of riders lending clothes, food, helping with bike repairs and so on and that is one of the great things about bike riders and PBP in particular. What really impressed me was the French people. I'd mentioned how supportive they were. I guess this is like the Olympics coming to town once every four years. Even when we were sightseeing in Paris in heavy traffic and making some bad moves the drivers wouldn't honk or say anything. I think ever body in France rides a bike so they know what it's like. I think it was Friday morning when I was on my own and had only one water bottle; remember Annaline had to take my calmelbak from me because of the back spasms; that I was racing through this small town and I was running low on water when I saw an old lady in front of her house clapping for me (and everybody else). I jammed on the brakes, ran over to her and said "eau" (water). She ran into her house and came back with a big bottle of water and filled my bottle and then offered me more to drink right from the bottle she still had in her hand. I said, "merci bien", took her picture an raced off. I heard stories of people in the French countryside offering riders their bedrooms to sleep when they saw how tired some of the riders were getting. On on nice flat freshly paved road in the country I stopped at a farmhouse for some more water and the farmer was tell me and some of the other riders that this road was used by the Tour de France last year; that kind of felt special but then I realized that the speed they were going was about twice what I was doing at the time; maybe not, that was Friday morning when I was flying. The stories go on and on and even though I said that I would never put myself through this torture again, after reflecting on the thrill and joy of it all, I just might. I'll have to wait another four years and keep up my training to get through the qualifiers but if Leroy can do it at 76 maybe I can do it at 59. Maybe I can convince Tom Pasquale to join me; he was supposed to this time but got injured--good thing, I used his bike traveling case.

to be continued