The Rapha Gentleman's Race -- Team Bicycling still friends

Team captains receive final instructions
The race started at finished at the Velodrome
A lot can happen in 135 miles

I'll just come right out and say it: I have never felt so worked over after a bike race as I feel after yesterday's Rapha Gentleman's Race.

Not my legs, as you might expect from 135 miles and 11,500 feet of climbing, but the rest of my body; arms, shoulders, neck, and ribs (of all things.) How come? Let me put it to you thusly; When Team Bicycling Magazine's six members reached an intersection, we didn't bother reaching for our queue sheets. Instead we just turned onto whichever road was the steepest or in the worst condition -- that road always proved to be the right direction. And they just kept coming.

To put it another way, we traversed lots and lots of rough dirt roads, which, while fun, exacted a physical toll on me and the other cyclists participating in the event. At least I didn't break any bones (there were a few, and not for a lack of trying on my part), and I hope that those who did heal quickly.

Team Bicycling rolls along in the early miles
At one point, we actually thought we'd be able to "drill it" for the last 40 miles
HA!

But enough whining. Owing to the impressive cumulative racing category (1.3) of our six riders, we were the last of the 21 teams to start, rolling off the line at 9:30, two hours after the first team started. During the two hours before our start, I had the chance to watch many of the other teams take off. Participants ran the gamut from portly seekers setting off on tandems to the carbon wheeled set embodied by the BH Garneau team, who were so serious, and, in the words of Sean Smith, (an honorary Bicycling team rider for the day) "out for blood." What did that mean on the road? Whenever they got to pavement they would take if in a paceline at a furious pace, only to come screeching to a halt at the next intersection to discuss directions.

I'll hold off on poking too much fun because I feel bad that one of their riders broke his collar bone, and because we may have accidentally led them off course a couple times -- and also because I accidentally took one of their riders to the pavement when I lost my chain and hit the deck around mile 50 -- but myself and my team mates all agreed that this team (which started directly ahead of us, and with whom we rode for about 40 miles) was too serious for our tastes. I ran into Eben Weiss on the course, who said succinctly, "New York's too serious." Seriousness can pay off, I guess -- before their rider was injured, these guys were well ahead of us and certainly would have been faster -- they just wanted it more.

By contrast, in a very brief, informal team meeting before our start, one of our riders asked what the team's goal was for the day. Did we want to win? Were we just going to cruise? Everyone kind of looked at each other, shrugged, and issued a collective "meh." Having a fun day on the bike and still being friends at the end of the day was the only real goal.

To that end, I can say that we may have pushed the limits of friendship at a couple points, particularly between miles 90 and 120 (at mile 100 I thought to myself, "that was the hardest century I've ever done."), when we faced two really challenging climbs up and over Blue Mountain, followed by an endless series of rollers. The rollers didn't end at the 120th mile, but by then we could smell the stable and the promise of beer and food that wasn't wrapped in foil put extra juice in our legs.

Despite the large time gaps between teams, we passed other riders all day, and had the chance to talk to many other cyclists. Some people got lost, some people suffered on the climbs, some people didn't enjoy the rough descents, but everyone was wearing a salt-streaked jersey and a smile.

Beyond that smile, the race rewards the six-man teams on two scales: The team with the fastest time on course wins an award, and the first two teams to reach the finish are also rewarded. The second team home, in my opinion, had the chance to earn the best prize: 21 cases of beer. So, even though I'd contributed my own "meh" to our team meeting, I did want to try to win the beer. We had, of course, a formidable task to do that, needing to pass 19 of the 20 teams that started ahead of us, the first of which had started two hours ahead.

Despite slowing to a near crawl for some of those middle miles, we nearly won the beer. Upon completing a lap and a half around the velodrome at the finish, we learned that we were the third team home, a very well coordinated tandem team and the boys from Moots having ridden in ahead of us. Our consolation prize was having set the day's fastest time -- a mere 8 hours and 23 minutes ride time, about 8 hours and 45 minutes 55 minutes if you include our four stops to refuel.

It's all in a day's work
We were about 90 minutes slower than we thought
I guess we were too optimistic

It was a good day on the bike, to be sure, and it would have been great regardless of our time on the course. Still, knowing that we'd spoken with our legs, were still speaking to each other, and had lived to ride again another day made the finish line beers taste even better than they would have otherwise.