Bike for the Cure (July 17, 2005)

It’s mid-July, and I’m in Aspen for the weekend again. We just rode the Triple Bypass last weekend, and I’d really like to have an easy weekend. But what the heck. This is the weekend of the Aspen Race for the Cure. The road race is Saturday, and I’m extremely grateful that Mick isn’t back up to speed with running yet, or else we would be, no doubt, signed up for the 10k at some outrageous hour of the morning on Saturday. I count myself lucky that the bike race is Sunday morning, and at a slightly more civilized hour.

We ride from Mick’s place in Aspen out to the race start at the Aspen Highlands base area, and it’s a good warm-up. It’s cool as we ride off in the morning, but we warm up quickly. Benji and Amie (my running coach and his wife) are timing this race, and we find them at registration. Benji has been off in the nearby cyber-café watching the Tour de France coverage while Amie types racers’ names into a laptop, and he comes over to report to us the progress in today’s stage. There’s a long line of people waiting to get signed up for the race, and for once the race staff is reasonable about the whole thing and delays the start by fifteen minutes to allow the late arrivals a chance to participate legally. It also gives us some fun moments following Benji back to the cyber-café to watch the real race with him. We have fun talking with Benji about how fast Lance Armstrong might run if he attempted a marathon.

I rode this race two years ago, and at that time it was only my second cycling race. I’ve hardly raced any more on the bike since then, but I feel much more confident than I did back then, so I don’t line up quite so far back in the pack today. This is pretty much an all-uphill course, from the base of Aspen Highlands to the end of the road at Maroon Bells. It’s actually a ride that I do fairly regularly with Mick on weekends, since it’s a nice climbing workout – a good climb, but not too steep, and not too long, and almost completely free of traffic because the road is closed to most traffic in the prime daytime hours in summer.

The race starts, and the field spreads out quickly. The only downhill of the race comes shortly after the start, and I find myself pedaling like crazy, passing people who are coasting downhill. It seems weird that they take this downhill so casually, and I take advantage of the lull to try to establish a position further up in the pack.

The ride is mostly all just very pleasant. Wildflowers line the sides of the road, and it’s a lovely day – not too cold and not too warm, just right, with bright sunshine. I pass people, and people pass me, and we trade places over and over. Once again, I’ve forgotten to check the distance of the race before starting out, and I never really know how much further there is to go until I see the finish line.

A younger woman on a hybrid bike trades places with me several times on the way up, and I recognize that she’s really working. At one point, I think that she has dropped me completely, but then I, surprisingly, catch up to a group that she’s riding with. This woman seems very young, and she’s very blonde and on a tall bike. Clearly, my road bike is the better choice for the day, but she’s dusting me all the same. But when I finally catch her with the group, I’m able to pull ahead. We’re getting close to the finish – although I’m not really sure how close we are – so I put the hammer down. I’m afraid to take the time and energy to check behind me, so I just pedal like a crazed woman. Over a slight crest of a hill, and I see the finish line set-up, and worry oh-so-much about getting toasted at the end. I pedal with all my might. Mick is out on the road helping to direct traffic to the finish chute, and Benji and Amie are both shouting directions to people, and it feels like they are all shouting at me at the same time, and I feel triumphant as I cross the finish line.

It turns out that the woman I traded places with finishes a full 24 seconds behind me. I feel good about that (especially since it turns out that she is actually in my age group), but have mixed feelings overall about the finish. It also turns out that my time this year is just 24 seconds better than the last time I rode this race. An improvement, to be sure, but not quite as much as I might have hoped.

But then again, who can complain? It’s a beautiful day. I spend some time at the finish line chatting with Mick and Benji and Amie and Jean and Dan (Jean is also my massage therapist – she and her husband Dan are friends of Benji and Amie, and they have come along to help score the race today). When it looks like most of the riders have crossed the finish line, Mick and I take off for the ride back down the valley. This is one of the best descents anywhere – a nice long stretch of modestly steep downhill with good sightlines and very little traffic and beautiful views along the way. We breeze down the valley, and head off to have French toast at the Hickory House. Mick has picked up age group hardware and Lance is looking good to win the 2005 Tour de France. What better outcome could there be today?