The Gorge Roubaix Gravel Grinder

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    After the last couple years of having all but stopped cycling altogether, I decided recently to dive right back into the deep end and do the Gorge Roubaix Gravel Grinder. An organized ride covering 85 miles and about 7,000 feet of climbing with about 35-40 miles of it on gravel, in The Dalles, Oregon. About 75 miles east of Portland. There was a race version on the same course but i KNEW I wasn't in "race condition." Turns out as I was having my ass sufficiently handed back to me, I was barely in "ride with my friends" condition.
    It's funny how running 45-65 miles a week doesn't transfer to the bike, just like a few years ago cycling 200-250 miles a week didn't transfer to running. I mean, you'd think, "it's all legs," right? Wrong. It is, it's "all-a lot-of-things" and a lot of the same things but they work differently. Legs, heart, lungs, back....
    It was myself, my brother and two friends, all of us used to have a cycling team together a couple years ago but since I left the race scene, we don't see each other much. That's how it is in cycling. You spend so much time on the bike that when you're not riding, that time has to be filled with taking care of real life business. Not to mention being too tired for socializing. So it was a cool team reunion of sorts. I finally got to wear my new team kit that I never even raced in before I jumped ship and it all imploded!
    We started out just casually rolling along at an easy pace but I could already tell it was much easier on everyone else than on me. It wasn't bad but I was having trouble finding the right gearing, cadence, breathing, all that, so it was throwing me off a bit. Then we started hitting the hills. When I was still primarily a cyclist, I was a rouleur and a climber. I liked to get out front and lead the group pushing a good pace in a big gear, I liked to go for breakaways in races and I LOVED to climb hills. As far as the hills go, I was the climber in our group. Man, how things have changed. We hit those first few hills and right off the bat I was dropped. Nothing I could do but lock into a manageable gear and torque away. Everybody kept taking turns coming back for me to pace me back up but it wasn't any use. And this was only 35 miles in! We still had another 50 miles to go!
    The one trait that transfers from running ultras to cycling is suffering and the expanded tolerance of pain and discomfort. Once I got to that place, I knew I would be okay for awhile. I know what it's like to be running four or five hours and start to fall apart and knowing I have another five or six hours to go. I could get through that easily on a bike AND my feet wouldn't hurt.
    To be fair, the hills weren't so much as "breaking" me as I was just slow. The grunts and moans and out of breath panting was there when I was in top form back in the day, I just happened to be faster. I wasn't hurting anymore than I ever did, I was just hurting behind everyone as opposed to hurting way out ahead of everyone. The downhills, on the other hand, those were an issue. Like I said earlier, a lot of the course was on gravel roads and being on a road bike with 23mm tires while descending for several miles in gravel isn't the most stable feeling. As far as "muscles" go, my hands, triceps and deltoids were the only real soreness the next day. Just from keeping my bike stable and working the brakes. And of course my "dear god" grip on the handlebars.
    I gotta say, none of this made me miss racing but it did make me miss my long sunday death march adventure rides we used to all take together. How we would start those rides early in the year and by mid-summer we're really pushing ourselves and each other, each one of us showing jumps in improvement at different times as the training and encouragement added up week after week, month after month. Yeah, I miss that. Of course I miss that "top form climbing ability" too but I'm very happy with my self-sufficient "a pair of shoes, shorts and that's all I need" aspect of ultra-running. NOT willing to give that up but maybe I'll manage to squeeze in a little more time for my friends to see me fall apart like that some more. That's usually reserved for aid-station volunteers during ultras.





   

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