160 miles, one day, one way...
The Ride Across Indiana (RAIN) is a road cycling timed event. It begins at the western border between Illinois and Indiana. Approximately 1,200 riders line up there and ride 160 miles across the state and finish in Richmond, In at the eastern border with Ohio. The event has a rich history and seems to grow every year.
I awoke to the sound of the alarm at 4:00 am. In a groggy haze, I shut it off and rolled back over, shut my eyes, and went back to sleep. My youngest daughter had decided not to sleep the night before. Multiple times she cried in the night, requiring my wife to comfort her. This left me wishing for a few more precious minutes of sleep. I awoke again at 4:30 am. Panic sets in. We must leave no later than 5:30 am to arrive at the start line on time. Brian is a friend from Illinois who comes over and rides RAIN with me. This will be his second year in RAIN and my third. We have packed the van with almost everything the night before. We all take turns showering and shoving down some food before we head out for the last minute loading duties. We cram the rest of the stuff in the van, load the bikes and we are off.
The supplies required to ride 160 miles can vary greatly depending on how comfortable you want to be and what your PSV (personal sag vehicle) will carry. This is some of the things I brought…..12 energy gels, 12 packs of sport beans, 12 cliff bars, 5 gallons of water, 6 water bottles, 2 short sleeved jerseys, 2 pairs of shoes, 2 pairs of cycling shorts, 2 pairs of gloves, 2 pairs of sunglasses, extra tires, tubes, floor pump, truing stand, tool box, sandwiches, towels, casual clothing for post ride…..etc……and 3 beers. Brian packed similar equipment minus the tools, stand, and beers. It may seem like overkill, but there are lots of things that can happen during the ride. Thunderstorms, wind, flat tires, crashes…..the list is endless. I am getting better at not bringing so much stuff, but on most years, most of it gets used. All this stuff makes for a ton of gear to get into the van. With a couple of years practice, I must say we are getting pretty good at getting it all in there.
As we drive to the start line in Terre Haute, the reality sets in that we have departed 30 minutes late and it begins to eat at me. I despise being late and rushed! I try to make up time on the roads without being a hazard. It wouldn’t do much good to crash the van and kill us all trying to get there. As we close in on Terre Haute, we begin to see more and more people driving to the start line. Once we passed the host hotel about 75% of the cars heading east contained bikes and riders headed to the start line. We exited the interstate and turned on to the old US 40 alignment. As far as you could see, cars lined both sides of the road. Participants unloading their bikes and warming up clogged the roadway. Traffic was down to one lane and at a crawl. We drove up about a half mile into the crowd and found a place to wedge the van into. We are approximately 2 miles from the start line and there are cars parked as far as we can see in both directions.
The sun is starting to peek over the horizon as we quickly unload and prepare. The reality sinks in that I forgot the spare tubes. Brian reminds me he is running low on sports drink. We franticly prepare the bikes and ourselves. I begin to discuss the plan for the PSV. My wonderful wife drives the van that supports our ride. She drives ahead of us and parks at a location we agreed upon and waits for us to arrive. Last year we relied heavily on the PSV and stopped about every 20 to 30 miles. This year a new plan was being hatched at the back of the van. Brian and I felt we were pretty strong this year. We told Julie to drop us off, and go back to the house and wait for our call. The route traveled within 7 miles of our house. Our plan was to call her when we were close to the rest stop, and she would drive to meet us there. This plan required Brian and I to ride the first 40 miles with only the food and water we carried with us. If we needed mechanical support, we would have to call her and have her backtrack to our location. It was a risky call to send her on home but we felt we could pull it off. It would require I wear a hydro-pack for the first leg to carry enough water. We made our final preparations and headed toward the start line. The next time we would see the van and the supplies was in 66 miles.
The trip up to the start line was a short one. With 1,200 riders all lining up, we were about 1 mile from the actual start line. It would be about 10 minutes before we would pass it. The pack moved at snails pace forward. Apparently we had started, but that far back; we could not hear the starting announcement. After about 20 minutes of shoulder to shoulder riding, the pack began to break up a little. Riders shuffled for position and the varying paces made for a pack that resembled a swarm of bees. Groups began to break out according to their pace. All the while we are traveling through a moderate sized city (for the Midwest anyway). Most intersections were blocked off by local police, allowing the riders uninterrupted flow. Out front of the pack, police escorted everyone through town. Along the sides of the road are groups of people who have come out to see RAIN pass by. It is a constant battle for Brian and I to stay in contact. Holes open up; you jump through them only to realize your group did not all make it. We are lucky; there are only two of us.
We leave the urban streets and roll into a more rural setting. The pack is spreading out, but the entire right lane, as far as you can see in both directions, is full of bikes. The riding is wheel to wheel. The pack mentality takes over and we begin to take on the pace of the riders around us. Pace lines form, usually doubles. I look around to make sure Brian is still with me. He is right on my wheel. We are moving at around 25 mph. The adrenalin and excitement of the start has us moving at a fast pace. We are in a group of about 40 to 50 riders, double line, wheel to wheel.
Its like riding a bike, you never forget that, right? We can all ride a bike, but not everyone should ride in a pace line inches from each other. This is a skill that is learned, like bunny hopping or a track stand. The group Brian and I are riding in is clipping right along. Suddenly, a chain reaction breaking maneuver makes its way through the pack. Each time someone over reacts and over brakes, the affect is amplified. Soon riders are skidding to avoid crashing. It clears up for a minute or two, and then it happens again. Riders scatter and panic to avoid hitting the rider in front of them. I’ve had enough. I motion to Brian to follow and I drop the hammer. I pull to the left and pass the double pace line. Off we go fighting wind on our own at 24 mph. We have to be careful not to spend too much energy too early.
The miles slip by rather quickly. The excitement and adrenalin are keeping us going. We have jumped on with some groups and been dropped by others, but none like the group that nearly killed us all. The groups have thinned out a little and I quickly realized we are almost to stop #1 at the 40 mile mark. Shortly we pulled into the first organized sag stop. Volunteers man the stops and provide free food and drinks for the riders. Tables are set up with all the goodies laid out on them. Volunteers scurry around trying to keep things full and available. Brian and I skipped on the food and drinks. Brian needed to tighten some stem bolts and I needed to lose some fluids. About 15 porta-potties are all lined up in a row, and a line 3 riders deep has formed in front of each of them. I waited my turn, Brian went, and we were off again.
The next 26 miles were filled with rollers (small hills of 50 to 200 of elevation change). This caused pace lines to explode. Out on the flats, the riders all kept the same pace, but on the hills everyone climbed at a different pace. The lines would reform at the top and break apart on the descents and climbs. This pattern repeated on every little roller. Soon it flattened out and became a steadier tempo. Brian and I are maintaining about a 21 mph average so far. We both felt pretty fresh and the ride has been semi-effortless so far.
The weather up to this point has been perfect. Sunny, wind from the southwest at 5 and 70 degrees. Sunscreen is very important, as the sun will take its toll on you after 8 to 10 hours, regardless of the temperature. The winds are now starting to pick up and become more westerly. BONUS!
We hit the 60 mile mark and I stop at a stoplight to call for my wife to meet us at stop #2. It is at a high school close to my home. The parking lot is nearly full at the stop. Riders, bikes, cars, spectators, and volunteers fill every grassy and paved area. We take a quick loop around the parking lot looking for the van. She has not arrived yet. We eat our remaining food and hang out till she arrives. When she parks we get right to the business of refilling everything we ran out of. She has stopped and bought Brian more sports drink and she retrieved the forgotten supplies from the house, mainly the tubes. And we are off again.
Next stop the lunch stop. The route becomes weird here because we are on the outskirts of Indianapolis. The route takes us over township roads, highways, and through neighborhoods to keep us out of heavy traffic. It is difficult to get in packs due to the stop signs and lights. The pace lines accordion at every intersection. Brian and I stick together and find some groups to ride with.
Here is my confession about group riding. I am not good at pacing. We were in a group being led by a young lady, and we were HAMMERING. 20 to 25 mph, often I was struggling to keep from being dropped off the back. We were stopped at a light when I decided it was not proper to make her do all the work, so I took the lead and she followed. I looked back a few times and she was with me. It was too hard to turn and see who was behind her so we traveled on. After about 5 minutes and a few hills, I pulled out and looked around. No one was with us anymore. I had dropped the whole group, except her. She sees the blank look on my face and asked if I was missing someone. I explained I had dropped my friend. I slowed up and waited for Brian to catch up. I’m really bad at pacing.
We snaked our way through the south portion of Indianapolis to the lunch stop. I had instructed my wife to meet us at another stop so she will not meet us here. We parked the bikes and found our way to the food line. The volunteers had laid out quite a spread of food and drinks. We made our sandwiches and sat down. Lunch went by quickly and soon we needed to get rolling again. Stops are nice, but the longer you are off the bike, the harder it is to get going again later. We checked the bikes over, and started pedaling toward the next stop.
The next stretch of RAIN is my least favorite. The route continues through the remaining southern part of Indianapolis and utilizes some rural township roads to get back to US 40. The riders are very spread out now and it is hard to find groups to ride with. The road is not very straight and the frequent intersections make it difficult to maintain any speed or momentum. And the worst part is “no mans land”. This is the part of the ride where you cannot see very many riders in front or behind you. You feel like you are alone. Brian and I hang in there and trudge through the route. It is also about this point that you will know if your food has agreed with you or not too. The temps are rising and the tailwind is of little value, since we rarely get a chance to open up on the roads. Minutes tick away very slowly during this part of the ride.
I am feeling the miles but am surprisingly strong. Brian and I make some small talk as the miles pass. I begin to notice Brian is not talking as much. Not a minute too soon, a landmark is approaching, the 100 mile mark. We talk about it for a little while but it is a small victory, since we still have 60 more miles to go. It’s not long and we pull into the area were the van should be. My wife calls me and tells me her location, and Brian and I pull in for a much needed rest.
We began filling water bottles and consuming calories. We were parked in the shade at a park. Just being off the bike felt refreshing but unusual. We had been on the bikes so long, that any other position felt strange. We stayed at the park for little longer than the other stops. The ride was catching up to us. Our shorts and jerseys are sporting a white crusty film of salt from the perspiration that has evaporated. We gathered our stuff and set out again.
Getting back on US 40 is refreshing. Long stretches of uninterrupted pavement awaits us. I am now beginning to feel the hint of cramps coming on. I drink a little extra water and sports drink, hoping I can hold them off a while. Brian is not well. I can tell by his posture on the bike, he is not enjoying the ride. We talk about it a little and he tells me his stomach is bothering him and he feels a little crampy too. The pace lines are gone. Only a few single or pairs of riders can be seen now. The road is very flat and you can see for miles. There will be no help from pace lines now, it’s just us. Brian limps along and his condition worsens. The pace has slowed to about 15 mph.
When riding for 160 miles, you DO NOT drop your buddy like you do on the trails. It’s an unwritten rule, or code of conduct, that you care for your group. Last year I suffered from serious cramps and caused the whole group to slow up because of my condition. But not one of them left me. And I am not going to leave him this year. Brain apologizes for his condition, but none is needed. On any given day it could be anyone for any reason. I could have a flat or mechanical, or my food not agree with me, or any number of things could go wrong. I hang with him because we came here together and we will finish together.
We roll into the final organized sag stop, and it is a welcomed site.
It is a little demoralizing to know that while I was eating lunch there were riders finishing up in Richmond. This sign is at the 130 mile mark.
This is the finest rest stop in RAIN. These volunteers go all out for the riders. They have popsicles and tons of snacks and drinks. The fire house is open to the riders and set up with chairs, tables and fans. There is a shower for cooling down; it will take your breath away if you step into it too fast.
Brian tries to rest and recover for the remaining 30 miles.
The sun is still out and the temps are up around 85 by now. But the wind is PERFECT. There is nothing I like more than when the flag points to the finish line. It was blowing from the west at a steady 10 mph.
Brian recovers some and we are filled up, cooled off, and on our way. 30 miles to go. A walk in the park, right? The terrain turns back to the rollers and Brian is struggling with the hills. He asks me if I want to go on without him to get a better time. I refuse to leave him till I know we will both finish. We continue on making a little small talk along the way. Other riders are more talkative now, with everyone’s spirits lifted a little knowing that it is almost over. The rollers are taking their toll though.
We begin to see more homes and development, marking the beginning of Richmond. We are about the 152 mile mark and Brian has been talking about me going on to the finish line without him. It is clear now, Brian is going to make it, and I know I can turn around and get him if he does not cross the line shortly after I do. So I turn it up, and hammer. I am still feeling relatively fresh for riding 155 miles and the marking on the road shows 5 miles to go. I turn it up a little more. I’m now up to 21 mph. The riders I’m passing give me strange looks as I pass by. I think they were wondering how I was behind them if I could ride at 20 mph. I can really feel the fatigue now. The stop lights all work in my favor allowing me to continue my pace. Soon I see the finish line. Its was as if I could no longer feel my legs, the pain was gone, the bike glided into the drive and I wanted to hug the score keeper as I rolled to a stop. My wife and daughter greeted me as I left the finish area. I doubled back and waited for Brian to finish. I kept inching out towards the road so I could see well. Shortly Brian appeared. It was a great relief, since I had parted from him. We gathered at the van, showered, loaded and went to dinner. I drank the best tasting beer of the year there!
