Something I didn't know was that Golden Spike National Monument sits up at a higher elevation. When I saw the climb, I almost was upset to find that there was climbing on this ride (for some reason, I had imagined a flat course). But, then again, I really enjoy climbs.
At the start of the climb, I settled into a nice easy pace. I didn't want to burn myself out before I even made it half way. I felt solid.
My legs weren't sore. I really enjoyed the climb--except, that is, for the last 100 meters when I got passed by someone I was trying to hold off.
There is a slight descent to Golden Spike, and the wind was at my back. I was flying and I felt fantastic. You see, it didn't feel like a tail wind. Nor did it feel like a slight descent. I was crest-fallen when I turned around and saw my speed falling. The descent was fun--especially since the main bunch was on the uphill at that point.
There's something thrilling about smugly descending past a few hundred people suffering up the climb.
Part of the Tour de Cure route is an out-and-back. I had been back-tracking a bit, but was about to turn off and head north. At about mile 55 I hit the next pit stop located right at the turn-off.. It looked busy, so I decided to take my chances and skipped the long lines with this one. They space the pits only about 15-20 miles apart, so I was fairly confident that my water/food supply would make it.
About 5 miles later I started to really regret the speed and miles I'd just covered. I was starting to slow down and I was tired. Also, it started to really feel against the wind.
One thing that isn't encouraging when you're just over half way through a ride and heading dead into a stiff head-wind is to pass several flags hanging limp on their poles. I should know. I'm not sure of the physics behind it, but I'm pretty sure I was riding against the wind and those flags were just wrong.
A guy from the local bike shop rode by and offered to pull a bit--which was a relief. That is, it was a relieve until I realized that, a) I'd have to pull soon, and b) he was going faster than I could sustain. After a few trade-offs and too much fatigue, I finally told him I needed to slow down. Much to my surprise, he said, "That's fine with me, we can't help each other if we're pushing too fast of a pace." We worked together, with another joining our group, for the next 10 miles or so--until the next stop.
One of the sponsors of the Tour--sorry, I can't remember the name--had sunscreen at this stop. So, besides grabbing a few packages of Shot-Bloks and filling up my bottles, I slathered myself with some thick sunscreen.
A side note: Whenever I apply sunscreen, I think how nice it would be to have shaved arms--as well as legs--instead of these hairy monkey arms.
Anyway, the stop was much needed. I hit the road with a vengeance and got into a good grove. Even better was when another fast group started to pass me. I stood up, gave it a few kicks, and hooked on to the back of their 4-man group. It was going fast, but I figured with four others pulling, I could get away with minimal time in the lead.
As it turns out, I could get away with no time in the lead, as they were rotating so slowly, we came on to another stop before I had my chance to pull. Good thing, too, because I really started to feel pain in my legs and butt.
As I neared mile 80, I also grew concerned that I wouldn't make my sub-6 hour time. Though I was maintaining a very fast average speed (which was rapidly decreasing), my stops were adding up quickly. It is amazing how much time is wasted gathering food and taking "natural" breaks. I thought--not for the first or last time--how nice it would be having James be my support team for the ride.
A few punches at my computer, however, revealed that at this point--mile 80--I still was averaging 20 mph. For me, at this distance, that is flying. Of course, none of it would matter if I couldn't keep it up.
I shifted down and applied a little more pressure on the pedals.