Greylock Mountain Century - 7/11/09

I've done many different century over the years, without too much trouble. This one was definitely the hardest one, primarily due to the combined steepness, length and sheer number of climbs. It was harder to get through this one century than through any of the rides I had just done in Colorado, including my 65 mile slog through the desert, into a 25 mph headwind and 95° weather (this after the first 55 miles of that day's ride), or my highest climbs over the continental divide, both above 12,000' of altitude.

It was 5 of us, starting as a group. Our friend Larry, who told us of this event and graciously invited us to stay at his beautiful vacation home in Hillsdale, NY (with his lovely wife, Lois), Larry's "protegé" Chelsea, her Boston College cycling teammate Chris, Bob and myself.

The first major climb came right at the beginning. It was Mount Greylock itself. Station #1 was set up on its summit at mile 22. The road that traverses the mountain made for some absolutely delicious riding. The pavement was smooth, most of it was in the shade, with nothing but beautiful New England forest on either side. Near the summit we were treated with expansive vistas of the land below. Mount Greylock rises quite dramatically from the surrounding northwestern Massachusetts. The haze cut down on visibility somewhat. It is the northeast after all. The maximum grade was 15%, but that was a relatively short section. Most of it was still on the steep side (I'm guessing about 10% or so), but there were gentler stretches. We were still fresh and we didn't have too much trouble getting through it. The descent was an absolute pleasure.

There were many other climbs following that. You can't find any level roads in that part of the country. The next serious climb camejust before station #2 (summit set up at mile 50). That one proved much harder to tackle. Maximum grade was 16% and I believe those steep grades ran for most of the climb. At some point I had to stop and rest mid climb. If you know me, you know that I NEVER rest mid climb. By the time I reached the station I was quite tired. Bob had reached it much earlier than me so he had that much more time to rest (not that he needed any real rest, really), in addition to being much stronger than me to begin with.

After we resumed our ride it didn't take long for me to get dropped. That last climb had taken away almost everything I had left in my legs and we were only halfway through. By then, every little rise in the road I saw coming my way filled me with dread, and they kept coming and coming. I had to drop to my first gear most of the time. It was nothing but steep rollers. I tried to distract myself from the pain by reminding myself to try and enjoy the beautiful views every now and then, but it wouldn't take long before the next climb would yank me back to reality.

On almost every climb I'd be facing what looked like an endless ramp, crawl my way up to the top, only to find out that what looked like the end of the climb was really just a minor reduction in the pitch and there was still another ramp, just as long, till the next false crest. There seemed to be a definite pattern to these climbs. Each one some 3 or 4 such segments, teasing me mercilessly into believing that a descent was at hand.

This ride had a very small turnout, maybe 100 riders altogether, so after the first half I found myself riding alone for a good part of the ride, hardly seeing any other rider along the road. I had decided not to bother with the cue sheet, since most of us was carrying one, not expecting to get dropped or riding such a sparse field. For the most part, I had no problem finding the turn signs painted on the road. But at some point I obviously missed a turn. During yet another painful climb I ran out of blacktop and found myself facing a dirt road. The thought of turning around and adding miles to this death march was too much to bear and I instead convinced myself that this must have been the way. I had looked for turn signs very carefully at every junction in the road and I was sure I was going the right way.

I continued on the dirt road, all the while looking for bicycle tire tracks as a way to confirm my hope. Even though I couldn't see any I was still convinced that I hadn't missed any turn. As the dirt road got progressively worse and kept going up and on, I eventually understood that I was, indeed, off the route. But at that point I still didn't want to turn around. Somehow I could tell I was still traveling in the correct general direction and was eventually going to find my back to the route. I rode a couple of miles on loose dirt, including a quite scary descent. I'm sure glad to have my trail riding experience. I couldn't have done that descent and come out in one piece otherwise.

Eventually I reached hard pavement again. I stopped to try to get my bearings. Before I could finish pulling out my BlackBerry and turning on the GPS I saw a rider coming down the road that I recognized from the last food stop. I flagged him down and he confirmed I was back on the designated route. I guess I had taken a shortcut.

After that there was still some painful climbing (not steep, just painful) until I finally reached Station #3, at mile 80. After a short rest and refuel, I started the last bit. I typically get a second wind at mile 80 on every century and, even though this had been my hardest one to date, this day was no exception. The next few climbs didn't feel quite as hard. It probably helped that Larry had forewarned me that the last 10 miles or so were mostly downhill, which they were. I could finally cruise again, after all those miles of pain and a frustrating snail's pace.

As I caught up to a rider that I had been chasing for a few miles on that descent, I only recognized him to be Larry when I was right behind him and we rode the last few miles together. By the end I logged 99 miles. That "shortcut" hadn't cut all that much off my ride after all.

Bob was of course comfortably waiting by his car, next to two other riders who were having beers from a cooler they brought along (a must on every century). They graciously offered us some too and we finally relaxed while waiting for Chelsea and Chris. In the end they weren't that far back.

After driving back home we finished off the day with hot tub, martinis, shower, more martinis and a delicious dinner at a nearby gourmet restaurant. We knew there was a severe storm bearing down on us. In the end it blew by just while we were inside the restaurant enjoying dinner. What perfect timing!

I'd do it again next year. Thanks for the invite, Larry!