Introduction and SummaryThe weekend of August 1-3, 1997, was a very exciting one indeed. This was the 18th PMC, and my 7th. This story details the events leading up to the 1997 PMC and the ride itself. Before I get to the story, however, here is an "executive" summary which will list a few important ride facts:
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MalloryI met Mallory Haggart through the web. She stumbled onto my web site, and decided to sponsor me. Her dad, Bob Haggart, had died of multiple myloma in February of this year (1997). Bob was originally diagnosed in 1988, and given a few years at most. He was treated at Dana Farber in 1991, and was in remission for the next 5 years. As a columnist for the Syracuse Post Standard, Bob wrote many columns about his battle with cancer, and about others battling the disease. Bob became involved with the PMC in 1993. He felt he was not strong enough to ride, so he volunteered instead - helping stage the event during the week prior to PMC weekend, and working at water stops during the event. |
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At Mallory's request, I carried pictures of her and her dad (shown here) throughout the 1997 PMC - so he could continue his involvement with the PMC. I found this to be a very moving experience, but there was more. While at the opening cermonies, I was in the exhibition suite, looking at bikes, and half listening to the opening statements. At one point, I realized that Billy Starr, Executive Director of the PMC, was talking about "friends of the PMC" who had lost the battle with cancer this year, including "Bob", a columnist from Syracuse, New York. It took me until Sunday afternoon to confirm with Billy that he was indeed talking about Mallory's dad! It seemed very fitting that Bob was remembered by the PMC in this way. |
As we arrived in Sturbridge, Chris realized that he didn't really know which hotel we were booked into. Thankfully, it was the second one we tried. The best part about this place was that it was right next to the main PMC hotel (the Host), and they were also accepting reservations for next year!
After checking in at the hotel, we hit the Host to check-in for the ride and join in the traditional pasta dinner. This year, dinner was served in the "jungle" - the interior courtyard of the hotel. There were people everywhere. Including riders, volunteers, and guests, there were probably 4000 people. Rumor has it that the official rider count was 1998. I'd guess that there were 1600+ volunteers.
We dropped by the exhibition suite to check out the offerings from the PMC and various manufacturers, including Merlin, Trek, and others. We drifted in and out of the opening ceremonies and headed back to our hotel at about 9.
As usual, we were up at 4AM. Staying at the hotel right next to
PMC-central has its benefits. We brought the bikes down and deposited
them at the front of the start line, and went it to grab a quick
breakfast, then back to the room to grab the luggage and bring it down
to the luggage trucks.
The morning was warm and clear. Chris, John, myself, and Bob posed for this traditional starting-line picture just before getting the "green light" at 6AM sharp. We finally convinced Chris to get a new helmet this year. Maybe new glasses next year? My plan was to ride the 112 miles in 5 hours, non-stop. I had two large bottles of power-water, a 70 ounce Camelbak full of water on my back, and a dozen packets of GU (an energy gel-food-substance). Given the right conditions, an 11 AM finish was possible. I jumped up to to lead group, just behind the police escort, and the pace was a little over 23 mph - very fast. Although my legs were strong and I felt fine aerobically, I didn't really feel 100% - maybe too much breakfast. Anyway, I was determined to ride hard. |
I was feeling much better at this point, but although it's only 8:50, the day was starting to warm up. I had plenty of water - one entire bottle and lots in the Camelbak. And then, - oops - I dropped bottle number one. Since there was very little left in it, and we were on a mission, I left it. We were nearing 72 miles and Bridgewater, and that sign post up ahead ... it's the
So, after 70+ miles, we determined that we were off course, and had to
stop to check the map. Of course, Massachusetts is well known for
having signs only on cross streets, so we weren't quite sure what road
we were on! We decided that we had made a right turn at the previous
major intersection, and should have gone straight. We returned to last
intersection, and went off for another half mile in yet another wrong
direction.
No PMC signs in sight. Another stop, another look at the map. We
decided we needed River Street.
So, I started flagging down cars, asking
"Where is River Street?" No one knew. We rode back to the
intersection, and found one person who knew how to get to River Street.
We followed his directions, and finally ran into a small group
of PMC cyclists. About 20 minutes had been lost. And, all of the
starting and stopping isn't exactly great for the muscles. And it was
frustrating.
I would learn later (after the ride) that a few riders from the lead group had made the same mistake, but had recovered faster. I guess I shouldn't have given away my copy of the map on Friday night! Also, in retrospect, when we stopped to look at the map the first time, a simple right turn (from 106) would have gotten us very close to River Street. Oh well. Next year, I'll review the route before the ride. |
After recovering from the cramp, I recharged and managed a smile. I dropped to the aero bars for the next 12 miles, trying to keep up the fastest possible pace. Since cramps are a possible sign of dehydration, I drank more water, but still fought off an occasional cramp. I met up with two other riders, and tried to organize some cooperative drafting, but this didn't last long, and I found myself alone again at about 102 miles. It was hot. There was a bit of a headwind. I was getting a little low on water, and I wasn't quite sure how many miles were left - somewhere between 10 and 15. It was 11:00.
Once I hit Onset, I knew I was nearly done. I got out of the saddle to do a short climb and made the second to last turn with about 1.5 miles to go. I sprinted to the finish, jumping the speed bump at the entrance to the Mass Maritime Academy. I arrived around 11:40, about the same time as in 1995. About 27 other riders were already there. I downed about a quart of water while signing in. I had ridden about 115.5 miles, 3.5 from the detour. Without the detour, a finish at 11:15 was possible. Oh well. There's always next year. I deposited the bike in the outdoor racks and headed for the quad.
The Mass Maritime Academy (MMA) has 6 dorms and a training ship. For the first time in 7 years, I landed a spot on the ship. Aside from the precarious gang plank, it's a pretty nice place to stay. I showered up and headed for the massage tables. Chris showed up while my shoulders were being adjusted. He and Bob had finished at 12:20, an excellent time. This was particularly significant, however, since one of my sponsors had tied his pledge to "minutes finished before Chris"! (I maintain that I had nothing to do with this idea.) I selected this time to inform Chris of the deal, and everyone got a good laugh, including Chris.
As you can see, it's quite the circus environment. The BBQ was in full-swing, and there was a truck full of "Nantucket Nectar". There was everything you'd ever want to eat or drink, except for one thing: no carmel-colored-caffeinated beverages. Donna was there, waiting for John, and I mentioned my desire for caffeine. She loaned me $1 for the soda machines in the dorms, but I never got around to using it. Below, the view from the ship shows the Bourne bridge looming the the far background (behind the railroad bridge), and thousands of bikes stacked up on the right.
John arrived around 1. The bands were playing, and the 5 of us meandered around, eating, taking the occasional siesta, and cheering riders as they arrived at MMA. In particular, I made sure we were available to cheer in Barb Asketh, a friend from Mass who was riding in her fourth PMC. She had had knee problems in previous years, but some bike adjustments this year seemed to have cured that. But she was a little overheated, and reminded me that I had requested a hot day (but not this hot!).
As if we hadn't eaten enough, we grabbed dinner at about 5:30. I ran into a friend from the lead group, and found out that they had arrived at MMA at 11. Had they not gone off course, they would have arrived at about 10:50. We also found out that about a dozen people were taken to area hospitals for various problems: a few crashes, but mostly heat related. We turned in at about 8:30 after a long, hot day.
We woke at 4, as usual, and went down to the cafeteria for a quick,
LIGHT breakfast - a PMC McMuffin and some coffee. Loaded the bags
onto yet another semi, and we were ready to roll at about 5:20 AM.
Bob, Chris, John, Barb, and I set out on a strictly warm-up pace and
stayed together for a few miles, until the base of the Bourne bridge.
We were in good spirits, evidenced by this silly pose, taken by Bob
(though this could just as easily be a picture for the next chapter).
You can make out the Los Gatos Cats on my Crossroads Bicycle's jersey.
Not bad for a disposable camera.
By the time we turned onto the Cape Cod canal service road, we had spread out a bit, as expected. The sun was rising - a muted red ball on the horizon - visible for the first time in several years. It was another warm, clear morning. |
This does point out how important it is to know where you are relative to the other riders around you: ahead, behind, left, and right. Further, don't panic! Practice riding with larger groups, and train to develop bike handling skills as well as endurance.
One of my sponsors tied part of his pledge to the number of out-of-state license plates I could count. John and I found this very entertaining, and it really gave us a charge going up route 6 into Provincetown. "New York!" "Pennsylvania!" "Quebec!" This was really a great idea. In all, we counted about 120. Something of a challenge to keep it all separated by state, but that wasn't a requirement...
I took one good sprint at the usual place. On Pamet Road in Truro, we go under Route 6 and head up the steepest hill of the day. I sprinted out of the saddle in a very big gear. There's always a pretty good crowd on that hill, so that makes it even more fun. And, there's an impromptu water stop there, so I grabbed a drink. John crested the hill, and we continued on into P-town, taking time to talk to some first-year riders as we went.
We rolled through the Race Point hills with 6 or 7 riders, and did a short sprint to the finish where hundreds of supporters cheered. It had been a great day. We finished at 10:19, which ain't bad, averaging about 18. I drank 1/2 pint of water, and poured the other half over my head. It was hot.
It's the Real Thing, Baby!The Provincetown Inn was controlled chaos, as usual. This is not a huge area, but there is a huge amount of equipment packed into it. I counted 9 tractor-trailer trucks. The National Guard's shower tents were up. The circus tent was up, and the BBQ was smoking away. A steel drum band was playing. A real festival atmosphere. John and I dumped the bikes, and picked up our bags. We found Donna, and after congratulations were passed around, she presented me with: a COKE! Nothing better after a long, hot ride, and another good laugh after Saturday's non-Coke finish. Of course, I paid for it with the $1 she had given me on Saturday! |
We hit the showers, and ate and ate. Shown here, from left to right, are Donna, Chris, Bob, and John (with camera), enjoying the excellent food. The Legal Seafood's Chowda Van was there, and Bass and Guiness were on tap (what could be better?). Also, there was some Alden Merrill chocolate cheescake, which I couldn't resist. I had everyone looking for Billy Starr so I could confirm that he had been talking about Mallory's dad on Friday night. I found Billy, and I after confirming that he had been talking about Bob Haggart, I spent a few minutes sharing Mallory's story with him.
We loaded up John's car once again - 4 bags inside, and 4 bikes on the back. Donna drove us back. Since it was not raining, there was no early exodus from the Cape, so traffic was light. Surprisingly, I did not really have the urge to sleep. Back at Chris', we started making plans for next year as the sun set over another successful PMC weekend.
Although I do the riding, I like to think that we all participate in the PMC, and I have a lot of you to thank:
I sincerely thank you all for your support, and I hope you will all continue to support me as I continue to ride to end cancer.