My annual tackly of the MS150 charity ride is afoot

“Surely it means LANE closed”, I said to Phin. Nope. Freeway closed. We fired up the GPS, managed to take the first exit and wove our way through the back streets of Pawtucket until we got to Hasbro—15 minutes before departure time, ½ hour after our intended arrival.

As a result, the ceremony of the mass start was lost. Also, the back lot of Hasbro had more of a “herding” vibe to it instead of a “start of a mass bike ride” vibe. The ride down by over 150 riders this year (I’d heard it was around 700 this year) and some of that was chalked up to the lamest excuse possible—quite a few people chose to see Jimmy Buffet instead of riding. Regardless, we shoved off on time, so that was good.

Until 2.5 miles in.

Phin was in front of me and swore as he hit a small pothole. I hit the same pothole a second later and thought to myself “I hope I didn’t flat”. A couple of minutes I felt the annoying squish of a deflating tire. Pinch flat (the impact of the pothole caused the rim to cut into the tube). F%^&.

Phin pulled over with me, good friend that he is. I changed out my spare tube and used Phin’s pump because it can put higher pressure in than mine could. All set in 7 minutes until I removed the pump head from the valve stem and promptly broke off the valve stem, deflating the new tube. F%^&! Phin offered his tube, but I refused it. I whipped out my patch kit and patched the original puncture. Phin left after everything was under control and I sprinted to catch up to him. The patch held…

…for 10 miles. F%^&!!!!!!! My teammate Vicki rode by and after witnessing this scenario twice, she exclaimed “You’ve GOT to be kidding me!!!” Thankfully, I’d grabbed a spare tube at the first rest stop, so it got swapped in. Now, we were off.

This year, the ride offered a century option on day 1. For the unwashed masses unfamiliar with the term, it means “100 mile ride.” This one was actually a little over 106(!!!) The only requirement was that you make it to the third rest stop before 11AM. I’d just wasted about 40 minutes dealing with tire puncture drama, so the concept of conserving energy at the beginning of the day went right out the window. I took a very short break at the second rest stop—grabbing a new spare tube, a banana, Clif bar, water and topping off the air in my rear tire—and said a hasty goodbye to the teammates that I’d caught up to. I wanted to ride that century.

I arrived at rest stop 3 at 11:02. Thankfully, they were loose with the deadline, as a few riders who got there after me were able to sign up as well. Refill the bottles (using a new sports drink powder—Hammer Heed—which was miraculous), banana, Clif bar, a bag of Lay’s (for salt, which prevents cramping) and I shoved off.

The century loop deviated from the main route and added another 22.8 miles to day one. It meant an unsupported ride for 35 miles between stops, rejoining with 12 miles until the lunch stop. Being one of the late arrivals to sign up, I didn’t run into many of the other 80 or so riders that opted for the century. It ran through the coastal roads of Southeastern MA. Really pretty, fairly flat roads with some easy rolling hills and a nice sea breeze.

It did get a bit strange midway through, as I’m realizing that I’m completely alone in the middle of nowhere on roads I’ve never ridden. I kept thinking “am I lost???” But then I’d see a green arrow (the century loop marker) on the road or stapled to a pole and know that I was still going the right way—until I’d get paranoid again and wonder if I’d missed an arrow. I bumped into a couple of other riders who were taking a break at a beautiful scenic overlook of a beach. The joke that I made (along with another group who came up on us was “this must be rest stop 3 ½ ).

I eventually rejoined the main ride, welcomed by the orange road/pole markers of the day one leg. 12 more miles to lunch. Oddly enough, I wasn’t very hungry that day, so the hot dogs that are usually a pornographic experience didn’t do it for me as they usually do (I still had one, though—on principle and for the salt). I ran into a couple of my teammates who were leaving that stop, one of whom—Drew—was impressed that I made decent time.

The heat finally caught up with me after lunch. My mile 75, I was really feeling it. By mile 95, I was miserable. My teammate Joe—a larger fellow who takes a real beating in the heat—was suffering along with me at the last stop. We recharged and did the last 11 miles to the Day 1 finish. I crossed the finish line At Wheaton College in Norton, MA, to the usual fanfare of well-wishers and to my teammates who gave me a roaring welcome while seated along the finish line—what an amazing sight.

Despite the flats and the extra miles of the century, I managed to finish ahead of quite a few riders—including five (I think) from my own team. I was the only rider on my team to do the century. My goal was to average 15mph and I did 15.3mph. I did it in 6:58 and burned an astonishing 6940 calories according to MapMyRide (cycling phone app). My first century was in—and for a half hour, I felt like a bus hit me. A head rush from getting up from sitting nearly knocked me over. Thankfully, the fallout subsided in a short while.

After a terrible night’s sleep (I never sleep well on these things), we wolfed down breakfast in the cafeteria and shoved off at around 7AM. The humidity was already climbing and it was going to be a hot one. Sure enough, it was.

By late morning, the heat was radiating off of the pavement. It just sucks the energy out of you and it gets brutal. I hung with most of our core team throughout day 2, which is always fun. We’d spread out over the course of each leg, but would quickly regroup at the rest stops. Thankfully, the longest span on day 2 was only 14 miles. Much easier on the psyche when they’re closer together and you’re losing enthusiasm from the heat and the climbs that are way worse in the heat.

By mile 50, I was getting miserable again as the temperature reached 88. Oddly enough, getting up from being seated was harder on me than pedaling. I’d get lightheaded and then be (mostly) OK. The 5-hour energy I downed didn’t give me 5 minutes of energy.

On the next leg, I bumped into a couple of riders, one of whom had a low number (18). I said “nice number—congrats” and he thanked me. Then I had to be a jerk and say that I was number 4. His name was Mike and we got to chatting. Turns out his wife was diagnosed in 2007 in her early twenties. We shared a bunch of stories about our wives’ respective experiences with the disease and it was really pleasant. It also reinforces how much more those who are directly connected to MA are able to raise than those who are not. Those low numbers are status symbols on this ride, but it also means there are close experiences with MS involved. The chat distracted me from the heat and was really pleasant—until some d-bag passenger in an Accord flipped off Mike for no reason. Gotta love the anti-cycling animosity—especially to two people who together, raised over $14,000 for a charity . What I would have given to grind his face into the pavement…

The Pedal Pushers (our team) all regrouped at the last stop with 7 miles to go. At that point, I’d just suffer through the last 7. What else was I going to do? We spread out a bit and regrouped right before the finish. A slight snafu with a lost younger rider held us up a bit, but we all rolled across the finish together. Lori was excused from greeting me, as she was/is in Vegas (if it were the first 150, she wouldn’t be excused). Kind of an anticlimactic finish this year, but it was great to put another MS150 in the books and even greater to have my first century under my belt.