There was probably 30km or so of undulating country road where we made quite good time, riding two by two and taking our turns at the front. A small team of yellow shirted cyclists caught up with us and they were just going slightly faster so we latched onto their backs and flew along. We didn’t have the speed to lead them out and they didn’t ask for it, so we just stuck with them.
Suddenly I started to feel pretty average. My heart was fine, I wasn’t puffed with the breathing and I wasn’t sore – but my legs just didn’t want to go around at that speed anymore. I slowed to have a bit to drink and eat and the dropped off the back, then I just didn’t have the power to catch up. The bunch just got further and further ahead and I had no chance of catching them on my own, so I just went along at my pace happily enough. After a while I caught up with the other three who had pulled over to wait for me and Andrew said, “Have you eaten and drank enough?” At which point I realised that I’d had 2 bottles of water and a bottle of warm powerade – about 2 litres all up. After over 5 hours and 120km of riding in 30+ degree heat! Probably not the smartest idea.
I drank more and ate more and continued on, but in retrospect the damage had been done. Once you reach slight dehydration it’s very difficult to get properly hydrated again and your muscles are already suffering the effects. Plus I wasn’t feeling hungry because of the heat so I hadn’t eaten nearly enough either.
Once the food and water kicked in I started to feel better again and managed to hold a decent pace and stick with the boys, but I was never as sprightly or as fast as they were by this point. All three of them seemed to be handling the speed easily while I was struggling the whole time just to keep up.
We stopped again for a while to cool down in the shade and fill up water bottles and eat more, before turning onto that highway which runs from Geelong back to Melbourne. I felt stronger again and once again we set a decent pace for the next 20 or 30 kms, although I must admit that I wasn’t doing nearly my fair share of pulling. Although I have to say that a lot of complete strangers tacked onto the back of us and didn’t do their fair share of pulling. In fact every time I turned my head slightly on this stretch there were a dozen riders suctioned to our back wheels. Now that’s all fine and dandy, but then when at one point Andrew and Mark had had enough of giving everyone a free ride, they pulled back and said “Ok, who’s up next? Anyone? Will someone take a turn at the front???” there was a deafening silence. Nobody else said a word or came up to take their place, really bad form. If I was capable I would have suggested breaking away from them, but as it was I was lucky to be hanging on.
Then suddenly I crumbled. I just couldn’t get my legs to keep up at that pace and I dropped off the group. Psychologically it was interesting, I still felt completely fine and I knew I would make it through to the end, but I just had the strong conviction that I could no longer maintain that pace. I could keep cycling comfortably at a pace 5 km/hr slower, but that was it. So I thought no worries, I’ll just cruise along at whatever pace I can manage and when they stop I’ll catch up. I ate more and drank more and continued on. The boys stopped for me, but a few minutes afterwards I was dropped again. Eventually (or so it felt) we pulled into a servo and got bottles of ice cold water. By this time the heat was really oppressive and we all felt like we were overheating.
Andrew offering an indication of how we were really feeling at this point
World class toilet facilities
The rest helped a little and onwards we went. At 180km Dan suggested that we were at ironman bike distance – who would be keen to go out and run a marathon right now?
Shortly afterwards I cracked again and this was the worst part for me. The wind had picked up a little and my legs felt like jelly, they would barely go around. My speed dropped way back to around 25km/hr or less and my cadence was slow too. I still knew I’d finish, but my legs were burning and I was feeling like it would be a long struggle from there until the end. I still passed the odd person which I found incredibly surprising because in my mind I was basically standing still. My water went really quickly and I just couldn’t get enough in.
Mark was there by the side of the road waiting for me after a while and Dan and Andrew were stopped by a servo just a kilometre further to wait for me once more. I filled both water bottles, ate the last of my food and told the guys to go ahead and that I would finish in my own time. They refused to go on and said they’d stick with me until the end which was fantastic. All three of them were still looking so strong, every now and then Andrew would get this crazy look in his eye and just break away from the group pedalling madly, and Mark and Dan would be off after him and chase him down fairly easily. Bear in mind that this is after almost 200km of riding! Meanwhile I was barely able to keep up with their cruising speed, I couldn’t even conceive of going any faster.
But with the Westgate bridge in sight I got my final spurt of energy. Maybe it was all the food and water I’d been consuming trying to catch up on my nutrition and hydration, or maybe it was knowing that it was almost over, but suddenly it felt easy again and I thought “I am going to fire up this bridge”. As we got to the steep (but short) incline of the bridge there was a massive pack of cyclists ahead of us and as soon as the road went off I summoned my last reserves and took off. It was amazing, after hurting so badly cycling for hours on the flats, I cycled easily and smoothly up the bridge, passing the pack like they were standing still as a cacophony of heart rate monitors beeped alarmingly. Andrew, Dan and Mark pulled out and came with me and we crested together and flew down the other side and I was spent, but feeling great!
The last few kilometres were just tracking from traffic light to traffic light and without the sustained pedalling my legs were totally fine and I felt great leading up to the finish. Well not great… utterly knackered, but compared to how I’d been feeling thirty minutes before it was a vast improvement!
The four of us crossed the finish line together shortly after 4pm – over 10 hours after we’d started and just under 8 hours of actual riding. It was a tremendous feeling riding over together. Previously the other boys’ longest ride had been 130km and mine had been 150km (both on the Ettalong ride a month ago). I was so happy to have done it.
The final kilometre count as we crossed the line
The joy of not sitting in a bike seat
Serious athletes finish a hard day with a refreshing recovery beer
Dan getting some sound bites about our thoughts on the race
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