In August I officially came out of retirement... out of retirement from my nonexistent cycling career, that is. I rode in the Vattenfall Cyclassics, the "biggest bike race in Europe", held right here in Hamburg. I'm not sure which of its attributes makes it the biggest... but it's probably the number of amateur riders like me who participate in the "Everyman" category like I did. I don't know for sure, but I think there were over 15,000 participants. That's a lot of legs.
There were three distances for us wannabees: 55km, 100, and 155. I signed up for the 100k, figuring that it's only 62 miles, and I used to do that in college all the time. It would require some training - a few rides per week should do it - but I could find 62 miles in these old (hairy) legs, no problem.
Naturally, the training didn't have what one might call military-like discipline. To be fair, it rained A LOT in the months leading up to the race, way more than it should in July and August. And even when it wasn't raining, well, I still worked in advertising, which means late nights. Oh, and the riding here is a bit uninspiring, what with the lack of mountains or even hills, the endless sprawl, the bridges closed to cyclists, yadda yadda yadda. What other excuses can I make? I only had one jersey, and some evenings after work that fucker needed to be washed, and I don't mean perhaps. Can't ride without a jersey right? Right! Pass the ice cream, bitches.
Anyways, I figured out that the ride I managed to do about once per week is about 50k. In the middle are two small 2-3 minute climbs (gawd that sounds pathetic) that I could suffer on, and then turn around and do two or three more times to get that climber's body I've always dreamed about. And the thing about that is, I wasn't the only one making recursive pilgrimages to these tiny little Earth bumps - each time I rode there I'd see a bunch of dudes riding up as I rode down. Then I'd turn around at the bottom, ride back up, and pass them as they went back down. Turn around again, and repeat. And we'd smile at each other - that smile that says "Isn't this silly? I know, right?"
It felt pretty good though, and slowly I felt my condition getting better. I even had a ride or two where I felt really good - dancing on the pedals, you might say. Then it rained and work got busy, and I lost a little. But then I got back into the training rhythm again and started feeling better and then holy toe clips Batman, the ride is tomorrow!
Dirk and his friend Thomas, both Dutchies from Amsterdam, came to Hamburg to ride with me - Dirk and I went to school together, and Thomas is a friend of his. It was a perfect Sunday morning for a ride - bright and sunny and warm. And at 8:30am, the three of us non-German amateurs lined up in our starting block of 500. And what a mishmash of cyclists it was - there were groups wearing matching jerseys, and even some with matching bikes. And right next to them would be a lonely solo rider, trying to avoid eye contact with everybody, trying to stay cool, but obviously wishing he had a mate to pass the time with. There were 7000 dollar bikes and one or two 70 dollar garage-sale bikes, and everything in between. I saw carbon wheels and shaved, veiny legs... and the goofball in front of me who took at least two hundred meters to get his size 50 German tennis shoes from the eighties into hot clips and straps from the seventies. I would have given him a hand, but I didn't want to touch him - I might catch dorky.
Caroline was kind enough to escort us down there, take the jacket I decided I wouldn't need, and even wait up the road to cheer us on after we rolled out... onto the fully blocked-off roads of a professional cycling course. My friends, if you ride, you've gotta do a ride like this at least once so you can experience the awesome beauty of a car-less, pedestrian-free, roadway where all you see are bicyclists riding in the same direction. It was like flying. It was fantastic. Rolling around corners knowing there was plenty of clean road and no risk from cars was like crawling naked into a warm bed with someone you love over and over again for three hours, with a feedzone in the middle (Powerbar anyone?).
So we rode and rode down these beautiful empty roads on a perfect sunny day. There were 15,000 riders spread out on 155km of roads which is enough to always have someone to draft behind (oh those giant square-shouldered Germans!), but enough of a spread to never feel too crowded. And the second best thing to all the people on bikes were all the wonderful people on the side of the road cheering us on. How lovely of them! They yelled and whistled and spun those clackity noise maker thingies and held up signs as we huffed and puffed and hauled our fat asses all over southern Hamburg.
Fifty kilometers is where my body is used to climbing off the bike and spending the next half an hour cramming 47 pieces of toast down my throat while I have an internal argument about whether or not I should actually be taking a shower right now (Answer: HUNGRY! FUCK YOU!) But of course this time fifty kilometers was only halfway, and I certainly felt it. The second half of the ride was noticeably slower and more sedate. No more mad dashing through the streets and much less fighting for position; we went from "We're on fire!" to "Are we there yet?" It was a bit more of a slog, but still exquisite. With twenty kilometers to go, we climbed and crossed the Köhlbrand bridge, which is a tiny bit like the Golden Gate, except it's blue and a lot more modern and designy. More importantly, it's normally closed to cyclists, so it was a real treat to ride across it. Plus, going up and over it is the biggest climb in the whole route. Only in Hamburg would the King of the Mountains competition be decided on a fucking bridge.
It was a fairly epic way to finish off the ride though. From there we twisted and turned our way back into the city. I had lost touch with Dirk and Thomas - one ahead and one behind - so I rolled in in a straggling group of fifteen or so. The crowd was five deep at the barriers by the finish line, and everyone was cheering like we were in a bunch sprint on the Champs-Elysees as I crossed the line. Epic.
After a shower and some lunch, I went back to the race and checked out all the booths set up at Jungfernstieg and Rathaus Markt. I got to try electric shifting of Shimano's Di2. I tried it on a stationary trainer, and it actually wasn't shifting perfectly - the rear derailleur needed some adjustment (or perhaps some new firmware? Maybe a fresh reboot?) but it was obviously just a matter of adjustment to a system that is obviously the wave of the future. Like index shifting, integrating the shifting into the brake levers, email, twitter, and YouPorn, kids born today will one day ask us what life was like in the dark ages when dinosaurs roamed the earth and bicycles had cables that, like, moved things mechanically? OMG WTF DAD!
There were tons of other booths there too - exotic carbon bikes from Pearl and friends, and all the local bike shops, one of which had the Trek Madone I've had my eye on marked down even further. Sadly, of all the problems I encountered over the 100 kilometers - aching muscles, sore ass, tingly toes, mild oxygen debt, low blood sugar, thirst, getting passed by fat people, etc. - not one of them can be attributed to the bicycle I was riding. Which is unfortunate, because there just doesn't seem to be any justification whatsoever for for me to buy the Madone. Or one of these! Or one of these! Or this pretty titanium one! Or maybe something in stainless steel! And that's a damn shame because I so want one with its ultra lightweight carbon everything, and its more upright geometry (maybe that would soothe some of my old-man aches and pains?!), and its ten speeds (one more cog to get over the hills of Hamburg? I mean if there were any?). I'm thrilled to say that I'm so old and slow that even low-end components are plenty high enough for me, which brings nice road bikes down from catastrophically expensive, to merely stupidly expensive. Still, due to my current bank account situation, it seems that if I'm going to scratch my cycling itch, I'm going to have to do it with actual riding on a bike that is not only perfectly adequate, but still a little awesome. Pooooor me.
