We had breakfast early this morning, at 5:30 a.m. because we had 117 miles ahead of us to our next destination, Salt Lake City. I didn't eat much at breakfast, for some reason my stomach just didn't feel right. I got my luggage together and loaded it in the truck at the prescribed time of 6:30 am, but I still didn't feel quite right. I returned to my room and laid down for about an hour before leaving the hotel and heading east on Interstate 80 and onto the Bonneville Salt Flats. All the riders and support vehicles were well down the road at that point.
It was another beautiful, bright, morning as I cruised along through the salt flats. One of the Brits commented that riding through Nevada these last few days felt almost like being on another planet, so unique is the topography of the American West.
I came upon our America By Bicycle van off to the side of the road at about mile 20. The Brits were also there taking pictures and refilling water bottles. I joined them as we resumed our ride. I thought I was finally getting some sense of pace line etiquette when, after being in the front for about .3 miles, one member of the British team rode up beside me and told me I was "losing the pack," meaning I was riding faster than the pack wanted to ride. I was going perhaps 1 to 1.5 miles per hour faster than my predecessor at the front, and I had been told that one was supposed to ride at a pace that felt right to you. I didn't know it at the time, but evidently, they had agreed to take it easy today so as not to be too tired for our day off tomorrow. A logical strategy for sure. So there I was, my first chance to be at the front of the British National Cycling Team (Masters Division) on the open road and I had blown it. I was crestfallen. Upon returning to the back of the line, I noticed that we were now riding along at almost 18 MPH. I mentioned that I had just been admonished for going a tad too fast, but now we were going even more quickly. Actually, I said, "Hey, I just had my balls busted for going 17 MPH, and now we're going 18 MPH." Everyone laughed, and a rider went up to the front and said, "Hey, you just busted Dave's balls for going too fast, and now you are going faster." I guess the lead rider, I'm not sure who it was, had a faulty speedometer. At any rate, it was all great fun. A more delightful group of guys you will not find.
We reached a rest area around mile 50, and the Brits decided to have some lunch. I have found that I'm better off not eating sandwiches and such during a ride just because my stomach can be so unpredictable. I stick to granola bars, Cytomax (similar to Gatoraid) and Shotblocks (big gumdrops made for cyclists to give you energy). I guess these products all contain just the right ingredients such as sugar, sugar, and more sugar, to keep you going.
I continued on down the road by myself for the next 20 miles or so through what is referred to as the basin and ridge region of Utah - a series of flat depressions, salt beds, lakes, and sinks - all scattered between isolated ribbons of mountains. At around mile 70, I needed to replenish my water bottles and get something to eat. I exited the highway, and I came upon a gas station and convenience store. As I perused the vast selection of candy bars, nuts, crackers, cupcakes and donuts, the lady behind the counter commented that I should, "check out our Hostess Twinkies, they're the best!" I have not had a Hostess Twinkie since I was in the 3rd or 4 the grade. But now suddenly it seemed like the perfect choice to quench my hunger. They did not disappoint. Words like sublime, awe-inspiring, blissful, and even rapturous come to mind. From the first bite to the last, I couldn't help thinking, "No wonder these things have been around since the Hoover administration." At that point in the ride, my Garmin cycling computer was telling me that I had burned over 4000 calories. I have no idea how it comes up with that calculation ( it seems high to me), but I had no guilt eating my first Hostess Twinkies in over 50 years, just pure satisfaction. I filled my water bottles and went on my way.
It was another 20 miles down the road to the next SAG stop. It is incredible how just a 15 min break from riding and a little nourishment and water, rejuvenates you and allows you to press on. At the 90 mile mark, the SAG vehicles were parked on the side of the road. There is nothing there except the land and the road. I replenished my water bottles, eat some granola bars, and off I went for the last 27 miles of the days ride into Salt Lake City.
The last 10 or so miles became busy with traffic, including many trucks. The side of the road was quite messy in parts, littered with little stones and pieces of old tires, but at that point in the ride, with the end in sight, they were but small nuisances. Surprisingly I was still cooking along at a good clip. I came upon fellow rider Leonard, a retired machinist from Ohio, who was also riding along at a good pace. Then I came upon Jamie, Mike, and Jim and I rode the final miles with them to our hotel by the Salt Lake City airport. On one road leading up to the hotel some cycling clubs were training, their long pace lines flew by us at what seemed like breakneck speeds. Upon reaching our hotel, we all high fived each other. I'm not sure about them, but for me, it was the first time in over 15 years that I had ridden back to back days of over 100 miles.
My wife flew in from California to spend my rest day with me, and she arrived at the hotel about an hour later. What a blessed man I am to be participating in this very special bike ride and to be greeted at the end of the day by my wife and best friend. How sweet it is.
P.S- Here is an old home movie I found that my mother took of me riding my first bicycle. How cute I was. I wish I still had that matching suit coat and hat.
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