As Bob writes, below, I did manage not only to start the Tour de Houston (TdH), but also to finish it. While bicycle rides “out in the country” have tended to start between 8 am and 9 am, city rides apparently don’t have that luxury (if a non-competitive running event is a “fun run”, is a non-competitive cycling event a “like bike”? “fun bike”?). For the TdH, the start for the 70 mile ride was at a sleep-challenging 7:15 am. This was made all the more challenging because of a lack of port-a-cans at Discovery Green. Seriously, there was greater capacity at two of the rest stops than there was at the central start/stop location. As a result, I was still “in line” at the point at which my ride “started”. Fortunately, so were a bunch of other people. Since this isn’t technically a race, the start time is really more of a suggestion, right? At least, that is what I tell my inner competition demon.
Anyway, the start was pretty nice, though the spacing was cramped for the number of participants. As Bob’s photo shows, I ultimately swung wide to be sure to get out onto the course in a reasonable grouping (riders were released in bunches).
I was pretty juiced with the start. We left Discovery Green and went directly onto the Elysian Viaduct, a pretty nice little warm-up climb. After that, it was up Elysian to within spitting distance of 610, then back around onto Hardy street headed towards downtown. We got to Quitman and hooked a right, and headed into the Heights. There were some light “hills” going up and down the overpasses and the White Oak Bayou watershed, but this course is effectively flat. Reagan High School was our first stop, 10 miles into the ride, with an average speed over 16.5 mph. Gotta love group rides (drafting) in the flats!
Leaving stop 1, we headed for the heart of the Heights, but there a serious miscommunication occurred. The ride was segmented into three distances: 20 miles, 40 miles and 70 miles. The 20 mile route was a loop from downtown through the Heights and back. The 40 mile route added a 20 mile jaunt down through our Montrose neighboorhood, past Rice University and on through a few neighborhoods near Brays bayou. The 70 mile route added a 30 mile leg up north through Oak Forest and up into western Aldine. We were supposed to do the northern leg last, prior to the finish, but, instead, we were routed onto the northern leg first, or at least some large chunk of the 70 mile riders were. This wouldn’t become a problem for a few hours, but this was definitely a problem.
In any event, we left the Heights behind and headed north up along Ella Boulevard and then TC Jester. Stop 2 was at the 18 mile mark at 43rd and TC Jester, TC Jester Park, a park that is remarkable for two things: it has what looks to be a fairly playable, but well-treed disc golf course, and it has a pool with 5m and 10m diving platforms (these aren’t ever open — too much liability).
The good news about Stop 2 was that it was well-stocked. The bad news was that it would also be Stop 4, and there were apparently no supply ships coming. Ugh! I’m glad I grabbed a couple of nut bars of some flavor there to shove into my pockets. For those considering riding in a “fun bike”, never leave a rest stop empty, if you can help it. Always leave with filled water bottles, preferably with at least one of them filled with Brawndo, and grab a snack pack (e.g., banana, trail bar) to carry with you. Bonking is no fun (more foreshadowing).
About a mile up the road, we were stopped at the light at Tidwell, and a pace line of hammerheads came flying past headed the other way. At this point, I am at mile 19, give or take, and they are flying past mile 34. This was both an inspiring (“hey, I want to do that!”) and a humbling (“hey, I can’t [yet] do that!”) sight. For those curious about what a “hammerhead” is, this is cycling slang for people who are really good/fast. People who “hammer” on a ride. A pace line is a line of cyclists drafting each other so that the collective is faster than the individual. In a well-tuned team, the lead rider will push the pace for a mile or so, and then drop off to let the line pass him or her, where he then tucks into the back of the slipstream.
After that, it was time to put my head down and go. There was another somewhat ill-placed stop at mile 23, but after that, it was taking the loop through Aldine and back to TC Jester park at mile 35, half-way. Having had the locusts visit the stop once before, TC Jester was a LOT more barren than it was when I had come through the first time. The riders are also starting to look a lot more tired than they had a few miles ago. Oh, yeah, the sun is fully out now, and the temperature is headed up.
Unfortunately, there was no Brawndo here, so I had to settle for slurping down my bottle of Gatorade from the prior stop and refilling with DHMO. It’s not got ‘Lectrolytes. I also savaged one of the two nut bars I had grabbed the first time through so I had some incremental energy to make it through the next 15 miles, since there were only Christmas Tree-shaped pretzels available for snacks (no thanks; it’s March!). I did not know that it was 15 miles to the next stop, but I’m glad I kept some stuff to munch in reserve.
Given the uncertain resupply situation, I think I need to back down on the pace a bit to avoid “bonking” (aka “cratering”, aka experiencing an over exertion body failure or injury). Gotta love those flats, though! Time to head “downhill” (towards the sea) and the southerly leg through our hood.
Riding back down TC Jester and into the Heights on 11th Street, I was yet again thankful that the course designers skipped putting us over Mt. TC Jester, the tall overpass that crosses over a rail yard and White Oak Bayou. I can hit upwards of 30mph on the downhill leg of that overpass if I put some effort into it. Anyway, we hit Heights Boulevard, did a squiggle over onto Yale, and then headed south across Memorial Drive and through our neighborhood. That’s where Bob caught a picture of me as we passed through the intersection of Commonwealth and Fairview about mile 44, just four miles shy of the longest I had ever ridden.
We did a squiggle on Westheimer to get onto Mandell, and then headed for the Rice campus. As we came down out of the Heights and onto Waugh, there was a definite increase in the amount of bicyclists we saw coming at us. Glad to see the 40 milers weren’t all done. However, the cops are starting to get complacent to non-existent, and there are a lot fewer of us in any given pack. I’ve managed to pick up with a group of mostly female riders and a couple of middle-aged and older guys (yikes, like me!), all of whom are asking, “Where do we go next?” Fortunately, I know approximately where we are headed, even though I lost my map pretty quickly into the ride. One of the guys looked like Rice’s Baseball, coach Wayne Graham, but he is plastered to my rear wheel, so I only get a few chats with him at traffic stops (e.g., “Are you doing the MS150 this year? How about you? …”).
After 15 miles since I left TC Jester Park, I finally arrive at Pershing Middle School, and what would turn out to be the final rest stop. It should not have been, but it was. At 51 miles into the ride, the pack is definitely looking ragged and worn-out. Lots of people are off in what little shade is available stretching and resting. Time for more sunscreen, courtesy of the HFD medic tent (in blue, next to Sun-n-Ski). Thanks, guys!
Fortunately, this rest stop had Branwdo, and I loaded up. I made a tactical error, though, and drank another half of a bottle without refilling before setting off. Not smart, Bill. Not smart. No worries, I thought, since we are supposed to have one more trip through the Reagan High School rest stop, so I’m not too worried about running out of juice.
Well, I left Pershing Middle School behind and pedaled back up through the Rice area and Neartown and up into the Heights. Coming up Main, Mandell and Waugh, several of the cops at intersections were starting to pull up the cones for traffic control, which was Not A Good Thing. This took me from a slower, but still aggressive pace to backing down to the staccato pace that embodies safe cycling in a city (coasting into lights, pedaling like hell to get through lights or through dangerous traffic, stopping abruptly when you really can’t make it safely). The average speed starts falling, and the stress level rises a bit.
Needless to say, when we made the turn onto 11th street, I was starting to get excited about Reagan High School, since the sun was really starting to beat down on me (it’s after noon, now), and we were back onto a route that hadn’t been fully released to the cars yet. However, these dreams were crushed cruelly by fate as we were never routed into Reagan High School. Apparently, since we were supposed to do the southern leg first, rather than the northern one, the route we ended up riding did not go back through another rest stop. Yep, 20 miles through urban traffic in 80+ degrees with the fluids you brought with you, if any. Not good. I expect more than a few people had a bad end to their day because of this. At least the few 70 mile riders who got routed (correctly) south initially (apparently some were) did get an extra rest stop at Reagan HS, even if they probably did not have anything but water left for them by the time they made it to TC Jester. Or at least I hope they still had water left!
Having ridden for another 15 miles with no stops, I decided to stop at the top of a small rise along White Oak Bayou for my own impromptu rest stop. Down the hatch went the last half-bottle of Brawndo and a smaller bottle of water. I’ve got five miles left, and nothing left in the tank otherwise. Fortunately, while a little saddle sore, I still felt fairly good. I had to bid my riding group goodbye when I stopped, but five miles solo is no big deal. Of course, there are two “hills” left for the finish (Quitman overpass and Elysian Viaduct), so it could still be interesting.
I headed along White Oak street to where it turns into Quitman, and there, I got stopped by a cop at the intersection of Quitman and the off-ramp from I-45, just prior to the Quitman overpass. Thanks, Deputy Dawg, you couldn’t let a lone cyclist through?!?! I now get to do the climb from a standing start. Time to gear down and Mash!
Pedaling furiously in a low gear, I get up and over Quitman and onto a small downhill from there to Hardy Street. The cop at Hardy and Quitman is picking up his cones, so I’m definitely racing time and traffic now. I look up ahead, and the “big finish” awaits: Elysisan Viaduct, Hardy edition. It’s a nice double-climb, with an initial elevation gain to get over the railroad and a second climb to get over Buffalo Bayou (I guess canoes need extra clearance vs. trains). There is a small group of cyclists on the side of the road who are resting up before tackling it. Nice idea, but I’m out of water and ready to be done. I gear down, look up for my goal point and start to push. And push.
Up ahead on the road, I see a couple of cyclists, and I’m really hauling them in. Yet again, I feel good that my mountain bike and I can keep up with some of the slower gazelles, even if we aren’t as pretty. I fix my gaze on those guys and let the inner predator go: catch ’em and pass ’em. Push.
Then, the guy on the left really starts to slow down. He stops. He falls over. Literally, he came to a dead stop and fell over most of the way up the first incline. I pull over to render aid, if needed, and his buddy/companion/guy-just-happened-to-be-next-to is there as well. The downed cyclist is apparently cramping up and can’t get his feet out of his clips. We detach him from his bike and get some water into him. Unlike me, he has one bottle almost full and one completely full. This is a good thing because I have nothing to offer him, but I suspect I know why he got into trouble. (Brawndo! It’s got ‘lectrolytes! It’s what plants crave!)
The guy catches his breath and starts working out his cramps. A cop car pulls up behind us, blocking traffic, thankfully, since this guy is spread over two lanes. He refuses an ambulance, and I offer to help him stand up and get over to the side of the road. I haul him up, get him situated (the water seems to be helping a lot), see that he’s got coverage, and then resume the rest of the climb.
The best part of a climb is that, generally speaking, there is a nice downhill to complement the up. However, this small joy is ruined if you don’t know whether you are going to get flattened by a car at the other end. Thanks race organizers for not having the right coverage, especially for us slow pokes at the end! I have to ride my brakes coming down the Elysian Viaduct, not getting much over about 22 mph, so that I can stop quickly if a light changes. Back to paranoid traffic mode. Fortunately, the end is very close. Unfortunately, the route to the end is not well-marked. Besides, I paid for a 70 mile ride, and I will get my 70 mile ride, traffic control be damned. So, I overshot Discovery Green, circled back around the George R. Brown and came under the start line, again, only to U-turn for a finish. Not quite the full goal, but it’s hot, I’m tired, and really, I’m pretty disgusted with how the course ended, so it’s time to call it quits for the day.
Epilog(ue): Well, having proved that I can ride 70 miles at a stretch on my mountain bike with big knobby tires, I don’t feel the need to do that again. After getting cleaned up and having lunch at El Meson in the Rice Village, I went to Bike Barn and added a new steed to the stable.
One of my absolutely favorite books from my childhood is about 
