The Gran Fondo 2012

Welcome all literary critics, connoisseurs of Pulitzer prize winning journalism and trouble making cyclists. I do have to apologize for the rather lengthy delay in reporting on our latest non race/cycling escapade - Gran Fondo but it has taken that long for my brain and body to rehydrate enough to be able to put a thoughts to keyboard.

In what is fast becoming the marquee event of the summer we had our largest turnout to date for an MRC non race with 14 non racers looking to man train around Ulster and Sullivan counties.  While the MRC is devoted to the worshipping of carbon fibre and mastery of the Italian dialect is a must we, of all things, do not exclusive club as was evidenced by the participation of Murp was aiming to dominate the time trial bike division.

Displaying the focus and technique to fast transitions Murp arrived at the casa in a spray of gravel in dust, hopping out to sign in, then departing in another hail of gravel as he raced home for the proverbial “forgotten cleats”. Those astute enough to realize this meant a delay in the start headed for the man cave and a final translation of the course and a pre non race beer.  Once agin displaying his mastery of the transition, Murp once again arrived in the “transition area” at full speed sending some non racers running for cover.

 Coming out of the man cave from the pre race "safety meeting" was akin to Specoli getting out of the van. 

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 Fortified for our date with pain, the peleton headed up the 420 foot climb up the driveway and rolled out toward our date with destiny and the first stop was the climb up 44/55 to Trapps bridge. The tone for the day was set at the base of the climb with Frank, El Obamaor, Senor Agua and Fat Chick taking off while the rest of us formed the autobus and socialized up the slopes. The day’s first KOM points went to Frank, El –Obamador, Senor Agua, Fat Chick and then, in a true duche bag binky sucking move, MacGyver who sucked C-Dubs wheel like a hooker sucks a John at the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel and shot around in the final 200’to take the last points.

Taking count at the summit we were down one with the Murp no where to be seen. After a 5 minute wait we canned the no drop policy, agreed – f*#k him and off we went for the next summit. Turns out our triathlete had broken a spoke, ran a couple miles with his bike to get a new wheel and then set off to rendezvous with the troops at the Ashokan – true MRC harden the fuck up attitude. The summit of 44/55 results were the same only this time Top Chef slotted in for 5^th. The descent down the back side had us hitting the high 40’s at which point we discovered that the most excellent spoke cards suddenly became weapons of death as they dislodged from wheels and came at anyone behind like ninja death stars.

         

 Top Chef, displaying superior bike handling skills picked up in the dojo, managed to dodge C-Dubbs death star. At the bottom Top Chef and C-Dubbs pulled to the for the return trip bottle drop, but more on the significance of this later.

Rolling along the pain train, or in these conditions the sweat train, was derailed when Flying Frank (not to be mistaken for summit conquering Frank) flatted and we all stopped for the repair and Tibetian goji berries that Sherpa Braveheart had in the massive supply pack he was carrying.

 In true no MRC no drop style we waited for the repairs to be completed and then pace lined it to the supermarket/aid station where we discovered that Flying Frank was no where to be seen (apparently the victim of another flat with no spares). Rich the Masher volunteered to head back and then meet up with us at Bread Alone by riding the second half of the course backwards. Knowing the next KOM points were a short climb right out of the supermarket C-Dubbs pulled a classic cheese dick move and jumped the pack on the roll out for an early lead up the climb. Maintaining a steady tempo and looking good for a potential summit victory C-Dubbs was derailed when his bag of gu and drink mix exited his jersey forcing a dismount. The summit was another Ground Hog day with Frank beginning to take a stranglehold on the KOM jersey.

Next up was the 12 mile climb up Peekamoose with the usual crowd going at it for the points only this time the heat and humidity was starting to take their toll with non racers getting shelled off the back. Waiting on the summit, where Frank had secured not only his second growler but the 50 Kroner prize for the Cima Coppi and a lock on the coveted KOM jersery, we were caught in a downpour that brought back memories of last years rainfest.

Then through the mist arrived the seasons first summit guppy, 3 Beer Rossi followed by Sherpa Braveheart who was being to strain under the load he was carrying.

 The ensuing descent, the steepest in the area, was done in a total downpour with everyone, except Braveheart, hard on the brakes. Our master descender was seen speeding off into the mist on a course straight to the official MRC team car/support vehicle where we would dine on the finest cuisine of the far east later in the ride. Meanwhile the rest of the gang did a bit of choo-chooing until we arrived at one of the favored stops of the MRC – Bread Alone – where the crew stormed the espresso bar and caused a meltdown by the help.

 Just as we were wrapping up the doubles in rolled Flying Frank and Rich the Masher, having ridden the course backwards to meet up and get to ride the same roads the other way. Well somehow in the flurry of orders the Masher’s sandwich was passed over and as we mounted up to leave Rich was forced to jam as much into his pie hole as possible before wrapping the rest up for the jersey pocket (nothing quite like a turkey and mayo sandwich sitting in the jersey pocket for an hour in the sweltering heat).

Still shaking from the double espressos we headed across the Ashokan resevouir and a rendezvous with Braveheart and the MRC sag wagon.

 First priority was to Towelie off, translate the course map and set off for the Sampsonville climbs and our arrival at the base of the 44/55 climb where Top Chef and C-Dubbs revealed the superior doping methods of the MRC – pure Peruvian coca leaf tea.

 And this tea had been brewing in the sun for a couple of days with multiple bags in each bottle to ensure that we had a superior attitude and superior state of mind for the final 5 mile climb. Despite the bottle advantage we were carrying the results at the summit were the same with Frank nailing down all 3 growlers, the Chima Coppi 50 Kroner note and the coveted MRC KOM jersey. With Braveheart cheering us on at the summit the shattered pack rolled back to HQ in smaller groups to a fired up grill, cold yeasty malted beverages and the Tour de France.

Check out the rest of the pictures at Braveheart's gallery.

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