The Suffering, Cont...

So I was 50K in and the cramping has started. Continuing on this up and down journey I realized, it was all up and down. There was not a flat three meter section to be found anywhere. Yeah, I had thought that Holland, as a country, in total, was pancake flat and below sea level. This is based on any time I spent there, and the postcards, and the fact that when you land at Schipol airport (the international airport in the country) you are landing twelve feet below sea level, and there is your triva for the day. Anyway, the southern part of the country is anything but flat. It is a sea of rolling hills, never ending, rolling hills with farm after farm.
I was on a desent a few kilometers later where a few hundred people were standing in the middle of the trail. The trail was more along the lines of a very steep ditch that was claylike in consistency and had my bike weighing about five pounds more that it would clean with this crap stuck to every tube and derailleur. Anyway, a guy stacked it up pretty hard. Thankfully after moving around him I was able to get back on the bike and enjoy going downhill again. Unfortunately that fun was short lived where I heard someone yell "Pon Guy" and I looked over to see a fellow Pon employee on the side of the trail with a flat. The only thing he had to repair his issue was a tube. No tyre levers, no pump, nada. So I stopped, handed over what he needed and waited. I was able to take a Euro style pee as a few dozen people flew past. I was thinking about leaving him with my stuff and continuing on with the premise if I flatted, he would give it back as he passed. I am glad I did not do that.
About 60K in, I was in rough shape. I only partially filled a camelback because my lower back has issues but I used it to carry some food, tools, and tubes. I finished one water bottle a while ago and when I was on a little downhill, I dropped my other when I tried to wash the cowcrapmud from it. I would have stopped but after dropping it, I ran it over, yep it was that kind of day. So, my legs were siezing up pretty nicely at this point. When I bent a leg to relieve the cramp in my quad, my hamstring in the other leg would ball up. The only thing that felt good at all was spinning very tiny little gears. Any effort would cause serious pain after a very short while. I was beginning to question even if I was going to finish this thing but at 60K there was a beautiful sight, the second rest stop. I hammered back a banana (knowing that my guts were not going to like that at all), multiple cups of sports drink, an energy bar, and also filled my bottle.
I left after a few minutes with renewed energy. That energy lasted about a half hour. Suprisingly, my back was the last thing to start giving me grief, but eventually it did. I continued on, no longer able to hold wheels as people past. I was using the "ride within yourself" adage, which at this point can only be interpreted as, just finish this thing. I came down another decent, the number of which I could not count and was starting up another hill when I realized the back end was a bit more squishy than it should. It was then I realized there was air leaving my bike tire. Okay, horrific. It was good to have an excuse to get off the bike though. I pulled the wheel out, took the tube out and checked to find the hole. In a nightmare I saw that the hole was on the inside of the tube, looking at the wheel, I saw that my rim tape slid over, exposing three spoke holes. Now that is a big issue. I did not have any patches or tire boots so the only thing I could do was suck down a banana gu, tear the packet apart and put it over the holes. Unfortunately that is easier said than done. It took a bunch of time to rip the pack apart with my weak, birdlike fingers, and then I needed another set of hands because the tire would not seat. That is the blessing of and the curse of the 29er. Sometimes it is actually too easy to put a tire back on. Eventually I got it mounted up and I was back on my way, evern more gingerly now.
Continuing on my hills, up and down, ad naseum. Another guy from Pon came past me. A nice guy who signed me up for this torture. He came by and told me that there was just another 10K to go. That was great news to me and I figured another half hour or so and I was out of this. That lasted until I came upon the third rest station. It seemed weird to me that they would have a station what was now 8K from the finish. Nope, there was 20K left. I kind of wanted to cry a little. One more full bottle and I was on my way.
The balance of the race was just wanting to see the end around the next turn, dozens and dozens of turns. Each brought a little hope to me, each time it vanished. I finally recognized the church steeple that was near where we started, it has to be over soon. I got closer and closer, only to be turned out for another loop to nowhere. Eventually though, it did end. To say that relief washed over me six hours and twenty five minutes after the start would be an understatement. When I stopped to hand over my transponder from the race, I yelped as my legs continued to cramp up when I unclipped.
I looked at the display area, seeing a few hundred people hanging out, drinking and listening to techno thump away, I figured I would just head to the car. If no one was there, I would just lay down next to it. When I saw the BBB trailer (Bikers Behind the Bushes) trailer, I could not be more happy. Even better was to get out of the bibs I was wearing for the past twelve hours and drink a warm Coke and Sprite. Different parts of my body would take turns knotting up and I would grunt in pain. The funny thing is how short the memory of what went on is. About a half hour later, the memories dull and conversations turn to training more, and doing the next ride.
Patrick thankfully invited me to stay at his place for dinner. The Mamasita was cleaned and boxed, ready to head back to the states. I was still filthy, but fed on Dutch pea soup, bread and pasta. The drive home was not too bad, and thankfully I got a parking spot right outside my apartment because if I was two blocks away, I seriously think I would have slept in my car.
The funny thing is that, even though I was exhausted in every way possible, I could not get to sleep because I was so sore. Now it is two days later, still not back to normal.

Oh, one other thing. The Renault car I have been driving is getting turned in. Some light with a wrench came on the dashboard. I notified the rental company and told them I want something different. The French, wine, yep, cheese, yep, cars... NOPE!

I wonder what the ogre is up to these days?