It's been quite a while since I've written a race report, 5 years to be exact. Who could forget, "Ironman Barcelona - Penicillin Cream?" It became an instant classic and bolted to the top of Vamazon's top seller list ... the Vietnamese version of Amazon.com
I figure the right thing to do during a time of pandemic was for the Freshest Prince of Saigon to give people cake, money, and a vaccine ... or he can give them a race report. Since the Freshest Prince doesn't share food, money, or life saving vaccines with the Peasant Class Citizens, a race report will have to do. I can only give but so much.
For those not familiar with Ironman Viet Nam Ultra, it's a made up race from the most magnificent mind of the Freshest Prince of Saigon. There's even a FB page for it, so you know it's almost legit
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THE COURSE
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The race takes place on Skyline Drive, in the Shenandoah National Park. The Appalachian Trail runs through it, so do hippies and felons. Skyline Dive is about 105 miles from the north entrance gate to the south entrance gate of the park You do a round trip of it and you do it within a day. Smart people do it in a car. Hippies do it while on a high. People with reckless regards for their testicles do it on a bike, sans battery ... and sometimes even sans testicles.
It's a mountainous area with a one lane car road in each direction. There are no shoulders unless you are near a scenic overlook or rest stop. You're either climbing at a snail's pace or you're descending at a suicidal speed. The longer climbs can be 3-5 miles of continuous and relentless hills before you get a little reprieve for the next climb. Conversely, the descent can be 3-5 miles of giving your brakes the squeeze of death, on winding roads, next to steep cliffs and opposing car traffic.
The few flat areas there are called false flats. That is, you're peddaling like a crackhead but moving like a weedhead. Because it's a national park, it's not unusual to see a bear crossing as you're descending at breath taking speed or play the stare game with deer along the side of the road.
Your obstacles include weather (lots of stuff happens over 200+ miles in the mountains and changing elevations), available daylight (there are no man-made lights at the side of the road in the park. It's total darkness after the sun goes down. Good luck in getting a cell signal out there. You are off the grid), and your will to overcome the pain/exhaustion of biking 200+ miles, over 28,000 ft of climbing in one day.
Wanna pee after 6 PM? Well, the rest stops that sell food/supplies are about 25 miles apart and they all close at 6 PM. They lock up the restrooms when they leave, so find a bush off the side of the road and hope you don't get ambushed by a family of bears.
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COURSE PROFILE
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Below are two screenshots. The first one is from MapMyRide, assuming that you start from the north (Front Royal entrance) and turning around at the south (Charlottesville entrance). The second screenshot is from the only other competitor of this year's Ironman Viet Nam Ultra's (Paige W) bike computer, starting and ending at mile marker 51 on Skyline Dr. It's 209 miles of riding and 28,000 ft of climbing, according to MapMyRide ... but according to my Vietnamese altimeter, it's 3 billion feet of climbing. And, according to Paige, it's dead flat.
MapMyRide Profile
The big "V" shaped profile on Paige's bike computer screenshot is the descent into Front Royal and the climb out of it. It's soul crushing when you're climbing on it. Paige says, stop whining, it's only a speed bump. Word on the street is that Paige was born in a test tube, the plastic kind not the fancy glass one.
Paige's Bike Computer
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TUAN MANIFESTO
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This race report is part of my race report manifesto. For those who have not read any of my previous race reports and are not aware of the flavor that I put in my writings, please visit the entire series to understand why my mother once sent her favorite first born son to the Ho Chi Minh Daycare Center and forgot that she had a favorite first born to pick up at the end of the day. Let me just say that, as a 6 year old, it ain't freaken easy to hitchhike your way back home in a city full of Viet Cong.
I don't write race reports. I write manifestos. My manifestos have drama, intrigue, and innuendos. It's a byproduct of my Ho Chi Minh public school up bringing. Back at the Ho Chi Mind Daycare Center, if you don't make the headmaster laugh, he'd waterboard your ass for not entertaining him. If you make him laugh too much, he'd waterboard your ass for making him laugh too much. God forbid if you talk about his cross dressing mistress in front of his wife. It's a fine line between underfed and overhydrated.
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The Manifesto
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Chapter 1: Making Love to Buoys at the Luray Sprint
Chapter 2: Vietnamese Saigon Tango with a Naked Anna Kornakova at the IM Longhorn 70.3
Chapter 3: Plight of a Vertical Swimmer at the IM California 70.3
Chapter 4: Confessions of a Bike Pee-er at the IM Eagleman 70.3
Chapter 5: Ironman Florida - I Hear Voices (2009)
Chapter 6: Ironman Florida - Spirit of the Bricklayers (2010)
Chapter 7: Ironman Germany - What Happens When A Man's Nut Freezes?
Chapter 8: Marine Corps Marathon - The Orphans Shall Be Fed
Chapter 9: Challenge Copenhagen - The Nutcracker Does Europe
Chapter 10: Ironman Sweden - The Vietnamese Lesbian
Chapter 11: Ironman Chattanooga - OBGYN Coupons for Everyone
Chapter 12: Ironman Barcelona - Penicillin Cream
Chapter 13: Ironman Viet Nam Ultra - The Spreadsheet
If this race report seems long to you, try biking 200+ miles on Skyline Dr.
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BACKGROUND
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Almost exactly 4 years ago I attempted this exact same feat, but failed miserably at mile 120-ish. Below was my Facebook post that day. Some handsome Vietnamese thought that a solo attempt under 100+ degrees heat index and humidity was an awesome idea. Fortunately, I had a friend "nearby" to bail me out and drive me back to my car. I believe John W's response to my call for help that day was, "WTF! Are you sure? I'm like 4 hours from your location." Yes, I'm sure. You think I enjoy sitting next to a bear with an ethnic food fetish? ... you don't get more ethnic than a fresh off the boat Vietnamese.
Every year, on the anniversary date, the below post pops up on my FB page to remind me of my failure.
It has taken 4 years for all 3 of my testicles to return to their proper location. I'd never thought that I would attempt this again, mostly because I never thought I would have testicles again. Sometimes you just have to accept your physical limitations, I supposed? ;)
Two weeks prior to this race, I had to pull out of my Ironman race, Ironman Estonia, due to the EU travel ban on Americans. The positive side to COVID-19 was that it allowed me to work from home. This gave me the opportunity to put in a lot more saddle time than I normally would in a typical Ironman training season. I felt quite strong on the bike this year, probably the best bike fitness I've ever had. The testis were back in a familiar place, so why not?
I emailed Paige about 3 minutes after I officially deferred my Ironman registration. I asked her if she wanted to do Ironman Viet Nam Ultra a few weeks later with me. Due to safety concerns, it had to be done within 2 weeks so that we could have enough daylight. A normal person would have said, "ummmm, I need more than 2 weeks to train for this," but she said, "let's do it. My ass rash is almost 100% healed."
Let that sink in for a second ... not the ass rash, but the other thing.
Someone emails you out of the blue and asks you to do something this stupid/physically challenging within the next two weeks ... and even with a ass rash, you jump on the opportunity instead of unfriending them on Facebook. I wish I had as many testicles as she has.
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THE SPREADSHEET
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Paige asked me what my plans were, thinking that I had put a lot of thought into this. My response was, "I'm a big idea guy. My big idea is that we show up at Front Royal in the morning, hit the south gate in the afternoon, turnaround, and come back." She then replied, "that's not a plan. That's wishful thinking."
Like the mother of all Type-A people, she proceeded to put a plan together on a spreadsheet. That spreadsheet had everything on it ... pie charts, Venn diagrams, footnotes, and external links to articles from the Journal of American Medicine to explain the science behind her spreadsheet. I asked her if she had peer reviewed her spreadsheet. She replied, "you think this is my first rodeo with a spreadsheet!?"
I will grant you that English isn't my first language, but does anyone out there, not on pain killers, know what a "civil twilight" is? In the refugee/immigrant circle that I hang out in, we don't know WTF that is. Well, until now ... because it was footnoted with an explanation in said spreadsheet.
People! I've got an engineering degree from one of the finest for-profit university in Saigon proper. You can't buy a more expensive engineering degree than what I have. Had I sent one of my professors the spreadsheet that Paige sent me, they would have been like, "WTF is this Cambodian shit? Is there CIA maleware embedded in this thing? Have you cleared it with Hanoi?"
That spreadsheet had tabs for every freaken scenario you can think of ... 30 seconds pee break, 12 seconds picture break, 9 seconds to verify no cell signal, and so on. If I wanted to call my mother to tell her that I love her, the spreadsheet said to not take longer than 3 seconds to do it.
To emphasize the fact that she didn't think I fully comprehend western spreadsheet technology, she put it on a Vietnamese spreadsheet (below) for me to easily digest prior to the start. She might as well have written that shit in Chinese. I really wanted to tell her that just because I'm Asian doesn't mean that I understood one number that she had written down on that piece of paper. WTF is that! ... longitude and latitude numbers? Should I have checked the spreadsheet for the footnote explanation on it?
Vietnamese Spreadsheet
She had sent me like 15 versions of the spreadsheet. First, it was a fun casual ride with the goal of just finishing. Then, her type-A personality took over and said that that was too slow, her grandmother could do it faster, so another version was sent out. Then, that version was too aggressive, so there was one in between. Then, there was one that she sent me because she didn't think I could get in and out of the restroom in under 45 seconds. She had no confidence in my transition skills ... so the timeline on the spreadsheet had to be "Tuan adjusted" for longer bathroom breaks. It's asif she thought I was a diva or something.
I was a bit insulted. I'm a 12x Ironman. My transition skills are top notch. Back in 'Nam, I was peeing on the bike before our family could afford bikes. Heck, I pee on myself in the transition tent just to save 3 seconds.
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RACE STRATEGY
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The original strategy was to start at the Front Royal entrance gate, but with the introduction of western spreadsheet technology, that strategy got changed. The descent coming back into Front Royal is the most aggressive descent section of the entire 210 miles. It's a clavicle breaker descent, so we didn't want to attempt that under the cover of darkness, at the end of the day, when we were tired.
We then agreed to start the ride at Thorton's Gap, 31 miles from the Front Royal entrance gate. I went out to Skyline with Mish and Cindy H the week before the race to do an 80 mile recon ride while Paige was at home giving me live feed of her spreadsheet updates.
Though not as aggressive as the Front Royal descent, the Thorton's Gap descent was aggressive enough to make the only good clavicle I have left, twitch ... so I told Paige that the spreadsheet didn't adequately take my twitching clavicle into consideration. She needed to readjust it. The opportunity to play with her spreadsheet some more probably made her giddy like Fat Albert in the middle of a twinkie store.
Paige was then able to score us a luxury suite at the official race hotel, The Saigon Ritz Carlton - Skyline, near mile marker 51. That luxury suite's amenities included no air con, no TV, and no wifi. When you went into the bathroom, you had to bring a bucket in with you. The light in our room, I'm still not sure if that came from a light bulb or the moonlight coming through the window. When we tried to charge our smartphones, it said, "WTF is this device!?"
Luxury Suite at the Saigon Ritz Carlton - Skyline
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RACE MORNING
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Wake up at 3:30 AM, prepped until 4:30, depart for staging area at 4:31, start pedaling at 4:50 AM.
By the way ... I'm just reiterating what was in the spreadsheet; ref: tab 769, section 3.C.43.iii, to be exact
The spreadsheet didn't say anything about me eating in the morning, so I had to sneak out to down two honey stingers, one rice crispy treat, and 12 oz of two day old Vietnamese ice coffee. I was afraid to make fresh coffee out of fear of angering the spreadsheet. Well, that, and the fact that the Saigon Ritz Carlton - Skyline required you to walk out to bear country in order to retrieve ice from an ice maker. The freaken hotel didn't have flushing toilets, but it did have an ice maker.
Race morning weather, I thought, was perfect for an event like this ... humid like the motherland, clear skies, and low 60s. The plan was to attack the Front Royal loop before coming back to the car and then taking on the southern loop. We figured that the first 51 miles would give us ample time to warm up our legs for that vicious 20 mile climb from the entrance of Front Royal.
Paige had on arm warmers at departure. I thought to myself, what a fool, she's going to overheat and kill herself. As we will see later, Paige wasn't the fool I pegged her to be. I should really pay more attention to the weather forecast tab of the spreadsheet, especially when it was color coded ... but in my defense, there were like 30,000 tabs on that freaken spreadsheet.
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FIRST 51 MILES LEG
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The skies were clear as we took our first pedal stroke. Those first few miles were pretty neat. We started near the highest point on Skyline, so were both taken by how peaceful and beautiful the view was that early in the morning on top of the mountain. Back in 'Nam, if you wanted to see that kind of view, you had to either be CIA or a card carrying member of the Viet Cong.
We had a good conversation going at the start, but in the back of my mind I was saying to myself, "this chick is setting me up for an attack on the first climb. I just know it. She's been nice to me all morning. This is a classic Viet Cong ambush maneuver ... and she was going to cover herself by saying that it was in the footnote of one of the tabs in the spreadsheet."
My bike worked fine at the beginning, but then it started violently shaking. It was only doing it when I was descending with speed. I had no idea what was going on. All I was thinking was, shit, it's a mechanical and my day was going to end just as it was starting. I mean, the spreadsheet doesn't look at you too kindly when you tell it that you have a bike mechanical issue.
Descending at speed with a wobbly bike, in the dark, isn't what you want to do out there on Skyline. The retaining walls are hard and the cliff falloffs are a few hundred feet down the side of a mountain. The bears will get to your body before the helicopters will. On top of that, we were starting to hit heavy fog and mist. To say I was concerned is an understatement. I seriously considered pulling out, but the fear of the spreadsheet prevented me from uttering the "no mass" command.
I tried stopping a few times to check out my bike but nothing seemed to be wrong. The shaking continued. It wasn't another 30 miles before I figured out what was wrong with my bike. It was the Vietnamese on top of it. Who would have thought?
My bike was shaking because my body was quivering from the lows 60s degrees, moisture in the air, and wind blowing while descending at 35+ mph. I never felt cold once during the ride, but my body seemed to have disagreed that I was plenty warm. Perhaps the two day old Vietnamese ice coffee clogged all my senses. Or, perhaps I shouldn't have drank ice coffee just before a ride in that weather.
The quivering of my arms was what was shaking the bike's handlebars, thus causing it to shake like it was on a bad acid trip. When you have the grip of death on the bakes while descending, it's hard to tell whether the quivering was because of fear or cold body temp. Once I figured that out, I was like man, I should have worn arm warmers like Paige ... if only it was footnoted somewhere on that spreadsheet. To be fair, Paige did offer me her arm warmers, but I'm a man. I'd be damn if I have to admit that I was wrong. I'd freeze to death before that can occur. Like I told her, I'm not quivering ... your vision is quivering.
We reached the first checkpoint, 25+ miles in, ahead of what the spreadsheet had predicted. We reached the Front Royal entrance/turnaround point, at mile 51, also ahead of schedule. I was feeling good. I was feeling like perhaps I subconsciously read every freaken character in that spreadsheet and it was paying dividends. Things were rosy. I was sexy and I knew it.
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SECOND 50 MILES LEG
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The climb back from Front Royal was a non-event. We had a little rain and long stretches of thick fog, but we were climbing at a snail's pace so it didn't matter. Nothing like a vomit inducing 20 mile climb early in the morning. With that said, the climb wasn't anywhere near as hard as I remembered it. I'm usually drinking my own vomit on that climb in the past. Then again, I was doing 210 mile race pace instead of chasing after Kevin D and his 300 cadence up the hills like all the other times that I've been out there.
The notable thing, not just of the 2nd 50 mile leg but the first 100 miles, was that we had spent probably 90% of those miles either in darkness, mist, heavy fog, or light drizzling rain. In all of the years that I've ridden out there, I've never seen fog that heavy and lasting for that long in that neck of the woods. Perhaps they knew that a Vietnamese was coming? For those who are familiar with the tunnel on Skyline. Going through there in deep fog was like being in a Twilight Zone episode or some horror movie where the handsome Vietnamese was the first one killed.
At the first, second, and third checkpoints, we were ahead of schedule. The spreadsheet was PM-ing us on Facebook with all kinds lavish praises. All of a sudden, once we got back to our car at the midway point, Paige tells me that the spreadsheet is saying we're so behind schedule that we might was well pack it in and try another day. WTF! ... I mean, did she check the right tab? Did she read the footnotes? It's an easy mistake, there are 30,000 tabs and 3,000,000 footnotes on that spreadsheet.
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MIDWAY POINT
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I was perfectly fine/strong/healthy for the first 75 miles of the ride, but for whatever reasons, the 25 miles leading to the midway mark took a toll on me. Not sure if it was the warmer weather or what. Then again, perhaps that 25 mile section had us climbing up to the highest point on Skyline. I was exhausted and beat. My girlish figure was in shamble. I kinda just sat there and contemplated the meaning of life.
The spreadsheet had the midway checkpoint giving us a rest of 25 minutes. That was enough time for me to down 2 eclairs (190 calories each), 1 rice crispy treat (100 calories), some salty potato chips, and Gatorade. That was about 500 calories of solid food that I was able to down. Apparently, the first 100 miles wasn't tough enough for Paige. All she had were pretzels and a glass of wine.
Eventually, the spreadsheet buzzed us to start going. Damn you, spreadsheet. Damn, you!
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MILES 100-150
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Whereas the first 100 miles had us in fog/rain/overcast skies, the second 100 miles of our ride were spent in warmer temp, sun, and very little fog. It was tough at the begriming of the 2nd half dealing with the temp change, but got a bit better once the day went on and the sun came down. Once the sun came out, I think the 2nd half highs were in the mid 80s, which was perfect since I decided to leave my sunglasses behind thinking that the 2nd half would be as foggy/dreary as the 1st half. Freaken spreadsheet would buzz me about being too slow, but was silent when I needed a reminder to carry sunglasses and arm warmers.
About 20-30 minutes after leaving the midway point, I was getting my mojo back. I was no longer feeling exhausted. I could feel my nuts again. They weren't numb. They were chattery. I was actually feeling pretty fresh and pretty strong again .... gotta somehow implement the eclairs into my Ironman nutrition race plan.
At the next checkpoint, 28 miles from the car, we stopped to refuel. Paige told me that the spreadsheet wanted us to camp out for the night because we were so far behind schedule. Again, what tab on the spreadsheet was she referring to!? If I were to go through all 30,000 tabs to verify what she said, there wouldn't be enough time for me to pee.
We then headed toward our next checkpoint, the Charlottesville gate entrance. At that checkpoint, Paige tells me that the spreadsheet said we were 15 minutes ahead of schedule. WTF! Why is the spreadsheet screwing with my emotional being! Does it realize that it's a spreadsheet and not a Magic 8 ball? Within 25 miles, we went from we're going to be bear dinner to let's consider going to a rock concert afterward because we are so ahead of the schedule.
We then debated whether to exit the gate toward a food station outside of the gate to refuel or head back toward the car. We both had enough nutrition on us for the ride to the finish. We didn't want to waste valuable daylight time and have to spend more time than necessary cycling in the dark. We decided to turn around at the exit gate and head back toward the finish line. Only 54 miles of climbing left. How hard could it be? Well, let me answer that for you, It's freaken hard. The last 54 miles were tougher than the first 150+.
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MILES 155-209
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At the southern gate, Paige decided to step outside of the box and introduce an item not listed in the 3,000,000 columns spreadsheet. She said, after the next checkpoint, the spreadsheet has us going on a 28 mile climb to the finish. Why don't we step to the freak show side and introduce another break midway of the 28 miles. Well, it took long enough, but sanity had finally returned to that child of Satin. I didn't need to splash her with a vile of holy that I had brought along, afterall.
Well, I should be careful as to whom I call a non-Satin. When we got to that midway point ... you know, 28/2 = 14 ... I asked her where we were stopping. Well, the freak show didn't want to stop. She said, "my bike computer says we can't stop yet." WTF! I've used the search function on that freaken spreadsheet. The phrase "bike computer" never showed up once. NEVER! Why is she uttering stuff not in the spreadsheet?
We did another mile of climbing after said midpoint mark. Again, nada, nothing. The bike computer still says no. Another mile of climbing. Still, no means no. Eventually, that cold dead heart of hers finally cracked and showed some compassion. The bike computer decided that it no longer hate Vietnamese people. It finally gave us permission to pull over at one of the overlooks. I couldn't even look at the overlook because I was so freaken tired. Paige, on the other had, was finishing up her 2nd bottle of wine while admiring the beautiful sunset.
Paige then looks at me and says, "the bike computer says we have 14 more miles to go." So, I said, look at that mile marker at the side of the road. It says 62. Our car is parked at mile marker 51. I don't know what kind of Euro standards your bike computer is using, but where I come from, 62-51 isn't 14 miles. I'm Asian. I know math.
I had mentally accepted the fact that she wanted to kill me and be the lone finisher. I was ready to just grind the final 11 miles to my death without stopping. Inexplicably, that was when she decided to give us a rest. I have no idea how her cat is able to put up with her like this. I've got to stop hanging out with women who own cats.
At about the time we were leaving for the final 11 miles to the finish line, the sun was starting to set. It was time to turn on our bike lights, except Paige's front and rear lights ran out of battery. She had it on during the entire first 100 miles when we had fog, whereas I turned mine off, even in the fog, once we had daylight. I figure someone had to man up and stand up to tab 353 of that spreadsheet, so I took one for the team by turning off all my lights during heavy fog riding.
I gave Paige my rear light, which was a mistake. This meant that she had to ride behind me. I had to pull. The Tuan-man doesn't pull. He just doesn't. It was a rookie move on my part. I should have given her my headlight so that I could suck on her wheels for the entire ride back ... but it was dark. I was cold, I was weak. I had she-devil riding next to me. I couldn't think straight, so rookie mistakes were bound to happen.
We spent the last few miles riding under moonlight ... and nothing but the werewolves to keep us company. Paige kept asking me during the last 40 miles of our ride if I thought we were going to beat the dark. What I really want to say was, "what does the Magic 8 Ball spreadsheet say?" ... but I ended up telling her, I don't care about Kona slots. I just want to beat the midnight cutoff and get my finisher's medal.
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THE FINISH
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We had three goals in mind at the start of the ride. One was quite an aggressive finish time. I think that we would have beaten that if we were on top of our game, but with a 210 mile race, it's hard to be that "on" for the entire race. Plus, at some point I would need more than a 54 seconds pee break that was allocated in the spreadsheet. The other was to beat civil twilight, which we barely missed by 12 minutes. The third, was our original goal, beating 14.5 mph average, which we did with a 14.9 mph average.
I didn't want to put down 15 mph as our average instead of 14.9 because that 0.1 mph meant, on a ride like this, the difference between making or missing the civil twilight goal. A 0.2 mph difference would have meant we would have beaten the aggressive goal I stated above. I'm sure if my math is off Paige will send me an updated spreadsheet with the correct values. Perhaps it will even come with its own dedicated/color coded tab. I can't wait for that 30,001st tab to come my way.
As a point of reference: An Ironman is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and 26.2 mile run. I've done it 12x. My fastest time at that distance is 10 hrs 45 minutes. Ironman Viet Nam Ultra had us on the course for 50% longer, timewise. A frightening thought.
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POST RACE
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I didn't nail my 210 mile race pace nutrition plan, mostly because Paige never entered a tab for that in the spreadsheet. I couldn't eat anything solid during the last 30 miles of the ride. I solved that issue that by taking on way more gels than I should have. We had to pull over a few times during the drive home so that I could. ... ummm... memorialize that mistake.
My day started at 3:30 AM. I got back to my house at 1:30 AM the next day. Showered. Didn't eat anything because my stomach wasn't having any of it. Didn't sleep until about 4 AM. I woke up at 8 AM in a pool of sweat because I thought the spreadsheet was whispering to me in my sleep. I spent the rest of the day either napping or eating. Below were what I ate the day after the ride. Yeah, I made up for not eating much the day earlier :)
Vietnamese vermicelli noodle with pork
1 Medium Frappe from McDonald's
2 Dinner size vermicelli noodle with pork dishes from a Vietnamese restaurant
4 Ice cream bars
2 Spring rolls from a Vietnamese restaurant
1 Two litter bottle of Sprite
1 Dinner size rice dish, with fish, from Mamma Nguyen's kitchen
1 Marshmallow rice crispy treat
1 Lunch size bag of Oreo's cookies
1 Chinese donut
1 bag of dried Vietnamese fruit snacks (for my Vietnamese friends out there ... xi moui. Yes, I ate the whole freaken bag of xi moui. Had to introduce strong flavors back into my mouth. Mamma Nguyen wanted me to share the xi moui with baby sister and brother-in-law, but baby sister and brother-in-law didn't spend 200+ miles on the bike)
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FINAL THOUGHTS
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The first thing that came to my mind after finishing was, "redemption," There were no feelings of joy, exhilaration, or chest pounding moments. Just redemption. I came to this race to rectify a past failure and did what needed to be done, even when the spreadsheet was mocking me and in spite of Paige waiving me off her wheels. This was a long time coming.
Now that I've had time to digest this, this thing has grown on me. I'm beginning to get that feeling that this thing we just did is pretty cool, a worthwhile undertake, even though it cost me 3 testicles.
If you are a cyclist, you have to bike some portions of Sklyine Drive at some point in your lifetime. It's a challenging, but beautiful ride, especially on a bike. If you are a serious cyclist, you have to bike from one gate to the other, in a day, at some point in your lifetime. I wouldn't recommend you doing a roundtrip in a day thing unless you who know spreadsheets or know someone who really knows their spreadsheets. It's just foolish otherwise.
After this COVID thing is over, I'm unfriending everyone on FB and retiring. I'm going to make America great again by taking the spreadsheet to an exotic location somewhere, off the grid ... so that it can't be updated. That freaken spreadsheet was updating itself and sending me text messages while we were riding. Sons of bitches.
Last but not least, I want to reiterate what I told Paige a few seconds after finishing. I told her, thanks, couldn't have done this without you riding up 'em hills with me, pushing me. You are a beast on two wheels. Thanks for the pull ... and please take care of that rash on your ass.
--Tuan
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