In this post I'll tell you some more about riding the distance.
As I already wrote, throughout the whole route I had to overtake a whole lot of fellow cyclists. The math is simple - divide the number of participants by the distance, and you get about 80 people per kilometer, which is almost one person per 12 meters, if I'm not mistaken. If you consider that they aren't standing still like posts, it's clear that from the middle of the distance onwards, I often rode next to the exact same bicyclists.
And often the people I was overtaking surprised me quite a bit. How could it be that fatties, women, teenagers, bikes with trailers, and absolute clunkers from "Maxima" and Latvijas Pasts were so far ahead of me? Quite a blow to the ego.
On the other hand, it can all be explained by the starting block. Next year I'll be starting around the 1000th position, I'll make it my goal to ride properly, and then we'll find out where I stand.
What else of interest did I see? On one of the few sharp turns (from A2 to A3, if I'm not mistaken) I braked a bit - I don't like entering turns fast, because I'm not sure how well the bike grips the surface, and I don't know when it'll skid, and I passionately hate falling.
In front of me, a more professional-looking guy was entering a bit faster, but was also braking. And then, from behind and to the right of me, a teenager flies out at full speed and rides straight into the center of the dude in front of me. He brakes, but it's too late - he smacks into the very center of the frame with all his might, knocks the other guy down, they both fall, and the rammer hits his head against the asphalt really hard. At that moment I was unrealistically glad that everyone was wearing helmets - otherwise I would have seen his brains right in front of me, which doesn't exactly do wonders for your peace of mind.
All this happened in a split second, and right in front of me (or to the side of me? I can't remember). Luckily, there are special people on duty at the dangerous turn, so I hope everything turned out okay. Now, as time has passed, I'm starting to think - was the teenager's trajectory like that because I was braking and changing my position in front of him? Even if that's the case, he's still the one to blame, because the turn is notoriously dangerous, and you have to brake in advance, not at the very last moment.
Accident diagram, me in blue, the culprit in red.
Basically, I was very, very lucky, because only a matter of seconds, or rather even split seconds, separated me from disaster.
Anyway, moving on.
As you know, Sigulda is located in a fairly hilly area. Up to about the middle of the distance, the ride was comparatively easy, but after that - it kept getting harder and harder. And while on flat ground I still managed to maintain 25-30 km/h, uphill it wouldn't even reach 20, sometimes dropping to 14. Considering my weight and the bike's weight, that's understandable - it's easier for me going downhill, but going uphill is much harder than for everyone else. I was overtaking the regular folks, but the athletic ones were overtaking me on the climbs.
Coming towards us were occasional road bikers, and sometimes police officers on motorcycles rode past next to us - they stop those riding without a number or a helmet - you can't be on the course illegally. Every now and then we'd come across stuck cars of those poor souls who hadn't heard about the ride in advance and weren't careful enough to keep out of Sigulda at this time.
There were several places on the course where you could rest and refuel. At one of them you actually had to stop. At two others they were handing out water and bananas - right on the go. Afterwards, for about 200-500 meters, the whole road was littered with peels, luckily only on the right side. I didn't get to appreciate either the water or the bananas - saw them too late. Fortunately, I had water in my bike bottle, even though there was little left and initially I wasn't even going to bring any, thinking I'd manage without. Well, I didn't manage, because your mouth dries out instantly, and it's much more pleasant with water.
By the way, it's no secret that riding on a good road is much easier, so the pros tried to steer onto those parts of the asphalt where there are no cracks, which isn't always possible, because the crowd gets in the way.
By the way, throughout the distance I periodically came across locals and fans who cheered the participants on with shouts, whistling, honking, and banging.
And at the end of the course, a gruesome ordeal awaited - the terrifying hill after the bridge (anyone who's been to Sigulda knows it). A quarter of the people were walking up it, the rest were barely dragging themselves along. I, like some crazy athlete, rode standing up, "dancing on the pedals" as they call it. Again, just like with the shoulder of the road, I was surprised that no one else was doing this. Apparently, people had no strength left at all, or maybe everyone who did that had already passed before me. I even got scared a couple of times that this was against the rules, because people were shouting something from behind. But it turned out they were yelling "unsportsmanlike" at those walking. I myself yelled "davaj, davaj" to a girl who was also riding like me. It's an international word in Latvia now, which is why I'm writing it in Latin letters. The girl, unfortunately, couldn't keep up the pace and fell behind.
As for me, the heavy-resistance training on the elliptical machine at the gym I go to helped a lot - it's very similar to riding uphill standing up. So I overtook a whole crowd on the hill - otherwise I would have arrived even later. But instead, I rode up like a boss all by myself, not even in a crowd. Everyone else stayed behind until they finally conquered the hill.
I have to say, it was exceptionally hard, and I probably pulled some horrifying faces during the climb and a little bit after it. Without any exaggeration, it's physically painful to endure, and I do not advise you to repeat my experience unless you work out regularly. My legs hurt for a week after the ride, so you get the idea.
But at the finish line I was even riding with no hands, like a show-off.
By the way, I finished 1143rd, although I could swear I thought and saw earlier that it was 1008th. In total, there were 3006 finishing participants, so I was better than half, noticeably better even. According to my bike computer, by the way, I finished not in 1.24, but in 1.16.
Here is my result:
pos. Nr Vārds Uzvārds Gads velo Laiks -t dist kmh
1143 4950 Vladislavs Kugeļevičs 1983 Scott 1:24:04 +0:30:22 26,7
To make it under an hour seems quite unrealistic for me right now, so next year I'll aim for somewhere around 1.10, if I'm lucky.
Here are all the results, in an awful fixed width columns format, and even that is full of errors. I wanted to process them in Excel and make some nice statistics, but the format is so stupid that I'd have to waste more time on conversion, and I just don't feel like it. Maybe I still will.
It turned out I didn't write everything again, so the next post will finally feature the conclusion.