To preserve energy, Alex and Larrie rode out to the race by motorized vehicle, and returned by peddling to Palm Meadows. In total, the day turned out to be 42 km +/-. As was prevously mentioned, the race was held in the same forest Larrie led the Sunday AM PM Bikers and got them hopelessly lost in June. Even though the BBC published the GPS track for the race, they altered the track the morning of the race - so much for planning ahead with having the GPS loaded and at the ready. However, the trail was sufficiently marked, and Larrie did not succumb to the thickets a second time.
About 75 racers attended the race. A 1 km section of the race was actually on a paved road as it connected the start / stop point to the forest entry point. Go figure, the race officials did not want to go into the forest. At any rate, imagine a road of about 20 feet in width - barely room for two cars, crammed with 75 racers waiting for the race to start, and here comes a bus. Everybody moved to the side of the road as the bus drove down the middle of the road (regardless of the road, they drive down the middle). Everyone moved back into position awaiting the start of the race. Now comes some local traffic, a few cars and two wheelers, requiring another parting of the biker sea, and still no start. The bus came back, requiring the road to be vacated once again, and a few more locals decided to party on the bus opening in the bikers. Interestingly, each time the traffic caused the group to part, true to Indian two wheeler rules of the road, those in the back of the pack quickly took advantage of the moment by bettering their poll position, and by the time the race actually started, some were the race leaders.
The race finally started, and the first lap was furious as we were all bunched up. One had to stay abreast of those about you, the trail, where the next turn was, etc.; it was quite harrowing in the beginning. Slowly the crowd thinned as the speedsters made first dust, and the slowsters ate it. Larrie was in the middle somewhere turning in 13 minute laps for a total of 65 grueling minutes of constant race time.
Each lap had its own dynamic obstacles as the trail we were using is commonly used by locals to move their cattle, go for a poop walk, gather some brush for the fire, shortcuts for two wheelers, or just take a nice Sunday walk in the woods. So, one had to stay acutely aware to what was going on around you lest you hit the south end of a north going bovine.
Lap 1 started the muscle burn as position was obtained; Lap 2 grew the burn into a noticeable issue. Lap 3 obscured the burn into the background of everyday pains. Lap 4 was just a bunch of peddling. Lap 5 was like lap 4, but with the difference of being the last lap, which focused the mind on presenting the reward of bodily rest.
In addition, each lap had its interesting competitive moments as contenders had to be dealt with. One fellow, a young man 20-30ish was riding along the pavement section of the race chugging a can of caffeine, when Larrie approached on the right. Sensing he was about to be passed by the ol'guy, he threw down the can, and furiously peddled back into the forest. Interesting how furious peddling consumes caffeine, as he was passed about 2 km into the lap never to be seen again. Tortoise and hare; ol'guys rule!
The race finished, it was time to return home. Alex had painters at his house requiring oversight - so much for bodily rest. So, rather than calling the driver to come pick us up, we decided to ride home - we knew the way after all, and were pretty sure that we could knock off the 20 km quickly on the paved roads. Within five minutes other riders from the Sunday AM group gathered and wanted to follow along, and a new acquaintance, Phil, was going our way, and he joined the group. Phil is part of the other Sunday AM riding group - the one that actually works hard at their rides. At any rate, Phil indicated he knew a "short" cut, and we put him in the lead. It was a most wonderful ride he provided. Mostly new trail, some old trail, and always interesting. Rural India is a bit like the paintings in Harry Potter - it never stops moving and is always fresh to see, (but a bit too fresh to smell).
The ride home took us through Larrie's paddy and across the stone bridge. We stopped by the big tree for a rest. There were a number of folks doing Sunday laundry in the river, and a number of children hanging out under the big tree. The children wanted to exchange names with the riders - I think it is a way to practice English skills. We enjoyed chatting with them, and then it was time for the sprint home. The ride is recorded on GPS so we can do it again. Thanks to Phil for a nice liesurely ride back to the Meadows.
The ride home consumed about two hours. So, I'm not sure if Alex met his goal of taking the "short" cut - it was a good thing Alex's wife Stacy was adding her manergerial focus to the painters. Upon arriving home exhaustion consumed us rendering us useless for a bit. However, a medicinal libation or two and a nap seemed to revive the resolve.
Thanks to the BBC for hosting the race, and for letting the ol'guys ride once again (Larrie probably got first place in his age bracket, but official results are not yet published); although it will probably be the last race Larrie ever does - better to go out with a good memory of contribution than being frustrated at failed attempts of perfection through meaningless redundency.
