Denver City Century Ride

Over the winter, Sam and I were attempting to plot out a potential century on the tandem at some point over the spring/summer this year. When we had a chance to do our “looping century” ride in early April, we thought that may be the end of our longer distance rides together this year. However, we had hopes of sneaking in one more in the form of an organized century before summer’s end.

It happened that the Denver Century Ride was coming up at a time that worked conveniently for us to avoid other events taking place in the coming weeks/months. Plus, we both thought it sounded interesting to get a taste of both city and mountain riding in one swoop. The tag for the century route reads:

This is the most challenging of all of the Denver Century Ride routes as it has the distance and a significant climb. If you are going to do this route, we recommend that this is not your first ride of the season but rather you have logged some miles on your bicycle in preparation. Never done a century ride before? Don’t let that deter you! Think of the accomplishment you will feel by making the Denver Century Ride your first century ride ever!

We’ve definitely logged miles this year, and aren’t afraid to try climbing on occasion, so why not give this a try? Plus, there are other route options (an 85 miler that skips the long/steep climb, a 50 mile option and a 25 mile route), if we felt like we just couldn’t handle the distance when event day arrived. I was a little skeptical about being able to complete the 100-mile ride because it had both a (to me) significant amount of climbing and it was a longer distance, but I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind and reminded myself that we are capable of both the distance and pedaling up hill.

Leading up to the ride, it appeared as though the weather wasn’t going to be very cooperative. We were waiting for both rain and thunderstorms to arrive on the day of the ride, so that wasn’t easing my mind. But, it is also part of summertime in the Rockies — we have to expect that we will, at some point during a long day in the saddle, get rained on and perhaps endure hail and/or thunder/lightning.

When ride-day arrived, we made our way to the start, hoping for the best. We were both excited to see what the route had in store, but expected that we’d have many opportunities to ride among the tall buildings of downtown Denver and eventually make our way to the mountains for the challenging climb.

We spoke briefly with a young man who was planning to do the 100-mile ride on a single-speed. He had approached us asking if we were doing the same distance on the tandem and he and Sam chatted a bit about single-speed riding, its challenges and benefits. He was concerned about the big climb, but was sure he’d be able to get up the mountain. We wished him well and told him that we’d be struggling, too, on the climbs, so maybe we’d see him along the way.

The first wave of riders made their way to the start line while we hung back and waited for our wave.

Waiting at the start was fairly pleasant. It was interesting to watch people (both spectators and participants). We expected that it would be a friendly ride (it wasn’t a race and we weren’t being timed, other than needing to be at the finish by 4p) and that people would be chatty and enjoying whatever came our way.

There were several waves of riders and we were in the second of these. I was impressed that the organizers actually got everyone moving on time without much delay. It’s tough to be waiting to start for long periods of time, so I certainly give kudos in this regard. Bagpipers played the national anthem and then we were off!

There were approximately 300 riders in each wave, starting about 15 minutes apart to help keep the paths somewhat clear. The roads would be open to all normal traffic, so everyone would have to keep right and be aware of all of those traveling the roadways. This didn’t seem too big of a problem, but, as we would learn, would become more of an issue as the day wore on.

I was shocked as we proceeded through the start at the intensity of the riders. Everyone seemed very focused and ready to start out at top speeds. For lack of better words, it kind of freaked me out! Knowing that we weren’t being timed I had assumed no one would be taking this too seriously, but I was very wrong. Fortunately, this seemed to mellow out a bit as everyone found their spot.

Initially, I personally struggled with dealing with other riders. I am quite used to being able to pedal freely and rarely do we coast at all on the tandem (except down hills when we run out of gears), but because of the number of other cyclists, we had to have patience and flexibility with our usual pedaling cadence. I found myself frustrated when riders were coasting because it was a time when we really needed to be able to pedal to get momentum for an approaching climb — and it wasn’t always easy to get around others because of motorized traffic and lack of passing space. Even with this issue and multiple signals and stop signs, we were keeping a relatively good pace and averaging a little over 17 mph (27 kph) for the first 25 miles of the ride.

At the first aid station around mile 20, I had to stop to use the facilities. I was feeling the pressure and knew I wouldn’t make it to the next station without this stop off. Unfortunately, there were only two portables and about 50 people waiting to use them. After 20-25 minutes in line, we were back on the road.

When we hit the base of the climb at around mile 25 in Golden, Colorado, I was preparing for our slow ascent. I knew that we would only be traveling between 3-5 mph (5-8 kph) up the climb because 1) tandem – truly, I don’t know how other teams move so swiftly up some of the climbs! 2) I’m just not a good climber, even on my own, so our pace tends to be quite slow despite my best efforts.

I knew that we’d be doing straight up climbing for a solid 2-3 hours. I tried to put that thought out of my mind and focused on small gains or points in our path. Single riders would pass us — some thought we were cheating having two riders on a bike, others told us that we were their inspiration to keep climbing because they knew how difficult it is on a tandem. No one was moving particularly swiftly, so it was an opportunity to have short conversations with others, regardless of their thoughts about the tandem.

The views were beautiful as we got higher – something I forget at times, despite being surrounded by this every day. I wish that we would have taken more photos, but Sam is still perfecting his riding-while-taking-photos skills and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle this task without stopping, so we just appreciated our view and continued to work toward the top.

Climbing up into the mountains – Sam did pretty well with this photo.

As we rode, one of the SAG wagons came by and rolled to a stop. When we glanced over, the single-speed rider we’d spoken with earlier was walking over to the car with his bike.

“You aren’t stopping, are you?” I questioned.

He looked down at the ground, smiling sheepishly, but it was easy to see that he was feeling defeated. He nodded in response.

I couldn’t help myself and replied, “Nooo… you can’t give up! The SAG-pickup option will always be there. Keep riding. You can do this!” I smiled at him as we very slowly continued our pull up the mountain.

I didn’t know if those few words would have any benefit or convince him to keep going, but I hoped that he would continue to ride. Sam and I chatted about youth and remembered a number of instances when we both attempted something, but wanted to give up (or did give up). I suppose some of the benefit of aging is realizing that even though our bodies may have a more challenging time in certain instances, we have learned that we are capable of completing more than we believe we can. It is that knowledge that often allows us to keep pushing, even when we feel defeated ourselves.

About a half mile farther up the climb, a voice came from behind us, shouting our names. We are used to this as we have a nameplate with both of our names on the rear of the tandem, so often when strangers pass, they say hello to us. However, we had removed it a few weeks ago because the rattling was getting on Sam’s nerves. We decided that until we find a good solution to eliminate the noise, we’d take it off. So, I was confused a bit and realizing this must be a person who actually knows us. A few moments later, a smiling, familiar face came in to view.

It was Len, a man we have known for several years from local rides.

“Hey, hey!” he said as he approached. “I knew I recognized that tandem. Keep climbing!”

“We’ll get there — eventually,” Sam said.

It wasn’t long before he was in front of us and out of sight, but it was nice to see a familiar face on this long climb. We watched single riders stopping along the side of the road, taking photos and/or resting on this steep climb. We, however, were determined to make it to the top without having to stop. Those stopped riders would eventually pass us, but then stop again so we’d pull ahead once more, only to be passed again as they continued on.

More climbing – this photo has a bit of a haze (Sam says it’s from the lens getting sweaty in his pocket).

As we rode, we spotted another tandem coming from below on one of the switchbacks. They seemed to be moving pretty swiftly, especially for a tandem traveling uphill. Within moments, they were beside us and seemed to pass without effort. They greeted us with a hello and a wave and continued on. They weren’t wearing race numbers, so we knew they were just out and happened to be riding here. Still, we were both amazed at their abilities!

“How are they going so fast?” I asked out loud to no one in particular.

A few moments passed and another single rider came up and asked if we’d seen another tandem come by. We responded that we had and he informed us that this duo is part of RUSA and has ridden Paris-Brest-Paris, as well as winning several races.

“I guess I don’t feel so bad then,” I half-shrugged to Sam. “They were quite fast though! I guess we have a lot to work towards.”

Eventually, we made it to the top and to the second aid station. Now it was Sam’s turn to make use of the portable. Once again, there was a long line and only two available, so we spent another 20 minutes waiting for his turn. The worst part of the waiting is that our legs were having time to turn to jelly.

The second aid station stop – it really was a beautiful day!

As I stood waiting, our buddy, Len, was headed back on route. I nodded in his direction and told him that we’d likely cross paths again. He smiled and rode out. And then, our single-speed fellow appeared, suddenly, in front of me.

“Hey!” I said as he walked past. “Did you keep riding? Did you make it up the climb?”

“Sort of,” he said. “I had to get a ride up the last mile to mile and a half. I just couldn’t do it.”

“But, you’re still riding,” I said. “You can do this – just keep at it.”

He smiled and walked over to pick up some food. “I’m just looking forward to the downhill,” he stated as he walked back to his bike.

Sadly, this was the last interaction we would have with him. I do hope that he made it to the end.

Sam returned and we knew we had to get moving before we both lost use of our legs, so we continued on. For some reason, I thought that the aid station was the end of our major climbing, but, as we quickly realized, we still had a bit of climbing to do. At least it was more rolling mountains and not straight up like the path we’d been riding to that point. Another four miles of rolling up and we had made our way to the downhill section.

We were both ready for this and looking forward to getting some speed. Ten miles of fairly straight, steep, down hill coasting. Could anything feel better at this point? About half way down, we caught Len and went tearing past him. All we heard was the “WOO HOO!!!” he laughed in our direction as we flew by.

It was all so beautiful! So much greenery as we headed down in to Red Rocks in Morrison, Colorado. Red Rocks, known to most as an amazing outdoor amphitheater, is also a fantastic hiking destination, and, as Sam and I have experienced, an outdoor workout experience like none other. If you ever have the opportunity to go early on a spring/summer Saturday morning, you will be greeted by hundreds, if not thousands of individuals trying to get in a good workout using the amphitheater steps and all the surrounding natural goodness. It is definitely a challenging workout!

But, we were on a different mission this day. We had to continue our pedaling adventure. I looked down at the Garmin and realized we weren’t even half way through this route. It felt as though we’d seen and ridden so much, but we still had a long way to travel.

“I hadn’t realized how much of a climb that would be,” Sam said as we continued through rolling terrain. “I didn’t anticipate how long it would take to get to that point. Initially, I thought it would be good to have the steep and long climb toward the beginning, but now I’m not sure about that.”

I just smiled and laughed a bit to myself. It’s funny how we try to get ourselves through tough situations. We debate whether it’s better to climb all the way out and have down hill for the complete return, to have all rolling hills, or a late-in-the-route, steep climb that was preceded by easier terrain. I suppose no matter what we think, we’ll always wish for what isn’t in front of us. It seems to be the nature of humans.

Without much warning, we were in more populated areas among swift moving traffic. We had popped out onto a very busy highway that lacked any shoulder or bike space. Suddenly, we were back in city life and no longer with the quiet, natural surroundings.

We wound through many neighborhoods and across and as a part of major thoroughfares. There were a lot of neighborhoods, and a lot of roads that hardly seemed appropriate for this type of course with thousands of riders. We couldn’t quite determine why we were winding through so many random housing developments either. It just seemed an odd course to take.

At one point Sam commented that this was not a ride for the faint of heart or timid cyclists, and I have to agree with him. With an open course such as this that traveled on very busy, highly traveled roads that lack shoulders and/or bike lanes, one cannot be afraid to take his/her space in the lane. For the most part, vehicles were cooperative and allowed us space, but I personally felt that there were portions that could have been better routed. I can also state with near-certainty that neither of us would ever ride some of these roads if not involved in this event.

There was also a great deal of seemingly needless climbing. It was as though we were sent through neighborhoods with large, steep hills for no reason other than to force us to climb when there were perfectly good, flat roads that could’ve been utilized. Perhaps this was just perception and/or our tiredness by the time we were three-quarters of the way through the event.

Despite the haphazard nature of some of the route, it was interesting to get a bicycle-eye view of the city and surrounding communities. I did find myself wishing for more time in the urban center of Denver, rather than out in suburbia though. After taking a better look at the routes post-ride, I think the shorter routes actually have more of this than we experienced.

The weather held surprisingly well. We had sunshine for the majority of our time out, but as the day wore on, the typical summer afternoon clouds and threatening rain came rolling in. We pedaled on, hoping to make it back before rain fell.

As we rode, I was struck by how good I felt. I have done much shorter and/or easier events and felt far worse. I was almost afraid to utter those words aloud though for fear that something would change. Plus, Sam had mentioned that he wasn’t doing all that great and I didn’t want to make him feel worse. Even though I’d been dealing with knee and hip issues the week prior, my legs felt surprisingly capable. I did say at one point that my lower back was aching, but my legs felt like they could keep going.

After our initial 25 mile stretch, most of the ride found us relatively alone on the route. We’d occasionally pass other riders or they would pull past us, but our last 15 miles or so found us smack in the midst of a fairly sizable group of riders. It was as though they had arrived out of nowhere. It could well have been that the shorter routes were now coming back together and intersecting with the two longer distance routes, but it was actually nice timing to have more company on our return to the finish.

One to two miles from the finish, the rain began to fall. It was light, but the clouds were telling a story that this would likely change – and soon.

“Well, we almost made it,” I said.

“At least it’s not coming down too hard,” Sam responded.

Indeed. I didn’t mind getting a little wet. It felt refreshing and with such a short distance to travel, we knew we’d made it to the end. The announcer yelled out to us as we crossed and volunteers attempted to hand off beers to us. It was the last thing I was looking for at that moment though, so we passed them by and rolled to a stop.

As we stood over the bike just over the finish line, we realized we were short 0.2 miles to complete the 100 mile distance.

“I didn’t come all this way to come up two-tenths of a mile short,” Sam said.

Agreed. While we had ridden a hundred miles, it just felt strange to end off with such a short amount of distance missing. So, after we pedaled through the finish, we did another lap to ensure we hit that 100-mile mark.

When I stepped off the bike, my legs instantly felt everything they had done for the last several hours. All of the pushing and climbing all came crashing into that moment. I could see that Sam was tired too. We loaded up our steed and went in search of sustenance.

At the end of it all, we both had similar thoughts on this ride. The best part of the route was the initial rambling through the city and the climbing, along with the long downhill into Red Rocks, all of which were over in the first 45 miles. We could’ve done without the portions that had us riding along side fast-moving vehicles and the seemingly never-ending trolling through suburban neighborhoods. We both also thought we weren’t sure we would do this ride again — not because it didn’t have beautiful points of interest or challenging aspects, but it just didn’t quite feel like what we’d expected.

I am slowly (very slowly) learning that my mindset is so much more important than I could ever really believe. Although it can be more challenging to travel long distances on the tandem, I prefer it. I like having the company and someone to talk to (even if Sam doesn’t always respond to my rambling). It’s fine to ride in silence as well, as we often do, but somehow knowing that someone is right there with me, on the same bike, experiencing the same moments, helps me keep a more positive outlook. I also know that I can’t give up because someone else is counting on me to get to the end and vice versa.

There was never a point during this ride in which I thought we wouldn’t make it to the finish. That in itself was a victory because the evening prior I wasn’t convinced I wanted to go to the ride at all. We didn’t average our fastest speeds by any stretch, but that wasn’t the point of this event. We completed our 100-mile climbing journey together, and who knows, maybe it won’t be the last of this year after all.