There’s something about these December alleycats that I just really enjoy. Perhaps its riding in the city, at night, under the stars. Perhaps the cold, crisp air. I wasn’t sure if I would even line up to start this one — what, with a baby coming any moment, and six inches of snow falling just a few days ago. I found the time to go to Kraynick’s and buy a new chain for my winter bike* — it was shocking to discover that’s all it required after a winter of abuse — so I was prepared for the potentially snowy streets. And the baby was no where to be found, so there I was at Duke’s at 6:00pm, looking over the manifest and plotting my course.

The race was simple — 6 checkpoints, roughly forming a triangle drawn by the rivers, with no order and no jobs to perform. The start was chaotic. Apparently, once you had your manifest you could start, so I found myself trying to unlock my bike (why did I lock it to the top of the chain link fence?), pull on my gloves, and look at the manifest at once. A group had already slipped away, and I was trying hard to catch them, but after catching a red light at Center and Neville, I was already behind. So well, I thought, it is a nice night for a ride. A quick stop at the Kiva Han on Craig Street, and I was on my way to the Pather Hollow Lake.

Some folks had opted to approach the lake via Neville Street and into the hollow, and, in retrospect, this would have been the better plan. Once in the park, I was forced to dismount, run down several sets of snowy stairs, and then negotiate a quarter mile of snowy runny trails. Once I picked up my token at the stop, I continued another hundred yards or so with the bike on my shoulder. The bike path was (surprisingly clean of snow, which boded well for the trip into town on the Jail Trail. The sidewalk leading to the trail, however, was the most treacherous part of the ride, the surface being alternately snow, slush and ice. It was slow going, but soon enough I slipped through the gate, just ahead of two other folks, and we were cruising between the massive concrete lanes of the Parkway East.

I slowly picked up my cadence the first quarter of the trail, alternately pulls with the two other riders. I was worried that I’d be dropped promptly, as one person was on a geared bike, and the other on a fixed gear with undoubtably a higher gear ration than I was running (a mere 39×16). I hit my stride as we approached the slight crest below the Birmingham Bridge, and as the jail became visible, I noticed their shadows, cast by the dull orange glow of the streetlights, falling away behind me.

It is moments like these that make cycling so enjoyable. Spinning smoothly, under the stars on a crisp winter night, chasing my shadow. Absolutely no wasted movement. The wooosh of air past my ears. The din of automobile traffic on either side. The quiet whir of my tyres on the tarmac. Perfection.

The end of trail was oddly snowy and icy (odd because the majority of trail was completely dry. The checkpoint workers ahead shouted to slow down, as the final stretch was under a sheet of black ice. I had caught another trio at the end of the trail, and the four of us climbed out of the trail and into the streets of downtown. We slipped through Point State Park, climbed the ramp to the bridge deck, and were spinning across the river. Once we had a tokens from the checkpoint at the end of the bridge, we looped around and around, down the spiralling ramp back to the street. Since I actually knew where the next checkpoint (the zig-zag pedestrian bridge on River Avenue) was, the trio asked me take the lead through the streets of the North Side.

Once on River Avenue, I was spinning again. The street was quiet and dark, my concentration only interrupted by the railroad crossings (crossings which would, I heard after the race, bring down two riders. Neither was badly injured.). i counted down the blocks with the bridge crossings — 16th Street, the Veteran’s Bridge, 40th Street. I peered over my shoulder and noticed the trio had slipped behind. I focused again and saw the 31st Bridge ahead, the signal I was approaching the checkpoint.

“Hey wait!”

Lost in the moment, I nearly passed the checkpoint. I circled back, picked up my token and waited a moment for the trio of riders to catch me. As we pulled away, options to the next stop, a warehouse on Gold Way on Polish Hill, were discussed. The group wanted to go up Liberty, cut across the Bloomfield Bridge, and then go back down the checkpoint. I didn’t say anything, but I thought it would be better, albeit harder, to climb Herron Avenue directly to Polish Hill. We climbed the ramp to the 31st Street Bridge, and I stood up on the pedals and began to pull away from the group again.

Once in the Strip District, I waffled. Herron Avenue would be a hard, slow climb. Melwood Avenue, leading to Gold Way, would likely be messy and snow covered. I nearly passed the briddge at the start of Herron until I saw two sets of blinking red lights crossing the span. That was enough motivation to quickly make the right turn. My legs felt a bit heavy at this point, as I had pushed hard across the 31st Street Bridge. As I hit the first switchback on Herron, however, I began to reel in one of the bikes, and that was enough motivation. Another switchback. Then a quick left turn on Melwood, which was, as expected, covered with a thin veneer of snow and slush. Three of us were spread across a block or so. We rode under the Bloomfield Bridge, and hit the last crest before the stop. I quickly stood up again, and caught the rider in front me as she downshifted to deal with the incline and decreasing levels of grip. As we pulled into the stop, two others were just pulling away. Quickly, the four of us continued the final few blocks to the finish line, a house in Bloomfield.

Several other folks had finished ahead of the group I was in. It turns out, however, that all but one had missed one of the checkpoints (apparently, folks didn’t look the manifest closely enough to determine the location of the zig-zag bridge stop). That left me in second place. I was surprised at my pace, given the gearing on my bike, and relatively poor start. I was pretty happy though, given I didn’t make my usual navigational blunders.

Posted on 11 December 2005