After a near miss and bent rim in the last race, I decided to approach this event as a nice day riding around the city. No need to risk life and limb. Enjoy the weather.

Yeah, right.

The race was a poker run: five checkpoints, at each of which you would be given a playing card. At the finish, you would play your hand (given one chance to swap cards). Points were given to order of finish and to your poker hand. Most points won. Oh, and there was a catch–some of the checkpoints would require something of you to get the card. The checkpoints were:

* The North Side trail, under the West End Bridge.
* Friendship Park.
* Mellon Park.
* Flagstaff Hill.
* REI, South Side

The race started in Armstrong Park, South Side. The consensus among those gathered was the clockwise loop (in the order listed above) was superior to the counter-clockwise loop, which likely require a climb up Bates Street. This was mistake number one. After I had decided on this route, I thought I could cut a bit of distance off the end of the ride by using the trail system in Schenley to promptly get to the South Side. Never once did it occur to me that I could use this same trail system to avoid the Bates climb. Oh well. This is how my little brain work sometimes, I suppose.

We were off. Traffic was thick on Carson Street, and the combination of my timidness and my wide handlebars had me second guessing the gaps between cars. I missed the green light at 10th Street, and I was already a block behind. As we approached the Smithfield Street Bridge, I noted that the pack was chosing to use the West End Bridge. No thanks–I don’t particularly like that span in the car. So I crossed the Smithfield Street Bridge, cut through town, and across the pedestrian walkway on the Fort Duquesne Bridge, and caught the North Side trail between the stadia.

Bad idea #2.

Thanks to a Pitt game, the sidewalks and trail were teeming with people, thus considerably slowing my progress. Once I had my card, I cut throught the Science Center parking lot and worked my way back to town on the street rather than dealing with the crowds on the trail again. Once through town, I was on Smallman Street and spied two racers roughly two blocks ahead of me. Both of them were on geared bikes, so I pedaled furiously to keep pace, with the intention of making up ground on the grind up Penn. As we approached Penn I formulated my plan for the hill. I was tired–there had been a solid headwind through most of the ride, and it was considerably worse in the Strip. I didn’t have enough water either. But, knowing how Penn typically feels, I knew I could probably ride my own pace and at least close the gap. Then again, knowing how Penn feels, I decided to push the pace a bit.

As I zig-zagged from Smallman to Penn, I noticed the group (now three) had already broken up a bit on the initial rise. It was then that an old feeling, one from the day’s of soccer camp two-a-days and cross country running, came over me. It’s a creeping dread about the task at hand, one that will require you dig a bit deeper and hurt just a little more. I wanted to jump out of the saddle and mash away to catch them, but I stopped myself and settled into a smoother rhythm. Within another block I had closed the gap on the last of the three, and within another block I passed her. We exchanged pleasantries and stood up to slip back to the right along the line of parked cars. Number two was another block or so ahead.

At this point I probably bonked a bit. Not a full blown, hitting-the-wall thing, more of a wow-this-hurts-a-lot thing. I pulled up to the rear wheel of the second rider, and we both paused at the red light at 40th Street. I pulled away on green, realizing that the first rider had made the green light and was a few blocks ahead by now. It was no use trying to make up that ground now. I approach Friendship Park and see a group of racers zoom in front of me. Why aren’t they just cutting across the park? I think. Then I find the answer. In order to get the card for the checkpoint, you are required to take a Champs d’Elysees -style lap around the oval. A minute later I pocket my card and heard for Mellon Park.

This checkpoint, and the ride to Flagstaff were uneventful. Then things went wrong. After collecting my card at Flagstaff, I slipped behind Phipps and to the trail that leads to Panther Hollow, and eventually the Jail Trail. Unfortunately, this trail was closed. So I backtracked, and instead of changing my plan and blasting down Bates, I descended the stairs into Panther Hollow.

Bad idea #3.

Bouncing on the rough trail to the lake, I could at least take solace in the fact that my front wheel build seemed to be handling the pounding quite well. Then, finally, I was on 2nd Avenue, ready to cross the Hot Metal Bridge and collect my last card at the REI in the South Side Works. Approaching Armstrong Park via Carson, another racer, who had flatted on Penn caught me, further impressing upon the error of my ways. We got to the park together, finishing just outside the top ten. Oh, and those folks I passed on Penn? They had just beat me back. Yes, bad navigation was my undoing again.

Thanks to a decent poker hand (two pair) I squeezed into the top ten overall. Lucky.

Posted on 24 September 2006