In this post I'll tell you some more about covering the distance.
As I already wrote, throughout the whole ride I had to overtake a great, great many fellow cyclists. The math is simple: divide the number of participants by the distance, and you get about 80 people per kilometer, meaning almost one person every 12 meters, if I'm not mistaken. If you consider that they aren't just standing there like posts, it's clear that starting from the middle of the course I frequently rode side by side with the very same pedal-pushers.
And often the people I was overtaking really surprised me. How could it be that fatties, women, teenagers, bikes with trailers, and 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 corridor. Next year I'll be starting around the 1000th position, make it a 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 hit the brakes — I don't like entering turns fast, since I'm not sure how well the bike grips the surface and I don't know when it might skid, and I hate falling with a passion.
In front of me, a more professional-looking guy was entering a bit faster, but was also braking. And then from behind and to my right, a teenager flies out at full speed and rides right into the middle of the dude in front of me. He hits the brakes, but it's too late — he slams with all his might right into the center of the frame, knocks down the other guy, they both fall, and the rammer smacks his noggin really hard against the asphalt. At that point I was unrealistically glad everyone was wearing helmets — otherwise I'd have seen his brains right in front of me, which doesn't exactly do wonders for one's peace of mind.
All of this happened in a fraction of a second, and right in front of me (or to the side of me? I can't remember). Luckily, there are special staff on duty at dangerous turns, so I hope everything turned out fine. Now, as time has passed, I'm starting to think — could the teenager's trajectory have been like that because I was braking and changing my position in front of him? Even if so, it's still his fault, because it's a known dangerous turn, you have to brake in advance, not at the last moment.
Diagram of the crash, I'm in blue, the culprit is in red.
In general, I got very, very lucky, because only a matter of seconds, or rather fractions of seconds, separated me from disaster.
Anyway, moving on.
As you know, Sigulda is located in a rather hilly area. Up to about the middle of the distance, the ride went relatively easily, after that — harder and harder. And while on the flats I still managed to keep up 25-30 km/h, on the uphills I couldn't even hit 20, sometimes dropping to 14. Considering my weight and the bike's, this is understandable — it's easier for me going downhill, but going uphill is way harder than for everyone else. I overtook regular people, but the sporty ones were overtaking me on the climbs.
Coming towards us were the occasional roadies, and police on motorcycles would sometimes ride past us — they stop those who are riding without a number or a helmet - you can't be on the course illegally. Every now and then we'd come across the stuck cars of those poor sods who hadn't heard about the ride beforehand, and didn't know better than to poke their noses into Sigulda at this time.
There were several places on the route where you could rest and get some refreshments. In one, you actually had to stop. In two others, they were handing out water and bananas — right on the go. Afterwards, for 200-500 meters, the whole road was littered with peels, thankfully only on the right. I didn't get to appreciate the water or the bananas — saw them too late. Luckily, I had water in my cycling bottle, although there was little left, and at first I wasn't even going to bring it, thinking I'd manage without. Well — I wouldn't have managed, 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 were no cracks, which wasn't always possible since the traffic got in the way.
By the way, along the distance I periodically encountered locals and fans who cheered on the participants by shouting, whistling, honking, and banging.
And at the end of the route a terrifying ordeal awaited — a dreadful hill after the bridge (anyone who has been to Sigulda knows). A quarter of the people were walking up it, the rest were barely dragging along. I, like a crazy athlete, rode standing up, "dancing on the pedals" as they call it. Again, just like with the shoulder, I was surprised that nobody else was doing it. Apparently, people had absolutely no strength left, or maybe everyone who rode like that had already passed before me. A couple of times I even got scared that it was against the rules, because they were yelling something from behind. But it turned out they were yelling "unsportsmanlike" at the people walking. I myself yelled "davaj, davaj" to a girl who was also riding like me. This is now an international word for us in Latvia, which is why I'm writing it in Latin letters. The girl, unfortunately, couldn't keep the pace, and fell behind.
I was really helped out by my high-resistance elliptical machine workouts at the gym I go to — it's very similar to riding standing up a hill. So on the hill I overtook a whole crowd — otherwise I would've arrived even later. But instead I rode up looking like a badass all by myself, not even in a crowd. Everyone else stayed behind until they got up the hill.
I must say it was exceptionally tough, and I was probably making some horrific faces during the climb and for a bit afterwards. Without any exaggeration, it's physically painful to endure, and I don't recommend you repeat my experience if you don't do sports 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 arrived 1143rd, although I could swear I thought and saw earlier that it was 1008. There were 3006 finishers in total, so I was better than half, and even noticeably better. 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
Making it under an hour, I think, is currently unrealistic for me, so next year I'll be aiming for somewhere around 1.10, if I'm lucky.
Here are all the results, in a terrible 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 spend extra time converting it, and I don't feel like it. Maybe I still will.
It turned out that I still didn't write everything, so in the next post there will finally be the conclusion.