Hugel baby...

Tour.
das.
Hugel.

If my punctuation seems unnecessarily dramatic, just wait. It'll make sense in a moment.

This past Saturday I participated in an annual Austin cycling event called Tour das Hugel. I have no idea what "hugel" is, but the ride is 108 miles long and includes more than 11,000 feet of climbing. Yes, I meant to type eleven thousand.
I know, right?

The ride, obviously, is pretty intense, and I've struggled to make those numbers make sense to non-cyclists. I guess one way of thinking about it is like this: imagine the average amount of calories needed to breathe, blink, and otherwise function is 1,100. During the hill ride I do on Sunday mornings, I burn about 1,500 calories on top of that basal 1,100. That ride is 20 miles long and usually includes approximately 1,700 feet of climbing. So just based on elevation gain, an individual could burn approximately 9x the amount of calories doing this ride than they would sitting on a couch watching movies all day or 4x the amount of calories they would burn doing an extremely intense work out (which is what I consider my Sunday morning rides). Okay, now hopefully, we're all on the same page.

The ride started at 7am. I guess there were about 150 people at the start. I had planned on doing the ride on my touring bike, but since the fork is busted, I borrowed my boss's Soma Smoothie for the ride (a bike which weighs 8-10 lbs. less than my touring bike. I don't know what would've happened if I'd actually done it on my touring bike - probably died). The first loop was 40 miles long, and it was called the "easy loop." Calling anything easy on this ride is idiotic, and the way people were riding during the first loop made it anything but easy. When finally the group caught a red light, I asked a guy next to me what time it was. "Eight fifteen," he told me. Then, he added, in his thick Mexican accent and with a great deal of exasperation, "They are doing this ride like it is a race." I was relieved to hear that I wasn't the only person that was uncomfortable with the pace, but in recognition of his frustration and with my mind on the remaining 90 miles, I furrowed my brow and replied, "I know. It's a little rough." At the time, I hadn't considered the fact that a lot of people were probably only doing the first lap. They had no reason to pace themselves. There's even a separate t-shirt for people who only do the first lap, the "Hugelito."

I'm the first person to pass - in blue with white arm warmers

By the end of the first lap, I had decided that there was no way to train for the Hugel. Nothing could make you ready for it except it, and no one is going to do it in advance in training for it. It's not a race, you know. Next year, I think it might be yoga and maybe doubling the elevation gain on my Sunday rides, but I still think the ride will be pure masochism (Wait - did I seriously just type next year?).

Before starting the second part, I sat there resting, and my boss, AJ, pulled in a few minutes after I did. Everyone was resting, stretching, and commiserating as if we were done. Once in a while, another group would leave to start the "hard lap" or second part of the ride (70 miles with the hardest climbs). It had been lonely riding by myself or with people I didn't know for the first lap, so I decided to wait for AJ before leaving. Just before we were going to roll out, one of my coworkers, Tim, rolled in. AJ and I were going to wait for Tim, but he took long enough getting water that we gave up and left.

AJ's bike had fallen over while we were resting, and now, it was shifting really poorly. The derailer hanger was bent - a pretty hard thing to fix while out on a ride. He would ride a hundred feet, stop, bend it with his hand, adjust the cable tension, and try riding again. Eventually, he got it shifting well again, and we got on with the ride.

The second part might have been harder, but it had all the hills that I climb every Sunday. At least, I knew what to expect, which was comforting. Eventually, because of AJ's mechanical problems and one wrong turn, Tim was able to catch up. He had brought with him an older guy who had made attempts in previous years who knew the route fairly well. Ladera Norte provided it's usual breathtaking view and a nice spot to rest for a moment. A few miles later we past a convenience store, where we stopped, and I bought some blueberry muffin bites. A young guy on an Indy Fab rode with us for a while. His mom was riding SAG for him in a little convertible Mazda, which seemed like a nice day for her. The weather and country were pretty. Apparently, it was his first time riding again after a year off the bike because his heart had stopped during a race. Crazy.

Eventually though, the older guy quit and the younger guy fell behind. Then it was just AJ, Tim, and I for a while. A crew of Texas 4000 riders were with us for a bit, and some guys I know from other rides around town stuck with us for a bit too. By the time we got to the rest stop at mile 68, AJ and Tim weren't that excited to continue. From there, there was a 17 mile loop out to Mansfield Dam and back, after which you finished the ride. It was pretty easy to skip the loop and just head back, and I had to do a fair amount of encouraging to avoid doing just that. I liked being pushing into the roll of motivator. It made me forget that I was exhausted, and I probably would've been considering quitting had I been by myself.

As it turned out, the loop out to Mansfield Dam was the nicest part of the ride, and at mile 75, a funny thing occurred to AJ and I. We were climbing up a hill just as hard as any other that day, and I ask him in a voice that surprised me by how calm and relaxed it was, "Do you find yourself not getting winded anymore?" I continued by clarifying, "It's just your legs hurt." He responded in an equally relaxed voice, "Yeah." It seemed that, as hard as we were working, our respiratory systems had simply acclimated, and we weren't huffing and puffing anymore.

AJ, Tim, and I at Mansfield Dam

We finished the loop out to the dam, and headed back. It was a long tedious climb out, and we needed to stop and rest again at the rest stop - crackers and gatorade never tasted so good. Then, we headed back. There were some severe hills just to get back to a main road, and Tim had had a speed wobble earlier in the day, so he was being cautious on the descents (I can't blame him). Finally, we got out to Ranch Road 2222. We sat at the light, waiting to cross and ride the half mile to the start of Jester, the last and arguably toughest climb of the ride, and AJ said to me, "You know Jester is the end of the ride, right?" I looked at him, and he continued, "We have to ride back, but the ride is officially done at the top of Jester." I was overcome with excitement, pride, and relief. All I could say was an emphatic, "Fuck yes!" I high-fived AJ and turned around and did the same to Tim. Then it was on to Jester.