Civil War Century 2015

Sandwiched between two gorgeous days, the weather on September 12, 2015, the day of the ride, was rather miserable.  The day before the ride, gorgeous, gorgeous weather: low 80’s, low humidity, and not a single cloud in the sky. It was quite difficult to take seriously the weather forecast for the following day calling for a 90% chance of rain, lightning storm, and 96% humidity.  To make it short: on the 12^th, the early morning duel between the dark cloudy sky on the western side of the sky, and the glorious colors of the sunrise on the eastern side, was won by the west.  After about an hour into the ride, the rain started slowly and developed quickly.  While varying in the intensity from a boring quiet autumn rain to a midsummer deluge, it did not stop for the next five solid hours.  This means that it rained only during the century ride!

The puffing of the first (dry) morning climb up brought a generous feeling of body warmth in a rather chilly morning.  The warmth quickly dissipated during the climbing downs.  The rain changed that equation by not only introducing the chill factor, but also by affecting the visibility of the roads and performance of the brakes.  The visibility especially affected the marks painted on the road signaling where to turn and where to proceed straight.  The curious selection of the dark green paint in combination with the wetness of the pavement, and mirror-like reflections of the sky, conspired rather effectively against the rider’s ability to see those markings.  Consequently, a group of 30 to 40 of us realized at the end of a long climb down that we somewhere missed the turn.  After witnessing the great failure of all those “smart” phones to identify our exact location, we concluded that riding back and finding the missed signal hard way is our only option, which is what we did.

The first rest stop at Gathland Park was the discouraging scene of the pouring rain in the mid-morning darkness.  A reasonable person would perhaps stay under the shade and wait for the rain to stop - I continued to ride.  The chill was sinking in.  My completely soaked lycra was hardly protecting me from the weather.  The shivers that the climbing down chill, in combination with the otherwise very light front end of my Cervelo S5 bicycle, translated into the entire bike starting to tremble.  Then, finally, I pulled over, took a nylon cover I got at a car dealership long time ago, which I had never even opened before, and put on.  What a difference that made! That piece of nylon saved the day.   

The cold, dark, rainy, and desolate road lead us to the Antietam Creek, where the first monuments to the bloodiest single-day battle in Northern America started to show up.  The Ohio Regiment monument was the first one I saw.  Then the town of Sharpsburg, then turning north, and then lots of flat tires.  Lots of going up and down, lots of braking, and lots of pick-up trucks rushing and passing us in full speed.  Did I say it was raining like crazy all that time?

The second rest stop in Mt. Aetna is typically a good place to focus on the approaching climbs of Raven Rock, Ritchie, and Jacks Mountain Road.  Not this time.  The pouring rain and darkness, combined with our total wetness, prevented me from thinking clearly of those climbs.  My focus was on a more immediate need: determine whether to bail out at around mile 64; after Ritchie, but before Jacks Mountain Road.  The idea of sailing down the several-mile-long easy road, they say, never looked as attractive as it did at that moment.   

The months of preparation for this ride and experience from the previous two rides, made me climb up the Raven Rock and Ritchie Roads rather easily and painlessly. Ritchie in particular.  Where in the past I would be thinking of dismounting my bike and walking just to cease the pain, this time I climbed up at ease; changing the gears rarely if ever needing the smallest one!!?  I believe that the cool-down effect of the falling rain and relatively fresh pavement on Ritchie Road helped.  Due to the braking issues, I found that in some way the climb down part of Ritchie was a more difficult issue than the climbing up part.  

The fact that no single thunder clap could be heard for the preceding two hours of the rain was providing me with comfort.  If it remains like this, I thought, I would continue to Gettysburg and complete the ride, even if that would mean extra an hour or two of soaking in the rain.  Then, at that moment, before I even completed the thought, the first thunder boomed: less than two miles away!  What now?  To bail out or not?  Then another thunder, and another, and another.  The idea of riding to Gettysburg appeared as improbable as ever.  A small group of riders parked at the bail out site, was implying, merely by their presence, that I should bail out.  Then, Khalil Gibran’s verse basically stating (paraphrased) – “I despised my soul for the third time when was given to choose between the hard and the easy, and I chose the easy”, came to mind.  In brief: I choose Gettysburg.  That is when I cursed myself in a very colorful phraseology from the wealth of visual expressions of my native Serbo-Croatian language.  The rather loud thunder clap (the last one for the day) added to the credence of the expression.  For some reason, the images of the Gettysburg battle re-enactment of the artillery barrage on the third day of the battle came to mind.Like Raven Rock and Ritchie, climbing up a mile-long Jacks Mountain Road was a dash.  I passed the scores of bicyclists wondering whether that indeed was the same road that two years ago made me feel frail and miserable.  The rest area visit in Fairfield coincided with the rain easing substantially and the day brightening somewhat.  The realization of where we were, the fact that it did not thunder for the past 20 minutes, instilled me with more optimism.  

Bullfrog Road included the last climb that last year surprised me almost to the point of frustration.  Yes, the climb was there, but for some reason it was easy and followed by a protracted climbing down.  Was I on the right road?  No other rider in the vicinity.  Nobody to ask and no signs on the road.  I turned back.  After about a mile, a few bicyclists followed and I turned back to continue where I had stopped.  Soon we were in Gettysburg. The somberness of the place, ornamented with all those monuments, the artillery pieces that will never again serve their originally intended purpose, and with the aura of solemnity in the air, was augmented by the sound of the pouring rain, darkness of the day, and the silhouettes of the passing bicyclists defying the rules of a normal human behavior for this type of weather.  Looking at Little Round Top behind the vail of rain, and wondering what would happen back in 1863 if, for example, there was a storm like this one in one of those three faithful days.  Would the decisive battle be fought?  Or, would they rather have been sitting on their respective sides waiting for the rain to stop, or even move elsewhere?  Could a storm change the outcome of the battle?  With these passing thoughts, I passed by Little Round Top glancing at it from the perspective that few people ever do: from the bicycle saddle, under the rain, in a miserable weather.  

At some point after leaving the last rest stop, the rain just stopped.  I did not even realize clearly when that happened.  Perhaps around the time of my passing the Maxon-Dixon Line, a historic line separating Maryland and Pennsylvania, and the South and North.  The absence of the rain made my nylon flutter in the wind, which encouraged at least one group of grazing horses to gallop.   The ride came to an end around 3:00 PM.  Wet but happy!  All those images from different points of the ride started to flash before my eyes.  All those dark woods, raging creeks swollen by the falling rain, and all those cemeteries signalling subtly: "seize the day" ("carpe diem"), were there.   

PS with the sponsor changing the course of the ride relatively late in the registration process, which scaled down the vertical elevation gain to about 7500 feet, made me ride the 2015 Reston Century on August 24.  Those 103 miles and the respectable 5500 feet of vertical elevation gain, were a test ride for this Century.  The Reston Century ride too was very easy and uneventful.  This is two century rides in the space of three weeks.