107 Tandemonius Miles

My beloved and I purchased a tandem MTB from our friends this past Spring and after tweaking it to our riding preferences we were ready to roll on that beautiful machine. The first test-ride, I must admit was a bit intense, as I have never ridden in the back seat with no control. I felt every little flex and movement of the frame and was certain my husband was steering us toward imminent death! After a few miles I got used to the way we rolled, I learned to look at the scenery to the sides (looking at Keith's back was boring, and looking down at the gravel as it spun underneath us made me dizzy!), and I began to trust that The Captain had it all under control... just keep stokin' those pedals, Kristen.

In June we were able to procure a spot in the West-Side Dirty Benjamin gravel century ride. Our friends Chief and Jones of the Supreme Dream Team, former owners of our tandem, would be there with their brand new 29er tandem MTB. It was game on. Our mission: beat them, and beat them with their former bike! Muhahaha! (This was an overly-optimistic goal; those two are banshees in the saddle. They have more medals hanging around their necks from enduro-races than any co-ed team in the Midwest.) And there is a fair amount of healthy smack-talk and banter that is exchanged regularly between the four of us. Tandemonium!

We rolled out with a group of about a hundred cyclists from a city park in Chaska, Minnesota. The weather was beautiful at the start, sunny and warm. The initial first miles traversed city streets and connected with a very sandy railroad corridor (which produced a handful of crashes, luckily not us.). We kept Chief and Jones in our sights at all times and hugged their wheel whenever possible. The group veered into a forested area with double-track, still soggy from the heavy rains in previous days. We rode alongside our cohorts and jabbed at one another. We decided to make our move and put the gas on. We didn't hold the lead for long, I think they were playing with us. The trail spit us back out on a highway for a mile-long winding climb before we finally reached gravel. We were starting to get in our groove and we were feeling good. But it was early yet and we knew there were many obstacles to come. We could still see our tandem competitors up ahead and we still had the hope of at least hanging with them for a while. Suddenly they veered out of the pack and made a U-turn. Puzzled, we watched as they headed the opposite direction? I wondered if they were playing a trick on us or maybe letting us take the lead so they could again smoke us in a mile or so. They came cruising up in a few minutes and I hollered over to Jones, "What in the world are you doing?!" Chief had dropped his inhaler and they had no choice but to retrieve it! Ah-ha! They did have a weakness...

The miles rolled on and we were still pretty tight as a group. Our tandem was boss and we were hollering at riders to move aside as we ripped down the descents and worked the momentum on our magnificent machine, dubbed the "V-Train." Around mile 15 we were still in close proximity to our tandem pals and I teased that I thought I saw an inhaler laying in the dirt a few miles back. This produced a chuckle; they weren't falling for it. Soon after the Supreme Dream Team started pulling away, proving our own inadequacy. By mile 20 they were gone from our sites and I would be lying if I said we ever saw them again! We had used a lot more energy than anticipated in the early race on the rollers and softer surfaces. But we were still in it.

The thing about a tandem is that it is difficult to re-position yourself in the saddle. The weight is imbalanced when you try to stand in the saddle and so it must be planned carefully and even when you manage to pull it off, it isn't as satisfying as when you ride solo and can stretch out a bit. My low back started to have pain that made the hair on my head start to stand on end. We dismounted for a brief stop and stretched out which helped substantially. We were back in the saddle five minutes later and rolling down some beautiful gravel with farm country on all sides of us. The sky was starting to darken and rain threatened but no precipitation had fallen yet.

Around mile 40 we saw "The Great Almanzo" handing out PBRs at a rest stop. We cruised right on by, not wanting to spare a minute, and taking advantage of building a gap between the riders that were on break. By mile 50 the pain was back. I had it in my head that we had a drop bag at mile 54 or 56 or something like that so we kept pushing on. Why stop now when we were so close to the rest stop where we would eat and get off the bike. Mile 57, mile 58, mile 60... no stop... were we on course? Did we miss the turn? I inspected the cue sheets again and discovered that our drop bag was at mile 67. My optimism was deflating rapidly. I was hungry and my pelvis felt like it was going to split in two. I also have a wonderful old injury in my great toe that flares up halfway through any race. It's an awful reminder of the time my temper flared and I kicked something so hard that I broke it. Though it is only a toe, it is now riddled with arthritis, and can bring me to the edge of grinding my teeth as the pedals go round and round. I hate remembering what a fool I was that night in my tantrum.

We reached the drop-bag at last and laid on the grass devouring our lunches while mosquitoes devoured us. It was good motivation to keep moving. The dark skies still loomed and it certainly felt like it would rain at any minute. But still nothing. We pedaled out of the stop through some fun single-track, connected to a short segment of gravel and turned onto a railroad corridor. Here is were we made up for some lost time! We were flying through that corridor! We were passing riders effortlessly; taking advantage of the flat, hard surface, and the power of four legs to stoke the machine! Six miles later we were back on some light gravel rollers, and soon after that we were on paved city streets that led to off-road trails. This area was heavily saturated from recent rain and we worked hard as we spun through greasy, thick mud that covered our wheels. Amazingly we rode it out, never having the dismount to push the bike. After we reached pavement, the front wheel tossed chunks of mud in the air that rained down on my helmet and the rear wheel flung mud at my back for the next quarter-mile. It was lovely.

At mile 84 my husband reached back for my hand and yelled, "I love you, Baby!" My heart swelled and I knew that on this glorious tandem bike I loved him even more! It is an indescribable feeling of satisfaction to share the burden of pressing up a gravel ascent with your husband, to overcome the obstacles together, and spend a whole day riding next to one another. We are a team. On numerous climbs I found myself patting his back and chiming, "We're almost there." How blessed we are to share a passion for enduro-cycling. The tandem taught me many things. I had to give up control, trust him, and just settle in and pedal. I had to push myself to share the work. I had the luxury of enjoying the countryside, in all it's grandeur; so much more real when seen from a bike. I also learned the neat little trick of leaning forward and tucking my head under The Captain's arm so I could peak at the computer and cue cards. Hehehe.

A few miles later the thunderheads began to churn and we realized rain was inevitable. We had stopped for a quick stretch in a farmer's yard, attempted to seal our cue cards into a plastic baggie,and decided to keep pushing toward the finish rather than wait out the storm. We were 20 miles from the finish when the gully-gusher dropped. It rained so hard my skin felt like it was being pelted by rocks. It rained so hard our cue cards lost their ink. It rained so hard I had to bury my face in my husbands back to protect my flesh. My iPod drowned. Our speed slowed to about 8 mph as we slogged through soft gravel that oozed from the torrential downpour. Surprisingly, though, my joints stopped aching after the cool wash down. Now that our cue sheets were destroyed we had no choice but to catch other riders and hope that we could follow them the duration of the course.

We joined a group of cyclists that we learned had connections to our friends and local clubs and we encouraged one another as we soldiered on. The rain stopped after about ten miles and the sun even shone for a bit. As a group, we finagled our way through the course by connecting portions of cue cards that survived the rain. At last we reached pavement and we knew that this was the last four-mile stint to the finish. Being on a hard surface was glorious and we cranked those pedals to our infinite delight. The last mile was a steep decline and we tore down it, praying there was still some food left at the finish line! We arrived at accolades of cowbells and fellow enthusiasts. Wet, tired, and covered in sand and mud. It felt so good to be off the bike!!! And there was still warm pulled-pork for sandwiches and cold beverages! We had traversed 107 miles in beautiful Carver County. Seven hours in the saddle and we enjoyed every bit spent together on that tandem! We didn't beat Chief and Jones that day, and we may never, but the ride strengthened and transformed us as a team, and when we left we couldn't wait to ride together again.