this is a quick, little mind effort of a post, directed mainly for participants of PMBAR or those intimately familiar with it so called "soul crushing" ability
Seven – supposedly the American lucky numeral. For me, Seven totals over $300 in entry fees, $500+ repairing brake pads, new chains, shifter cables, chain rings, chiropractor visits, pepto bismal, beer and other unaccounted items resulting directly from PMBAR. Not included in this estimate is the cost of my time, shattered ego, blood loss, one week of sore arse (seven days/7 PMBARS), and effect on relationships w/PMBAR partners, effect on relationships with non PMBAR partners and energy spent.
I’m not a small person by cycling standards and the typical 2,000 calorie/day diet doesn’t apply. On average, the PMBAR routes I’ve chosen have ranged from 45 – 65 miles, with most coming in around 60 miles. So 60 miles x 7 PMBARS = 420 approximate miles pedaled for all 7 PMBARS. I can also conservatively estimate the elevation gain of each PMBAR at 9,000 vertical feet. 9 x 7 = 56,000. One mile = 5,xxx feet so I’ve PMBARed to the stratosphere. One mile of pedaling for a 210 pound fellow (some of those PMBARS I may have been 220+) equals upteen thousand calories.
The race went swell this year until…
Flat #1
Flat #2
Broken pump.
I raced with Yuri “the fury” Eliashevski. We seemed to be paired up well. Yuri was able to keep me focused in the check points and throughout the day. We picked a different route compared to most finishers.
First CP was the top of Cantrell.
2nd was Turkey Pen
3rd FS 5005
4th top of Laurel
Then 5th, end of FS 225
We never made it to the 5th CP.
While en route, we stopped at Pink Beds to get some water and I was flatting so I figured I’d go ahead and change it out. Well, my pump broke. No other riders around, only Saturday picnic people with stuffed picnic baskets and buckets of chicken. I tried to trade ol’ steve for a bucket but the picnickers wanted a full suspension bike, like the ones from wal mart. Yuri scouted the parking lot for a cyclist while I frantically waved down every passing car on 276 “do you have a bike pump?”
No. No. No. No. No. No.
I guess if some large guy in tights and a funny outfit waved me down on the highway I would be apprehensive as well, heck I wouldn’t have stopped.
A quick note on Karma:
At the top of Laurel, a fellow pulled up and questioned “does anyone have some chain lube?”. I had just solved the puzzle of re-inserting a small vial of chain lube back into Yuri’s saddle bag. It was like tetris x 6,000 trying to get that damn thing back in there. Well, I just sort of looked up at the sky and pretended we had no chain lube. We were ready to roll out when the fellow beckoned. Off we went. Now, I need a pump and there is none. To the fellow at the CP, I’m sorry I didn’t lend you some lube. I got what was coming to me. I will not be selfish from here on out.
Well, Karma let things pass and we waved down Fusco & Key. They had two pumps, threw us one and continued to the 225 CP. By the time we finally fixed my flat, 7 – 10 teams had passed us and we lost more time than we would gain by a 2 hour bonus for getting all 5 CP’s, so with heads low, we cruised on in.
Our effort was commendable and our mistakes (only 1 pump, carrying too much schtuff) are lessons learned to carry forward to the next adventure.
Word up.
Seven – supposedly the American lucky numeral. For me, Seven totals over $300 in entry fees, $500+ repairing brake pads, new chains, shifter cables, chain rings, chiropractor visits, pepto bismal, beer and other unaccounted items resulting directly from PMBAR. Not included in this estimate is the cost of my time, shattered ego, blood loss, one week of sore arse (seven days/7 PMBARS), and effect on relationships w/PMBAR partners, effect on relationships with non PMBAR partners and energy spent.
I’m not a small person by cycling standards and the typical 2,000 calorie/day diet doesn’t apply. On average, the PMBAR routes I’ve chosen have ranged from 45 – 65 miles, with most coming in around 60 miles. So 60 miles x 7 PMBARS = 420 approximate miles pedaled for all 7 PMBARS. I can also conservatively estimate the elevation gain of each PMBAR at 9,000 vertical feet. 9 x 7 = 56,000. One mile = 5,xxx feet so I’ve PMBARed to the stratosphere. One mile of pedaling for a 210 pound fellow (some of those PMBARS I may have been 220+) equals upteen thousand calories.
The race went swell this year until…
Flat #1
Flat #2
Broken pump.
I raced with Yuri “the fury” Eliashevski. We seemed to be paired up well. Yuri was able to keep me focused in the check points and throughout the day. We picked a different route compared to most finishers.
First CP was the top of Cantrell.
2nd was Turkey Pen
3rd FS 5005
4th top of Laurel
Then 5th, end of FS 225
We never made it to the 5th CP.
While en route, we stopped at Pink Beds to get some water and I was flatting so I figured I’d go ahead and change it out. Well, my pump broke. No other riders around, only Saturday picnic people with stuffed picnic baskets and buckets of chicken. I tried to trade ol’ steve for a bucket but the picnickers wanted a full suspension bike, like the ones from wal mart. Yuri scouted the parking lot for a cyclist while I frantically waved down every passing car on 276 “do you have a bike pump?”
No. No. No. No. No. No.
I guess if some large guy in tights and a funny outfit waved me down on the highway I would be apprehensive as well, heck I wouldn’t have stopped.
A quick note on Karma:
At the top of Laurel, a fellow pulled up and questioned “does anyone have some chain lube?”. I had just solved the puzzle of re-inserting a small vial of chain lube back into Yuri’s saddle bag. It was like tetris x 6,000 trying to get that damn thing back in there. Well, I just sort of looked up at the sky and pretended we had no chain lube. We were ready to roll out when the fellow beckoned. Off we went. Now, I need a pump and there is none. To the fellow at the CP, I’m sorry I didn’t lend you some lube. I got what was coming to me. I will not be selfish from here on out.
Well, Karma let things pass and we waved down Fusco & Key. They had two pumps, threw us one and continued to the 225 CP. By the time we finally fixed my flat, 7 – 10 teams had passed us and we lost more time than we would gain by a 2 hour bonus for getting all 5 CP’s, so with heads low, we cruised on in.
Our effort was commendable and our mistakes (only 1 pump, carrying too much schtuff) are lessons learned to carry forward to the next adventure.
Word up.
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