Mallorca 70.3: The Finish Line Still Counts – The Bike

At this point, I wanted nothing to do with T1.

I did not want to get on the bike. I knew what was ahead of me, and I wanted to call it quits. But I grabbed my T1 bag, took off what remaining swim stuff I still had on, and put on my bike gear.

Then I made the long walk through T1, found my bike, walked it out, and started the ride.

I had practiced the ride several times on ROUVY, so I felt like I knew what to expect. The one thing I was not really prepared for was the possibility of wet Mallorca roads.

The descent down from the main climb is steep, fast, and technical, with lots of hairpin switchbacks. Trying to do that on wet roads seemed like a recipe for disaster. I kept asking Alex to help hold off the rain, at least until I got back down the mountain.

The initial ride out was very pretty and scenic, riding along the bay. It was windy, but manageable.

Pretty early on, I realized the power reading from my pedals clearly was not accurate. There was no way I was putting out the power it said I was. That was annoying because I knew I was not going to be able to rely on power the way I had planned.

My bike computer also kept losing the signal from my watch, so I did not really know what my heart rate was doing either.

The two data points I rely on most to measure effort were not working.

I got out to the main climb, and looking at my time on the bike, it seemed like I was right on track and about where I should be. I started the climb and tried to stay on top of fueling.

Then I missed the bottle cage and dropped a bottle by the side of the road.

Fantastic.

I had to stop, get off the bike, grab the bottle, and start climbing again from a standstill. It was another thing that was not going to plan.

The climb was long and difficult. There were not a lot of us left out there climbing at that point. Most of the riders were well on their way. The climb was as difficult as I expected, maybe even more difficult, but I finally made it to the top right about the time I thought I would.

That felt like a big win.

Even better, it had not started raining yet.

I began the descent on dry roads, thankfully. I thanked Alex for his help. The descent was fast, fun, and cold. By far, it was the best part of the day so far.

After that, I was down the mountain, through the towns, and into the countryside.

That is where the rain started.

It was not bad or heavy rain. It was just enough to make everything wet, coat the roads, and turn some of them incredibly slick.

I was approaching a corner. I was not going that fast. I started to brake and felt my back wheel slide. It was not a big deal at first. I got control and slowed down more. I was going slow enough that I did not think making the turn would be an issue.

Then the back wheel slid out from underneath me.

Down I went.

I was a little banged up, but otherwise okay. Good enough to keep going.

As two wonderful gentlemen helped me up, another rider was approaching the same corner. I waved my hands for him to slow down and yelled that the roads were wet. He acknowledged me, made the turn, and then slid and crashed right in front of me, doing almost the exact same thing I had just done.

Now three of us were helping him, and more riders were approaching. In my head, I just pictured a train wreck where everyone could see what was happening, but it was not easy to avoid.

Thankfully, no one else fell.

We got on our way, and that is when I realized something else was wrong.

Not with me, but with the bike.

The rear derailleur was not shifting.

I basically had two gears: one that was too easy and one that was just a bit too hard.

This sucks.

It was raining. The wind was really kicking up. I was tired, sore, my legs were already shot, and now I did not have functioning gears for the last part of the ride. I still had about 10 miles to go with a stiff headwind.

At that point, I felt like I already knew how the rest of the race was going to go. Any chance of actually running was probably gone. The only question I had was whether I was still going to finish, because I was ready to quit.

After probably more than four hours, I made it back to T2.

I saw Jeremy and Kristen.

Then I saw Kat.

Again, I was not in a hurry to get running. I was debating whether I was going to keep going at all. They were all being very encouraging, but I was not really in the mood for it. I barely acknowledged them. I was caught up in my own head, my emotions, how the day had gone so far, and how my body was reacting.

But I took off my bike stuff, put on my run shoes, and kept going.

Only a half marathon to go.

What the hell was I doing here?