Mayor Debate: Week 2 ReBUTTal (Big Ones!)

Do you want to know how to scare an English teacher? Open a math book.

This week's Mayoral Challenge involves something that terrifies me, and it's not hills. Or, Iron-Bob Sandquist, (may he rest in peace).

No, what scares me is math. Somehow, through the use of magic, I am supposed to calculate something called "vertical gain" and then "divide" that number by some other significant number and then the result is something or other.

I didn't sign up for a nerd challenge! But apparently, the math and science wizards over at the House of Smith were dying to do some bean countin'.

First things first, let's talk about Potter's Hill.

The "big hill" on RAGBRAI 2010 was called "Potter's Hill." It loomed over the entire week like a black cloud. Right outside of Graf, Iowa, on the last day, most of RAGBRAI met its doom. The hill decimated RAGBRAI. Old men who hadn't walked a hill in 30 years of RAGBRAI were walking. People were giving up even before the hill started. It looked like one of those scenes of refugees evacuating Paris before the Nazis entered the city, only instead of carts of treasured possessions, these folks had bikes.

I was one of the number who was struck down by Potter's Hill. I followed all of the advice.  I'd read the training blog. I put it in my "granny gear." I attempted to "spin it out" but at some point, I just couldn't go any farther. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that so many people around me were falling apart. If they couldn't do it, well, then neither could I. Of course, those people were also stopping right in front of me while I made my last gasps.

So, I walked. And let me tell you, walking wasn't any easier. That hill is steep.  With just a bit of hill left, I remounted and chugged up the rest of the hill in shame.  At the top, I Steven and the Mayor were waiting for me.  They had made it, of course.  Steven took one look at my face and said, "I don't even care.  You are awesome."  Or something like that, which was very supportive.  But, I was crushed and ashamed.


The thing you need to know about Steven and the Mayor is that they cannot stand anyone to be in a bad mood.  And they are the relentless cheerleading pitbulls.  They won't stop until there's a smile on your face.  Well, Steven rode with me, trying to cheer me up.  Then, to make matters even worse, I got cranky.  Then, we had a mini-fight and rode separately.  I just had to "bike it out, bitch."  Thankfully, we kissed and made up before our final triumphant ride into Dubuque and took an amazing picture at the dip site.

This is how you stand when you wear a 3/4 zip jersey.

Yet, my shame at not making it up the hill stuck with me. 


So, when the Mayor proposed 4-hours of No Power the week the Tiger and I were going to Dubuque for a "romantic" weekend, I knew what I had to do.  (We had decided to attempt the hill again, even before the challenge). 

Before I reveal my results, though, I would like to make a few things clear.  

Contention I: I do not "power" up hills. There was a time when I would "power" up hills. That was a RAGBRAI long, long ago in 2010. This year, 2011, was very hilly, at least to a Polk County gal. And, I can guarantee, there was no racing up any hills. There were hills I climbed slowly and hills I climbed not so slowly.  I climbed them all. 

Sub-Point A:

"The Mayor has been campaigning for her to stop for a while now, since its not the best way to try to do long rides with lots of hill. And, because he is the mayor and he campaigns for lots of things."

I contend that the mayor has not been campaigning for me to stop "powering" up hills, which I do not do. If the Mayor campaigns for me to do anything it is to get me to stop braking on the downhills (see contention III). In fact, the only time I remember hearing the Mayor mention my climbing is to complain that when we are climbing hills we get separated and are no longer able to ride together, but I can verify that more than half the time he is beating me up a hill.

Contention II: I am not the one "out of the saddle." In fact, I would argue, that the Mayor is "out of the saddle." That guy spends more time "out of the saddle" than a paraplegic bull rider at the K-Y Rodeo.

Sub-point A: In fact, when we climbed "the big hill" this year on RAGBRAI, "Twister Hill" outside of Pilot Mound, I spend the entire climb in the saddle. My butt was so glued to that saddle I needed a spatula and industrial-grade lubrication to pry my butt out of the saddle when we arrived at the Giggling Goat. That being said, I would like to point out, that I was the first to the top.

Contention III: Climbing is not my weakness. Descending is my weakness. I hate descending. I get scared. I brake. People, mostly the Mayor, mock me.  I am not going to lie.  I walked down a stretch of Potter's Hill. 

Sub-Point A: In my defense, most of the jokers on RAGBRAI enjoy whizzing by me at the top of a downhill and then careening right into my path. Little do they know, I outweigh most of RAGBRAI. I build up speed like a cannon ball rolling down a cliff, but because some joker has decided not to "hold her line," I am forced to slow down, rather than careen myself into some else's path.

Contention IV: Trek Alpha Aluminum 22 pounds versus the Madone 5.5 16 pounds, plus my additional 25 pounds of weight: 31 extra pounds, more so with Steven and "skinny" Mayor. The gravitational pull on that extra 47 pounds requires an additional amount of power to counter act the effects of gravity.

Contention V: I don't even understand the math we are doing.

Contention VI: There are no hills worthy of climbing four hours in a row in Polk County.

Contention VII: What are you talking about "getting in the way of my success?" I won RAGBRAI mother-f*cka, two years in a row.

Now, the results of my Week 2 Debate: Four Hours of No Power
1. I made it up Potter's Hill!

2. I lost the Four Hours of No Power Challenge.

I made it up Potter's Hill.  It was tough, but I did it.

We decided to start at the trail head in Durango, Iowa.  And, I glad we did.  The road from the Black Horse Inn to Durango was steep, crappy, and narrow.

I mistakenly believed that the train we were taking to Graf, called "Heritage Trail" was paved.  Not so much.  It was a fine gravel.  To make it even more fun, Dubuque had received 15 inches of rain in July in one night.  The trail was a bit of a mess.  We were on our road bikes.  I felt bad for the Tiger because he brought his pretty bike.

The trail was gorgeous and just messy enough to make it a bit of a challenge.  We had about an 7 mile ride out to Graf, Iowa.  I was so nervous I couldn't finish my breakfast and I was shaking as I put on my bike clothes.  The Tiger's response to my nerves was to simply say, "don't be nervous."  As we rode, the Tiger "pulled away" and I got slower and slower the closer we got to the hill.

To cheer myself I sang, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," which is what the Mayor sang to me and Emily throughout RAGBRAI 2011.  It helped.

Then, we came out of the woods at "Potter's Hill Road."

I cropped this photo so you can't see my chubby thighs

I wanted to take off my hat and jacket.  It was a chilly morning, but I knew I wouldn't want them on the hill.  I also wanted a minute to center myself.  The Tiger didn't want to wait.  So he rode off leaving me at the bottom. 

The Tiger takes on Potter's Hill. 

This is me, trying to get my game face on, and a little disappointed the Tiger left me.

As I was remounting, a guy on a triathalon bike was rolling down the hill.  "Is everything alright?" he asked.  I couldn't tell him the truth, that I was seriously considering turning around and going back to the comfort of the Black Horse Inn.

I said I was fine and started towards the bridge.  As he rode past me, he said, "just keep the cadence real quick."  Thanks, sir.

So, I started chugging.  I put that old bike in the bottom gear and pedaled.  On Twister Hill I kept looking for the top, which was dumb, so I tried to force myself to just look 10 feet in front of me.  And, I climbed.

As I got to one of the steepest spots, the Tiger rolled down and yelled "you got it!"

"Damn," I thought, "the Tiger did it.  Now I have to do it."  So I kept pedaling.  I was huffing and puffing.  I tried to remember how slow you can go before you fall over.  I veered dangerously close to a pile of leaves.  I passed the spot where I had quit in 2010.  I huffed.  I looked at my computer.  .6 miles!  Damn it.

Then, the tri-guy rolled down the hill, "you got it!"  Sigh.

Then, I did have it.  I turned the corner, saw the top, and kept pedaling for it.  I passed the spot where I remounted in 2010.  I kept pedaling.  Finally, the horizon appeared again.  Thank goodness.  I decided to pedal to the spot where I had met Steven and the Mayor in 2010.  Then, I rolled over a rock and felt it just a bit too much.  Then another.  Then another.

I had a flat!  Not a super flat, but the tube was low.  I tried to pump it up, just to make it down the hill, but anyone who knows me knows I am terrified of going down hill.  A semi-flat tire seemed like a terrible obstacle.

I stopped.  Bummer.  The Tiger, who hadn't waited for me to take a victory photo, jerk!, was all the way at the bottom.  True to form, though he owns a cell phone, he didn't have it on him.  He would either have to climb back to the top, or wait for me at the bottom.  It takes me a long time to change a tire.

I flagged down a lady who was headed down hill.  I asked her to tell then guy in the brown coat on the blue bike with the mustache that I had a flat and I would be down in a bit.

Then, I changed my tire.

Then I wrestled with the tire, trying to get it back on the wheel.  As I was pumping with my silly little hand pump, I saw the Tiger crest the horizon.  He had ridden back up the hill!  What a champion.

I filled him in.  He sat patiently as I pumped.  Finally, I handed over the wheel.  He finished pumping for me.

Tiger takes charge.

"I wish you would use your cell phone," I told him.  "You wouldn't have had to ride up twice."

"Oh, I didn't make it," he said.  What???  He had stopped at the drive way for a little break on both ventures up the hill.  Thank goodness I didn't know that when I was on the way up.

Then, I got my victory photo.

I made the Tiger take a victory photo too.  Licking his lips like Thomas Voelker. 

Then, we rode back down the hill.  Me squealing in terror like a little girl.  The Tiger dropping like it's hot.

And, we rode back down the trail.  I decided I really do need to get my cyclocross career off the ground.

Handle Bar!  Nice.

Then, we stopped at the Handle Bar for a post-ride beer or two.  Turns out, there's no Coors in Dubuque, only Busch Light.  The Tiger said he wants to come back next summer and give Potter's Hill another try.  We'll have to bootleg in our own Coors, Smokey and the Bandit style.

Bikers Welcome!

So, I lost the debate.  My day of climbing was only 538 feet, which divided by 391 is 1.3759 or something like that.   

Had we been in Des Moines, I could have ridden more vertical feet, but because of time constraints and have a "romantic weekend" get-away, I could only justify the one ride.  But, I am proud of getting my biscuit up that hill.

Masking the bitter taste of defeat is the sweet taste of redemption!