c_m_shooter
04-20-07, 09:15 PM
Is anybody planning to do this ride? I was planning on taking my new bike out and doing the 64 mile. It would be good to know if anybody else will be as slow as me.
Texas - Muenster Germanfest
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aikigreg
04-20-07, 09:29 PM
I won't be slow, but I'm going!
jim10040
04-20-07, 09:33 PM
Haven't heard of it. A link would help. I LOVE Muenster...GREAT German restaurants. 64 MILES is a bit of a stretch for me, am I allowed to take all day????
All1NTao
04-23-07, 10:10 AM
I will be going this weekend. I would like to have a small group ride together. This was my fav ride from last year. Cool festival when the ride is over with beer, sausages, and OOm-PA bands.
redls1camaro
04-29-07, 11:04 PM
Did this ride on sat. had a blast. Their was tons of people there. This was my first of many to come group rides.
aikigreg
04-30-07, 08:34 AM
It was an INCREDIBLE ride, wasn't it?
1900 in attendance, and I was at the back of the 100k pack. Took quite a while to get to the front of the pack, even adding in a 50m/hr descent on the first big downhill. Lots of really good cyclists out there, and it took a lot of work to keep the pacelines from getting past me.
Lots of great scenery, including a little stopover in a small downtown that had buildings from the late 1800s, a farm that had a Cadillac Ranch thing going but with Volkwagon Beetles instead of caddies, and bicycle art along one fence out in the middle of nowhere.
The route was tough. I had thought all the tough hills were in the firt 20 miles, so when I stood at 21.5mph for that section, I thought I was the nuts. I had a cow when he hit a couple WALLS later in the ride. I still made it up all the hills though - many roadies were walking, and a few were kneeling and puking their guts out.
The great thing, was that the rally price came with free admission to the germanfest and 2 free beers, or in my case, 1 beer and 1 margarita. Coupled with a couple bratwursts, it turned out to be a great post-ride good time. The people were extremely friendly. Walking into the festival grounds someone gave us extra drink tickets they couldn't use (maybe we just look like we needed a drink badly!), I got hit on twice, and when I wanted a soda, I discovered I didn't have any more cash on me, and someone in the crowd bought it for me!
Just a great day all around. These rallies are really nice when you have something to do afterwards other than load the bikes and go home.
1900 in attendance, and I was at the back of the 100k pack. Took quite a while to get to the front of the pack, even adding in a 50m/hr descent on the first big downhill. Lots of really good cyclists out there, and it took a lot of work to keep the pacelines from getting past me.
Lots of great scenery, including a little stopover in a small downtown that had buildings from the late 1800s, a farm that had a Cadillac Ranch thing going but with Volkwagon Beetles instead of caddies, and bicycle art along one fence out in the middle of nowhere.
The route was tough. I had thought all the tough hills were in the firt 20 miles, so when I stood at 21.5mph for that section, I thought I was the nuts. I had a cow when he hit a couple WALLS later in the ride. I still made it up all the hills though - many roadies were walking, and a few were kneeling and puking their guts out.
The great thing, was that the rally price came with free admission to the germanfest and 2 free beers, or in my case, 1 beer and 1 margarita. Coupled with a couple bratwursts, it turned out to be a great post-ride good time. The people were extremely friendly. Walking into the festival grounds someone gave us extra drink tickets they couldn't use (maybe we just look like we needed a drink badly!), I got hit on twice, and when I wanted a soda, I discovered I didn't have any more cash on me, and someone in the crowd bought it for me!
Just a great day all around. These rallies are really nice when you have something to do afterwards other than load the bikes and go home.
wayner61
04-30-07, 09:56 AM
I rode the 100K Saturday as well. Went out relatively fast (at least for me). Felt great through the third rest stop. Even though I am NOT a climber, I didn't think the hills were too bad. Stopped at the third rest stop and re-filled my bottles, grabbed some cookies and a banana and took off feeling like I could finish the 100K easily.
I was WRONG. Between rest stop 3 and 4, I started getting leg cramps. Calves and quads were hurting something fierce. Very unexpected for me. I can't ever remember cramping like that on a ride. Could have been the hills and/or the wind. Who knows.... I really felt under-trained at that point though. Those hills started looking like mountains. I was really struggling to get over the top of each climb.
Rest stop 5 was out of water when I got there. They had plenty of ice though, so i got as much of that in my bottles as I could and then sat and just chilled for a bit. Felt really hot about then. I was pretty convinced it was over 90 degrees on the road. It felt like it at least.
Wasn't paying attention and cruised right past rest stop 6. Either the climbs were easier by this point or I was just going that much slower, but I did start to feel a bit stronger. I was pretty glad to see the water tower for Muenster though as I topped a hill.
Finish area was a bit anti-climatic. Just a banner off to the side of the road. Went to my car and changed. Very surprised at that point to find it was only 82 degrees. Felt a lot hotter than that! The post ride Germanfest was certainly worth the time. Lots of good people and fun.
Overall, a very enjoyable time.
I was WRONG. Between rest stop 3 and 4, I started getting leg cramps. Calves and quads were hurting something fierce. Very unexpected for me. I can't ever remember cramping like that on a ride. Could have been the hills and/or the wind. Who knows.... I really felt under-trained at that point though. Those hills started looking like mountains. I was really struggling to get over the top of each climb.
Rest stop 5 was out of water when I got there. They had plenty of ice though, so i got as much of that in my bottles as I could and then sat and just chilled for a bit. Felt really hot about then. I was pretty convinced it was over 90 degrees on the road. It felt like it at least.
Wasn't paying attention and cruised right past rest stop 6. Either the climbs were easier by this point or I was just going that much slower, but I did start to feel a bit stronger. I was pretty glad to see the water tower for Muenster though as I topped a hill.
Finish area was a bit anti-climatic. Just a banner off to the side of the road. Went to my car and changed. Very surprised at that point to find it was only 82 degrees. Felt a lot hotter than that! The post ride Germanfest was certainly worth the time. Lots of good people and fun.
Overall, a very enjoyable time.
All1NTao
05-02-07, 09:21 AM
Muenster Germanfest: A European Ride
The aroma of freshly made sausages and sweet strudel drifted faintly on the warm morning air. A record crowd of 2000+ gathered in front of the clock tower at Fisher's Market to celebrate the nice weather, enjoy the German festival and challenge themselves on the hills. I arrived early for once and was able to find a place at the front of the multi-colored panorama of eager chatting cyclists. A friend and I surveyed the other riders, like bookies before a horse race, taking picks on who would be the leaders on the road and pushing the pace.
The start was orderly, smooth and not too fast, a far cry from one year earlier when a swift moving storm beseeched the riders with driving sheets of freezing rain. That year cyclists were leaning their bikes at 30 degree angles into the raging wind trying to stay upright in the cold downpour. Weather suited for the Spring Classics and big men with names like Jorge and Leif. Many turned around last year but I went forward with a grin taking pride in the suffering.
The slower pace would last only briefly as the leaders sought to create some separation and shake off riders. The peloton was flying. Our speeds were in the high twenties and touching the low thirties, a pace well above my norm. I knew I had to play it smart if I was going to survive. Shelter was in the center of the group, allowing the forces of aerodynamics and physics to pull me forward. I had ridden the first few miles as a warm-up only minutes earlier and the course seemed challenging with hills from the start. Now wedged tight into the large group and moving at an insane pace the first couple of hills felt like rollers the group crested with ease. Riders were constantly surging ahead, by staying in place you actually slid back in the group. On each climb I was able to regain a position in the top thirty, which was important to conserve energy to avoid the elastic effect of a yo-yoing peloton.
A few hardy souls armed with aero bars and steel calves attempted breakaways off the front only to be absorbed moments and yards later. Ours was an angry beast rushing forward and giving no quarter. I was amazed at the stalwarts who could push this pace into the wind while I clung on for dear life. For me it had the feeling of a European race the tight group of varied cyclists, team jerseys and motivations set against the lovely rolling hills and farmland countryside. I kept expecting to see that crazy guy in the devil outfit, who is a perennial fixture at the grand tours, to be atop the next col.
Miles flew by as we passed the fields of spring blue bonnets and cows ignoring our haste. Our gruppo had been raging for an hour and had covered over 20 miles. Great, I just needed to hold on for two more hours. Ha! My legs began to burn with each push, and each time I reminded myself of just how much damn fun I was having. The exhilaration of the pace was intoxicating. What began as a group of 80 had been whittled to half that as riders went backwards with each climb and surge. Around the 30 mile mark was a particularly long and steep pitch that would be our hor category climb for the day.
I felt like I was sliding backwards on a glass slope, as riders moved around me still maintaining their union with the bull-rushing beast. At the crest I was only a few yards behind the gruppo, I and others who had been spit out the back, knew the urgency of regaining contact quickly. We formed a group of seven and were working together only to helplessly watch the gap grow bigger as our chances for regaining contact diminished. The elastic had snapped. A quick check of the computer relayed the results of the initial charge: 35 miles covered with an average speed of 25 MPH. Damn! That's fast.
Spent, I separated from the chase group and pulled off into the feed station which was set in a quaint town square. I stopped just long enough for a helpful volunteer to refill my bottles and for me to choke down a half of banana. I was toast but the adrenaline was rushing me forward. Back on the course I expected the pursuers to be along shortly to sweep me up and pull my limping body back to town where a cold ale and happy wife awaited. No such luck, we were so far ahead I didn't see another group for the rest of the day. A few other survivors of the early carnage came up the road but I couldn't hold on to their wheel, the initial effort had ruined me and I could not recover. The news report was in: I had officially blown up.
A stop at the final feed station coupled with a tailwind gave me enough juice to hook up with two other riders for the last few miles. Final stats for the day still read good even after being beaten like a domestic rodie in Paris: 59 miles in 2 hours and 53 minutes with an average speed of 20.4.
The aroma of freshly made sausages and sweet strudel drifted faintly on the warm morning air. A record crowd of 2000+ gathered in front of the clock tower at Fisher's Market to celebrate the nice weather, enjoy the German festival and challenge themselves on the hills. I arrived early for once and was able to find a place at the front of the multi-colored panorama of eager chatting cyclists. A friend and I surveyed the other riders, like bookies before a horse race, taking picks on who would be the leaders on the road and pushing the pace.
The start was orderly, smooth and not too fast, a far cry from one year earlier when a swift moving storm beseeched the riders with driving sheets of freezing rain. That year cyclists were leaning their bikes at 30 degree angles into the raging wind trying to stay upright in the cold downpour. Weather suited for the Spring Classics and big men with names like Jorge and Leif. Many turned around last year but I went forward with a grin taking pride in the suffering.
The slower pace would last only briefly as the leaders sought to create some separation and shake off riders. The peloton was flying. Our speeds were in the high twenties and touching the low thirties, a pace well above my norm. I knew I had to play it smart if I was going to survive. Shelter was in the center of the group, allowing the forces of aerodynamics and physics to pull me forward. I had ridden the first few miles as a warm-up only minutes earlier and the course seemed challenging with hills from the start. Now wedged tight into the large group and moving at an insane pace the first couple of hills felt like rollers the group crested with ease. Riders were constantly surging ahead, by staying in place you actually slid back in the group. On each climb I was able to regain a position in the top thirty, which was important to conserve energy to avoid the elastic effect of a yo-yoing peloton.
A few hardy souls armed with aero bars and steel calves attempted breakaways off the front only to be absorbed moments and yards later. Ours was an angry beast rushing forward and giving no quarter. I was amazed at the stalwarts who could push this pace into the wind while I clung on for dear life. For me it had the feeling of a European race the tight group of varied cyclists, team jerseys and motivations set against the lovely rolling hills and farmland countryside. I kept expecting to see that crazy guy in the devil outfit, who is a perennial fixture at the grand tours, to be atop the next col.
Miles flew by as we passed the fields of spring blue bonnets and cows ignoring our haste. Our gruppo had been raging for an hour and had covered over 20 miles. Great, I just needed to hold on for two more hours. Ha! My legs began to burn with each push, and each time I reminded myself of just how much damn fun I was having. The exhilaration of the pace was intoxicating. What began as a group of 80 had been whittled to half that as riders went backwards with each climb and surge. Around the 30 mile mark was a particularly long and steep pitch that would be our hor category climb for the day.
I felt like I was sliding backwards on a glass slope, as riders moved around me still maintaining their union with the bull-rushing beast. At the crest I was only a few yards behind the gruppo, I and others who had been spit out the back, knew the urgency of regaining contact quickly. We formed a group of seven and were working together only to helplessly watch the gap grow bigger as our chances for regaining contact diminished. The elastic had snapped. A quick check of the computer relayed the results of the initial charge: 35 miles covered with an average speed of 25 MPH. Damn! That's fast.
Spent, I separated from the chase group and pulled off into the feed station which was set in a quaint town square. I stopped just long enough for a helpful volunteer to refill my bottles and for me to choke down a half of banana. I was toast but the adrenaline was rushing me forward. Back on the course I expected the pursuers to be along shortly to sweep me up and pull my limping body back to town where a cold ale and happy wife awaited. No such luck, we were so far ahead I didn't see another group for the rest of the day. A few other survivors of the early carnage came up the road but I couldn't hold on to their wheel, the initial effort had ruined me and I could not recover. The news report was in: I had officially blown up.
A stop at the final feed station coupled with a tailwind gave me enough juice to hook up with two other riders for the last few miles. Final stats for the day still read good even after being beaten like a domestic rodie in Paris: 59 miles in 2 hours and 53 minutes with an average speed of 20.4.