A first-person perspective
All day, desert broom seeds were in the air everywhere, streaming by in a persistent light breeze from the southeast. Tucson was a chilly 42 degrees in the pre-dawn morning, but less cold in the starting line, sheltered by the downtown skyscrapers. I thought that I'd be early, arriving at 6am, but by the time I got to the start, thousands and thousands of cyclists were already queued up, filling solid four or five city blocks. I squeezed into a spot in the 'Bronze' block. It seemed appropriate: in 1992, I'd done the 10th annual El Tour de Tucson in 7 hours 38 minutes [the best riders do it in under 4.5 hours], good enough for the 'Bronze' category [I think they've since changed the medal ranges]. Back then, it was a couple of miles longer, and went clockwise around the city.
So it was a little bit of a trip down memory lane as well--distant memories, faded by 17 years, almost half my life, and encountered in reverse. The dry Santa Cruz river crossing, complete with a Mariachi band serenading us. The dry Sabino Creek crossing at Canyon Ranch. The long stretch of Tangerine Road, thankfully now a descent.
Midway between these two rides, sagging like an overburdened hammock, the late 90's and early aught's, I had been pretty out of shape: over 170 lbs, high cholesterol, lacking energy. Now, after a few years of running seriously and a year or so of cycling, I feel in better shape than ever: most of those extra L.B.s had been dropped, cholesterol cleaned up... probably could do it in 6.5 hours, I hoped.
7am, dawn, rider #201 was ready to go. The start was given. But there were so many riders ahead, it was four or five long minutes before we could even start moving. We joked. "I'd just be a hazard up front," said the guy next to me. "I'm a hazard back here," I replied.
But eventually, we did get started, slowly, the streets packed curb-to-curb with riders. We covered the first few blocks at a walking pace. One rider a little ahead went down but popped back up unhurt.
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