2018 Midnight Marathon Ride: a million dollar experience

The night before the Boston Marathon there is a ten year old tradition -- an organized/ad hoc bike ride called "The Midnight Marathon Ride".  Most people take the commuter rail train and start in Hopkinton.  For the third year in a row, I did the out and back -- riding from my home in Brookline to Hopkinton and then riding to the finish.  It works out to about 53 miles for the night for me.

The forecast this year was dire -- freezing temperatures, strong winds, and rain.  For once, the weather forecast was accurate.  All of the friends who I was planning on riding with made the wise decision to bail on it.  At 7 PM I stepped out my front door to make my call.  It was barely raining at all.  Since I rode through the winter and have all the cold weather kit, I thought "what the heck, I'll give it a shot".  I put together all my best gear and went out.  At the last minute I also put in some of those Grabber hand warmers for my shoes and gloves.  Almost the whole night I was grateful for having thought of that.

I don't think the heavy stuffs coming down for quite awhile

About ten minutes into my ride I realized I had forgotten to bring any food!  What an incredible mistake.  I didn't want to double back, so I contacted my wife who grabbed some Clif Bars and drove in the car to catch me along the route.

On a normal evening all night long you see other cyclists going out and back along the route.  In good weather at least 3,000 cyclists do the ride and many people don't wait until midnight.  It wasn't going to be that way this year.

I passed a group of cyclists by the side of the road working on a flat tire.  I made sure they were OK, and then continued on.  I was shocked to see that one of them was in shorts.  I was wearing heavy wool socks, shorts, insulated winter cycling bib tights, rain paints, poly pro booties, a jersey, a vest, a winter cycling jacket, a rain jacket, winter cycling mittens, a fleece gaiter, a helmet liner, a helmet, and a helmet cover.  And I was comfortable.  My bike had fenders, a Magicshine headlight on low, a Planetbike headlight on blink, a backup old Magicshine headlight, and a rear red blinkie.

My view for the evening and morning

The rain mostly held off for this part of the night.  I didn't take the exact marathon route outbound, staying on Beacon and then cutting over to Quinnobequinn road.  At the 128 overpass I stopped to eat my first Clif bar and drink more water.

The roads were very quiet.  Cars would only pass occasionally and most stores -- even cafes were closed.  Sleepy Boston suburbs are particularly sleepy on Sunday nights.  Had a Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts been open, I would have stopped in for some coffee, but even those were closed.

Still, I was enjoying myself.  I had a nice mix of music playing on my bluetooth speaker.  It's velcro'ed to the top tube of my bike and not so loud that I can't hear cars and whatnot.

The group of cyclists who had the puncture passed me.  There were also bunches of fast cyclists going by.  Quite a number of people start the out and back together at the Public Garden.  The vanguard of that group was catching me.

In Wellesley center I saw a rider sitting in the doorway of a store & I asked if he was OK.  He responded that he was just fine.  As I passed and got downwind I understood why: he was taking a quick marijuana break.  Whatever it takes, I guess.

In Natick I caught up with the flat tire group again.  They were stopped by the fire station.  The shorts wearing guy had hurt his knee and was looking for a warm place that was open -- maybe just to take stock of the situation.  Nothing seemed to be open, but I said I was sure the fire station would take them in. 

Even at this point I was trying to decide whether or not to press on with this.  I was more than halfway to Hopkinton.  The rain was coming down in bands, but I was still comfortable.  My feet were dry and my gloves felt damp, but overall, I was alright.  

A lot of this was due to the tail wind.  I knew I had one, but I had no idea of how very strong it was really.

I kept getting passed by other cyclists at this point.  That's the nature of this sort of thing.  The only people you're going to see are people going a lot faster or a lot slower than you.

I stopped at the shelter by the Framingham commuter rail station for another Clif bar and to have some more water.  I assessed how I felt and what the conditions looked like and decided to keep going to at least Ashland.  The usual denial and bargaining I do to get through tough rides. A nice lady in Ashland was on her porch cheering on the cyclists offering jello shots.  I took a pass.

The rain got harder and then stopped.  I saw more and more cyclists coming in the opposite direction.  I felt the crunch of ice under my tires.  I got to the Hopkinton town line and started the climb up to the midpoint in earnest.  I talked for a while with one of the cyclists who started at the public garden.  He was one of the few people I talked to who was in good spirits.

I got to the top of the climb and the starting line for the marathon.  My good friend Tyler was there waiting for me with more Clif bars and a gallon of water.  A bunch of other cyclists were also in gazebo.  They were generally not happy campers.  I went to the bathroom, ate a Clif bar, and drank some water.  I swapped out my now wet gloves for a dry old spare set from my pannier.  They were old and torn in places, but they were dry.  In the ten or fifteen minutes I spent in Hopkinton my hands had gone numb!  Tyler said his car had fishtailed a couple times on the drive over.  I thanked Tyler again and departed before I got any more chilled.  

Arriving in Hopkinton

Tyler in Hopkinton with water and food

The huge downhill from Hopkinton was scary due to all the ice and I took it very slowly.  I experienced no problems and the ice went away after few miles.  My hands gradually warmed back up in the dry gloves with the still hot hand warmers.

I briefly chatted with a Yehuda Moon clone on a cargo bike who who dropped me like a stone.  He was happy with his bar mitts.

The headwind was crazy. and you had to push to make headway.  It was a slog.  And it was going to be a slog the whole way.  

By Wellesley college a couple students were out giving high fives.  I really appreciated it!  

A little further on there was a tent from Crimson Cycles, the Giant brand bike store and they were giving out snacks and hot chocolate.  IT WAS THE FINEST HOT CHOCOLATE I'VE HAD IN MY LIFE.  There was a young woman sitting on the curb looking really bad.  I dug through my pannier and at the bottom found a space blanket.  I've had it for more than 20 years I think.  Just sitting there in its wrapper.  It's probably older than she was.  Anyway, I made sure she put it on under her jacket and took off.  

Somewhere along here the rain finally penetrated my gloves and shoes.  Things got tougher.  But I kept slogging along.  I passed a few cyclists and talked for a bit.  Along heartbreak hill one of the people who had been with the hypothermic space blanket woman passed me and let me know she was OK.  I think he said she was bagging the ride and grabbing a Lyft back into town.

I could not believe the slow pace I was making.  The wind was unremitting.  My joke for the night was "You know what would be really crazy?  Running in this shit.  That would be absolutely nuts."  At 1 AM it's kind of funny.

At key points throughout the night there were volunteers pointing out obstacles like railroad tracks and important turns in the course.  

I was getting really tired and worn out, but I pressed on.  The toughest part was passing Coolidge Corner and knowing I was a just a couple blocks from my warm house.

Anyway, I kept going to the finish.  What a relief to pull in and see it.  There were two Boston Police cruisers there.  They had barriers across the road and would not let us cross the actual finish line. Oh well.  I got interviewed by WBZ TV.  How do you feel?  Cold, wet, and tired, but also very happy.

Rainy & windy finish!

Tired! Wet! Cold! Happy!

I rode home and had a nice chat with another cyclist about how to train for 100 mile rides.  Generally, I seemed to be 20 years older than the other riders.  Maybe more.  It's funny to turn around and suddenly you're the old greybeard.

I got home.  Ate.  Showered.  Shivered.  What a tough ride.

To paraphrase a friend of mine, it was a million dollar experience.  It was worth a million dollars to do it, and I'm not sure I'd do it again for a million dollars.  ;-)  Another tough ride that will serve a touchstone on other rides when I think I'm having a tough time.