My Husband’s a Liar (And Other Things I Learned at Old Man Winter Rally 50K)
In early January, I spent the better part of a day researching nearby events. My husband, Aaron, and I moved to Colorado during the pandemic and we both needed a kick in the ass to get back in shape.
If Aaron is reading this, he’s no doubt laughing because this is what I’ve been saying since leaving NYC 2015. While living in California, Aaron got ripped racing at the track and commuting 4 hours a day into San Francisco by bike. I, meanwhile, continued to circle the burnout drain like a slovenly clump of hair.
But now, two years into our new life in Colorado, we both needed a boost. Without a commute and track racing, Aaron was mostly spending time lifting. I had been doing a bunch of mountain biking and was finally in a place mentally and physically — after much therapy, coaching, drugs, and job changes — where I felt like I could sustain some consistency.
There was another reason I went on a sign-up spree: To make friends. As anyone over 30 will tell you, making friends as an adult is hard, awkward, embarrassing, and sometimes cringy — doubly so if you work from home, like Aaron and I both do.
Attending local events and their associated group training rides seemed like a good way to meet like-minded people. The alternative was joining Bumble BFF, which Aaron has been threatening to sign us up for despite our reservations that it mostly services swingers (no offense to swingers, it just seems like way too much work and I am a lazy lover.)
While surveying our options, I remembered Old Man Winter Rally, a gravel race that takes place north of Boulder in early February. There are two bike routes: 100K and 50K. Someone on this team, who shall remain nameless, said they hated this race. I can understand why: An early February race on the Front Range is basically a roll of the dice. The weather can be perfect or, as has happened in the past, you might get hit with freezing cold temps and snow.
To me, this sounded like great type-II fun. Plus, I knew this person’s partner felt the opposite way about the race. The former also chose to move back to NYC from Colorado so their judgment is questionable.
I signed Aaron and I up for the 50K route.
The Training Ride
A couple of weeks before the race, the organizers teamed up with Alchemy Bikes in Golden to host a 20-mile training ride.
This is probably when it dawned on me that Aaron and I had only done one “long” ride over the past year: a 30-mile gravel ride in July during which we followed the wrong people, went off course, and Aaron sucked my wheel as I, exhausted, dragged us to the finish. That was when I realized that all the mountain biking rides and clinics I had been doing had done shit for my cardiovascular fitness and I started putting in more time on Zwift.
Being that it was now January, I figured I had developed enough of a base to finish a 20-mile ride without dying. But I wasn’t sure about Aaron and neither was he. So, naturally, I signed us up for the ride. I told him it was just for fun and that we’d stick together.
Temps were in the low 30s and there was some snow on the ground. I donned my new Castelli Sorpasso RoS Bibtights, which I LOVE, and we headed out.
The ride leaders broke the attendees into 3 groups. Having zero idea how our fitness would compare to everyone else’s, we slotted ourselves into the B group. I felt pretty good but was also reminded, every time we hit a cimb, that riding outside is very different than riding in Watopia.
Aaron didn’t seem to be faring as well. He was at the back of our group. On one climb, I hung back to wait for him so we could ride together, as I had promised.
During the last half mile my legs started to tire. Aaron, on the other hand, seemed to find some energy reserves and sprinted ahead of me to the finish first in a race I didn’t know we were racing. This should have been my first clue of what was to come.
Race Day
The weather was looking *chef’s kiss* for race day: high 40s and partly cloudy. Needing a glove somewhere between traditional long-finger and lobster claw, I bought the Castelli Spettacolo RoS Glove, at the recommendation of a teammate, and it ended up being just right for the conditions.
In typical fashion for us, we got to the race just in the knick of time and lined up in the way back, which was totally fine.
As I kept reminding Aaron, we weren’t racing. This was just for fun and we’d stick together. Plus, there were people here riding mountain bikes. I was on my steel cross bike and Aaron was on his fancy Moots Routt RSL, so at least we wouldn’t be DFL.
The race started and we slowly weaved our way through the pack. Once you pass the actual starting gate, you hit pavement and stay on pavement for a few miles as you head out of town.
Something seemed to possess Aaron when we turned onto the road because he took off. Like, really took off. I tucked in behind him and my heart rate instantly shot up to at least zone 3. He was going so fast that other people latched on, creating a little train. We sat in his slipstream as he pulled us past at least a hundred other people. At some point he gapped me.
When we eventually turned onto gravel, I think he must have sat up and looked around because I was finally able to catch up to him. I asked why he was riding so fast and this man who had whined for weeks about how out of shape and embarrassed he was, this man for whom I had to wait just two weeks earlier on a training ride just shrugged and said, “I feel good today.” 😑
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold his pace for 25 more miles, so I told him to keep going and waved him off. At some point he rode out of sight and I settled in to ride my own ride.
The rest of Old Man Winter was enjoyably uneventful. I was humbled over and over again by a guy on a Yeti mountain bike and a couple on a tandem as we passed and repassed each other. My bike fit was not dialed in, I definitely didn’t eat enough, and my legs came apart during the last 5 miles, but dang if the views didn’t make up for it.
After crossing the finish line, I quickly found Aaron. He had stationed himself along the finishing shoot to take pictures of me. It was the least he could do after leaving me in his dust and finishing FIFTEEN MINUTES ahead of me.
Because we are married, it was my duty to remind Aaron over and over again, for days, how supremely annoying this (he) was. But he reminded me of something, as well: He had taken a year off the bike. I had essentially taken close to 10.
And you know what? He’s right. I feel pretty good about where I’m at. And, most importantly, I’m feeling pretty stoked about bikes again. Aaron and I will have our rematch at Ned Gravel, Pup Growler, SBT GRVL, and all the other events I can’t wait to sign up for. Maybe we’ll even make some friends.
*cover photo photo by Ashley Carter. Husband not pictured.
