On the final day of his incredible 50 50 50, they pulled James out of the water. They posted on social media that he was having a very difficult day. He had severe cramping, he was exhausted, and he was sobbing. The air was thick with tension. From the looks on his handlers’ faces, you could tell that it was serious. They hustled him to the motorhome to rehabilitate him and tried to act composed as the crowd of cyclists waited. Finally, the Iron Cowboy emerged on his bike. He didn’t look like an iron cowboy. He looked like a haggard, beat up, exhausted man who had just about drowned, and they were now strapping him to a bike.
In reality, James Lawrence in the previous 49 days had just completed 49 complete Ironman distances in 49 days in 49 states. Incredible. Unbelievable. Inspiring. Amazing. Unthinkable. Crazy. Today he would make history, completing his 5oth.
Having just completed his final 2.5 mile swim, this time in the open waters of Deer Creek Reservoir, James got on his bike and addressed the group of about 60 riders. “I’m overwhelmed. I can’t even say anything or I’m just going to be crying all day long.” Knowing what he had accomplished, we all looked on in awe at the Iron Cowboy. He smiled, and I guess I was expecting him to say something profound. He looked up at the group assembled to accompany him on his 112 mile victory lap, and he said, “Let’s roll.”
Appropriate.
His trainers had addressed us saying “unless something catastrophic happens, like a major bike accident, James will complete the #505050 today. Please keep a safety pocket around James, and let him be the first rider down the canyon.” I certainly didn’t want to be that guy who ruined everything! So, I found a spot in the peloton a few lengths from the front and started riding. This was my first ride in a legitimate peloton. It was amazing.
As we got on the road, our group took up a full lane of traffic as we wound around the lake. As we approached an ascent, riders adjusted their spacing a bit, and the stronger climbers passed the weaker climbers, and the peloton reshaped like an amoeba. We crossed the dam and the big descent started down Provo Canyon. I looked ahead and I was trailing someone by about 12 inches. I looked to my right, and there was a guy I had never met before 12 inches from my handlebars, and another twelve inches to my left. I looked down at the road, I could see the individual rocks in concrete road beneath me. One small mistake from any of these guys and my flesh would meet the pavement below like cheese to a grater.
I glanced at my speedometer and was amazed to see that we were averaging about 35 miles per hour down the canyon. I had traveled by car hundreds of times before, yet I had never traveled down the canyon with the adrenaline I had now. I was going 35 mph, and I had to keep hitting my brakes to keep from running into the riders ahead of me. The aerodynamics of the peloton pulled us down the canyon. I hardly pedaled, and when I did pedal, I hardly had to pedal. The peloton took me in and took me with it down the canyon.
The sounds of the peloton were unforgettable. You could hear the freewheel clicking of those around you, and you could hear the brake pads of other riders controlling their speed on the descent. You could hear the hubs of some bikes, and you could tell the expensive rides. And there were sounds from other bikes and you would hope that they wouldn’t fall apart ahead of you. And there was the sounds of riders breathing. A friend happened to see us coming down the canyon. He said that we sounded like a huge swarm of bees. It was breathtaking!
I’ve ridden quite a few miles in the saddle, but I’ve never been a part of a group like that day. James led the group, and we all protected him with a cushion around him.
We pulled into the Riverwoods where our pack of 75 riders were joined by a few hundred more riders. After a brief stop, the peloton formed again and took a few turns through the Riverwoods, snaking through the streets, then headed down University Avenue. As we cruised through downtown Provo, I looked behind me and could see that we took up a couple of city blocks. As we approached some traffic lights, they turned red in the middle of our group, but nobody stopped. And the cars with the green light didn’t seem to mind. It’s not every day that you see a million dollar bike ride!
On the south side of the lake after a brief water break, I somehow ended up pulling the peloton behind me. I didn’t want to hold up the group, so I pushed it a little. Me and a couple of other bikers I’d never met before ended up pulling away from the peloton as we rounded the lake. It was a comfortable pace, but after a half hour or so, I looked back and saw the peloton behind me, slowly gaining on me, slowly pulling me back into the group. Eventually, I relented and rejoined the group. It was so much easier with the aerodynamics of the group around me.
I’ve thought about that ride a lot. My life was literally in the hands (or wheels) of riders around me who I’d never met before. One small slip and there would be a huge mess. But by working together, each taking a turn pulling, each shouldering the burden of a headwind or a crosswind, all of us benefitted, and all of us traveled much faster than we could have traveled alone. On the far side of the lake, occasionally, the leaders would wave their arms and ask for fresh legs to pull the peloton. Riders would willingly take the lead position, and the former leaders would rest in the peloton.
The power of the pack isn’t unique to cycling. I love to see birds flying in formation, and seeing the lead bird fall out of formation only to pick up the end of the line, until the next leader falls in behind.
There is power in the peloton. There is power in being attached to those around us. But just as those around us can help us, if you surround yourself with those who aren’t willing to work, who aren’t willing to shoulder the burden, who aren’t willing to suffer, they could pull you down. How do you know if you’re in a good group?
The Iron Cowboy peloton was a good group.
We’re all involved in lots of pelotons as we interact with those around us. Even driving down the freeway, I don’t know who is in the car next to me, but I depend upon them. And hopefully he’s following the rules of the road — not drinking, not texting! The margin of error is so slim that inches could spell disaster. What kinds of circles do I find myself in? Family. Marriage. Work. Church. Education. Each of those circles are so vitally important. And like the peloton, each of those individuals are interdependent upon each other. Sometimes we pull. Sometimes we get pulled. But if each is working toward the same good goal, the power can be amazing. Each member is vitally important.
I love the power of the peloton. I love the pelotons of my life.