Pain and (Elevation) Gain
Postcard: Barry-Roubaix Sucks
A postcard is always a pleasant surprise, particularly in an era of Instagram and SMS pics. We don’t have enough postage for our entire readership, but our new bite-sized series, Postcards lightly details the who, what, when, where and why. It’s a simple, and effective, premise. Whether they’re based on a life-changing subject or just a strange one, shot with a Red Epic or an iPhone, we hope you find these little moments more genuine than the stock images you’re used to seeing opposite of the Xs and Os.
10:03 a.m. | Hastings, Michigan — As I lined up to the 2013 running of the Barry Roubaix, my bike computer was displaying an unwavering 32 degrees. There were 200 people around me and 62 miles of dirt to look forward to. After about five of them I was ready to go home. Some combination of the temperature, terrain, field size and wholly un-Michigan 4,000 feet of climbing made this one of the most unpleasant but fulfilling bike races I’ve ever taken part in. Best head to Hastings if you’re looking for a serious challenge in the middle of March.