The sun was just rising over the tree line as cyclists from all over the state gathered at the registration hut at Jaycee Beach. After a short wait in line, I got my registration package, clasped my bracelet on my left wrist, put the course map in my shirt back pocket and threw the envelope and the remainder of its contents in the back seat of my car. The latter action was not a wise move as I was to discover some two weeks later: as this was my first organized event in quite some time, I didn't realize that they would give each participant a complimentary Power Bar.
The sunny weather and the gentle Northerly breeze made a perfect combination for a stroll through Central Florida. "This will make it easy to get the legs ready for Sugarloaf which is in the middle of the course," I thought as I leisurely rode along the rolling streets of Clermont with a good dozen other riders. Then the unspeakable occurred: less than two miles into the ride, the road went straight up something that, at the moment, looked more like a cliff than anything else. Even in granny gear it took Gargantuan efforts to rotate the pedals full circle. Eventually, I had to give into the laws of gravity and walk the last few yards of the hill like everyone else, well, not quite everyone else: this one guy flew past us as if he were going downhill! He looked a lot like that Miguel guy.
Once back in the saddle, I biked through some picturesque rural areas around Clermont. The gentle hills were coated with open fields, occasional scattered orange groves, and even a pasture filled with grazing goats. The entire area seems to have been made for the cycling enthusiast, especially considering how few cars traveled the roads on this Sunday morning. The fresh air and nature's spectacle were quite invigorating. Suddenly the course ahead took a keen dive followed by a sharp right turn then a huge uphill climb.
I checked my cyclocomputer: allegedly still another mile and a half until Sugarloaf mountain. I made a mental note to recalibrate my Cateye when I got back to Gainesville. Flying down the hill was fun. I could feel the wind blowing in through my helmet's vents and buzzing past my ears. I could almost envision the thrill skydivers experience, yet I was still not convinced to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Negotiating the sharp right turn involved a lot of brake use which took away some of the gained velocity. At least I didn't lose control, although some people apparently hadn't been so lucky as the road was cover with thin black skid marks. As the road started rising, I got off my saddle and rode high on the handlebars and concentrated on keeping a uniform and constant pedaling motion. Within a few minutes I had successfully made it atop the hill. I had made it! Sugarloaf had been conquered! Now I could make the ride back to Clermont knowing I hadn't fallen victim to the landmark.
A half a mile later, the road went downhill through some woods. The sensation was just exquisite as not only were my legs getting a break but the wind cooled me off from the now near-90 degree weather. The only effort necessary during this stretch was to lean the bike to one side or another to negotiate the gentle turns. As I came around a left turn, the road came out of the woods and this awesome sight appeared before me: some hundred yards away the downhill ceased and the road went straight up for what seemed to be an entire mile. The climb was coated with cyclists as if they were ants scattered across a log of dead wood. "What's this?" I asked out loud. "Sugarloaf" replied a cyclist who was rolling downhill besides me.
The hill was monstrous. There was no break in the climb. It was one long rising stretch. I began pedaling to get as much velocity as possible to propel me up the monster. Riding high in the handlebars again, I began the climb up Sugarloaf. All that I could hear were pants which may have just been mine, pedals churning under stress and occasional cleats clanging against the hot asphalt. I could feel every muscle in my legs being stretched to their fullest as I pushed down on the pedals. My arms were beginning to slightly ache as they held up most of my body weight. Eventually the incline began to decrease allowing for slightly easier riding until the road became flat once more. Sugarloaf, the Alpe d'Huez of Central Florida, had now truly been conquered. Thankfully, a large replenishing station was located almost immediately afterwards. There was plenty of food and liquids available there. I took advantage of the offer and rested for a while as well.
The remainder of the course seemed to go up and down constantly. Then again, after burning up so much energy on Sugarloaf, a speed bump would have seemed like a major climb... Some of the brief descents were pretty sharp: I got up to 38.5 mph down one of them.
Some two hours after starting, I rode back onto Jaycee Beach satisfied of not only having conquered the famed hill, but also of having ridden through such a picturesque part of the state. Even though my legs ached for almost a week afterwards, I am determined to return next year and step up one notch and tackle the half century.