Paris to Ancaster....Ontario

April 22, 2007
Paris to Ancaster, Ontario 60K
John Roden
I have to confess a guilty pleasure in riding a road bike on dirt roads. I love the feel of the bike bouncing beneath me, the sound of the rocks hitting the downtube and the plume of dust spreading out in the rear view.
For me, the Paris to Ancaster race is a yearly delight, 60K of dirt roads, a little tricky single-track, a bit of blacktop and even some hills. This year's event was capped at 2000 riders, down from over 3000 in years past,
perhaps on orders from the Paris sewage treatment facility. Our weather
was picture perfect, sunny skies and a fast, dusty track with a gentle tailwind. Start numbers were assigned based on last years race finish, which was bad news given that I missed the race. I was lined up way the heck back and was despairing of ever seeing the front of the race. When the starters gun fired, we just kind of stood there and watched the leaders departing, not a welcome sight by any means. After working up through the masses for the first couple miles, I was in sight of the leaders, but still a bit back as we hit a narrow, 2 track gravel road. The pace was ballistic and moving up was a chore, with little room to move, rocks and sticks flying around and general mayhem. All this madness was due to the fact that the course took a sharp right at mile 5 up a steep hill with a false flat across a windy farm field. Every single year, the selection is made in this section, and riders were going hammer and tongs to make the split. When we made the right this year, we were greeted by a truckload of loose soil and large rocks dumped by the farmer to repair the road. All were forced to run up the hill, remount and at this point the selections started. I kind of clawed my way onto the second group and there I stayed for the next hour or so.
After making a dopey mistake in a muddy section, I found myself along off the back of 3 riders, who then absorbed four riders. Watching this, I realized this was the crunch of the race and that I really needed to get myself up there. Pulling the lever of the Detroit Overdrive and pushing the throttle back on the mighty diesel tugboat motor, I slowly coughed and sputtered and clawed my way across the gap on a long gravel road, finally finding blessed shelter before we hit the blacktop. Our group of 8 was rolling along nicely with perennial strongman and former champion Josh Hall in the group and a slew of road and cylocross toughs. Close to the end, we had to negotiate a long muddy downhill strewn with rocks and wood chunks.
Josh and some other guy got a gap, I ended up in no man's land and spent the rest of the day trying to wrench myself back to the two riders ahead of me.
With one last long stepper of about a mile remaining, Josh visibly sat up and started coming back, but try as I might I was not able to catch him by the finish. I ended up fourth for the day, my best finish ever and I ride I'm really happy with.
Paris to Ancaster, Ontario 60K
John Roden
I have to confess a guilty pleasure in riding a road bike on dirt roads. I love the feel of the bike bouncing beneath me, the sound of the rocks hitting the downtube and the plume of dust spreading out in the rear view.
For me, the Paris to Ancaster race is a yearly delight, 60K of dirt roads, a little tricky single-track, a bit of blacktop and even some hills. This year's event was capped at 2000 riders, down from over 3000 in years past,
perhaps on orders from the Paris sewage treatment facility. Our weather
was picture perfect, sunny skies and a fast, dusty track with a gentle tailwind. Start numbers were assigned based on last years race finish, which was bad news given that I missed the race. I was lined up way the heck back and was despairing of ever seeing the front of the race. When the starters gun fired, we just kind of stood there and watched the leaders departing, not a welcome sight by any means. After working up through the masses for the first couple miles, I was in sight of the leaders, but still a bit back as we hit a narrow, 2 track gravel road. The pace was ballistic and moving up was a chore, with little room to move, rocks and sticks flying around and general mayhem. All this madness was due to the fact that the course took a sharp right at mile 5 up a steep hill with a false flat across a windy farm field. Every single year, the selection is made in this section, and riders were going hammer and tongs to make the split. When we made the right this year, we were greeted by a truckload of loose soil and large rocks dumped by the farmer to repair the road. All were forced to run up the hill, remount and at this point the selections started. I kind of clawed my way onto the second group and there I stayed for the next hour or so.
After making a dopey mistake in a muddy section, I found myself along off the back of 3 riders, who then absorbed four riders. Watching this, I realized this was the crunch of the race and that I really needed to get myself up there. Pulling the lever of the Detroit Overdrive and pushing the throttle back on the mighty diesel tugboat motor, I slowly coughed and sputtered and clawed my way across the gap on a long gravel road, finally finding blessed shelter before we hit the blacktop. Our group of 8 was rolling along nicely with perennial strongman and former champion Josh Hall in the group and a slew of road and cylocross toughs. Close to the end, we had to negotiate a long muddy downhill strewn with rocks and wood chunks.
Josh and some other guy got a gap, I ended up in no man's land and spent the rest of the day trying to wrench myself back to the two riders ahead of me.
With one last long stepper of about a mile remaining, Josh visibly sat up and started coming back, but try as I might I was not able to catch him by the finish. I ended up fourth for the day, my best finish ever and I ride I'm really happy with.

