Pie Race

The idea of my participating in a pie race was solely high concept. At my age and after a summer of not riding, it makes no sense, unless you like pie. Besides, who could be serious about a pie race?

The MassBike Festival and Pie Race was held this Saturday. They sponsored a number of rides on the pleasant back roads of Concord and surrounding towns. Karen & I headed out in the morning to get me registered. I wanted a gentle warm-up to see how my cranky knees might do, so I joined up with the shortest ride: the six mile Family Ride.

It was a good choice. There were a couple of tandems, couple of tykes in trailers, a couple of kids on their own bikes, a couple of parents and a couple of volunteers to keep the group together. And we only got a little lost, bearing the wrong way at some fork. But it didn't really matter, it was a perfect day and the scenery from all the roads looks pretty much the same. Six miles is six miles.

Rejoining Karen at the Festival, we had three hours to wait until the pie race. The festival is really about riding, so we bailed back home for lunch, with just me returning later.

Karin, the festival honcho, gathered us together for the pre-race meeting. There were maybe fifteen folks signed up, and my assumption about how serious this event might be was looking mistaken. Everyone else was outfitted in aerodynamic lycra, and with tricked out racing bikes. My bike is not a junker, but it is a mountain bike with fat tires. Not that I need an excuse. There was talk about whether last year's winners could repeat.

The course was the Family Ride route. Or it would have been had the Family Ride stayed on course. Oh well, it is not like I am going to be in the lead, I'll just follow the pack. Wait - no pack, the race is run time-trial style. Racers leave at half-minute intervals. There are pie stops at two miles and at four miles where you dismount, eat a piece of pie, demonstrate to the race volunteers that you have finished your pie by saying a provided "pie phrase", and back on your way. There is a final piece of pie at the finish line when you return to the festival.

Karin calls the assigned numbers for the racers. Luck of the draw gives me number 2. Some other kind of luck results in the rider assigned number 1 disappearing. I will be first off the line. D'oh!

A wave to the crowd and off I go. Knowing it is easy to stray off course, I pay close attention to the pie markers spray painted on the asphalt. A mile or so in, the next racer to leave passes me. A couple more pass before I reach the first pie stop: peach pie! I have gone out a little too fast. My legs are a bit rubbery. The serious racers are wolfing down their pie and heading back out on the course. Yum, this good peach pie, we are told, comes from Verrill Farm where the Festival is located. Kudos! Stop 1 phrase: "3.14159..."

Looking at the map later, pie stop 2 probably got mislocated. It is right beyond an intersection, as you whip around the right hand turn you are almost past when someone yells "pie!". Here I have a piece of apple pie, but the race volunteer has not prepared a phrase. I suggest "rubber baby buggy bumpers", but this is not well received.

There are open fields around Verrill Farm so you can see the festival and finish line from quarter mile away. I am pacing myself a little better and feel good as I brake to the finish line for more pie: mixed berry. The phrase: "may I have another piece of pie, please?" Of course you may!

I may post again if MassBike gets the race results online. Jeff, you missed a good time.