Pre Race La Ruta

This year La Ruta was going to be 4 days. That meant it would start on a Wednesday and end on a Saturday. With a schedule like that it made perfect sense to head down on the Saturday before so that I could get some good solid acclimatization in.

My plane ride was good. The first leg of the trip to a 6 hr. layover in Houston, Texas was pretty dull and quiet, though I did get some good reading time in. From Houston to San Jose CR I found a few people to talk to. It was fairly easy to pick out other cyclists heading to La Ruta, the lean physique and shaved legs are usually pretty good indicators as long as they aren't accompanied by tight leather pants and/or purple silk shirts (in which case other options present themselves). I met up with Andreas Hestler and a couple of his friends and I met Dan from San Diego. Dan had raced last year but had not made it past checkpoint 3 on the first day. We chatted about how heinous last year was and what we anticipated this year. He was a great guy and I am happy to report that he finished the whole race and achieved a very respectable time. I should add, though, that at the finish party he tells me in passing that he is done with this race (We'll see, that's what they all say).

As soon as the plane landed in Costa Rica we were informed that the regular "movable hallways that you usually walk out of planes on (I don't know what these are called but that is the best description I can think of at the moment) was not functioning so we'll have to get out via a portable stairway in the rain to be picked up by a shuttle bus. The bus was packed and I was the last person allowed on it. I was standing on the doorsteps as the doors shut behind me pretty much leaving my cheek pressed against the glass. I love Costa Rica. There's very rarely a dull moment.

I got to the hotel promptly after getting through the airport lines and was met almost immediately by Gerry (a friend from Calgary who would be one of the 5 Deadgoats who I got to hang around with during the race) who told me where my room was and provided me with the corresponding room card. Sweet. That is service.

On Sunday all the Deadgoats (Erik, Tori, Jack, Gerry and Trish) and I pooled our resources to get a couple of vans to take us to Jaco, a beach town on the Pacific Coast. We piled our bikes into one van and us in the other. Gerry and I got the misfortune of sitting in the seats that faced backwards. This was good for the social aspect of the trip but not for the stomach aspect. Both of us claimed to have strong stomachs to fend off motion sickness induced by the massively undulating and curvy nature of Costa Rican roads (not to mention the driving habits of the motorists themselves make the difficult to take backwards) but both of us admitted to being a bit queazy by lunch.

Lunch was awesome. An amazing view and some amazing "sopa negra" (black bean soup). I love the open concept (a roof with no walls except around the kitchen) that virtually all Costa Rican restaurants seem to have (except, come to think of it, that "den of prostitution" I inadvertently walked into a couple of days before the race but that is another story).

Finally, we got settled into our rooms at Best Western Jaco. Monday and Tuesday were filled with finding nice local places to dine, sharing an "Imperial" or two, swimming in the ocean, and, of course, chatting about our anxieties and anticipations after being reminded of just how steep that first climb really is after the pre-ride.

On Tuesday night we all went to bed a little nervous. Sleeping, but still half conscious of how long and hard of a day we would have when our 3:00 AM wake up call would sound.