Freemondo 2021 / by Erin Wade

Last Sunday I rode in the Freemondo, a group cycling event put on by Mead’s Bike Shop in Sterling, Illinois.

In 2017, 2018, and 2019, I’d ridden in a similar event - the Farmondo, of which this is essentially a variation. There was no Farmondo in 2020, for obvious reasons, and this year’s event was different. In some ways it was scaled back - there were no official timers, for example - but also just different. The previous event offered three distances - 20, 43, and 80 miles - all on pavement. This year offered three distances, one at 25, one at ~40 on mixed surfaces (I assume that meant gravel, so I stayed far, far away), and one at 63 miles. I went with the 63 mile loop.

The ride was originally listed as unsupported, so I spend a bit of time the day before prepping my trike. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that there were a couple of break stations along the way, one at about the halfway point, and one closer to the end. I availed myself of the first, but not the second (turns out that Mead’s announced this on Facebook, but due to the vagaries of their newsfeed algorithm I saw it after the ride…). So: Mead’s went above and beyond for the event.

One of the things I knew would be the case from the prior events was that this would take me through hill country - Sterling, Illinois, where the ride starts, is on the Rock River, and the course itself takes you within four miles of the mighty Mississippi at its westernmost point - this gives them many, many stream and creek (pronounced “crick”, thank you very much) tributary valleys to take you up and down. Of course, this time around it was an additional 20 miles of hills, but it is what I expected. Ultimately this meant 790 feet of ascent, which is more than 200 foot more than I’ve been able to find on my longest ride in the relatively flat territory around home.

The other thing this means is that you get to ride through some of the most beautiful territory northern Illinois has to offer. Looking for old barns?

Old girl with a new roof

Old girl with a new roof

Fading away

Fading away

almost gone

almost gone

Of course, as you can see, most are in a state of progressive decline, which is typical for our area as it’s largely moved away from animal husbandry. But sometimes you see something a little different, like this old salt box style barn:

Salt box

Salt box

A couple of old windmills in fairly good repair were in evidence as well:

What did she power, I wonder?

What did she power, I wonder?

Old, but intact.

Old, but intact.

And being in river country means that the grid pattern of central northern Illinois has to be abandoned, lending itself to twisting and winding roads.

It’s a long and winding…

It’s a long and winding…

Undulations

Undulations

But maybe my favorite new treat for this ride was this:

Is that a…?

Is that a…?

I could see as I rode up on it that it was a covered bridge. I am aware of a couple of these in our broad region, but not this one. The encounter was brief, of course, but added an additional bit of novelty to the ride.

Yup - covered bridge

Yup - covered bridge

Partway thru

Partway thru

And it appears, from the plaque on the front of it, that this is a relatively new structure.

Plaque

Plaque

That I think something built twenty years ago is new probably says more about me than the bridge, but we don’t need to discuss that…

Overall, they do a wonderful job of laying out the courses for these events. After all, part of the reason that many of us go out riding in the first place is to be in nature and enjoy the scenery - and this route did not disappoint.

One of the things that seemed to be be case is that, because it was a smaller event, the participants were a more concentrated group. In prior events, you’d see a variety of bike types. This time around I passed one person on an e-bike, and otherwise everyone I saw was on one type or another of upright road bike. This meant that I was (as I knew I would be) at a competitive disadvantage on my trike. My Catrike Expedition comes from the factory weighing in at 35 lbs, and I’ve got at least another five pounds of gear in or on it. So - I’m probably 15-20 lbs heavier than everyone else I’m riding with, and I’m also on a machine with the greater rolling resistance of a third wheel. Plus, while trikes are great downhill, they are more challenging to ride on the way back up - you don’t have the option of standing up on the pedals to add your weight to the downstroke.

These are, of course, all the things I’m reminding myself of as I am passed by one person or another while I am crawling my way to the top of yet another rise. I’ll admit that it’s a little hard to keep from getting disheartened when that occurs - though to the credit of the other folks on the ride, everyone was kind and encouraging as they went by. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there was a moment or two in there where I thought “now if I was on a lightweight road bike like that…”

But then I realize that I already own a lightweight road bike. There, in my garage, hangs a 1987 Cannondale SR400 - this is an aluminum road bike weighing in at about 22 lbs. It was my primary ride before the first trike - the Catrike Pocket - entered our stable. It was there and I didn’t even consider using it, in part because since I got that first trike, I find that I don’t really enjoy riding the Cannondale any longer.

There is an argument to make for looking at your cycling machines as tools, and having different ones for different purposes. The Expedition is essentially the trike equivalent to a touring machine - relatively fast, as trikes go, but built to be able to carry equipment comfortably over extended distances. It is probably not the ideal machine for the type of ride I was engaged in - and a lightweight road bike almost certainly is. But I look at these events as a way to challenge myself. When I look back and see how I did comparatively speaking, if I switch to a road bike for this event and I’m much faster than usual, the faster is going to be largely due to the different machine rather than to any accomplishment of my own.

So how did I compare to myself? Well, I’ve ridden similar distance routes on 2 occasions - the Tour of Scenic Ogle County (TOSOC) virtual ride last year, which came in at 62.27 miles, and a 61.59 mile ride in Lee county last month as part of my training for these rides. I finished TOSOC in 4:46:39 with 27:34 of stopped time, for an actual ride time of 4:19:05. My ride last month came in at 4:23:07 with 45:02 of stopped time, so functionally 4:01:05. (Times are hours:minutes:seconds)

On the Freemondo, which registered at 63.05 miles for me on Cyclemeter, I came in at 4:44:30 with 29:14 of stopped time, for an actual riding time of 4:15:16. So - at least consistent across the distances.

Looking back across the three rides, I was surprised to find that TOSOC actually had more climbing to it than the Freemondo - 1062 feet vs 790 feet, respectively. I recall the hills for that event as well - it’s also through river country, though a different area. But I don’t recall them as feeling quite so challenging. It’s possible that they have a less significant grade to them, so didn’t seem as challenging. It’s also possible that my perception of them was that they were less significant because, it being a virtual ride, I wasn’t being passed while climbing them.

So, overall, when comparing myself to myself, I think I my results turned out to be respectable enough. It was a great ride through beautiful country, and I’m thankful for the crew at Meads for putting it on. And let me offer a thanks to Pete who caught up to me in the last five miles or so of the ride, and who could have easily left me behind based on his very nice machine and on how quickly he caught up with me, but chose to join me for that last section. I’m a solitary rider by nature, but the company was appreciated as I eked out those last few miles.

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