True story. In 1992, I did the MS 150 with my then- now ex- wife. In the weeks before the ride, I kept begging her to get out on the bike, telling her that aerobic classes were not going to cut it in two long days in the saddle. Sher declined my advice. We got to the starting line late (because of typical drama that led to the demise of this relationship) and, because there were no cell phones back then, and the team sponsor from work (my boss) was expecting us to ride with them, I decided to try and catch them who had left at least 40 minutes before. I was riding with a local club and in crazy good bike shape, the wife, only gym-type fitness.We caught them at the second rest stop riding at a good clip. Well, she starts bonking seriously on the last 20 miles and we let my boss and his geezer friends ride on. I mean. slowing down to a death crawl. Sure enough, we are moving so slowly, that we get passed by the woman featured in the link below, who is a local legend.
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On the way back, my ex was hurting so bad that Eiko left her in the dust. Eiko was in her late 60s when we rode, but she would average about 16 mph over the two days, in heels and on a single speed bike. (The ride is incredibly flat) The helmet is newer. Back in the early 90s she road with a broad brimmed straw hat. Again, Eiko in her sixties would outpace all but the serious riders. She did not stop for rest breaks and just kept moving along.
Likewise, once upon a time, I used to hook up my burly trailer with a kid in the back and start weenie hunting on our local bike path. I would look for the quintessential gear queer on an expensive roadie and then practically kill myself staying ahead or passing him with the "family truckster." Mine was an old 1991 Univega Mt Bike with slicks. If I was feeling especially cruel, I would try and engage him in a conversation and control my breathing so that it sounded like it was effortless.
And there is nothing like riding with a guide in Moab or Crested Butte; and after you are dead, the guide lights up a doobie and then begins to crush you up some steep piece of single track.