Maggie Accidentally Goes on a Press Trip With Pro Cyclists
Proving yet again that I cannot have a normal experience on a bike
I don’t take many press trips anymore. I am old and tired, group itineraries exhaust me, and if I’m not home to mow my lawn my HOA gets mad. At this point in my illustrious career, I only accept trips that fulfill at least five of the following requirements:
I can loop in a trip back east to see my family
A sport I enjoy in a new place
A bucket-list location or activity
A PR agency or rep I really like
A smaller brand I want to help publicize
Hannah, Amelia, or Gabby are going
It isn’t stressful and I can keep up
The weather there is better than the weather at home
I don’t have anything else going on
They are chill about coverage, or it directly relates to my coverage
So when Outside PR and Van Rysel invited me on a five-day gravel biking trip in Vermont in early May, it nailed EIGHT WHOLE requirements, thus an automatic yes.
Flights to the east coast, so I tacked on a family visit
I love gravel biking, and that area of Vermont is amazing
I adore Outside PR and heard their trips were fabulous
Van Rysel makes affordable bikes and I like promoting affordable gear
Hannah was going
Gravel biking isn’t stressful and I’m pretty decent at it
May weather kinda sucks in Bozeman
I’m already writing a gravel biking guide
Spoiler for anyone who doesn’t watch my somewhat honest IG stories: Number six is where the wheels fell off. While I make a living writing about being an average athlete, I still don’t want to be stressed on group trips and I only attend outdoor events where I can mostly keep up.
Gravel biking falls somewhere in the middle between skiing (bad at it) and backpacking (good at it). I know how to ride a bike, and most gravel routes aren’t technical. If I’m in shape, I’m a pretty decent cyclist. If I’m not in shape, I can finish the day, but it will hurt. I’ve biked from Mexico to the middle of Wyoming (see how that ended!), and I regularly ride 20-mile loops from my house with 1,000 or so feet of vertical gain. So I’m not a bike bike person, but in most situations, I can hold my own. Or so I thought.
I accepted this trip with the vaguely optimistic plan to ride my bike for the month or so between the snow melting and leaving for Vermont. I was mostly successful. But for me, “riding my bike” means 10 to 20 miles wearing a saggy button-down, running shoes, and a crooked helmet with the laminate peeling off. I don’t have 10 different bikes, I don’t ride clipless, and I have one fancy bike seat (sorry, SADDLE) that I rarely use because it’s on my heavier touring bike. I don’t build my bikes with custom components and I’ve changed a tire one traumatizing time. On most press trips, this would put me square in the middle of the group. Alas!
By the time I was packing for Vermont, I’d probably biked 8-10 times. My longest ride was a flat-ish 40 miles and my hilliest ride was 25 miles with 1,500 feet of vertical gain, which I rewarded myself for with a FAT burrito.
I figured this was enough for a press trip. Most are fairly low output, with an emphasis on the gear and catering to editors who spend a lot of time on their computers. From hiking R2R in the Grand Canyon to peak-bagging in the Winds, I’ve never had an issue keeping up on previous trips. But still, I knew I wasn’t in excellent cycling shape, and I’ve struggled on everything from bike trips to spin classes. When I expressed concern to Hannah, she assured me that the bikes were priced for entry-level riders, and the trip was going to be chill.
Ok! I said like someone who never learns.
A few days before the trip, I received a robust email from Zach at OPR, complete with Uber codes, a packing list, and a detailed itinerary with links to the lodges and restaurants. It also included maps for the three riding days.
The first day was 30+ miles with 1,600 feet of gain. Hmmm I thought. That’s more than I’ve been riding!
Day 2 sent me into orbit.
For those without a frame of reference, 40+ miles with 4,400 feet of vert is a lot for a semi-fit, recreational cyclist who rides flats in ugly socks and running shoes.
This amount of climbing was a standard day on the Divide, where I often felt like I was going to pass away. Granted, we were on loaded bikes riding challenging surfaces in brutal heat. But still. I had a frame of reference and it wasn’t good.
Ok, I thought. Maybe everyone will also be out of shape.
The group gathered for bike fitting the afternoon before our first riding day. I looked around and clocked that everyone looked really fit. As I adjusted my seat (sorry, SADDLE), I also clocked everyone putting on cycling shoes. Ok they’re serious. Then they started attaching their own pedals to the bikes. Oh my god. Every person besides Hannah and I had brought cycling shoes and their own pedals. As it dawned on me that this group was out of my league, two other editors pulled bike-seats-sorry-saddles out of their bags. Way, way over my head.
It’s important to note that these deeply invested cyclists were all incredibly nice. The other media and brand reps were the kindest and most genuine group of athletes. From pro cyclists to cyclocross coaches and triathletes, no one made me feel inferior, and the trip was perfectly planned and executed. The lodging and food was impeccable, the bikes were great, and Zach at OPR put together a complex trip and made it look easy.
But I was still in over my head, and a ball of anxiety the night before we rode out of Burlington.
In the morning, I threw my carry-on in the support van, then wheeled my flat-pedaled bike outside. I actually managed to keep up fairly well on Day 1. I fell behind on the hills, but we were mostly riding pavement, and 1,600 feet of gain over 36 miles is pretty chill. My bike was comfortable, and I didn’t experience any lower-back issues or shoulder pain like I do when my bikes don’t fit well.
By the time we stopped for hot dogs (hell yes) in our destination town, I was pretty tired though. Zach had mentioned Day 1 being a shakeout ride, and I had the nagging feeling I shouldn’t be so tired on something referred to as a “shakeout.” The final mile from hot dogs to our hotel was all uphill, and my legs were tired enough for me to be concerned about Day 2, which was 42 miles with 4,400 feet of vert.
That night, another ball of anxiety.
I pulled Zach aside and said that I was quite tired, and not sure if I could finish the day’s route. My throat was raw from allergies, and I was so anxious I could barely choke down a muffin from the hotel buffet. Zach was super kind, and assured me that the support car would be there if we needed a lil ride over the hill. Embarrassing, but thanks.
We started around 8am, and after 15 seconds of flat riding, turned onto a paved road with a 12% grade. Who makes a paved road with a 12% grade??? Halfway up the hill and I was pushing my bike, grateful for my stupid running shoes since I was probably going to be walking half the day.
It got harder from there. One thing about having asthma is I don’t often totally gas my legs. Since my lungs give out long before my legs have a chance to get smoked, the ol’ legs going first is a rare occurrence. But since most of my cardio is around around 5,000 feet, cycling at sea level meant my lungs could handle the climbing but my legs were toast. At one point, I yelled back to Hannah that I really didn’t think my legs had anything more to give.
“WHAT?” She pulled a headphone out of her ear, the support car stalking 10 feet behind her.
“NEVER MIND!” I sagged over my bike and chugged lukewarm water, wondering if maybe the rapture might happen at some point in the next hour.
We only had one group leader for the first half of the day, so the pros had to wait for Hannah and I at varying turn offs. Van Rysel is owned by European sports behemoth Decathlon, and they have a lot of liability policies. Despite my ardent pleading to meet them at the end, they had to wait. They never seemed impatient when I caught up, red-faced and wheezing, but I still felt pressure to push myself harder than was sustainable.
They rode ahead. We caught up. They rode ahead. We caught up. By the time we were at a sanctioned break in a lovely park, I flopped onto the ground and held out a limp arm, croaking “orange soda” until one was placed in my sweaty little palm. Look at god.
Finally the main group blessedly ditched us, and Hannah and I rode at a reasonable pace for average-person abilities. Hannah had a GPS watch with the route downloaded, and I only misheard her and missed one turn. (Side note: This convinced me to finally try a GPS watch).
Long story long: Hannah and I finished the full Day 2, and I was damn proud of us. Her watch clocked it at around 45 miles and 4,900 feet of vertical gain, which is a really big day, especially considering it is still early-season biking for me.
Day 3 was 46 miles (I think) and 3,600 feet of vert (I think) and we made the easy choice to just ride a 12-mile section in the middle and then hippity-hop shuttle to the end. My legs were fried, and the whole trip wound up being just under 90 miles of riding and ~8,000 feet of vert for the three days. For me, that’s more than enough.
We ended with a lovely dinner back in Burlington, a gorgeous room at Hotel Vermont, and then Hannah and I stuck around an extra day to see a friend and my cousin in Burlington. From there, a short trek to New Hampshire and some time with my family and my mom’s dog.
I do not regret taking this trip. I have heard nothing but good things about OPR’s trips, and I am excited to write about these affordable and well-made bikes. Vermont was stunning, and the routes that Zach put together almost put me in an early grave, but man they were beautiful. It was also a really fascinating peek into Bike People World. I’ve been around avid skiers, runners, thru-hikers, and boaters, but I’ve never seen such a concentric circle of Real Cyclists. It was like they were speaking another language, updating each other on races and riders, comparing notes on components and unreleased models, and inhabiting a world I barely dip a toe into as a casual bike rider.
My main critique is that the route, while not technical, was very challenging for average cyclists. I’d love to see a cycling trip in the future with a few different distances and vert options, or more information on what to expect. Otherwise incredible experience and made me feel real feelings toward Vermont.
It was also a good lesson for me in being ok speaking up about altering the route, and I am happy I didn’t try to do the full Day 3, which might have actually killed me. It’s never a bad thing to be a little bit humbled, and the shock factor of seeing two editors pull pedals, shoes, and bike seats (SADDLES) out of their bags will stay with me for a long time.
Next up, Curacao to get scuba certified (1. good location, 2. confirmed coverage, 3. bucket-list activity, 4. good weather, 5. nothing else going on).
My life is sweet.
Thanks for reading love you bye