It was the second rest day of the Tour and I was on my way home from work when I passed him going up fifth street. We had started the morning together, but I had to get to work after the second lap. I was proud of myself, 30lbs of messenger bag on my back and I just climbed on past, asking how far along he was. He grunted “nine” and I offered up some lame encouragement like “you can do it” or “just keep pedaling” or something. He mumbled about wanting a cigarette. My mind was already back at SMC though- could I make it to the shop in time for the last lap? I crested the hill and sped down, hoping I would catch the rest of the crew that had dropped him quite some time back.

I rolled into SMC where Beth took one look at me and without even asking, she told me I missed them. Crap. Oh well, I went inside, peeled off my sweat-heavy clothes and changed into something more casual. I felt a little awkward sitting there not knowing what to say to anyone. I fumbled around looking for something to eat or drink when Bowman said he was going to pace Army Jay for his tenth lap. That sounded good to me for some reason, so I went back in to put my now cold and sweaty cycling clothes back on. I chatted a bit with A-ron…the kid had just come back from racing MTB nationals and was now doing 2-5-10??!?! Wow..his legs definitely have more in them than mine, but then again no one ever questioned that. Now then, where was Army Jay?

5 minutes. 10 minutes. Ok, about 25 minutes passed and most of the other folks were off for some poolside beer, but Bowman and I were steadfast- he was just about to finish nine but he needed ten. Finally he rolled in. Jay is one of those people that is both hard to miss and hard to forget. His bike is a Surly Long-Haul Trucker built with whatever parts he could afford and cobble together at the time, complete with a rear rack (which often sports an ammo box) red bar tape, and flat pedals. He needs flat pedals because he rides in army boots. And MTB shorts. And a faded blue-and-orange SMC jersey that carries the aroma of many, many miles. His dirty blonde hair is pulled into a tangled pony-tail, and his spotty facial hair frames his upper lip and jaw like the grass of an abandoned city lot after they have bulldozed a condemned building. Bowman begins his pep-talk to get Jay back on his bike and Jay lights a cigarette and sits on the apartment steps between Armettas and SMC. Bowman runs back into the shop and emerges with a Coke and some gels to sugar Jay up, and once he finishes his cigarette Jay agrees to ride the final lap of the 2-5-10 century.

We roll up second street- Bowman starts to pour ice water on Jay immediately to which Jay asks him to knock it off.  Pedaling up the road, we give him encouragement but are more just acting like rolling traffic cones so Jay can just focus on his own pedaling and not on traffic. Im behind him and even though you can smell the effort he has put in for the day at ten yards it doesn’t matter- he is doing something only 19 other people have done to date. You see, 2-5-10 is 102 miles with almost 15000 feet of climbing. And its his first century, ever. Cresting over the top, Bowman says ‘1/3 done!’ and we begin the descent. Jay descends carefully, and with caution- a good move considering the amount of fatigue he must have been experiencing. Hanging a right towards fifth st, Bowman again cools Jay off. This time he seems more ready for it. We pass the sprinkler set up for the riders and then begin the ascent to the main part of fifth street mountain. Jay picks up some strength from somewhere and the pace actually increases. I follow behind, watching his combat boots go up and down with each pedal stroke, and his rear rack swaying slightly from left to right all of which result in forward motion that only a rider can fully appreciate.

We make the turn onto the fifth street itself, and in the steep hairpin Jay lets out a howl, stands on his pedals and uses every gear-inch his cranks and cogs can give him. The sun is starting to set now and the crest of the hill glows with golden hour. Some sweat drips off Jay and Bowman cools him off again. We descend into town avoiding the potholes marked with white paint and make the final approach on the hardest climb of the day- tenth street.

On the first lap of the day, tenth street was decorated with chalk, much like riders in the tour see on the greatest climbs in cycling. Cheers, encouragements, jaunts, and jokes are splayed across the tree-covered blacktop section that approaches 22%. Jay puts a foot down, breathes a little and comments about wanting another cigarette. Bowman reminds us that there is a bench at the next turn if he needs it. We check the bench out and then pedal on. Mother Mary welcomes us with open arms. A dog barks happily, as if encouraging Jay- and Jay actually thanks him for it as if he understood every yap. One more foot-down rest, and we finish the last push to the top. There are no cheering fans. There is no big cheque. There is simply a pat on the back for Jay, and the promise of some food at the Strickland’s new pool. So with a smile on his face we roll down, grab a slice and a beer, congratulate Jay along with the other finishers of the day and quietly ride back to SMC.

I dont know if I could finish the 2-5-10 century. I didn’t know Jay had that in him. Apparently he knew he did- and it was both humbling and an honor to be there with him on his final lap.  Nice job Army Jay- combat boots and all.