We're here for a long time, not a good time: Part Two

I did stop at all five aid stations for this race because for me it wasn't a race, and because I was nervous, and because no matter what it was going to be a PB for me.
Furry Creek hill was the King of the Mountain timed climb and it was freaking ridiculous, yet perhaps two people passed me in my seven minute grind to the top.  I had read about people pushing their bikes up this hill.  And when I got to the top, some people had pulled over and were having a breather.
We kept on, and I kept on expecting the worst.  Definitely it was a grind.  Definitely if you weren't in shape, were overweight, or didn't have great cardio you were in for a long day.
In our race kit we were given a sticker that showed the elevation grades per kilometre, and where the aid stations were, so I had an idea what I was in for, and when I could expect a reprieve.  It was nice to get off the bike at each rest stop, stretch a little, use the horrific honey buckets, and have a bite to eat and gird oneself for what was coming.
The first 70k was fine.  There were some very arduous hills, but a lot of fast downhills.  The last 50k was just a literal grind to Whistler.  And grind I did.  I have never said "passing on your left" as much as I did in that 50k stretch.  People were cramping and pulling over.  I was happy to see the 88k aid station where we took a bit of an extended break and some pictures.  We knew we were in the shit.
Back on the bike.  Another quick break at 107k.  I wanted to ask Michael what our time was like, but I didn't want to get competitive with 15k left.  The whole point of this ride was to do my very first Gran Fondo, and just to make it to Whistler safely and to enjoy myself, and I had been enjoying myself to that point.
The scenery is stunning.  The volunteers were so bright and cheerful and encouraging: I can't thank them enough for standing out there, unpaid, for hours and hours.  We thanked each and every person that filled our water, stopped traffic for us and cheered for us.  It's proof that there is a segment of humanity that doesn't suck and I am so grateful that they were out there.  The Whistler Gran Fondo literally would not exist but for the time and effort of the volunteers.
Unlike marathons, where you are just trying to bring it in for the last 10k because everything hurts and you have gremlins and you've got nothing left in the tank, I averaged over 40k an hour for the last seven miles.  I can't believe it.  I remember just blowing by everyone and having energy to spare.
The finish line was sparsely attended because of my crap time, but I still had a bit smile on my face because until I crossed that finish line I wasn't sure that I was going to be able to cross it.
Subsequently we have downloaded our ride info from Michael's Garmin and, excluding aid stations, I was averaging over 24k an hour on the ride up.  Unfortunately, I burned about 43 minutes at the five stations which is fine, because I wasn't racing it, but it's interesting to know that that's how much time I spent faffing around instead of riding.
My finish time was 5:43.  I wanted to get in under seven hours.  My secret, secret goal was to crack six hours.
Much love to my husband, Michael, who agreed to ride with me for the entire duration even though it cost him a shit time that was about an hour and a half slower than what he normally would have done.  He let me lead for almost the entire time and only passed me once (slowing so I could catch up).  I could not, and would not have done this ride if Michael hadn't agreed to hang back with me and I appreciate that so, so much.
I'm super pleased with my time.  It was a beautiful, scenic, well supported ride and I enjoy screwing over traffic whenever I can.