After Boston the frustration of feeling broken and exhausted really took it's toll on my physical activity. In actuality, it's been since that fateful day on a surfboard back on February 18th that my life has seen any of it's normal aggressive physical activity. Everything has been toned down or modified to allow me to train and stay in shape.
For the marathon, I ran in a new, fairly untested pair of shoes. Not wise, but then again, running the thing in the first place was not particularly wise. So I developed a pain in my foot that I thought might be a stress fracture (podiatrist said stretched ligament) and my old IT band injury reared it's ugly head (starting at mile 18 of the marathon and still going strong). I bought a new pair of shoes when I got back from Boston, ran in them a few times and just traded them in for a new, promising pair. But I don't want to bore you with all the technicalities of shoes and foot mechanics...so...
I managed to convince my friend, Jen, to do a century ride with me. If anyone is unfamiliar with the term "century", it means, 100. Unless it's a metric century, but then it's a metric century. Like 100 kilometers, which is slightly different. Anyway, a century involves riding 100 miles on bicycle. They are usually supported, meaning rest stops with food and lawn chairs, as well as a support wagon (van) that rides around and helps cyclists with repairs or issues.
I've never done a century, neither has Jen. But what are friends for if not to talk us into doing ridiculous things? Debbie talks me into marathons, I talk Jen into centuries. It's like paying it forward.
My longest ride is 45 miles, Jen's is probably around the 30-something mark. Oh yeah, and this century is on May 24th. Two weeks from today. Can we say unprepared? But that's what makes it so fun.
I rode 30-something miles last Saturday and meant to ride a couple times during the week, but a lot of un-motivation happened. So this morning I set out with my club to do my favorite ride, the Giro di Bici. We meet at the local bike shop, south of town (I drive there) and head out into the mountains on a three option ride: 35-40-45 miles. The ride was a bit different today as the regular leader was unable to make it.
There was a new guy who didn't really know how the club or the ride worked, so I introduced myself to make him feel more comfortable.
**Let me interrupt this for a special announcement. In my haste to get ready today, I misplaced my phone and also failed to bring chapstick with me. The weather called for wind. If you've ever tried to cycle in wind, you'd know that it's probably one of the most miserable elements you can come across on a bike.**
Ok, so the new guy (we shall call him Keith, because that's his name) and I fell into conversation and hung out near the front of the pack. As soon as we hit our first incline, the group scattered even further. Keith and I kept up conversation until we hit our first climb. Well, Keith kept invoking conversation but I was unsure of how to kindly tell him I was going to be incapable of communicating with him until we reached our first descent. Thankfully he figured it out and we mashed our gears up the first hill of the day.
Up at the top, the group gathered to wait for stragglers. When everyone got back together, we forged on. We went up and over a few more climbs. At one point, I found myself riding with the fastest riders of the group-Keith and another guy whose name I failed to catch. This other guy was probably the oldest in the group and had quite the stamina. It wasn't long before I realized I was being dragged into some sort of testosterone battle.Since I didn't know where I was going and the rest of the group was now far behind, I had to keep up. I hadn't grabbed a route sheet because I knew I could keep up with the ride leader (I had only done this ride once before and had done a different option). I also did not have my cell phone.
I pedaled furiously to try to keep on Keith's back tire, who was also pedaling furiously to stay on the other guy's back tire. I started to fall back. I was exhausted and either because of a cold, allergies, the wind, or all of the above, I was basically choking on the snot running down the back of my throat. I watched as Keith pulled in front of the other guy and settled in to "pull" for awhile.
Wind resistance in cycling can be unbelievable. Think about when you stick your hand out a car window and feel the resistance. It's physics. The more you push against the wind, the more it pushes against you. When you fall in right behind another cyclist, the benefit of getting a block from the wind can mean a huge reduction in your workload. The person in front, however, has to take most of the wind for everyone behind them. I say most because there's also a physics property that pushes some wind forward off the cyclists behind and the lead person benefits a little as compared to cycling alone. The person in front is said to be "pulling" the rest of the group. It is customary to take turns pulling if you're in the sort of cycling environment that does such a thing. It depends on the skill level of the riders.
Anyway, I was in no position to benefit from such an advantage. I pedaled with all the might I could muster at that point, only to watch Keith pick up a gnarly amount of speed and pull the other guy away with him. I slowed down and watched them fade away.
At one point I could've sworn I saw them turn into a rest stop set up for one of the many organised rides going on that day. As I passed I looked for them but didn't see them. The rest of my group was too far back to be seen. I rode on.
I eventually came to an intersection and was unsure of which way to go. I decided to wait for the rest of my group to catch up. After awhile of waiting, I wondered if I had missed a turn. A group of ladies in another ride pulled over across the street to pull out a cue sheet. I rode up to them and asked if they had a map. They only had a cue sheet and were unfamiliar with the area, so they couldn't help.
Then behind me I heard "There she is!" I turned around to see my group riding up on me, including the two speedsters. They had pulled over.
We continued riding into town until we reached Starbucks and stopped for a drink and a snack. I should've eaten a lot more. I had only brought a Cliff Bar with me and had already eaten it. I got an iced coffee and a frosted lemon cake thing. We sat in the sun with our bikes sprawled around us and chatted. From there the group broke even further, with the speedsters heading back by road and the rest of us taking the bike trail back.
Unfortunately we were now in the valley where the winds were mean and erratic. Not fun on a bicycle. Especially a super light carbon frame bike with a super light rider. I shamelessly hid behind the bigger guys, trying to stay out of the wind. But it was coming at us from all sides. I tried to predict it by watching which way the bikes swerved in front of me, but it kicked me back and forth in the bike lane and pushed against my body.
Either the wind or the increasing length of the ride stole conversation from us as everyone tucked in and fought their own personal battles- with the wind, our sore butts, hunger (me- I was starving by this point) and burning quads. We rode along the trail in single file or sometimes doubles.
As the trail opened up into a large field of wild grasses and golden poppies, I was suddenly reminded of being on Redding Hotshots during our "spike week" and doing an all night hike trying to find camp. We had gotten up probably around 6 or 7 am, drove out to the middle of nowhere, did a map and compass exercise and were then given maps and told to meet the captains and superintendent back at camp. We literally hiked all night. We met with our supervisors halfway through the night and a few of the worse-off people were transported to camp while the rest of us hiked on.
As daybreak came upon us, we staggered out into an open field with grasses and hardened mud trails. I'm pretty sure most of us were on the verge of breaking. A couple couldn't go on without assistance. A few people took turns carrying gear for a back in spasms. By 7 am, our battered group made it into camp.
I watched the wind drive the grasses in waves and the poppies bob about as I rolled through on my bike. This will be my first season since the summer of 2005 that I will not be throwing a heavy pack onto my back and heavy boots onto my feet. You could say that this will be my first summer in 9 years that I will not be subjecting myself to torture and misery. But really, what are centuries and marathons for?
After we finally pulled into the parking lot and everyone said their goodbyes, I went in search of the first piece of food I could find. It happened to exist inside a bakery. As I walked in, I knew a simple cookie or muffin was not going to suffice. My Garmin said I burned 2500 calories but Garmin doesn't know anything about the wind. I scanned the morsels behind the glass for the largest and most dense looking pastry among them. There it was. A pale, thick pastry with loads of stuff on top. About the size of a mini pizza. I pointed to it, without a clue what it was, and ate it on the drive home. It had all sorts of stuff on it. Apples, some sort of cream, maybe some banana slices, lots of sugar, thick crust stuff on the bottom, nuts maybe?
It wasn't enough. When I got home I shoved two large boneless pork ribs into the microwave, added some extra barbecue sauce and it disappeared. I needed something salty. I didn't have salty. I settle for 3 chunks of cheese and a glass of water. I laid down on the couch for a nap.
When I came to, the wind was whipping through my apartment, I was groggy and disoriented, and I had to pee. I got up and peed and immediately ate an apple with almond butter and another glass of water. For an hour I walked around in a fog. I drank a cup of tea with honey in it to soothe my throat that was raw from the constant deluge of snot. Somewhere in my fog it dawned on me that I had just ridden 45 miles. Add another 55 and you've got a century. That is both comforting and terrifying at the same time.
And my butt is sore. And my lips are as chapped as those guys on the Everest excursions. No joke.
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