If
I could sum up today's ride in one word, it would be MONSTER (said in
a low, gravelly voice)!
Or
maybe BEAST (same voice).
I'm
kind of torn.
In
either case, today was a record breaking day for me in a beastly
monster sort of way. I finished 68 miles in only 4 hours, averaging
nearly 17 miles an hour. I felt like a hulk-like monster the whole
way, destroying measly miles in my wake, somehow drawing strength
from the intense heat.
The
day started early. Too early. 5:30 in fact. I'm at least lucky I
didn't ignore the alarm and lie in bed stubbornly (which is what I
usually do). I got up and stumbled over a million unseen objects on
my way out the door. I'm surprised my husband didn't sit straight up
in bed from all the noise I made. It was very obvious that my brain
was much more awake than the rest of my body as it quickly started
going over my pre-ride checklist. Meanwhile, my feet struggled to
proceed forward one at a time.
I
began my checklist by going outside in the dark and clumsily putting
my bike rack on the trunk of my car, all the while thinking that I
should have put it on the previous day during more wakeful daylight
hours. Once I finally got it secured, too much valuable time had
passed. Using my brain had awakened my senses enough to realize I
needed to get a move-on. So, I hurriedly threw my helmet, shoes,
gloves, sunglasses, bookbag, and luggage in the back seat (because of
course I hadn't thought to put it in the trunk BEFORE I put the bike
rack on). I rushed to the bathroom to take what I thought was a
quick shower. It turned out being too long and put me behind
schedule even more. When I got finished, it was 6:28 am. As I was
gathering together the last of my things (toothbrush, hairbrush,
shoes, etc.), my husband, Frac, shuffled in the bed and mumbled “I
thought you were leaving at 6:30?”
“Yeah...
I'm running behind,” I grumbled.
Since
it would be extremely unwise to skip breakfast the day of a 67 mile
ride, I let my cinnamon-raisin bagel toast while I put my bike on the
rack and threw the rest of my stuff in the car. I slathered peanut
butter on my bagel, grabbed a Starbucks coffee out of the fridge,
kissed my husband goodbye, and ran out the door. I was supposed to
be at my sister's-in-law at 6:45, but arrived about 10 minutes late.
Oh well.
You're
probably wondering why I bothered going out of my way to Marcia's
house when I was already running behind. Well... I wanted my hair
braided. That's all. My helmet fits much more securely when my hair
is braided, and Marcia has been kind enough to wake up early to do
that for me the past two years. (Thanks, Marcia!) We chatted about
the ride while she braided my hair and, as usual, she encouraged me
and cheered my spirits the whole time. Once she finished, I quickly
gave her a hug and again ran out the door.
I
finally began the journey to Simpsonville where the ride was to
start. But wait, first I had to fill up the gas tank. Ashton (the
one in charge of this wonderfully crazy endeavor) was going to be
driving my car the next three days and I didn't want her to have to
worry about stopping for gas. Okay, so now the tank has been filled
and I am more officially on my way.
Once
I arrived in Simpsonville, I quickly noticed the FOX News van as well
as a Channel 4 vehicle parked near the start. “Great! Finally
some good press!” I thought to myself. Wanting to avoid the
craziness that was already beginning to build at the start line, I
parked my car in a side lot. I grabbed the last of my RTR donations
and walked to the check-in tent, saying hello to Ashton on the way.
I checked in and took my goody bag back to the car. There I applied
sunscreen, downed the rest of my coffee and grabbed all my luggage to
carry over to the start, leaving my bike and my car in the same
place. I looked for Beth as I walked over the second time, but she
found me first.
(Background:
Beth is a dear friend of mine and my old college roommate who works
for the Alzheimer's Association. She helps staff the RTR while I'm
out riding it.)
She
was excited and bubbly and frankly, I was not. I don't know if it
was the big crowd, the fact that the caffeine hadn't kicked in it
yet, or that I still wasn't fully awake, but I was definitely not
bubbly. I was in one of my rare solemn, quiet moods when I didn't
much feel like talking to anyone. On the inside I was excited, but
nothing I said or did betrayed that emotion outwardly.
The
rest of the pre-ride activities went by quickly – I stood in line
forever to use the bathroom, I spoke to my mom on the phone while in
said line, Beth moved my car a little closer, I grabbed my bike and
my stuff, gave Beth a hug, and then we were off. I was glad to
finally get started. I hate having to stand around with stored-up
nervous energy. I began towards the back of the crowd because I knew
the front would be moving too fast for me. We had a Simpsonville
police escort for the first 30 minutes to help us navigate through
the many stoplights safely. Then we turned right and were on our
own. I stayed within the stream of riders up to that point, then got
separated from most everyone. For a moment I thought “Why do I
always seem to end up alone??” But really that was okay with me
today since I wasn't in the mood to talk anyway. I eventually
breezed past the first rest stop (I didn't need it), passing small
groups of cyclists along the way. I was already moving at a pretty
steady clip, glad to be getting miles under my belt quickly as the
air was becoming unmercifully humid. I was already drenched with
sweat only an hour into the ride.
Eventually
I caught up with a cyclist by the name of Darby Wilcox whom I had
previously met by chance at the Spartanburg Great Escape when buying
tubes the weekend before. I slowed down a bit and reintroduced
myself. We pedaled and chatted together for awhile. At some point
(maybe around mile 22) I mentioned that I was hungry and looking
forward to the second stop (especially since I had skipped the first
one). She then offered me an energy gel I had never heard of called
“Ginsting” that had a picture of a honey bee on the front. It
was an energy gel that had the flavor and consistency of honey, but
was packed with extra caffeine and simple carbs. It was the best gel
I have ever tasted! Most of them taste suspiciously like medicine or
vitamins (in my experience); but this one actually tasted just like
honey, so it wasn't difficult to force down. Around the time I was
sucking down caffeinated honey, Ashton and Beth caught up with us and
Beth took this picture.
Eventually
Darby and I made it to the second stop at mile 27. She quickly
guzzled some water, refilled her bottles and went on her way. I took
a little more time at the stop. I refilled my water bottles with
cold liquid, devoured some Fig Newtons and grabbed an extra one for
the road, sprayed sunscreen on my face and arms, then updated my
Facebook status as to where I currently was, so my family wouldn't
worry about me.
It
was close to 10:30 am at this point and the sun already felt like it
was directly on top of us. The humidity must have been around 1,000%
because I had sweat dripping down my face, arms, back, and legs, and
my jersey was heavy with water and salt. For a moment, just a
moment, I started to bemoan my circumstances. I began considering
how miserable the next forty miles could potentially be in this
furnace of a state, and I started yearning for the cool lobby of the
hotel. I could sense the negative thoughts slowly beginning to creep
in at the corners of my mind.
Then
suddenly, like some kind of caffeine ninja, the Ginsting kicked in
and my pity party was utterly destroyed by some sort of motivational
monster. It punched the negative thoughts in the face, knocking them
out one by one, then growled at me to get going. I wasn't about to
disobey this unseen energy, so I got back on my bike and went.
And
I went FAST!
My
leg muscles became machines, powering my legs like alternating
pistons – up and down, up and down. I rode alone the rest of the
way, pushing my legs harder with each passing mile. I caught back up
with Darby again eventually and kept right on trucking. I only
stopped at every other rest stop because my legs were on a roll and I
didn't want to stop them. I did take a little bit of time off the
bike at the lunch stop near mile forty-something. I didn't actually
eat lunch though because I knew my stomach wasn't up for such an
endeavor. Instead I grabbed some watermelon and drank Gatorade. I
also thought it might be wise to reapply sunscreen. Again. Beth was
there at the stop so I asked her to clean off my sunglasses. While
she did that, I pressed my helmet up against my forehead to wring out
the sweat that had accumulated in its padding. Beth watched me with
interest then asked “Is that water?” assuming I had dumped a
water bottle on my head to cool off. I chuckled and said “No...
that's sweat.”
“THAT'S
sweat??”
“Sweat.
All of it.”
If
I had collected all the sweat that poured out of my helmet, it
probably would have easily been 6 fluid ounces. Like I said, it was
humid.
The
last bit of the ride went faster than the beginning. My legs were
starting to ache a little, my butt was starting to ache a lot, and
the heat kept getting hotter. Every time I started to dwell on one
of these things or a hill threatened to get my spirits down, I yelled
out loud and just pushed myself harder.
I'm
serious. I yelled out loud.
The
only real hang up I had on the last stretch was a text from Beth
telling me that the engine light had come on in my car. Since there
was really nothing I could do about it while on my bike, I responded
by pushing even harder. (Don't worry, the engine light scare turned
out to be nothing.) I also experienced a brief five minute period
where I was seeing hazy shades of the color purple everywhere. It
made me think of a book I read called Ultra Marathon Man written by
the famous runner, Dean Karnazes. In it he recounted an extreme run
that he did up a mountain that lasted for nearly 24 hours. During
that run he lost his eyesight for a short time due to dehydration and
exhaustion. (There was a much more scientific word for it that I
can't remember) That made me worry a little, so I quickly drank
about half a bottle's worth of water and the purples went away.
After that I was much more conscientious about gulping water every
few minutes.
I
stopped at the very last rest stop just to give my legs a quick
chance to have some blood flow back through them. There I savored a
huge wedge of watermelon that was bigger than my hand. Never had I
tasted a fruit so delicious! The juices ran down my hand and arm,
making me sticky, and the cool temperature of it made my sensitive
teeth ache as I bit into it; but it was totally worth it. If it
hadn't been so sticky, I probably would have pressed it up against my
forehead just to cool me down. I thanked the kind ladies at the stop
for helping to keep us going, and they assured me that there were
only 8 miles to go to the hotel. So, I started off again, eager to
get the day over with. About one mile down the road from the last
stop there was a message painted on the road that said “The end is
near.” I laughed out loud and said “It better be!” That
wasn't actually the first message on the ride. All along the route
there had been random, encouraging messages painted on the road that
said things like “Go Bikers,” “You got this” and other witty
sayings that I can't remember. It was fun to come across them as we
rode, but my favorite one on the first day by far was the “The end
is near!” (I told Beth about them later and she found out that it
was actually Ashton's mom and her entourage who painted the messages
as they went out before the pack of riders putting up directional
signs. Thanks, Mrs. Ashton's Mom!)
I
ended up getting to the hotel around 12:50, which is my best RTR time
ever for the first day. The first year that I participated, it took
me five and half hours to complete Day 1. This year it took four
hours and 20 minutes. What?!? Three years older and over an hour
faster! I call that improvement!
Once
I got inside the hotel, I found Beth to confirm that our room wasn't
ready yet (it never is). I changed out of my cycling kit into some
much more comfortable and much less sweaty running shorts and
t-shirt, making me feel almost human again. I grabbed some lunch and
a Coca-Cola and sat down to feast with Beth. For the first time ever
doing RTR, my legs didn't feel completely wasted or even overly sore.
In fact, if it hadn't been for the heat, I probably could have
ridden even further. (But seriously, there was no reason to tempt
fate.)
I
spent the remainder of the afternoon lounging around giving my legs a
break and starting on this blog. I felt almost normal, not even
over-worrying the next day's challenge. The group went to Van
Matthew's house on Lake Murray for supper that evening, per
tradition. It was a wonderfully care-free evening where we feasted
on a catered dinner, lounged on the lawn with the constant breeze
keeping us cool, watched Randall Simmons sink in the hammock (sorry,
Randall, it was funny!), swam/floated in the lake, listened to a live
band entertain us (with Darby appearing as a guest singer), and got
to know some of the riders a little better. It was the perfect
ending to a hard day on the road.
But
that was just Day 1...
