Sometimes reality is tough. Life is demanding, dreams don't always come true, and the daily grind can beat you to a pulp before you even realize what's happening. You need an escape.
People escape in different ways. Some turn to televisions and video games where they can zone out of reality for awhile. Some seek an adventure like skydiving or rock climbing to sweep away the mundane. Still others look to much scarier tactics, such as drugs, violence, or alchohol.
I was speaking (texting, really) to a friend/family member of mind recently about a long, hard day I had had substitute teaching. I lightheartedly joked about ending the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day with a few "adult beverages" that would inevitably put me in a deep sleep, or at least stupor. Her reply? "No. No covering up feelings with alcohol." I was teasing. She was serious.
Truthfully, and fortunately, I don't turn to alcohol for my escape; I turn to writing, or reading, or some form of intense exercise, especially cycling. There is nothing quite like sweating off a bad day or a tough week on your two-wheeler. With your legs and lungs pumping hard, there's no leftover energy available for worrying about the day's woes, or venting about life's injustice, or fretting over what the future may or may not hold. It's just you, two wheels, and the pavement. No distractions, no negativity, no financial distress, no family, no friends, no nothing. God's beautiful landscape rolls along all around you, the light of the sun warms your face, your heart beats faithfully, your sweat dutifully purges your body of all the junk you put in it earlier that day, and life, albeit for a moment, is simple.
THAT is my escape.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
You can call me Commuter
Today I rode my bike to work! I don't do that very often for quite a few reasons which I shall subsequently list for you in order to quench your insatiable curiosity and unnecessarily fill up space:
1. I don't have a real job. I am currently substitute teaching while I look for a full-time teaching job. I actually love what I'm doing, I just don't always have the luxury of knowing where I'm going to work the next day, so I can't plan ahead.
2. Of the schools where I may be called in to work, the closest one to me is 12.5 miles away and takes me 50 minutes to get there. Thus, it takes a good deal of forethought and preparation to commute on any given day, as I have to leave about an hour earlier than usual to be sure I have enough time to get there and get cleaned up before I have to be in the classroom.
3. It's dark out there! No matter how many lights or reflectors I wear, I'm afraid the drivers won't see me. That brings me to the next point...
4. Dumb and impatient drivers exist. Everywhere. This is true for the daylight hours as well, but they're more dangerous in the dark morning hours as they rush to get to work on time.
5. Commuting is exercise, exercise makes me sweat, and sweat makes me stink. It's hard to get freshened up in a school bathroom. Usually on these days I just leave my hair in a ponytail because there's no point in trying to be pretty. Besides, I have to ride back home again later.
With that said, sometimes I commute anyway for the thrill of the challenge, to get my exercise done for the day, and to experience God's beauty in a new, unique way. Today, in particular, was gorgeous, both in the morning and the afternoon. Once I got past the loud traffic of Highway 101 on the way to ACA and onto the field-lined back roads, I was able to appreciate where I was and what I was doing. The air had a sharp chill that cut right through my long sleeved jersey whenever I went down a hill. But that same frosty air felt so good to breathe in. It was fresh air - the kind that feels like no one else has used it up already. The kind that comes right after a spring rain that washes away all the pollen and smog that usually tickles your nose. Not only was the air perfect, but so was the timing. The pink and yellow rays of the sun were just beginning to creep over the edges of the fields and trees to my right, while the stars in the deep dark blue sky on my left used their last bit of energy to shine their brightest as if they knew their time was almost up. The earth was silent but for the soft melody of waking birds, and the clear, long crow of a rooster trying to rouse others to the excitement of a new day. Moments and feelings like that can't be bought, or even sought. Sometimes you just have to be in the right place at the right time and enjoy the blessing you've been given with a sense of wonder and awe.
I think I scared Mrs. McMakin, the assistant principal at ACA, when we both pulled into the parking lot at the same time around 6:50 AM. I hung around for a moment while she got out of the car (which may have scared her more) so I could assure her that it was just me and not some crazy person circling the building on a bike looking to do harm to children. I must have been quite a sight with lights flashing all over me - kind of like a rolling Christmas tree. But, once she realized it was me, I think she was able to breathe a little easier.
I spent the day at ACA in PE where I learned four important life lessons...
1. You cannot possibly see everything that happens in a gym full of children, no matter how hard and close you are watching.
2. While watching once side of the gym, someone will inevitably get hurt on the other side.
3. Kids make funny faces when they jump rope.
4. I should be very grateful for all the things my body can still do at the age that I am. Every physical ability is a blessing!
When the day ended I got to ride back home in the most beautiful weather I could have asked for. The sun was out and bright and there was barely a cloud in the sky. The clouds that were there were those cute white fluffy ones that are reminiscent of the kind you used to draw in art when you were seven. In other words, it was a picture-perfect day! In fact, I wish I could have taken a picture to show you. The cool wind was at my back the whole way home and I felt like I was flying! I must have averaged at least 18 mph on the trip back, though it may have been closer to 20 mph. If only every ride felt like that...
1. I don't have a real job. I am currently substitute teaching while I look for a full-time teaching job. I actually love what I'm doing, I just don't always have the luxury of knowing where I'm going to work the next day, so I can't plan ahead.
2. Of the schools where I may be called in to work, the closest one to me is 12.5 miles away and takes me 50 minutes to get there. Thus, it takes a good deal of forethought and preparation to commute on any given day, as I have to leave about an hour earlier than usual to be sure I have enough time to get there and get cleaned up before I have to be in the classroom.
3. It's dark out there! No matter how many lights or reflectors I wear, I'm afraid the drivers won't see me. That brings me to the next point...
4. Dumb and impatient drivers exist. Everywhere. This is true for the daylight hours as well, but they're more dangerous in the dark morning hours as they rush to get to work on time.
5. Commuting is exercise, exercise makes me sweat, and sweat makes me stink. It's hard to get freshened up in a school bathroom. Usually on these days I just leave my hair in a ponytail because there's no point in trying to be pretty. Besides, I have to ride back home again later.
With that said, sometimes I commute anyway for the thrill of the challenge, to get my exercise done for the day, and to experience God's beauty in a new, unique way. Today, in particular, was gorgeous, both in the morning and the afternoon. Once I got past the loud traffic of Highway 101 on the way to ACA and onto the field-lined back roads, I was able to appreciate where I was and what I was doing. The air had a sharp chill that cut right through my long sleeved jersey whenever I went down a hill. But that same frosty air felt so good to breathe in. It was fresh air - the kind that feels like no one else has used it up already. The kind that comes right after a spring rain that washes away all the pollen and smog that usually tickles your nose. Not only was the air perfect, but so was the timing. The pink and yellow rays of the sun were just beginning to creep over the edges of the fields and trees to my right, while the stars in the deep dark blue sky on my left used their last bit of energy to shine their brightest as if they knew their time was almost up. The earth was silent but for the soft melody of waking birds, and the clear, long crow of a rooster trying to rouse others to the excitement of a new day. Moments and feelings like that can't be bought, or even sought. Sometimes you just have to be in the right place at the right time and enjoy the blessing you've been given with a sense of wonder and awe.
I think I scared Mrs. McMakin, the assistant principal at ACA, when we both pulled into the parking lot at the same time around 6:50 AM. I hung around for a moment while she got out of the car (which may have scared her more) so I could assure her that it was just me and not some crazy person circling the building on a bike looking to do harm to children. I must have been quite a sight with lights flashing all over me - kind of like a rolling Christmas tree. But, once she realized it was me, I think she was able to breathe a little easier.
I spent the day at ACA in PE where I learned four important life lessons...
1. You cannot possibly see everything that happens in a gym full of children, no matter how hard and close you are watching.
2. While watching once side of the gym, someone will inevitably get hurt on the other side.
3. Kids make funny faces when they jump rope.
4. I should be very grateful for all the things my body can still do at the age that I am. Every physical ability is a blessing!
When the day ended I got to ride back home in the most beautiful weather I could have asked for. The sun was out and bright and there was barely a cloud in the sky. The clouds that were there were those cute white fluffy ones that are reminiscent of the kind you used to draw in art when you were seven. In other words, it was a picture-perfect day! In fact, I wish I could have taken a picture to show you. The cool wind was at my back the whole way home and I felt like I was flying! I must have averaged at least 18 mph on the trip back, though it may have been closer to 20 mph. If only every ride felt like that...
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The Itch
I got the itch last Friday. The sun was warm, the weekend was approaching, and the open road was beckoning. As every human has had the opportunity to personally discover, the only way to relieve an itch is to scratch it.
So, I did!
I may have been a little too gung-ho (is that how you spell that?) about it, though. I hopped on my bike and rode all the way from Woodruff to Lyman. It's really only about 15 miles from my house to downtown Lyman. The catch there is that it's also 15 miles from Lyman back to Woodruff. So my total distance for the round trip was 31 point-something miles, using many familiar back roads. Prior to Friday I hadn't gone on any "serious" rides since before Thanksgiving. Thanks to the cold weather and the usual time constraints, I spent the off-season spinning my wheels on my trainer inside while watching seasons 1, 2, and 3 of CSI. It's a nice workout, but bicycles aren't meant to be ridden indoors. Thus, the itch.
I would like to say I did the 31 miles without even having to stop to catch my breath and without experiencing any pain or fatigue along the way; but, there's really no point in lying. Reality reveals that my bum has to toughen up once again to withstand the long, idle hours spent on a tiny, minimally padded seat, that my legs need to be awakened from their four and a half month slumber, and that I need to go ahead and buy more sunscreen because the heat has come early this year. However, on the positive side, a 25-mile route is what I used to strive for when I first began cycling. Compare that with a 31-mile season-opener and it's easy to see some improvement over the years.
I was tired and hungry (oops, forgot to pack energy for the trip) by the time I got back home, and my legs were burning slightly; but, I survived without too much fatigue. And, as always, I'm glad at the end of a ride just to have ridden.
The itch has been scratched.
So, I did!
I may have been a little too gung-ho (is that how you spell that?) about it, though. I hopped on my bike and rode all the way from Woodruff to Lyman. It's really only about 15 miles from my house to downtown Lyman. The catch there is that it's also 15 miles from Lyman back to Woodruff. So my total distance for the round trip was 31 point-something miles, using many familiar back roads. Prior to Friday I hadn't gone on any "serious" rides since before Thanksgiving. Thanks to the cold weather and the usual time constraints, I spent the off-season spinning my wheels on my trainer inside while watching seasons 1, 2, and 3 of CSI. It's a nice workout, but bicycles aren't meant to be ridden indoors. Thus, the itch.
I would like to say I did the 31 miles without even having to stop to catch my breath and without experiencing any pain or fatigue along the way; but, there's really no point in lying. Reality reveals that my bum has to toughen up once again to withstand the long, idle hours spent on a tiny, minimally padded seat, that my legs need to be awakened from their four and a half month slumber, and that I need to go ahead and buy more sunscreen because the heat has come early this year. However, on the positive side, a 25-mile route is what I used to strive for when I first began cycling. Compare that with a 31-mile season-opener and it's easy to see some improvement over the years.
I was tired and hungry (oops, forgot to pack energy for the trip) by the time I got back home, and my legs were burning slightly; but, I survived without too much fatigue. And, as always, I'm glad at the end of a ride just to have ridden.
The itch has been scratched.
Friday, August 6, 2010
A Ride to Remember, Part III
I have had several people ask me when I was going to write the next blog for Day Three of the ride. :) I was amused by all of these inquiries, as if my blog has its own fan following. So, I figured I should go ahead and write it before I forget the details, and before everyone goes crazy wanting to read it...
Day 3
Beth had to wake up early again today to go help Ashton, Cindy, the HMR Advantage people, and the other volunteers make Gatorade, divide up the snacks and drinks among SAG vehicles, and then load up the cars to go. Once I heard her get up, I let myself slowly wake up. I got out of bed ten minutes later, around 5:15. I didn't want to feel rushed again as I had the previous morning. I also wanted to be able to finish my coffee this time, so the first thing I did was start up the coffee maker in the room. Then I went to the ice vending machines and filled my water bottles with ice to melt as the morning wore on. When I walked outside, I was welcomed by the warm, still silence of the morning. All was quiet but for the faint chirping of crickets in the nearby bushes. I breathed the air in heavily and slowly, and closed my eyes to enjoy the only still moment of the day to come. I felt it was going to be a good day and not even 92 miles could change that.
Being used to my own coffee maker at home, I expected the coffee to be ready to go when I got back, but this maker was significantly slower than it should have been. I went ahead and got all my stuff together so I would be ready to go after breakfast. I rechecked my tires to see that they were well inflated and wiped the sweaty salt off of my helmet straps. By then Beth was out of the shower and it was my turn to wake myself up. She was impressed by my efforts to make coffee already, although it still didn't seem to be making much progress. Got a shower, got dressed, finally got some coffee, then headed to breakfast right at 6:00. The hotel lobby was already full of hungry cyclists by the time I got there. Today I opted for a muffin, some not-quite-ripe fruit, eggs, and a sausage-gravy biscuit. All of that was washed down with some apple juice and coffee (thought not mixed together). Once my belly was full, I went back to the room to douse myself with sunscreen and gather up all my stuff. It felt good not to be rushed and it felt even better knowing this was the last day of blissful torture I had to endure. In fact, I may have even whistled to myself as I got ready; but, who's to say that's true?
Once I was prepared, I drug all of my junk out to the front of the hotel and put my belongings on the trailer. I glanced around for Beth because we had vowed to get a picture of us together on this last day, having not done so the other two days. I didn't see her anywhere in the vicinity, so I propped my two-wheeler up against a column and went inside to turn in my key. As I entered, I was stopped by a friendly HMR lady with a very large camera. She asked if I had had my picture taken yet - of course I hadn't. So she took my picture which, in my opinion, turned out to be a rather goofy one of me. But, the HMR peeps were incredibly kind and had all of our pictures from that morning printed out during the day while we were riding and gave us the copy as a momento that same evening. (Thank you so much, ladies!)
Whew, okay, the key is turned in, a picture has been taken, I'm all sunscreened up... Guess I'm ready to go. I went to turn on my new cyclocomputer to make sure it didn't take a turn for the worst overnight, and, in doing so, accidentally reset it.
Sigh.
Though this is a cheaper computer from WAl-Mart, it has way more features than my previous two, like the outside temperature and number of calories burned. Thus, I had to input more information, which takes awhile. AND, since its "mode" and "set" buttons were in opposite places from my last two, I kept screwing up the input process and had to keep starting over. Ten minutes later, I had finally gotten the hang of it and Beth had just found me for a picture. Smile, you're almost done! *Snap* Time to go...
Wait, one more group picture! *Snap* Okay, NOW it's time to go...
And off we went! I was determined not to get stuck riding alone again today, so I pedaled hard to keep up with most of the pack. As we went down the semi-busy highway (it was Sunday morning after all), some of the support people used their cars and their presence to stop traffic. (By the way, it's a lot of fun to have someone block traffic for you as you sail through red lights on a bicycle.) Once we got settled again on the back roads, I found myself in a pack of about six. It was me and... well, five other people. No really, we had Geoff, Randall, Ken, me, and a couple whose names I can't remember. We stuck together for at least 70 miles of the day's trip before the couple took an alternate route along the way to go home (in Charleston) and the rest of us got separated by the mere force of exhaustion.
We were a group of moderate capability - not too fast, not too slow - that took time to talk along the way and enjoy the scenery when we thought about it. We used drafting to our advantage, always riding in a single file line with the front person leading the pack for as long as he or she was able before dropping to the back to let the next person in line take a turn.
As it turns out, the rumors are true - the bottom of the state really is flat. Flat as a pancake. On the contrary, my home in Woodruff is about as flat as a whole stack of pancakes. Or, in other words, it's not flat. Most of the time I felt like I was sitting on my trainer inside my living room with my legs pedaling away at a high cadence, barely noticing their effort. I didn't have to work hard to go fast (which was due in part to drafting) and I felt like I could go on that way all day. And, to make matters not at all worse, the relentless sun we had bore on our backs the previous two days hid behind the clouds for much of the day. Don't worry, it was still hot and still very muggy; but, the clouds and often the trees kept the severity of the heat off of us.
Honestly, this day's ride was not all that eventful from my standpoint. That's not to say it wasn't exciting - it was! In fact, there was a certain level of excitement present in all the riders and the support team at every rest stop. It seemed everyone was smiling, despite how tired or hungry they were. Our small pack chugged along like 'The Engine That Could.' We even traded places with the RTR elite "A" group several times, as they experienced several flats and mishaps along the way. We would ride by them as they pumped up a tube on the side of the road, then several minutes later they would pass by us at a water stop. Once again we would pass them on the side as someone was getting patched up from a minor wreck and they would catch up with us again later.
I fear I am writing this too long after the fact to remember many details along the way. At one rest stop I decided to try an energy drink because I was very thirsty. At first sip, I surmised that it was the most carbonated beverage I had ever consumed, and quite possibly not the best choice for a 92 mile ride.
But I had already opened it and felt at least obligated to finish it. I didn't feel any sudden or prolonged burst of energy, but I did feel fizzy. Fortunately, though, the extreme bubbles did not hinder my performance that day.
Another treat to be found at all the rest stops that day was pickles. Apparently pickles pickled in their pickledy juices prevent cramping, particularly in one's legs. I don't know if all that's true, 'but you got me and baby I got you...'
Sorry.
I meant to say that I don't know if all that's true, but I do know that I love pickles! So, I ate 'em up! Every time I saw a jar of pickles, I snagged one (or two). All I can really say about that is that pickles do not taste very good with Gatorade, no matter what flavor it is. Please keep that in mind for your next epic ride.
As I said, I don't remember as much as I should and not nearly as much as I'd like. That may be in part to the euphoric feeling of personal triumph over three days of biking that I was experiencing throughout this third day. I didn't care how long it took me and I didn't care if I couldn't move at the end of the day - I was thrilled just to be doing it.
I do remember when I realized we were finally in the lower state, finally in Charleston territory. I can probably count on one hand (definitely no more than two hands) the number of times I've been to Charleston. It just isn't a place my family frequents and I have rarely had a reason or excuse to visit there. In fact, the last time I visited Charleston was some time in college, so it has been over five years since I've seen it.
It's still beautiful, though. :) When I began noticing the Spanish moss draped over the trees lining the road, I knew we had arrived. Not to mention the deep history you could sense was steeped in the old plantations along the way. I wish I could have enjoyed the scenery more, but we were often too busy trying to avoid either being hit by cars on busy roads or the millions of potholes dotting the road to look up and appreciate the beauty surrounding us. (Yeah, those Charleston roads pretty much sucked as afar as smooth, well-constructed roads go.) Around the time the Spanish moss showed up, I began to feel sticky. I thought I was used to feeling sticky, being from Spartanburg, but this was a different kind of sticky, one that is difficult to put into words. The humidity there seems thicker, more oppressive than what I'm accustomed to. It seems to drench you from the inside out. Had the sun been out in full force that day, I don't know that I could have gotten through the miserableness of all the heat.
Eventually, we stopped for lunch and I feasted. Once again, I had a sub sandwich, a bag of potato chips, a pickle, a bottle of Gatorade, and some fruit to fuel me the rest of the way. I also grabbed a banana to put in my pocket in case I got hungry in between stops. (I did eventually eat that banana, but I couldn't tell you when or where.) This would be the last stop where our small pack of riders would be ahead of the "A" group. At the following stop, which was the second to last stop, they caught back up with us and we let them go ahead before we started off again.
And that was when things got crazy and the real adventure began...
Between the second-to-last stop and the last stop before the absolute end of the ride, three things happened:
1. Ken, the other lady, and I got separated from Randall, Geoff, and the other guy.
2. The other lady and the other guy left to ride on to their house.
3. Ken and I somehow managed to catch up with the "A" group.
Once Ken and I realized we had lost the others and there was no turning back, we picked up our speed and soon found the "A" group within view; nay, within reach! So, I shouted something to Ken telling him to try and catch them (because he was in the front at the time) and we did, just as the tail end of their pack was going through a yellow light. That was a close one!
From that point to the end of the ride was the wildest time I think I've ever had on my bike. Ken and I were so focused on keeping up with all of them, I don't remember much of anything about my surroundings. This group wasn't very big on chatter, but they were apt to yell about anything and everything going on. That's actually how it's supposed to work in large groups like that, though it's not something I'm used to. If you had witnessed us riding by, you would have heard any number of directions and seen strange hand signals. For instance, if there's a hole, or a large bump, or any sort of strange obstacle in the road, the cyclists at the front of the pack shout the name of whatever it is - "Hole!" "Branch!" "Small child!" - while simultaneously waving their hands toward the object to signal its location. Once the front of the pack signals this instruction, the shouts eventually trickle to the back of the pack like a wave in a stadium. Obstacles aren't the only things you'll hear. Stop lights warrant either "Go!" "Stop!" or "Hold!" The word "hold" is accompanied by holding out your hand, palm facing drivers on either side of you to signal them to hold their position until your whole pack of cyclists gets through the stop light. I have no idea if drivers can actually hear what we're saying, but they do tend to wait until everyone has passed before they go again. Other sayings you'll experience in a group of riders such as this are "Left!" (this means we're either turning left or getting in the left lane), "Right!" (same as left, only right) and "Car back!" (this means 'beware, there's a car coming up behind us'). Honestly, I couldn't understand what the front half of the group was saying most of the time because they all shouted at once. I mainly just watched for hand signals.
Despite the speed at which we were riding and the lack of time spent admiring the landscape, I was glad to be with this group. We had arrived at downtown'ish (or at least somewhere in the city) where the roads were very busy. Had I been by myself, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to navigate my way around those streets amongst the crazy traffic. With this group, I didn't have to think about that, I just had to ride and follow.
We came to the last rest stop of the day at a Barnes and Noble parking lot. We refueled as quickly as possible and prepared to leave again for the last ten to twelve miles. We were fortunate to come across a large fire truck leaving the parking lot the same time we were. Some of the group leaders asked the firefighters if they would pull out in the road before us and block traffic until we were all safely out. Either that or spray us down with their hoses. They didn't agree to hose us, but they did block traffic for a minute while we sped out on our way. Thank you, kind firemen! :)
The rest of the ride was, in a word, awesome! We traveled down the battery with the ocean on our right. It was gorgeous, and the breeze coming off the water was a blessing in itself. People along the road either gave us strange looks or smiled and waved at us as we rode by. Once we got past the water we were met with blocks and blocks of stop lights. So there was a lot of clipping and unclipping (our pedals) as well as shouts of "Stop!" "Go!" and "Hold!"
Then, there was the bridge. The Arthur Ravenel Bridge. No one told me about the bridge. (And no, I did not take this awesome picture as I was riding on a bike, not in a helicopter.) I'm sure it didn't even exist the last time I came to Charleston. But it was there now, going up, up, up, and away. The constructors of the bridge were kind enough to put a bike/walk pathway on it, sufficiently separated from the cars. So that was the path we took, naturally.
I realized when we started that the bridge went uphill, and I was initially okay with that. But, after about five minutes of climbing, I began to think that Escher must have had a hand in designing this like one of his never-ending staircases. We just kept going up and it felt like it would never end. This uphill battle separated our group into several smaller groups of threes, twos, and ones as we struggled to get to the bridge's peak. Not only was the bridge ride tough, it was also scary. To your left were cars flying past you (though there's a wall separating them from you) and to your right and below was a vast expanse of water (also separated by a wall). As I rode, my mind likened it to the beginning of a roller coaster where you are slinking up the track before you get to the top and fly down. You don't want to look down because everything seems so tiny and far away. Yikes.
After what seemed like two hours (it was really only about ten minutes), we reached the plateau at the top and stopped to enjoy the view. Everyone had their cameras and phones out to take pictures, so I decided to do the same. I took about three to four pictures before I realized my camera had chocolate all over it from an open, melting Cliff bar with which it had shared a pocket. I understand that common sense says not to put your camera in the same pocket as a chocolate Cliff bar during a six hour bike ride on a 90+ degree day; but, when you're riding along with a main focus of trying to finish a ride alive, it's hard to remember what pocket is holding what and you don't bother concentrating on such trivial matters. Thus, it was just a dumb mistake. Could have happened to anyone. Perhaps needless to say, my pictures came out blurry due to there being chocolate on the lens. (I will post them here anywhere for your amusement.) I tried wiping it off, but I didn't have a dry spot on me suitable for the task. Besides, it was time to go again. (I will have you know, however, that I did move the camera to a different pocket following my realization.)
If there's one thing I've learned from cycling, it's that for every uphill there's a downhill, and vice versa. So, down we went! :) This would be more like the fun part of the roller coaster, minus the loopy loops. I sailed down the bridge, turned right (because everyone else was turning right) and "Voila!" there was the hotel! Just like that I was done, I had made it! Many of the other riders in the group I had been following went on a few more miles to make the day's ride be a century (100 miles). I had been toying with the idea myself all along the ride, but as soon as I saw the hotel and my brain registered that it meant the end, my legs heard my brain and decided they didn't want to go any farther. I couldn't blame them and I sure wasn't going to push them after all they had done for me the past three days, so I pulled into the hotel. The century milestone could wait.
And that was that. :) I rode 92.9 miles that day at an average speed of 16.7 miles per hour and having a maximum speed at some point of 28.9 mph. It took me 5 hours and 33 minutes, and I burned 3,061 calories. That's a day and a half's worth of calories burned in less than six hours - no wonder I had been so hungry all weekend!
After I finished, I just sat around and waited to be told what to do. I didn't have a hotel room to look forward to since we were staying at Beth's sister's house that night. So, I grabbed a bottle of water, found a shady place to sit by a hotel column, leaned my back against the column, and closed my eyes and pondered all that I had accomplished over the weekend. It was mind boggling to me everything that had happened. I was proud of myself for hanging in there all three days. "Just keep swimming" my husband had told me in the wise words of Dory the fish before I left on Friday.
I did. And now I was done.
Day 3
Beth had to wake up early again today to go help Ashton, Cindy, the HMR Advantage people, and the other volunteers make Gatorade, divide up the snacks and drinks among SAG vehicles, and then load up the cars to go. Once I heard her get up, I let myself slowly wake up. I got out of bed ten minutes later, around 5:15. I didn't want to feel rushed again as I had the previous morning. I also wanted to be able to finish my coffee this time, so the first thing I did was start up the coffee maker in the room. Then I went to the ice vending machines and filled my water bottles with ice to melt as the morning wore on. When I walked outside, I was welcomed by the warm, still silence of the morning. All was quiet but for the faint chirping of crickets in the nearby bushes. I breathed the air in heavily and slowly, and closed my eyes to enjoy the only still moment of the day to come. I felt it was going to be a good day and not even 92 miles could change that.
Being used to my own coffee maker at home, I expected the coffee to be ready to go when I got back, but this maker was significantly slower than it should have been. I went ahead and got all my stuff together so I would be ready to go after breakfast. I rechecked my tires to see that they were well inflated and wiped the sweaty salt off of my helmet straps. By then Beth was out of the shower and it was my turn to wake myself up. She was impressed by my efforts to make coffee already, although it still didn't seem to be making much progress. Got a shower, got dressed, finally got some coffee, then headed to breakfast right at 6:00. The hotel lobby was already full of hungry cyclists by the time I got there. Today I opted for a muffin, some not-quite-ripe fruit, eggs, and a sausage-gravy biscuit. All of that was washed down with some apple juice and coffee (thought not mixed together). Once my belly was full, I went back to the room to douse myself with sunscreen and gather up all my stuff. It felt good not to be rushed and it felt even better knowing this was the last day of blissful torture I had to endure. In fact, I may have even whistled to myself as I got ready; but, who's to say that's true?
Once I was prepared, I drug all of my junk out to the front of the hotel and put my belongings on the trailer. I glanced around for Beth because we had vowed to get a picture of us together on this last day, having not done so the other two days. I didn't see her anywhere in the vicinity, so I propped my two-wheeler up against a column and went inside to turn in my key. As I entered, I was stopped by a friendly HMR lady with a very large camera. She asked if I had had my picture taken yet - of course I hadn't. So she took my picture which, in my opinion, turned out to be a rather goofy one of me. But, the HMR peeps were incredibly kind and had all of our pictures from that morning printed out during the day while we were riding and gave us the copy as a momento that same evening. (Thank you so much, ladies!)
Whew, okay, the key is turned in, a picture has been taken, I'm all sunscreened up... Guess I'm ready to go. I went to turn on my new cyclocomputer to make sure it didn't take a turn for the worst overnight, and, in doing so, accidentally reset it.
Sigh.
Though this is a cheaper computer from WAl-Mart, it has way more features than my previous two, like the outside temperature and number of calories burned. Thus, I had to input more information, which takes awhile. AND, since its "mode" and "set" buttons were in opposite places from my last two, I kept screwing up the input process and had to keep starting over. Ten minutes later, I had finally gotten the hang of it and Beth had just found me for a picture. Smile, you're almost done! *Snap* Time to go...
Wait, one more group picture! *Snap* Okay, NOW it's time to go...
And off we went! I was determined not to get stuck riding alone again today, so I pedaled hard to keep up with most of the pack. As we went down the semi-busy highway (it was Sunday morning after all), some of the support people used their cars and their presence to stop traffic. (By the way, it's a lot of fun to have someone block traffic for you as you sail through red lights on a bicycle.) Once we got settled again on the back roads, I found myself in a pack of about six. It was me and... well, five other people. No really, we had Geoff, Randall, Ken, me, and a couple whose names I can't remember. We stuck together for at least 70 miles of the day's trip before the couple took an alternate route along the way to go home (in Charleston) and the rest of us got separated by the mere force of exhaustion.
We were a group of moderate capability - not too fast, not too slow - that took time to talk along the way and enjoy the scenery when we thought about it. We used drafting to our advantage, always riding in a single file line with the front person leading the pack for as long as he or she was able before dropping to the back to let the next person in line take a turn.
As it turns out, the rumors are true - the bottom of the state really is flat. Flat as a pancake. On the contrary, my home in Woodruff is about as flat as a whole stack of pancakes. Or, in other words, it's not flat. Most of the time I felt like I was sitting on my trainer inside my living room with my legs pedaling away at a high cadence, barely noticing their effort. I didn't have to work hard to go fast (which was due in part to drafting) and I felt like I could go on that way all day. And, to make matters not at all worse, the relentless sun we had bore on our backs the previous two days hid behind the clouds for much of the day. Don't worry, it was still hot and still very muggy; but, the clouds and often the trees kept the severity of the heat off of us.
Honestly, this day's ride was not all that eventful from my standpoint. That's not to say it wasn't exciting - it was! In fact, there was a certain level of excitement present in all the riders and the support team at every rest stop. It seemed everyone was smiling, despite how tired or hungry they were. Our small pack chugged along like 'The Engine That Could.' We even traded places with the RTR elite "A" group several times, as they experienced several flats and mishaps along the way. We would ride by them as they pumped up a tube on the side of the road, then several minutes later they would pass by us at a water stop. Once again we would pass them on the side as someone was getting patched up from a minor wreck and they would catch up with us again later.
I fear I am writing this too long after the fact to remember many details along the way. At one rest stop I decided to try an energy drink because I was very thirsty. At first sip, I surmised that it was the most carbonated beverage I had ever consumed, and quite possibly not the best choice for a 92 mile ride.
But I had already opened it and felt at least obligated to finish it. I didn't feel any sudden or prolonged burst of energy, but I did feel fizzy. Fortunately, though, the extreme bubbles did not hinder my performance that day.Another treat to be found at all the rest stops that day was pickles. Apparently pickles pickled in their pickledy juices prevent cramping, particularly in one's legs. I don't know if all that's true, 'but you got me and baby I got you...'
Sorry.
I meant to say that I don't know if all that's true, but I do know that I love pickles! So, I ate 'em up! Every time I saw a jar of pickles, I snagged one (or two). All I can really say about that is that pickles do not taste very good with Gatorade, no matter what flavor it is. Please keep that in mind for your next epic ride.
As I said, I don't remember as much as I should and not nearly as much as I'd like. That may be in part to the euphoric feeling of personal triumph over three days of biking that I was experiencing throughout this third day. I didn't care how long it took me and I didn't care if I couldn't move at the end of the day - I was thrilled just to be doing it.
I do remember when I realized we were finally in the lower state, finally in Charleston territory. I can probably count on one hand (definitely no more than two hands) the number of times I've been to Charleston. It just isn't a place my family frequents and I have rarely had a reason or excuse to visit there. In fact, the last time I visited Charleston was some time in college, so it has been over five years since I've seen it.
It's still beautiful, though. :) When I began noticing the Spanish moss draped over the trees lining the road, I knew we had arrived. Not to mention the deep history you could sense was steeped in the old plantations along the way. I wish I could have enjoyed the scenery more, but we were often too busy trying to avoid either being hit by cars on busy roads or the millions of potholes dotting the road to look up and appreciate the beauty surrounding us. (Yeah, those Charleston roads pretty much sucked as afar as smooth, well-constructed roads go.) Around the time the Spanish moss showed up, I began to feel sticky. I thought I was used to feeling sticky, being from Spartanburg, but this was a different kind of sticky, one that is difficult to put into words. The humidity there seems thicker, more oppressive than what I'm accustomed to. It seems to drench you from the inside out. Had the sun been out in full force that day, I don't know that I could have gotten through the miserableness of all the heat.
Eventually, we stopped for lunch and I feasted. Once again, I had a sub sandwich, a bag of potato chips, a pickle, a bottle of Gatorade, and some fruit to fuel me the rest of the way. I also grabbed a banana to put in my pocket in case I got hungry in between stops. (I did eventually eat that banana, but I couldn't tell you when or where.) This would be the last stop where our small pack of riders would be ahead of the "A" group. At the following stop, which was the second to last stop, they caught back up with us and we let them go ahead before we started off again.
And that was when things got crazy and the real adventure began...
Between the second-to-last stop and the last stop before the absolute end of the ride, three things happened:
1. Ken, the other lady, and I got separated from Randall, Geoff, and the other guy.
2. The other lady and the other guy left to ride on to their house.
3. Ken and I somehow managed to catch up with the "A" group.
Once Ken and I realized we had lost the others and there was no turning back, we picked up our speed and soon found the "A" group within view; nay, within reach! So, I shouted something to Ken telling him to try and catch them (because he was in the front at the time) and we did, just as the tail end of their pack was going through a yellow light. That was a close one!
From that point to the end of the ride was the wildest time I think I've ever had on my bike. Ken and I were so focused on keeping up with all of them, I don't remember much of anything about my surroundings. This group wasn't very big on chatter, but they were apt to yell about anything and everything going on. That's actually how it's supposed to work in large groups like that, though it's not something I'm used to. If you had witnessed us riding by, you would have heard any number of directions and seen strange hand signals. For instance, if there's a hole, or a large bump, or any sort of strange obstacle in the road, the cyclists at the front of the pack shout the name of whatever it is - "Hole!" "Branch!" "Small child!" - while simultaneously waving their hands toward the object to signal its location. Once the front of the pack signals this instruction, the shouts eventually trickle to the back of the pack like a wave in a stadium. Obstacles aren't the only things you'll hear. Stop lights warrant either "Go!" "Stop!" or "Hold!" The word "hold" is accompanied by holding out your hand, palm facing drivers on either side of you to signal them to hold their position until your whole pack of cyclists gets through the stop light. I have no idea if drivers can actually hear what we're saying, but they do tend to wait until everyone has passed before they go again. Other sayings you'll experience in a group of riders such as this are "Left!" (this means we're either turning left or getting in the left lane), "Right!" (same as left, only right) and "Car back!" (this means 'beware, there's a car coming up behind us'). Honestly, I couldn't understand what the front half of the group was saying most of the time because they all shouted at once. I mainly just watched for hand signals.
Despite the speed at which we were riding and the lack of time spent admiring the landscape, I was glad to be with this group. We had arrived at downtown'ish (or at least somewhere in the city) where the roads were very busy. Had I been by myself, I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to navigate my way around those streets amongst the crazy traffic. With this group, I didn't have to think about that, I just had to ride and follow.
We came to the last rest stop of the day at a Barnes and Noble parking lot. We refueled as quickly as possible and prepared to leave again for the last ten to twelve miles. We were fortunate to come across a large fire truck leaving the parking lot the same time we were. Some of the group leaders asked the firefighters if they would pull out in the road before us and block traffic until we were all safely out. Either that or spray us down with their hoses. They didn't agree to hose us, but they did block traffic for a minute while we sped out on our way. Thank you, kind firemen! :)
The rest of the ride was, in a word, awesome! We traveled down the battery with the ocean on our right. It was gorgeous, and the breeze coming off the water was a blessing in itself. People along the road either gave us strange looks or smiled and waved at us as we rode by. Once we got past the water we were met with blocks and blocks of stop lights. So there was a lot of clipping and unclipping (our pedals) as well as shouts of "Stop!" "Go!" and "Hold!"
Then, there was the bridge. The Arthur Ravenel Bridge. No one told me about the bridge. (And no, I did not take this awesome picture as I was riding on a bike, not in a helicopter.) I'm sure it didn't even exist the last time I came to Charleston. But it was there now, going up, up, up, and away. The constructors of the bridge were kind enough to put a bike/walk pathway on it, sufficiently separated from the cars. So that was the path we took, naturally.I realized when we started that the bridge went uphill, and I was initially okay with that. But, after about five minutes of climbing, I began to think that Escher must have had a hand in designing this like one of his never-ending staircases. We just kept going up and it felt like it would never end. This uphill battle separated our group into several smaller groups of threes, twos, and ones as we struggled to get to the bridge's peak. Not only was the bridge ride tough, it was also scary. To your left were cars flying past you (though there's a wall separating them from you) and to your right and below was a vast expanse of water (also separated by a wall). As I rode, my mind likened it to the beginning of a roller coaster where you are slinking up the track before you get to the top and fly down. You don't want to look down because everything seems so tiny and far away. Yikes.
After what seemed like two hours (it was really only about ten minutes), we reached the plateau at the top and stopped to enjoy the view. Everyone had their cameras and phones out to take pictures, so I decided to do the same. I took about three to four pictures before I realized my camera had chocolate all over it from an open, melting Cliff bar with which it had shared a pocket. I understand that common sense says not to put your camera in the same pocket as a chocolate Cliff bar during a six hour bike ride on a 90+ degree day; but, when you're riding along with a main focus of trying to finish a ride alive, it's hard to remember what pocket is holding what and you don't bother concentrating on such trivial matters. Thus, it was just a dumb mistake. Could have happened to anyone. Perhaps needless to say, my pictures came out blurry due to there being chocolate on the lens. (I will post them here anywhere for your amusement.) I tried wiping it off, but I didn't have a dry spot on me suitable for the task. Besides, it was time to go again. (I will have you know, however, that I did move the camera to a different pocket following my realization.)
If there's one thing I've learned from cycling, it's that for every uphill there's a downhill, and vice versa. So, down we went! :) This would be more like the fun part of the roller coaster, minus the loopy loops. I sailed down the bridge, turned right (because everyone else was turning right) and "Voila!" there was the hotel! Just like that I was done, I had made it! Many of the other riders in the group I had been following went on a few more miles to make the day's ride be a century (100 miles). I had been toying with the idea myself all along the ride, but as soon as I saw the hotel and my brain registered that it meant the end, my legs heard my brain and decided they didn't want to go any farther. I couldn't blame them and I sure wasn't going to push them after all they had done for me the past three days, so I pulled into the hotel. The century milestone could wait.
And that was that. :) I rode 92.9 miles that day at an average speed of 16.7 miles per hour and having a maximum speed at some point of 28.9 mph. It took me 5 hours and 33 minutes, and I burned 3,061 calories. That's a day and a half's worth of calories burned in less than six hours - no wonder I had been so hungry all weekend!
After I finished, I just sat around and waited to be told what to do. I didn't have a hotel room to look forward to since we were staying at Beth's sister's house that night. So, I grabbed a bottle of water, found a shady place to sit by a hotel column, leaned my back against the column, and closed my eyes and pondered all that I had accomplished over the weekend. It was mind boggling to me everything that had happened. I was proud of myself for hanging in there all three days. "Just keep swimming" my husband had told me in the wise words of Dory the fish before I left on Friday.
I did. And now I was done.
Monday, July 19, 2010
A Ride to Remember, Part II
DAY 2
"It was the best of times. It was the worst of times." And 5:30 comes early.
It's hard to say why Saturday was both maddening to me and yet wonderful at the same time. Many frustrating events took place, both for me and for the ride as a whole. There were many, many flat tires spread out among the riders, some riders got lost, it was the hottest of the three days, and the riders were so spread out throughout the route that the support vehicles had trouble keeping up with all of us from beginning to end.
But allow me to start from the beginning...
Beth woke me up around 5:40. I didn't get up right away because I knew what was coming: more biking. Once I did finally get up, I grabbed a quick shower just to help wake me up, then headed off to breakfast. Remembering my extreme appetite of the previous day, I ate as heartily as I dared to start me off for the day. I probably should have gotten up earlier, or at least hopped out of the bed at the actual time I was awakened, because I felt kind of rushed once I got back to the hotel room. I had to repack all of my stuff I had strewn about from the previous day, refill my water bottles, put on sunscreen, and take everything down the elevator to the lobby by 7:00. Somehow I succeeded, though sluggishly. All the riders got together and pictures were snapped of the faithful pedalers before the start of the day's ride.
Over all, I was very surprised when I awoke to find that my legs felt okay. They were a little sore, but not so much that every stroke I took that morning was a painful one. And my face looked much less red that morning, which was a small comfort in itself. In fact, aside from being ridiculously sleepy, I felt great! I didn't have time to finish off my cup of coffee for the morning, so the caffeinated energy kick I was counting on didn't occur. When we started rolling away, I remembered my mistake of pushing too hard at the beginning of yesterday's ride and decided to take it easy for this day's beginning. I dropped to the back of the pack and pulled out my iPod once we hit the country roads. A nice country stroll with my earphones in place seemed to be just what I needed to get myself out of my sleepy funk.
I coasted along, enjoying watching the sun rise over the countryside and was able to remind myself of the reasons I wanted to do this ride in the first place: 1. Raise money and support for the Alzheimer's Association - they need our help! 2. Test my physical limits with my greatest cycling challenge yet. 3. Enjoy a ride across South Carolina - this chance doesn't come often. Once you get your priorities straight again and forget the possible pain and sacrifice that accompany them, life (and a bike ride) gets a little brighter.
Along I go, just pedaling to my own tempo. I don't see another cyclist anywhere in front or behind me and I have no idea where I am in comparison with the rest of the group. That didn't bother me; I just wanted to set the scene for you for what happened next. I was on a busy road (I don't know which one, I'd have to check the cue sheet) with traffic constantly coming both ways. The white line on this road was one of those rumble-strip-things. Honestly, I don't know what they're called, but they make a loud noise when your car goes over them in case you've fallen asleep and need to wake back up again in order to continue driving. I was not asleep anymore and thus had no reason to be too close to the line and hit the rumbly things. So, I stayed just to the left of the white line, trying not to get too far into the middle of the lane so the cars coming my way would have no trouble passing me. Lo and behold, I found out that the midlands of SC also has stupid drivers. In fact, if there were such an award, I would give this driver the "I thought I had seen everything; but you win!" award. A red, Ford F-150 coming towards me in the opposite lane decided to pass the car in front of him on a double yellow line. To the best of my current knowledge, this move is still illegal in South Carolina. Not only does he decide to make said illegal move, he decides to do it just as I am passing by at the same time. So he "politely" blinked his headlights at me to order me out of the way so he could pass someone on a double yellow line. You must understand that these cars were going much faster than I was and this whole ordeal happened in a matter of seconds. I had but moments to figure out what the heck the F-150 driver was doing, why he was blinking his lights at me, and get out of the way in time for him to pass me and the other car at the same time. Now, let me remind you that the white line was a rumbly one and in passing over it to get out of the way of the truck, I was lucky I didn't go flying off my bike from the sudden jolt of the raised bumps. It would be similar to hitting a rock in the middle of the path after sharply steering your bike to the right in order to avoid an oncoming wall that seemingly appeared out of nowhere...
Or something like that.
Either way, I was a bit shaken up by the incident and very angry at the total disregard for the traffic laws of South Carolina, my right to be on the road as a cyclist, and my daily wish to stay alive a little longer. Fortunately, I serve a big God and was glad He was around to give me enough wits to get out of the way fast. That was that and on we go...
At the next rest stop I fumed to the support staff about the above incident, scarfed down some Fig Newtons, once again sprayed on sunscreen, and went on my way. Soon after that, I noticed the Ambulance pass me on their way down the route. The EMTs for the day were friendly fellows and they waved as they went by (oh yeah, the Ambulance EMTs changed each day of the ride... forgot to tell you that). I continued following the path and eventually caught up with the Ambulance. When I finally did, I began to notice they were traveling quite slowly, always staying just ahead of me. Whenever a car came around me, the ambulance pulled off to the side and let the car pass them too. Every time I struggled up a hill, they would drive out of sight until I got to the top of the hill where I would see them waiting for me at the bottom. Then, as soon as I got close again, they would begin coasting forward as well, remaining within view but never close enough to draft off of. (Dang.) This situation seemed so bizarre to me (especially after having the Ambulance trail me the previous day), I was starting to wonder if perhaps Beth or the other support staff had given them explicit instructions to stick with me because of the crazy story I had just fumed about at the previous stop. But, after about an hour of following the Ambulance, I had gotten used to their presence and actually began to appreciate their indirect company. I didn't feel quite as lonely with them around, and was also beginning to see and appreciate the humor of my now 2-day personal relationship with the Ambulance.
They kept up with me to the next rest stop and decided to follow behind me after that one instead of being my guide. That was fine with me! Within about thirty minutes of that stop, I saw a lone rider in red traveling within view a good ways ahead of me. I caught up with him faster than I thought I would because he had to stop on the side of the road. I rode up next to him, checking to see if he was okay and realized it was Randall. He was fine - his chain had popped off for the second time that day and he was putting it back on. When I looked back to see where my Ambulance had gone, I saw the two guys walking toward us while the Ambulance itself was sitting running on the side of the road. Randall was back on his bike by then, so I yelled back to the EMTs that his chain had just come off and we were fine. They smiled, waved in acknowledgment, and headed back to their vehicle. "Haha," I thought, "I like these guys!" I hopped back on my own noble steed and chased after Randall.
Now there were three RTR vehicles riding along in our very own caravan - two bikes and an Ambulance. Fortunately, on this long, hot second day, the support staff had posted rest stops every ten miles. (I didn't know until later how difficult this had been for them as we were all spread out from beginning to end and some SAG vehicles were out and about looking for the few groups of riders who had gotten lost, making them short on vehicles and support volunteers for the rest stops.) Ten-mile rest stops were nice because it was a steamy day and hydration and sunscreen were imperative, it helped the miles tick by a little faster, and, if you've been riding alone for awhile, it was nice to have some human contact every 45 minutes or so.
Randall, the Ambulance, and I came upon one such stop about twenty minutes after we had all gotten together and pulled off for some much needed refreshment. I don't remember what mile it was (maybe around 40?), but I do remember being surprised at how good I felt. My legs still felt strong and I was much more awake now than I was at the beginning of the day. Also, it was about the halfway mark of the second day, so that technically meant we were halfway through the whole ride... right? Right! If I've made it halfway through, then I know I can finish this thing! And, as a bonus, I had heard stories of flat lands where bikes go fast and riders don't have to work as hard to power them. Being from the Upstate, I was skeptical of such rumors, but willing to accept their validity as soon as I could experience them.
At this same stop, one of the friendly Ambulance fellows inquired whether I was bothered by them following me. I told him it was fine as long as it wasn't because I looked sickly and/or dehydrated. He assured me it was not for that reason, but because when they saw I was riding alone, they were worried for my safety as a loner and decided to stay with me unless they were called elsewhere. Ah, human kindness still exists. I thanked him and assured him I wasn't bothered by their presence. Not anymore, anyway. :)
I refilled my bottles, put on my sunscreen, and downed a pack of Skittles (which you can afford to do if you're riding 85 miles) before we set off again. I was grateful for the company of Randall and for my body's strange enthusiasm for riding more miles. I actually felt happy about the day's ride and eager to get going again (must be those endorphins I'm always hearing about). Of course, that was then, and the day was not yet over. Not even close.
A few interesting events happened in the next 23 or so miles. Firstly, and worst of all, I lost my cyclocomputer (may it rest in peace). Yes, this is the very same computer I had just bought Monday specifically for this ride because my old one was messed up. I failed to mention that the screen had fallen off its handlebar mount the previous day, but it was recovered without incident. It apparently couldn't hang on this day either, though I don't know why. I hadn't hit a bump or anything to jar it - it was just a bad mount set-up, I believe. Anyway, I heard it drop and immediately squeezed my brake levers hard, making them squeal. I did a u-turn and stood on the opposite side of the road, having to wait for two cars to pass before I could try retrieving it. I saw it laying close to the white line and prayed the cars wouldn't hit it. The first car went by fairly slowly, probably wondering why I was just standing on the side of the road staring at them as they went by, and evaded my poor computer. The second car came flying by, and as it did, I witnessed my computer screen go flying too.
CRAP.
I sighed an anticipatory angry sigh and crossed the street to assess the damage.
CRAP AGAIN.
The screen was chipped and cracked and looked like one of those psychological ink blot pictures.
I was mad. I wanted to throw the screen as hard as I could into the field beside me, shout curses, and stomp my feet. But, as none of that seemed like it would help the situation and might alert the Ambulance people that something really was wrong with me, I just stared at the screen in disbelief for several seconds instead, then put it in my back pocket so I wouldn't have to see it again until the end of the ride.
I caught back up with Randall who had stopped when he heard my brakes squealing behind him, and explained what had happened. He then became our chief navigator and I was knighted our time keeper (it was all I could offer). We decided to work out a makeshift drafting system around that point, with each of us doing two-mile duty. I would lead the way for two miles, then drop back behind him while he led for two miles. The wind that day (and the next, for that matter) was pretty horrendous, so the leader of our two-man pack had a rough job. But it got us to the next stop safe and sound.
About the time my computer committed suicide, I started getting hungry. Not just, "Oh, I could eat lunch soon" hungry, but "Oh my gosh, I'm starving! When's the next stop??" hungry. Luckily, I had a Cliff bar in my pocket, so I munched on it 'til the next stop. Randall was really hungry too, and we both figured lunch had to be just around the next corner. We were both under the impression that lunch was to be given between the 50 and 55 mile markers and should be coming up soon.
We were wrong.
We found a rest stop waiting for us around mile 50. Just a quick stop, no lunch. We ate whatever they had laying around and refilled our bottles once again. We also took a slightly longer break under the shade of their tent because it was getting unbearably steamy outside. Also at this stop, one of the support people taped up my foot (there were no band aides) because I was developing a large blister on my right heel. Honestly, it only hurt when I walked, not biked; but, I let her tape me up anyway. I knew my sweat would render the tape useless sooner than later, but I figured it might last until at least lunch. By the way, "Where is lunch?!" I asked them. "Mile 63" was the answer. I noted that thirteen more miles was nearly another hour of riding and Randall replied that he didn't want to think about it in those terms. Oh well, here we go. Back to two-mile duty.
But it wasn't another hour. Once we left the rest stop in Pelion, we experienced one last big hill and then the landscape miraculously turned flat. That was a miracle in timing because without lunch we were running on fumes, and it's hard to make it up hills on only fumes Flat land is so much easier!
We finally made it to the town of North, mile 63 on our route, and refueled at their town hall. I ate a turkey sub, a bag of chips, and several pieces of watermelon for lunch. I also downed a whole bottle of Gatorade. Feeling much better after that, we rode off again with the knowledge that we only had a little over 20 miles left to go that day.
Our two-man team had grown to three after lunch and we drafted our way to the next stop which seemed to come out of nowhere. The roads were significantly flatter by then and our average speed had increased. The young ladies at the stop told us we had less than ten miles to go... Ten miles is nothing, let's go!
Somehow along the way, Geoff (our third man) and I got separated from Randall and we went the last five or so miles alone. I felt the need to keep up with someone since I no longer had a computer of my own to help guide me. We ended up riding along a very heavily trafficked road, complete with a Wal-Mart and several restaurants dotting the sides. This was probably the one road of the entire ride that I hated. We were surrounded by cars giving off hot fumes on an equally hot road on the hottest day of the ride. We stopped at red light after red light, hoping the cars would see us and not try to hit us out of spite. The worst part of the worst road was having to cross two lanes of traffic to get in the left turning lane. Just because you stick your left arm out to inform the drivers you want to turn left doesn't mean they care. Sometimes it's a particularly dangerous sport.
Don't worry; we made it. Only three miles left to go. Just keep pedaling. Let the sweat drip off your face because there's not a dry spot left on you to use to wipe it off. Breathe in, breathe out. We saw a water park on our right and I shouted to Geoff, "That's not fair!" He responded with a tired chuckle.
Then we finished! Sorry, that was a little anti-climactic. But we did, once again to the cheers of the riders who came before us. I propped my bike up against the hotel wall, shed my helmet, unzipped my jersey as far as it would go, and went in search of my flip-flops. I noticed that all the riders were still hanging around outside, mostly by the pool. In fact, many of them had freed themselves from their jerseys and just jumped in with their cycling shorts. I quickly surmised that our rooms weren't ready yet and everyone was just trying to cool off while waiting. I also noticed one rider sitting against a column, shaking. The Ambulance was nearby and the medics were setting up the stretcher thing to put her in the Ambulance. She had apparently just recently been put on a gluten-free diet which hadn't suited her well that day. She was very dehydrated and at a lack of adequate calories. After about two hours, they had nursed her back to health and she was able to go on and finish the ride the next day. Thank goodness for the Ambulance!
I didn't see Beth around, so I grabbed a bottle of water and laid down on the hotel sidewalk. I had to smile - I just completed two-thirds of the longest, hardest ride of my life thus far. And I felt great! In a manner of speaking. My legs were tired, but not shot. My back and neck were sore, but they could rest. I was hot, but in the shade cooling off. The only part of me that was in dire pain was my bottom. It had now endured twelve hours of sitting on a tiny seat being chafed by lycra. Poor bum.
Now, to speed things up a bit, here's more of a summary format of the rest of the evening...
1. Beth and I had some trouble getting our reserved room, but it all worked out in the end.
2. I took a shower - not as sunburned today.
3. Hungry again; ate half a sub and two bags of chips.
4. Watched TV while waiting around for supper.
5. Went to supper at 5:30; ate at the All-Star Deli; was really hungry; good food!
6. Went by Wal-Mart with Beth and Cindy after supper to buy a new cyclocomputer. Again.
7. Installed the computer, inflated bike tires, prepared everything for the next day.
8. Still felt good and excited, so I played cards with Beth until 10:00 that night.
Even Beth observed that I didn't seem nearly as tired that night as I had been the previous night. She was right! I was ready to finish off this epic ride and excited about doing so.
I slept well.. :)
"It was the best of times. It was the worst of times." And 5:30 comes early.
It's hard to say why Saturday was both maddening to me and yet wonderful at the same time. Many frustrating events took place, both for me and for the ride as a whole. There were many, many flat tires spread out among the riders, some riders got lost, it was the hottest of the three days, and the riders were so spread out throughout the route that the support vehicles had trouble keeping up with all of us from beginning to end.
But allow me to start from the beginning...
Beth woke me up around 5:40. I didn't get up right away because I knew what was coming: more biking. Once I did finally get up, I grabbed a quick shower just to help wake me up, then headed off to breakfast. Remembering my extreme appetite of the previous day, I ate as heartily as I dared to start me off for the day. I probably should have gotten up earlier, or at least hopped out of the bed at the actual time I was awakened, because I felt kind of rushed once I got back to the hotel room. I had to repack all of my stuff I had strewn about from the previous day, refill my water bottles, put on sunscreen, and take everything down the elevator to the lobby by 7:00. Somehow I succeeded, though sluggishly. All the riders got together and pictures were snapped of the faithful pedalers before the start of the day's ride.
Over all, I was very surprised when I awoke to find that my legs felt okay. They were a little sore, but not so much that every stroke I took that morning was a painful one. And my face looked much less red that morning, which was a small comfort in itself. In fact, aside from being ridiculously sleepy, I felt great! I didn't have time to finish off my cup of coffee for the morning, so the caffeinated energy kick I was counting on didn't occur. When we started rolling away, I remembered my mistake of pushing too hard at the beginning of yesterday's ride and decided to take it easy for this day's beginning. I dropped to the back of the pack and pulled out my iPod once we hit the country roads. A nice country stroll with my earphones in place seemed to be just what I needed to get myself out of my sleepy funk.
I coasted along, enjoying watching the sun rise over the countryside and was able to remind myself of the reasons I wanted to do this ride in the first place: 1. Raise money and support for the Alzheimer's Association - they need our help! 2. Test my physical limits with my greatest cycling challenge yet. 3. Enjoy a ride across South Carolina - this chance doesn't come often. Once you get your priorities straight again and forget the possible pain and sacrifice that accompany them, life (and a bike ride) gets a little brighter.
Along I go, just pedaling to my own tempo. I don't see another cyclist anywhere in front or behind me and I have no idea where I am in comparison with the rest of the group. That didn't bother me; I just wanted to set the scene for you for what happened next. I was on a busy road (I don't know which one, I'd have to check the cue sheet) with traffic constantly coming both ways. The white line on this road was one of those rumble-strip-things. Honestly, I don't know what they're called, but they make a loud noise when your car goes over them in case you've fallen asleep and need to wake back up again in order to continue driving. I was not asleep anymore and thus had no reason to be too close to the line and hit the rumbly things. So, I stayed just to the left of the white line, trying not to get too far into the middle of the lane so the cars coming my way would have no trouble passing me. Lo and behold, I found out that the midlands of SC also has stupid drivers. In fact, if there were such an award, I would give this driver the "I thought I had seen everything; but you win!" award. A red, Ford F-150 coming towards me in the opposite lane decided to pass the car in front of him on a double yellow line. To the best of my current knowledge, this move is still illegal in South Carolina. Not only does he decide to make said illegal move, he decides to do it just as I am passing by at the same time. So he "politely" blinked his headlights at me to order me out of the way so he could pass someone on a double yellow line. You must understand that these cars were going much faster than I was and this whole ordeal happened in a matter of seconds. I had but moments to figure out what the heck the F-150 driver was doing, why he was blinking his lights at me, and get out of the way in time for him to pass me and the other car at the same time. Now, let me remind you that the white line was a rumbly one and in passing over it to get out of the way of the truck, I was lucky I didn't go flying off my bike from the sudden jolt of the raised bumps. It would be similar to hitting a rock in the middle of the path after sharply steering your bike to the right in order to avoid an oncoming wall that seemingly appeared out of nowhere...
Or something like that.
Either way, I was a bit shaken up by the incident and very angry at the total disregard for the traffic laws of South Carolina, my right to be on the road as a cyclist, and my daily wish to stay alive a little longer. Fortunately, I serve a big God and was glad He was around to give me enough wits to get out of the way fast. That was that and on we go...
At the next rest stop I fumed to the support staff about the above incident, scarfed down some Fig Newtons, once again sprayed on sunscreen, and went on my way. Soon after that, I noticed the Ambulance pass me on their way down the route. The EMTs for the day were friendly fellows and they waved as they went by (oh yeah, the Ambulance EMTs changed each day of the ride... forgot to tell you that). I continued following the path and eventually caught up with the Ambulance. When I finally did, I began to notice they were traveling quite slowly, always staying just ahead of me. Whenever a car came around me, the ambulance pulled off to the side and let the car pass them too. Every time I struggled up a hill, they would drive out of sight until I got to the top of the hill where I would see them waiting for me at the bottom. Then, as soon as I got close again, they would begin coasting forward as well, remaining within view but never close enough to draft off of. (Dang.) This situation seemed so bizarre to me (especially after having the Ambulance trail me the previous day), I was starting to wonder if perhaps Beth or the other support staff had given them explicit instructions to stick with me because of the crazy story I had just fumed about at the previous stop. But, after about an hour of following the Ambulance, I had gotten used to their presence and actually began to appreciate their indirect company. I didn't feel quite as lonely with them around, and was also beginning to see and appreciate the humor of my now 2-day personal relationship with the Ambulance.
They kept up with me to the next rest stop and decided to follow behind me after that one instead of being my guide. That was fine with me! Within about thirty minutes of that stop, I saw a lone rider in red traveling within view a good ways ahead of me. I caught up with him faster than I thought I would because he had to stop on the side of the road. I rode up next to him, checking to see if he was okay and realized it was Randall. He was fine - his chain had popped off for the second time that day and he was putting it back on. When I looked back to see where my Ambulance had gone, I saw the two guys walking toward us while the Ambulance itself was sitting running on the side of the road. Randall was back on his bike by then, so I yelled back to the EMTs that his chain had just come off and we were fine. They smiled, waved in acknowledgment, and headed back to their vehicle. "Haha," I thought, "I like these guys!" I hopped back on my own noble steed and chased after Randall.
Now there were three RTR vehicles riding along in our very own caravan - two bikes and an Ambulance. Fortunately, on this long, hot second day, the support staff had posted rest stops every ten miles. (I didn't know until later how difficult this had been for them as we were all spread out from beginning to end and some SAG vehicles were out and about looking for the few groups of riders who had gotten lost, making them short on vehicles and support volunteers for the rest stops.) Ten-mile rest stops were nice because it was a steamy day and hydration and sunscreen were imperative, it helped the miles tick by a little faster, and, if you've been riding alone for awhile, it was nice to have some human contact every 45 minutes or so.
Randall, the Ambulance, and I came upon one such stop about twenty minutes after we had all gotten together and pulled off for some much needed refreshment. I don't remember what mile it was (maybe around 40?), but I do remember being surprised at how good I felt. My legs still felt strong and I was much more awake now than I was at the beginning of the day. Also, it was about the halfway mark of the second day, so that technically meant we were halfway through the whole ride... right? Right! If I've made it halfway through, then I know I can finish this thing! And, as a bonus, I had heard stories of flat lands where bikes go fast and riders don't have to work as hard to power them. Being from the Upstate, I was skeptical of such rumors, but willing to accept their validity as soon as I could experience them.
At this same stop, one of the friendly Ambulance fellows inquired whether I was bothered by them following me. I told him it was fine as long as it wasn't because I looked sickly and/or dehydrated. He assured me it was not for that reason, but because when they saw I was riding alone, they were worried for my safety as a loner and decided to stay with me unless they were called elsewhere. Ah, human kindness still exists. I thanked him and assured him I wasn't bothered by their presence. Not anymore, anyway. :)
I refilled my bottles, put on my sunscreen, and downed a pack of Skittles (which you can afford to do if you're riding 85 miles) before we set off again. I was grateful for the company of Randall and for my body's strange enthusiasm for riding more miles. I actually felt happy about the day's ride and eager to get going again (must be those endorphins I'm always hearing about). Of course, that was then, and the day was not yet over. Not even close.
A few interesting events happened in the next 23 or so miles. Firstly, and worst of all, I lost my cyclocomputer (may it rest in peace). Yes, this is the very same computer I had just bought Monday specifically for this ride because my old one was messed up. I failed to mention that the screen had fallen off its handlebar mount the previous day, but it was recovered without incident. It apparently couldn't hang on this day either, though I don't know why. I hadn't hit a bump or anything to jar it - it was just a bad mount set-up, I believe. Anyway, I heard it drop and immediately squeezed my brake levers hard, making them squeal. I did a u-turn and stood on the opposite side of the road, having to wait for two cars to pass before I could try retrieving it. I saw it laying close to the white line and prayed the cars wouldn't hit it. The first car went by fairly slowly, probably wondering why I was just standing on the side of the road staring at them as they went by, and evaded my poor computer. The second car came flying by, and as it did, I witnessed my computer screen go flying too.
CRAP.
I sighed an anticipatory angry sigh and crossed the street to assess the damage.
CRAP AGAIN.
The screen was chipped and cracked and looked like one of those psychological ink blot pictures.
I was mad. I wanted to throw the screen as hard as I could into the field beside me, shout curses, and stomp my feet. But, as none of that seemed like it would help the situation and might alert the Ambulance people that something really was wrong with me, I just stared at the screen in disbelief for several seconds instead, then put it in my back pocket so I wouldn't have to see it again until the end of the ride.
I caught back up with Randall who had stopped when he heard my brakes squealing behind him, and explained what had happened. He then became our chief navigator and I was knighted our time keeper (it was all I could offer). We decided to work out a makeshift drafting system around that point, with each of us doing two-mile duty. I would lead the way for two miles, then drop back behind him while he led for two miles. The wind that day (and the next, for that matter) was pretty horrendous, so the leader of our two-man pack had a rough job. But it got us to the next stop safe and sound.
About the time my computer committed suicide, I started getting hungry. Not just, "Oh, I could eat lunch soon" hungry, but "Oh my gosh, I'm starving! When's the next stop??" hungry. Luckily, I had a Cliff bar in my pocket, so I munched on it 'til the next stop. Randall was really hungry too, and we both figured lunch had to be just around the next corner. We were both under the impression that lunch was to be given between the 50 and 55 mile markers and should be coming up soon.
We were wrong.
We found a rest stop waiting for us around mile 50. Just a quick stop, no lunch. We ate whatever they had laying around and refilled our bottles once again. We also took a slightly longer break under the shade of their tent because it was getting unbearably steamy outside. Also at this stop, one of the support people taped up my foot (there were no band aides) because I was developing a large blister on my right heel. Honestly, it only hurt when I walked, not biked; but, I let her tape me up anyway. I knew my sweat would render the tape useless sooner than later, but I figured it might last until at least lunch. By the way, "Where is lunch?!" I asked them. "Mile 63" was the answer. I noted that thirteen more miles was nearly another hour of riding and Randall replied that he didn't want to think about it in those terms. Oh well, here we go. Back to two-mile duty.
But it wasn't another hour. Once we left the rest stop in Pelion, we experienced one last big hill and then the landscape miraculously turned flat. That was a miracle in timing because without lunch we were running on fumes, and it's hard to make it up hills on only fumes Flat land is so much easier!
We finally made it to the town of North, mile 63 on our route, and refueled at their town hall. I ate a turkey sub, a bag of chips, and several pieces of watermelon for lunch. I also downed a whole bottle of Gatorade. Feeling much better after that, we rode off again with the knowledge that we only had a little over 20 miles left to go that day.
Our two-man team had grown to three after lunch and we drafted our way to the next stop which seemed to come out of nowhere. The roads were significantly flatter by then and our average speed had increased. The young ladies at the stop told us we had less than ten miles to go... Ten miles is nothing, let's go!
Somehow along the way, Geoff (our third man) and I got separated from Randall and we went the last five or so miles alone. I felt the need to keep up with someone since I no longer had a computer of my own to help guide me. We ended up riding along a very heavily trafficked road, complete with a Wal-Mart and several restaurants dotting the sides. This was probably the one road of the entire ride that I hated. We were surrounded by cars giving off hot fumes on an equally hot road on the hottest day of the ride. We stopped at red light after red light, hoping the cars would see us and not try to hit us out of spite. The worst part of the worst road was having to cross two lanes of traffic to get in the left turning lane. Just because you stick your left arm out to inform the drivers you want to turn left doesn't mean they care. Sometimes it's a particularly dangerous sport.
Don't worry; we made it. Only three miles left to go. Just keep pedaling. Let the sweat drip off your face because there's not a dry spot left on you to use to wipe it off. Breathe in, breathe out. We saw a water park on our right and I shouted to Geoff, "That's not fair!" He responded with a tired chuckle.
Then we finished! Sorry, that was a little anti-climactic. But we did, once again to the cheers of the riders who came before us. I propped my bike up against the hotel wall, shed my helmet, unzipped my jersey as far as it would go, and went in search of my flip-flops. I noticed that all the riders were still hanging around outside, mostly by the pool. In fact, many of them had freed themselves from their jerseys and just jumped in with their cycling shorts. I quickly surmised that our rooms weren't ready yet and everyone was just trying to cool off while waiting. I also noticed one rider sitting against a column, shaking. The Ambulance was nearby and the medics were setting up the stretcher thing to put her in the Ambulance. She had apparently just recently been put on a gluten-free diet which hadn't suited her well that day. She was very dehydrated and at a lack of adequate calories. After about two hours, they had nursed her back to health and she was able to go on and finish the ride the next day. Thank goodness for the Ambulance!
I didn't see Beth around, so I grabbed a bottle of water and laid down on the hotel sidewalk. I had to smile - I just completed two-thirds of the longest, hardest ride of my life thus far. And I felt great! In a manner of speaking. My legs were tired, but not shot. My back and neck were sore, but they could rest. I was hot, but in the shade cooling off. The only part of me that was in dire pain was my bottom. It had now endured twelve hours of sitting on a tiny seat being chafed by lycra. Poor bum.
Now, to speed things up a bit, here's more of a summary format of the rest of the evening...
1. Beth and I had some trouble getting our reserved room, but it all worked out in the end.
2. I took a shower - not as sunburned today.
3. Hungry again; ate half a sub and two bags of chips.
4. Watched TV while waiting around for supper.
5. Went to supper at 5:30; ate at the All-Star Deli; was really hungry; good food!
6. Went by Wal-Mart with Beth and Cindy after supper to buy a new cyclocomputer. Again.
7. Installed the computer, inflated bike tires, prepared everything for the next day.
8. Still felt good and excited, so I played cards with Beth until 10:00 that night.
Even Beth observed that I didn't seem nearly as tired that night as I had been the previous night. She was right! I was ready to finish off this epic ride and excited about doing so.
I slept well.. :)
A Ride to Remember, Part I
It is finished. :)
And what a journey it was! I wasn't able to post any blogs or pictures over the weekend due to a lack of internet connection and lack of expendable energy. But fear not, I shall catch you up now in three or four parts with as much as I can remember. Enjoy the ride...
DAY 1
The day started early for me and included many last minute preparations and packing, along with a quick, nervous breakfast. My wonderfully supportive Ma-in-law came and picked up my bike and me around 7:00 and we were off to Simpsonville. Upon arrival, I was greeted by the many smiling faces of the ever-friendly Alzheimer Association staff along with the eager, excited faces of all the cyclists taking part. I checked in, received a goody bag, put on sunscreen, loaded my bags, took a few pictures, and then stood around waiting for the ride to begin. There were people everywhere - some on bikes, some wearing volunteer shirts, some snapping pictures, some saying goodbye for three days. Before we began, several different important people stood on a foldout chair and expressed their heartfelt gratitude for our participation, as well as inspirational words to motivate our then-fresh legs to keep pedaling. (I can't remember all that was said, and, even if I did, it would take too much time and space to write here.)
Then we were off! (Keep in mind I can only write from my own point of view and personal experience which is undoubtedly not the same as everyone else's.) In hindsight, I believe I began the ride on the wave of too much excitement and went too hard at the beginning, forgetting to save my legs for the many, many rolling miles ahead that day. I made wonderful time for the first 16 miles, averaging 15.8 mph when arriving at the first rest stop. Since I had breakfast pretty early that morning I was already hungry after only one hour of riding. I downed some Fig Newtons while saying hello to Beth and being introduced to a certain Ashton Houghton, head over this crazy ride. I didn't stay long (no time to waste) and traveled alone for awhile. I eventually caught up with a fellow cyclist I had met earlier in the ride, Randall Simmons, and we rode and chatted for awhile. He is from Goose Creek and not accustomed to the hills of the Upstate; so, much of this day's ride was a challenge. For both of us. It was even a challenge for me, despite training daily among said hills. I cannot recall many details about Friday's ride. It was mostly a long process of pushing myself up hills and coasting back down them. Lunch was provided around mile 35ish and Subway sandwiches were on the menu. At that point I felt there was no way I was going to be able to eat a whole sub and ride another 30 miles in the heat without getting sick, so I gobbled up a banana and munched on some watermelon instead. I also remembered then that I am a redheaded, pale-skinned human and should probably reapply the sunscreen that I had inevitably sweated off since the beginning of the ride. So, with sunscreen slathered on, water bottles overflowing, and sunglasses cleaned by the magic of cotton, Randall and I pedaled on.
Once again, I don't remember many specifics about the ride during this time except snapshot images my brain took and random thoughts that occurred to me along the way. I do vividly recall random SAG vehicles driving by with enthusiastic individuals "woo-hooing" us along the way. I also remember seeing Ashton's car drive by being closely followed by a WYFF, News Channel 4 car, then seeing them again a little ways down the road filming us coming down a hill. (So, we're pretty much famous now.)
But, what I remember most vividly is being on mile 51, feeling the heat of the sun directly overhead and wondering if I could really make it. I knew I didn't have too much farther to go, especially compared to what I had already accomplished, but it seemed that all that I could see before me was miles and miles of hot road with no shade. I had somehow gotten separated from Randall by this point and was all alone battling fatigue, heat, and will-power. I wouldn't call it a "bonk," per say, because I knew my legs had the strength to finish and I felt as well-hydrated as I could be at the time. But heat is hot, especially at 12:30 in South Carolina, and the sun alone will create doubts in your mind as to whether or not you are capable of doing much of anything, much less great things. I took a picture of both me and the road that lay before me at this point so in the end I wouldn't forget how I felt then and how far I had come since.
Fortunately, at the moment I needed it most, another cyclist rode by and encouraged me. I'm glad she did. :) I mustered through the remaining 12-15 miles with most of the battle occurring in my mind. Towards the end, with only a mile or so to go, the Ambulance that was keeping up with us throughout the ride caught up with me and one of the EMTs hung her head out of the window inquiring whether or not I was okay. I replied through short, winded breaths that I was hot, but fine. She answered me silently with a suspicious look - I don't think she believed me at all - and the Ambulance proceeded to follow along beside me the rest of the way. I'm sure I looked like a hot mess - I mean, obviously, I had just ridden nearly 67 miles - but it made me a bit worried and uncomfortable having the Ambulance trail me, like I might drop any second. However, this was just the beginning of my new-found relationship with the Ambulance...
I finally made it to the end amongst the cheers of fellow riders who had already completed their ride. I was hot and I was tired. It had taken me five and a half hours to complete 67 miles. Once I arrived, I found a place to leave my bike and sat down guzzling water. My legs felt pretty wasted and I sat wondering how in the world I would survive two more days like this on the bike.
Eventually, Beth and I were able to check in at the hotel and I got the chance to shower. When I finally saw myself in the mirror, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I looked miserable, first of all, with my hair all in tangles, my jersey drooping from the weight of a day's worth of sweat, and my black shorts now gray from all the salt they accumulated over the ride. That was why I wanted to laugh. But then I wanted to cry when I saw my cherry-red cheeks and nose. I was sunburned and not at all happy about it. At that moment I vowed to put sunscreen on my face at every stop the next day.
My spirits were lifted a bit once I got out of the shower and I finally had the wherewithal to realize I was famished! I hadn't really eaten a lunch, though I had been munching and gushing all along the ride. Beth, being the compassionate friend she is, hunted down a leftover lunch sandwich and some grapes for me to chow down on. I ate it fast and hungrily, not really even tasting it. That was around 3:30. At 5:30, when it was time for us to meet for supper, I was starving all over again. As it turns out, you burn a lot of calories riding for 5 hours and your body likes for those calories to be replaced. I wasn't used to feeling so ravenous so often.
We went to the lake home of Van Matthews, one of the riders and Alz. Assoc. board members. He was kind enough to fill us up with barbeque, potato salad, and cole slaw to our belly's content. And I finally got my belly to be content... for awhile. I have to admit that I felt pretty listless through most of this evening. I was tired, hot, and tired of being hot and tired. I jumped in the lake to float around awhile and cool off. The water itself wasn't necessarily cool, but being in it kept the humidity at bay, which made it cooler by default. I'm not sure how long we floated there, but it felt like a wonderful forever just hanging on to a float and letting my legs dangle uselessly. I also went for a short swim while I was in the lake for the sole purpose of stretching out my poor, curled-up cycling body. My neck, shoulders, back, and arms needed the short swim to work out the kinks they had acquired from being in the same, bent-over position all day. I also went for a very breezy boat ride around the lake, compliments of Van, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I truly had a good time at supper, but I was simply too tired to enjoy it all night. When Beth and I got back to the hotel, we both enjoyed a calming hot cup of decaf coffee before going to bed. Fearing a potential night of restlessness and equally fearing an inability to wake in the morning. I took half a dosage of Advil PM and called it a night around 9:00 with my stomach strangely rumbling once again.
I can't say that I slept perfectly soundly - I awoke a few times during the night - but I believe I slept as well as I could considering that I was sleeping in a strange place and had sore, stiff legs screaming at me all night for attempting this 3-day ride in the first place.
On to Day 2...
Still, when it was all said and done, I had completed the day's task and come out with a new personal record of over 67 miles in one trip.
And what a journey it was! I wasn't able to post any blogs or pictures over the weekend due to a lack of internet connection and lack of expendable energy. But fear not, I shall catch you up now in three or four parts with as much as I can remember. Enjoy the ride...
DAY 1
The day started early for me and included many last minute preparations and packing, along with a quick, nervous breakfast. My wonderfully supportive Ma-in-law came and picked up my bike and me around 7:00 and we were off to Simpsonville. Upon arrival, I was greeted by the many smiling faces of the ever-friendly Alzheimer Association staff along with the eager, excited faces of all the cyclists taking part. I checked in, received a goody bag, put on sunscreen, loaded my bags, took a few pictures, and then stood around waiting for the ride to begin. There were people everywhere - some on bikes, some wearing volunteer shirts, some snapping pictures, some saying goodbye for three days. Before we began, several different important people stood on a foldout chair and expressed their heartfelt gratitude for our participation, as well as inspirational words to motivate our then-fresh legs to keep pedaling. (I can't remember all that was said, and, even if I did, it would take too much time and space to write here.)
Then we were off! (Keep in mind I can only write from my own point of view and personal experience which is undoubtedly not the same as everyone else's.) In hindsight, I believe I began the ride on the wave of too much excitement and went too hard at the beginning, forgetting to save my legs for the many, many rolling miles ahead that day. I made wonderful time for the first 16 miles, averaging 15.8 mph when arriving at the first rest stop. Since I had breakfast pretty early that morning I was already hungry after only one hour of riding. I downed some Fig Newtons while saying hello to Beth and being introduced to a certain Ashton Houghton, head over this crazy ride. I didn't stay long (no time to waste) and traveled alone for awhile. I eventually caught up with a fellow cyclist I had met earlier in the ride, Randall Simmons, and we rode and chatted for awhile. He is from Goose Creek and not accustomed to the hills of the Upstate; so, much of this day's ride was a challenge. For both of us. It was even a challenge for me, despite training daily among said hills. I cannot recall many details about Friday's ride. It was mostly a long process of pushing myself up hills and coasting back down them. Lunch was provided around mile 35ish and Subway sandwiches were on the menu. At that point I felt there was no way I was going to be able to eat a whole sub and ride another 30 miles in the heat without getting sick, so I gobbled up a banana and munched on some watermelon instead. I also remembered then that I am a redheaded, pale-skinned human and should probably reapply the sunscreen that I had inevitably sweated off since the beginning of the ride. So, with sunscreen slathered on, water bottles overflowing, and sunglasses cleaned by the magic of cotton, Randall and I pedaled on.
Once again, I don't remember many specifics about the ride during this time except snapshot images my brain took and random thoughts that occurred to me along the way. I do vividly recall random SAG vehicles driving by with enthusiastic individuals "woo-hooing" us along the way. I also remember seeing Ashton's car drive by being closely followed by a WYFF, News Channel 4 car, then seeing them again a little ways down the road filming us coming down a hill. (So, we're pretty much famous now.)
But, what I remember most vividly is being on mile 51, feeling the heat of the sun directly overhead and wondering if I could really make it. I knew I didn't have too much farther to go, especially compared to what I had already accomplished, but it seemed that all that I could see before me was miles and miles of hot road with no shade. I had somehow gotten separated from Randall by this point and was all alone battling fatigue, heat, and will-power. I wouldn't call it a "bonk," per say, because I knew my legs had the strength to finish and I felt as well-hydrated as I could be at the time. But heat is hot, especially at 12:30 in South Carolina, and the sun alone will create doubts in your mind as to whether or not you are capable of doing much of anything, much less great things. I took a picture of both me and the road that lay before me at this point so in the end I wouldn't forget how I felt then and how far I had come since.
Fortunately, at the moment I needed it most, another cyclist rode by and encouraged me. I'm glad she did. :) I mustered through the remaining 12-15 miles with most of the battle occurring in my mind. Towards the end, with only a mile or so to go, the Ambulance that was keeping up with us throughout the ride caught up with me and one of the EMTs hung her head out of the window inquiring whether or not I was okay. I replied through short, winded breaths that I was hot, but fine. She answered me silently with a suspicious look - I don't think she believed me at all - and the Ambulance proceeded to follow along beside me the rest of the way. I'm sure I looked like a hot mess - I mean, obviously, I had just ridden nearly 67 miles - but it made me a bit worried and uncomfortable having the Ambulance trail me, like I might drop any second. However, this was just the beginning of my new-found relationship with the Ambulance...I finally made it to the end amongst the cheers of fellow riders who had already completed their ride. I was hot and I was tired. It had taken me five and a half hours to complete 67 miles. Once I arrived, I found a place to leave my bike and sat down guzzling water. My legs felt pretty wasted and I sat wondering how in the world I would survive two more days like this on the bike.
Eventually, Beth and I were able to check in at the hotel and I got the chance to shower. When I finally saw myself in the mirror, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I looked miserable, first of all, with my hair all in tangles, my jersey drooping from the weight of a day's worth of sweat, and my black shorts now gray from all the salt they accumulated over the ride. That was why I wanted to laugh. But then I wanted to cry when I saw my cherry-red cheeks and nose. I was sunburned and not at all happy about it. At that moment I vowed to put sunscreen on my face at every stop the next day.
My spirits were lifted a bit once I got out of the shower and I finally had the wherewithal to realize I was famished! I hadn't really eaten a lunch, though I had been munching and gushing all along the ride. Beth, being the compassionate friend she is, hunted down a leftover lunch sandwich and some grapes for me to chow down on. I ate it fast and hungrily, not really even tasting it. That was around 3:30. At 5:30, when it was time for us to meet for supper, I was starving all over again. As it turns out, you burn a lot of calories riding for 5 hours and your body likes for those calories to be replaced. I wasn't used to feeling so ravenous so often.
We went to the lake home of Van Matthews, one of the riders and Alz. Assoc. board members. He was kind enough to fill us up with barbeque, potato salad, and cole slaw to our belly's content. And I finally got my belly to be content... for awhile. I have to admit that I felt pretty listless through most of this evening. I was tired, hot, and tired of being hot and tired. I jumped in the lake to float around awhile and cool off. The water itself wasn't necessarily cool, but being in it kept the humidity at bay, which made it cooler by default. I'm not sure how long we floated there, but it felt like a wonderful forever just hanging on to a float and letting my legs dangle uselessly. I also went for a short swim while I was in the lake for the sole purpose of stretching out my poor, curled-up cycling body. My neck, shoulders, back, and arms needed the short swim to work out the kinks they had acquired from being in the same, bent-over position all day. I also went for a very breezy boat ride around the lake, compliments of Van, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I truly had a good time at supper, but I was simply too tired to enjoy it all night. When Beth and I got back to the hotel, we both enjoyed a calming hot cup of decaf coffee before going to bed. Fearing a potential night of restlessness and equally fearing an inability to wake in the morning. I took half a dosage of Advil PM and called it a night around 9:00 with my stomach strangely rumbling once again.
I can't say that I slept perfectly soundly - I awoke a few times during the night - but I believe I slept as well as I could considering that I was sleeping in a strange place and had sore, stiff legs screaming at me all night for attempting this 3-day ride in the first place.
On to Day 2...
Still, when it was all said and done, I had completed the day's task and come out with a new personal record of over 67 miles in one trip.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Check, please
Bike? Check.
Jersey and shorts? Check, check.
Gatorade? Check.
Excitement? Check.
Sleep?... Sleep? We shall see.
Wish us luck, we're off!
:D
Jersey and shorts? Check, check.
Gatorade? Check.
Excitement? Check.
Sleep?... Sleep? We shall see.
Wish us luck, we're off!
:D
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)