Cycling is my weakest link in the swim-bike-run triad and I signed up for this this non-competitive, recreational 65K ride in hopes that it would motivate me to improve a weakness. When I stopped cycling outdoors in the fall, the furthest I'd gone was just under 20 miles. I Googled up a kilometers to miles converter and found that 65K was 40 miles, and with assurance and advice from others that it was a reasonable stretch, I signed up before the early bird deadline in January.
Two weeks before the event, I went to the Web site and pulled up the map of the route which said it was 47 miles. What!!!??? I did the kilometers-to-miles conversion which showed that 65K was 40 miles. Then I did a miles-to-kilometers conversion and entered 47 miles which was 75K. A week later, the event organizers also figured it out and put up a correction on the web site. I'd managed to do several 30-mile rides and to build up my long rides to 35 miles, but the route was now nearly 50 miles!!! This was 12 miles longer than anticipated, which would take me about another hour to complete. I went into a major panic.
I almost backed out. I thought about doing a shorter route...after all, nobody would really know which route I signed up for and which one I actually did. To top it all off, a week before the ride my knee was talking to me in a way that I didn't like.
Spring always seems to be a stressful time for me, and this spring has been particularly difficult. My husband is unemployed. My oldest son faced challenges. The IEP team for my youngest son couldn't even agree on a meeting date...let alone an IEP. I took on a time-consuming, challenging project. The unexpected expenses piled up: My son decided to go to the ER for pinkeye and then accidentally burned his laptop, and my husband smashed his car. Some days I just couldn't get motivated to get up. Some days I woke up early, filled with worry. My midweek workouts became inconsistent in the weeks leading up to the ride and I think that contributed to the knee issue.
To my credit, I'd tried out everything. I sampled energy snacks to ensure that they agreed with my stomach. I'd worn my new sunglasses and tried out chamois cream. I ordered an inexpensive long-sleeve jersey and knickers, but the weather turned out to be warmer than originally projected, and I decided that this was a problem that could be solved with a credit card. I walked into my local bike shop and bought a cute short-sleeve jersey (on sale) and some arm warmers (also on sale). I also made a smart decision to mount a second water bottle cage on the bike and filled one bottle with Gatorade and one with water.
I kept to myself before the event started because I felt self-conscious about my old bike. But nobody really cared. And then we were off to a leisurely start. I stayed toward the back and rode at an easy pace. The entire route was rolling hills, but the hilliest part occurred before the aid station at the local middle school. I overheard people saying that the route was beautiful, and they were right. The route goes past mansions that are selling for $1+ million, even in this economy. The grass was really lush and green. I rode alone for a while, except for being passed by "ride leaders," experienced cyclists that came whizzing as they checked to see that all was well along the route. There was only one part in which I got confused, and when I stopped to study the map, another group came up alongside me. I joined them as we rode down another section of Route 99, which goes past farms where the fields have not yet been planted. By now, the soreness in my knee had spread to a muscle across my upper thigh and to my hip, but I pedaled onward.
The route was in the shape of a spade, and we turned south, preparing to join the part of the route where we began, when the group came upon Fosters Country Store. Although normally closed on Sundays, the even organizers arranged for it to be open, and there would be no charge for anything in the store, although donations were welcome. I stopped and enjoyed an energy snack and conversation, but I was getting tired and sore, and mindful that a body in motion stays in motion, I didn't want to rest too long so I head out after some others who quickly sped off in the distance. I pedaled on alone, heading back along familiar territory when another group caught up to me.
This time, I was determined not to get dropped as we headed back into town toward the finish. Never mind my sore leg. Never mind the stop lights that separated us. I caught up to them and hung on. The desire to keep up with the pack helped me get through those last few miles...they brought me home!!!
My next project will be clipless pedals. Hear the crashing sound??
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