What was I thinking? What insanity possessed me to voluntarily wake up at Five a.m. on a Saturday? Oh, right... a bike ride, my last long-distance training opportunity before the Tour de Cure; my first opportunity to ride with some long-distance 'randonneuring' cyclists that live in the area. I didn't realize when I agreed to this that I had to drive an hour to get to the Seven a.m. starting point.
So here I was, getting ready to head out the door. I'd done a lot Friday night - checked tire pressure, filled my water bottles, packed my bike and gear in the car, laid out my clothes, etc... Still, at Five a.m., it took me a while to get going. I had a pre-ride breakfast while I made coffee. I was too sleepy to remember that I have to drink BEFORE eating; I was too sleepy to remember that I also needed to drink extra water that morning.
I hit the door by Six, a water bottle in one hand, two coffee tumblers precariously balanced in the other, and no idea how I'd drink half of it in the time I had. I needed the water; I needed the caffeine. But, with a full stomach, I couldn't drink both. I set aside the the 32 oz of coffee, and replaced it with a 4oz espresso I picked up on the way. Me, skipping coffee? At six a.m.? Madness. Madness, I say. The espresso helped.
Knowing that the day would be hot, and that I'd have to fight dehydration all day, I drank the water first, and finished off the espresso when I arrived. I met Alan and Mike at a McDonald's in North Raleigh. As they unloaded their gear, they moved like elite soldiers preparing for a mission they'd done a thousand times - No wasted movement, no indecision on what gear to bring, how to carry it, or how to get it out of their trucks. Everything had it's purpose, everything had it's place. I was secretly glad I'd arrived early and parked further away, so they didn't see me struggle to get my bike out of the van, add and remove items from my bike and pockets, or change my mind two or three times on how much food to bring, or whether to carry a third water bottle. With a couple of 100k rides and a 100miler behind me, I thought I'd be less indecisive. I brought my phone with me for emergencies, but I was determined to leave it turned off in my jersey except at stops where I'd check for important messages. No e-mail, cell phone, voice mail, IM, twitter, facebook, 4square, yelp, or google this that or the other.
Mike & Alan gave me the rundown on how the day was going to go. We'd leave McDonald's after breakfast, follow the turn-by-turn cue sheets, stop along the way at predetermined checkpoints ('Controls', in randonneuring parlance), and end up back where we started sometime that afternoon. Randonneuring isn't about speed - it's about completing the course within a certain, generous time. No distinctions are made between the first or last finisher. This sounded like my kind of riding, especially since I was pretty sure I knew who the last finisher would be.
We left McDonald's about 7:15, and right away I discovered that Alan was a talker. Whenever traffic was light enough, he'd ride side-by-side so he could chat me up. I discovered that he's part of a dying breed: a truly tough guy who doesn't take 'impossible' as an answer. At 68 years old, six years after a near-fatal bike accident that required multiple surgeries and six months of rehab, this ride would mark his 24th straight month in which he rode a 200k. He's ridden 300, 400, and 600k rides this year, and eight years ago rode the oldest and most epic cycling event: the Paris-Brest-Paris, a 1200k self-sufficient ride that you have to complete in 96 hours. To answer the age-old question first posted on a Saturday Night Live skit: "Quién es más macho?" Alan es más macho.
We took turns leading. I didn't lead nearly as much as either of them, but when I did, I distinguished myself by missing a turn due to a twisted roadsign; Alan and Mike, who had ridden the route dozens of times, called me back. We pulled into the first control, a gas station / convenience store, around 10:00. We refilled our bottles, ate a quick snack, and were back on the road after about 10 minutes.
After a while I realized that, in the midst of Alan telling me his cycling history, he was subtly pouring his collected wisdom into my brain. Discoveries of what did and didn't work for him on frame materials, frame geometry, food choices, hydration, sleep, maintenance, tire size and design, brakes, etc... Problems come up in long-distance riding that you just don't see anywhere else. He was providing me decades worth of trail-and-error results that I truly appreciate. Mike chimed in with some thoughts of his own. He had different solutions to similar problems, but I could see the reasons behind each of their decisions. Each made choices that suited their particular needs, and I imagine that as I struggle to solve the same problems, I'll keep their advice in mind as I find my own solutions that are tailored to MY particular circumstances.
After a while, the need to talk subsided, and we rode on in silence. The warming sun, a cooling breeze, and the near-silent swish of three well-greased chains were all that accompanied my thoughts as my eyes took in the slowly-changing country scenery. I rode for miles like this, occasionally interrupted by the sound of an approaching car, or the bark of an unsecured dog that wanted to give chase.
We hit the turn-around point in Black Creek around noon. We ate lunch as we rested on the bench outside the grocery store. After about 20 minutes, we hopped back in our saddles and turned our wheels back to Raleigh. For me, this second half of a ride is always the easiest. The miles before the halfway point are a mental challenge because there's that annoying inner voice that reminds me how easy it would be to give up and go home. But after I reach the halfway point, the decision to ride the miles ahead of me has already been made; everything that follows is as inevitable as the setting sun. Since I no longer have to struggle with my inner weakness, the rest of the ride may as well be downhill with following winds.
At least that's my theory. My body had other ideas. By the time we got to the next control, my lower back was hurting and my hands were flirting with numbness. I did some stretching, which helped, but not enough. A few miles later, I told Alan to go ahead without me while I stopped to stretch. Mike had already left us behind, and I strongly suspect that Alan had only been riding with me out of courtesy to the new guy. After I stretched, I raised my handlebars so I wouldn't put so much strain on my back or weight on my hands. It made a huge difference. I caught up with Alan and Mike as they leisurely waited for me at another gas station. Kindly, they pretended they'd just arrived, and we all took a break and drank some water to help cool off. When we got back on our bikes, we had just 10 miles to go.
I pulled into the McDonald's around 5:25, put my bike and gear in the van, and went inside to officially complete the trip. We treated ourselves to dessert, and chatted about the ride. Yes, I was the last to finish, but I finished, and that's what was important. It took me just over 10 hours to ride 127 miles, about how long it took for me to ride 100 miles just last month. I'm quite pleased with that.
When I got back to my van, I discovered two tumblers full of coffee that were still hot. I drank it all before I got home.
So here I was, getting ready to head out the door. I'd done a lot Friday night - checked tire pressure, filled my water bottles, packed my bike and gear in the car, laid out my clothes, etc... Still, at Five a.m., it took me a while to get going. I had a pre-ride breakfast while I made coffee. I was too sleepy to remember that I have to drink BEFORE eating; I was too sleepy to remember that I also needed to drink extra water that morning.
I hit the door by Six, a water bottle in one hand, two coffee tumblers precariously balanced in the other, and no idea how I'd drink half of it in the time I had. I needed the water; I needed the caffeine. But, with a full stomach, I couldn't drink both. I set aside the the 32 oz of coffee, and replaced it with a 4oz espresso I picked up on the way. Me, skipping coffee? At six a.m.? Madness. Madness, I say. The espresso helped.
Knowing that the day would be hot, and that I'd have to fight dehydration all day, I drank the water first, and finished off the espresso when I arrived. I met Alan and Mike at a McDonald's in North Raleigh. As they unloaded their gear, they moved like elite soldiers preparing for a mission they'd done a thousand times - No wasted movement, no indecision on what gear to bring, how to carry it, or how to get it out of their trucks. Everything had it's purpose, everything had it's place. I was secretly glad I'd arrived early and parked further away, so they didn't see me struggle to get my bike out of the van, add and remove items from my bike and pockets, or change my mind two or three times on how much food to bring, or whether to carry a third water bottle. With a couple of 100k rides and a 100miler behind me, I thought I'd be less indecisive. I brought my phone with me for emergencies, but I was determined to leave it turned off in my jersey except at stops where I'd check for important messages. No e-mail, cell phone, voice mail, IM, twitter, facebook, 4square, yelp, or google this that or the other.
Mike & Alan gave me the rundown on how the day was going to go. We'd leave McDonald's after breakfast, follow the turn-by-turn cue sheets, stop along the way at predetermined checkpoints ('Controls', in randonneuring parlance), and end up back where we started sometime that afternoon. Randonneuring isn't about speed - it's about completing the course within a certain, generous time. No distinctions are made between the first or last finisher. This sounded like my kind of riding, especially since I was pretty sure I knew who the last finisher would be.
We left McDonald's about 7:15, and right away I discovered that Alan was a talker. Whenever traffic was light enough, he'd ride side-by-side so he could chat me up. I discovered that he's part of a dying breed: a truly tough guy who doesn't take 'impossible' as an answer. At 68 years old, six years after a near-fatal bike accident that required multiple surgeries and six months of rehab, this ride would mark his 24th straight month in which he rode a 200k. He's ridden 300, 400, and 600k rides this year, and eight years ago rode the oldest and most epic cycling event: the Paris-Brest-Paris, a 1200k self-sufficient ride that you have to complete in 96 hours. To answer the age-old question first posted on a Saturday Night Live skit: "Quién es más macho?" Alan es más macho.
We took turns leading. I didn't lead nearly as much as either of them, but when I did, I distinguished myself by missing a turn due to a twisted roadsign; Alan and Mike, who had ridden the route dozens of times, called me back. We pulled into the first control, a gas station / convenience store, around 10:00. We refilled our bottles, ate a quick snack, and were back on the road after about 10 minutes.
After a while I realized that, in the midst of Alan telling me his cycling history, he was subtly pouring his collected wisdom into my brain. Discoveries of what did and didn't work for him on frame materials, frame geometry, food choices, hydration, sleep, maintenance, tire size and design, brakes, etc... Problems come up in long-distance riding that you just don't see anywhere else. He was providing me decades worth of trail-and-error results that I truly appreciate. Mike chimed in with some thoughts of his own. He had different solutions to similar problems, but I could see the reasons behind each of their decisions. Each made choices that suited their particular needs, and I imagine that as I struggle to solve the same problems, I'll keep their advice in mind as I find my own solutions that are tailored to MY particular circumstances.
After a while, the need to talk subsided, and we rode on in silence. The warming sun, a cooling breeze, and the near-silent swish of three well-greased chains were all that accompanied my thoughts as my eyes took in the slowly-changing country scenery. I rode for miles like this, occasionally interrupted by the sound of an approaching car, or the bark of an unsecured dog that wanted to give chase.
We hit the turn-around point in Black Creek around noon. We ate lunch as we rested on the bench outside the grocery store. After about 20 minutes, we hopped back in our saddles and turned our wheels back to Raleigh. For me, this second half of a ride is always the easiest. The miles before the halfway point are a mental challenge because there's that annoying inner voice that reminds me how easy it would be to give up and go home. But after I reach the halfway point, the decision to ride the miles ahead of me has already been made; everything that follows is as inevitable as the setting sun. Since I no longer have to struggle with my inner weakness, the rest of the ride may as well be downhill with following winds.
At least that's my theory. My body had other ideas. By the time we got to the next control, my lower back was hurting and my hands were flirting with numbness. I did some stretching, which helped, but not enough. A few miles later, I told Alan to go ahead without me while I stopped to stretch. Mike had already left us behind, and I strongly suspect that Alan had only been riding with me out of courtesy to the new guy. After I stretched, I raised my handlebars so I wouldn't put so much strain on my back or weight on my hands. It made a huge difference. I caught up with Alan and Mike as they leisurely waited for me at another gas station. Kindly, they pretended they'd just arrived, and we all took a break and drank some water to help cool off. When we got back on our bikes, we had just 10 miles to go.
I pulled into the McDonald's around 5:25, put my bike and gear in the van, and went inside to officially complete the trip. We treated ourselves to dessert, and chatted about the ride. Yes, I was the last to finish, but I finished, and that's what was important. It took me just over 10 hours to ride 127 miles, about how long it took for me to ride 100 miles just last month. I'm quite pleased with that.
When I got back to my van, I discovered two tumblers full of coffee that were still hot. I drank it all before I got home.
fyi, scrutiny of the RUSA website indicates that the May Showdown at Black Creek was Alan's sixth and Mike's fifth on that course.
ReplyDeleteOf course, it makes for a MUCH more interesting story if it is "dozens of times".
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Interesting posts. Nicely written. I refer to more than just this post.
...Martin (from Jul-02)