i can gather all the news i need on the weather report
I didn't want to ride.
I didn't want to ride when my alarm went off at four o'clock. I didn't even hit snooze. I reset it for five knowing well that would leave me only forty-five minutes to get ready, jeopardizing my chances for having breakfast before I left home. That my alarm woke me at all is remarkable enough, and an indication of the long stressful week that had just ended. I am almost always awake before my alarm - no matter the time. Not Saturday. I bet that Andi would be running late and rolled over and shut my eyes. All I wanted was another couple or five hours of sleep.
I didn't want to ride when we got to Middleburg. The Seagull Century Team - of which I am also a member - was just starting their training that day. They were riding for about an hour, at nine o'clock, from the Cameron Run Water Park less than two miles from home. I, on the other hand, had just driven over an hour by seven for the privilege of spending the day riding up hills. Andi, fortunately, was running late, so at least I did have time to eat - though not my customary chicken noodle, but a lesser chicken barley soup. It took longer than usual when I arrived at the school to organize the support vehicles and their locations, so I was rushed to prepare to ride. It was overcast and chilly with the sun just peeking through the clouds, which made it difficult to decide what to wear. There was no way I would be comfortable all the time, so I opted to be cold in the morning, knowing I would eventually shed layers anyway. When I joined the rest of the group already going through the week's cue sheet, Rob asked where was my helmet. As I returned to the car to fetch it, I recalled that I dreamt Thursday night I showed up helmetless to ride.
I didn't want to ride from the Airmont store. We tell the Team that the captains make the mistakes from which they may learn. And just before my fourth century I made a rookie mistake. I have long known that there are very few of the gel shots I can stomach. None are good, mind you, I am only talking about tolerance. I don't like the overly sweet ones, or the more liquid. So when I was in the bike shop last Sunday and saw the Power Gel Green Apple, I thought I might have found my flavor. Everybody knows green apples are sour, and sour is my third favorite flavor after salty and bitter. Well, I was wrong. I knew from past experience that the store, only eleven miles into the ride, was essentially the beginning of the 1300' climb up Mount Weather, so I thought it was an appropriate time to try my new goo - which I would have strongly recommended against had a member of the team done the same. I nearly threw up. Power Gel Green Apple flavor is second to only Crazy Ed's Cave Creek Chili Beer as the most disgusting substance I have ever willingly ingested. And I still had a mountain to climb. This wouldn't - nay, couldn't - be fun.
I didn't want to ride out of the parking lot again after lunch. We had talked some before Saturday about rerouting the course so that we didn't ride back through Middleburg, but in the end there wasn't time to re-cue the ride. The problem with doing two loops of fifty and forty miles is that it's really tempting, after a very tough first leg, to bail on the second. I was tempted. Despite my nausea, I made it up and over Mount Weather slowly and surely, but it was, in fact, anything but fun. I had forgotten how much "up" there still was once I thought I was done climbing, but the downhill on the other side almost compensated for the effort. The remaining twenty-five miles back to Middleburg Elementary were over a few of my very favorite roads, and I knew that despite the occasional up we were gradually trending downhill. I took advantage when I could and rested legs that were tired and sore even before I even reached Airmont. Eating is one of the hardest things to manage on these long rides. I have learned that it's best for me to ride just a little bit hungry. I wanted nothing more upon returning to the school than to construct myself a Dagwood and perhaps take a short nap. Instead, I had turkey on wheat - dry - a handful of gummi bears, and reluctantly got back on my bike heading toward Snickersville Pike for the second time. I guess now is probably the time to mention that "the Pike" is my least favorite road ever. It's an ass-kicker, and this year would be no different. Most people that bonked did so on Snickersville Pike. When we were out there earlier this year one of our coaches told me of throwing his bicycle in frustration at the end of that road. (And he has a VERY nice bike.) By the time we arrived at our left turn onto the infamous road, I had decided that my role for the remains of the day would be that of the martyr who suffers not-so-silently. And I am proud to say I filled the part admirably.
I didn't want to ride but this was my last opportunity. In less than two weeks I will be on my way out to Nevada to do this thing once again. My bike goes on Thursday. This was our last official training ride. A few days prior to Saturday I was rereading what I had written two years ago about this very same ride. It took me then four hours to complete the first twenty-five miles, when we finally put Mount Weather behind us. This year it took just over two. I almost called it quits then at the Airmont store after the second stint on the Pike. If I hadn't come across six or eight of my teammates hanging out, I am sure I would have. We rested for an hour and then got back on our bikes. We finished after twelve hours at around seven-thirty in the evening. I completed the entire ninety miles in just over eight hours last Saturday. I waited in the parking lot for a while and then went to dinner with a dozen or so from the Team. As we left, I noted that my group was just finishing at that time two years prior. I know that this is tougher than what I will see in Tahoe. I am better prepared this year than any before.
I didn't want to ride but I made a commitment. I promised the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, the Team, and myself that I would do my best to help everybody prepare for a century ride. I couldn't miss our final training ride. I couldn't not be there for the Team. We had come too far; there are too many miles behind us. We've raised so far about $300,000 to fight blood cancer, and in two weeks we will have all completed an endurance event in honor of those who endure pain that is not yet temporary. As we waited in the parking lot of Middleburg Elementary for the third-fastest riders to finish we were approached by a woman. Her eight-year-old son, she said, was a Leukemia survivor. He had been diagnosed when he was only two years old. After three years of treatment, he had been cancer free for three years. She had seen several Team in Training jerseys out on the road, and had tracked us down to the finish. She just wanted to say thank you.
I didn't want to ride. But I am glad I did.
I didn't want to ride when my alarm went off at four o'clock. I didn't even hit snooze. I reset it for five knowing well that would leave me only forty-five minutes to get ready, jeopardizing my chances for having breakfast before I left home. That my alarm woke me at all is remarkable enough, and an indication of the long stressful week that had just ended. I am almost always awake before my alarm - no matter the time. Not Saturday. I bet that Andi would be running late and rolled over and shut my eyes. All I wanted was another couple or five hours of sleep.
I didn't want to ride when we got to Middleburg. The Seagull Century Team - of which I am also a member - was just starting their training that day. They were riding for about an hour, at nine o'clock, from the Cameron Run Water Park less than two miles from home. I, on the other hand, had just driven over an hour by seven for the privilege of spending the day riding up hills. Andi, fortunately, was running late, so at least I did have time to eat - though not my customary chicken noodle, but a lesser chicken barley soup. It took longer than usual when I arrived at the school to organize the support vehicles and their locations, so I was rushed to prepare to ride. It was overcast and chilly with the sun just peeking through the clouds, which made it difficult to decide what to wear. There was no way I would be comfortable all the time, so I opted to be cold in the morning, knowing I would eventually shed layers anyway. When I joined the rest of the group already going through the week's cue sheet, Rob asked where was my helmet. As I returned to the car to fetch it, I recalled that I dreamt Thursday night I showed up helmetless to ride.
I didn't want to ride from the Airmont store. We tell the Team that the captains make the mistakes from which they may learn. And just before my fourth century I made a rookie mistake. I have long known that there are very few of the gel shots I can stomach. None are good, mind you, I am only talking about tolerance. I don't like the overly sweet ones, or the more liquid. So when I was in the bike shop last Sunday and saw the Power Gel Green Apple, I thought I might have found my flavor. Everybody knows green apples are sour, and sour is my third favorite flavor after salty and bitter. Well, I was wrong. I knew from past experience that the store, only eleven miles into the ride, was essentially the beginning of the 1300' climb up Mount Weather, so I thought it was an appropriate time to try my new goo - which I would have strongly recommended against had a member of the team done the same. I nearly threw up. Power Gel Green Apple flavor is second to only Crazy Ed's Cave Creek Chili Beer as the most disgusting substance I have ever willingly ingested. And I still had a mountain to climb. This wouldn't - nay, couldn't - be fun.
I didn't want to ride out of the parking lot again after lunch. We had talked some before Saturday about rerouting the course so that we didn't ride back through Middleburg, but in the end there wasn't time to re-cue the ride. The problem with doing two loops of fifty and forty miles is that it's really tempting, after a very tough first leg, to bail on the second. I was tempted. Despite my nausea, I made it up and over Mount Weather slowly and surely, but it was, in fact, anything but fun. I had forgotten how much "up" there still was once I thought I was done climbing, but the downhill on the other side almost compensated for the effort. The remaining twenty-five miles back to Middleburg Elementary were over a few of my very favorite roads, and I knew that despite the occasional up we were gradually trending downhill. I took advantage when I could and rested legs that were tired and sore even before I even reached Airmont. Eating is one of the hardest things to manage on these long rides. I have learned that it's best for me to ride just a little bit hungry. I wanted nothing more upon returning to the school than to construct myself a Dagwood and perhaps take a short nap. Instead, I had turkey on wheat - dry - a handful of gummi bears, and reluctantly got back on my bike heading toward Snickersville Pike for the second time. I guess now is probably the time to mention that "the Pike" is my least favorite road ever. It's an ass-kicker, and this year would be no different. Most people that bonked did so on Snickersville Pike. When we were out there earlier this year one of our coaches told me of throwing his bicycle in frustration at the end of that road. (And he has a VERY nice bike.) By the time we arrived at our left turn onto the infamous road, I had decided that my role for the remains of the day would be that of the martyr who suffers not-so-silently. And I am proud to say I filled the part admirably.
I didn't want to ride but this was my last opportunity. In less than two weeks I will be on my way out to Nevada to do this thing once again. My bike goes on Thursday. This was our last official training ride. A few days prior to Saturday I was rereading what I had written two years ago about this very same ride. It took me then four hours to complete the first twenty-five miles, when we finally put Mount Weather behind us. This year it took just over two. I almost called it quits then at the Airmont store after the second stint on the Pike. If I hadn't come across six or eight of my teammates hanging out, I am sure I would have. We rested for an hour and then got back on our bikes. We finished after twelve hours at around seven-thirty in the evening. I completed the entire ninety miles in just over eight hours last Saturday. I waited in the parking lot for a while and then went to dinner with a dozen or so from the Team. As we left, I noted that my group was just finishing at that time two years prior. I know that this is tougher than what I will see in Tahoe. I am better prepared this year than any before.
I didn't want to ride but I made a commitment. I promised the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, the Team, and myself that I would do my best to help everybody prepare for a century ride. I couldn't miss our final training ride. I couldn't not be there for the Team. We had come too far; there are too many miles behind us. We've raised so far about $300,000 to fight blood cancer, and in two weeks we will have all completed an endurance event in honor of those who endure pain that is not yet temporary. As we waited in the parking lot of Middleburg Elementary for the third-fastest riders to finish we were approached by a woman. Her eight-year-old son, she said, was a Leukemia survivor. He had been diagnosed when he was only two years old. After three years of treatment, he had been cancer free for three years. She had seen several Team in Training jerseys out on the road, and had tracked us down to the finish. She just wanted to say thank you.
I didn't want to ride. But I am glad I did.
posted by hotrod at 9:17 PM
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