Tag: cycling

Today, I accomplished what I wanted to do on my bike. I wanted to ride a century before I hit 35. Although, I only rode a metric century, 63 miles, it counts for something. I rode 63.35 miles at the Civil War Century from Thrumont, MD to Gettysburg, PA. We passed through Emmitsburg and the backside of Ski Liberty before riding through the Gettysburg battlefield. It was awesome, and I’ll probably want to do it again next year.

First things first. I woke up early again, packed my car with my gear, and headed out to Thurmont via Route 26. The cool morning air was filled with fog when I reached Frederick county, so the ride was going to be in the early morning mist. As I get closer to the start, I pass some riders. They appeared out of the fog suddenly, so I note that it will be somewhat dangerous until the sun can burn the fog away.

I park. It’s eight o’clock. I am so set. When I get dressed, I find I had left my cycling shoes at home. “Son of a bitch.” I wonder if I can drive back, get them and make it back in time to ride. “Parking closes at 9.” I’m shit out of luck for it would take me 2 hours to go home and back arriving at 10 and missing some of the rest stops along the way. As I go register, I make up my mind. Do it. Ride in your sneakers. Use this calamity to your advantage and make it burn a desire to finish off the ride in style. Fuck it. I go for it.

The ride starts in the cool of the morning. I didn’t wear my arm warmers, because I feel that it was going to heat up later, but the air was still chilly before I was warmed up enough. Riding through the mist for about 45 minutes until the fog lifts was great. Like a dawn patrol, but on a bike.

I make it to the first water stop in an hour or so. I had averaged a good 15 mph! Looks to be about a 4 hour day. I had planned on a 12 mph pace, but I take it. The course was rolling. No hills to climb except for the backside of Ski Liberty. It goes up steep. I go into the red zone thinking it was a short climb, but as I crest the hill, I see it flatten then go up again for another 50 meters. I get off and walk the bike up.

At the second water stop, I grab some food: PBJ and a banana. I fill my water bottles with Gatorade and water. Hopefully, the Gatorade will help me not cramp up later in the ride. When I ride, I usually set my trip computer to display the distance. This time I set it to display my speed. I don’t want to know how many miles are left. It would disappoint me seeing the miles tick by slowly. The second leg averages a little bit less than 15 mph. The legs feel the 33 miles already. I have not ridden past this point so far this year. I am in unchartered territory. Will I have enough to get me through? And where the hell’s Gettysburg?

At this point I am stung by a bee that flew into my helmet. I thrash about trying to knock it away, but don’t know if I am successful. I pull over take off my helmet. A cute girl goes by in a group asking if I’m alright. “Bee!” is all I say. Mental note catch up to that group.

On the third leg, we cruise through the battlefield. I have to come back later and ride the park on a bike for it would be fun, but now I am busy. I rest at the Peach Orchard reading some of the commerative statues. When I climb on my bike again, I pass some kids who cheer the lot of us on. What fun! We cruise past Devil’s Den before leaving the park. I have to do this place again on a leisurely pace.

As we leave Gettysburg, I gain the wheel of four other riders. They’re pushing 20 mph, and I’m loving it except when I throw my chain again!

At the third and final water stop, a sign says that I have done 50 of the 63 miles. Only 13 to go woohoo! As I leave, I suddenly feel the mileage. My legs are getting weaker every turn of the crank. At 52 miles, they don’t feel anything at all. My tank is empty and I hope to make it home. I spin at a leisurely pace hoping that no hills arise. No hills come, but the wind kicks up. I am spinning 11 mph into a headwind and it is no fun. It’s also no fun when I pick up to ladies who latch onto my wheel as I break the wind for them. They back off after riding my wheel for a mile. That sucked.

I pass the cute girl’s group again. They have to wait for a struggling friend. Yet since my legs are dead, they pass me. She’s fast, and her companions complain. I try to keep up, but a steady incline has me falling back.

The final miles are not sliding by quick enough. I watch the odometer on my computer: 57 miles, 58 miles…

We get to the outskirts of Thurmont. A funeral procession passes. I stop and let them through. It’s the hearse, followed by the limo, then some Harleys, and some mods on scooters! I tag along on the back as another cute girl goes by. I try to catch her, but gain no ground. In the town, we’re caught in traffic. It’s stressful.

Finally, the finish. I look down 4 hours and 15 minutes to ride 63.35 miles. Sweet! I averaged about 14+ mph. Not bad. I get something to eat. Ice cream.

It’s been a good year for my cycling. I have put about 350 miles on my Gios and I had another 50 on my Bianchi. I think I’ll be slowing down a bit. Until next year that is.

UPDATED WITH A PIC

These are my impressions of participating in the 30 mile ride at the inaugural Save-A-Limb Bike Ride and 5k Run.

It starts of Saturday night getting to bed early. And it was early because I passed out about 11:00 pm. It continues to Sunday morming getting up early at 5:30. I shower because I want to wake up. I eat a breakfast which consists of a bagel with cream cheese (not good), a bowl of oat meal, and a glass of OJ. I am full and ready with fuel. As is my want, I will get a cup of coffee on the way to the event, and top off the fuel tank with a banana before the ride.

I get my bike on the rack and my stuff into the trunk, and jet off to Oregon Ridge, the start of the ride. When I get there, the parking lot has many cyclists in it already. We were psyched for the ride. I get ready: dressed, put on arm warmers because the weather’s cool, inflate the tires, spin around the parking lot to get warm. I hear the 60 mile group go out.

I get into the 30 mile group. It will be a bunch start. I have not done such a start, so I hang back in the group as we all line up. Is this a good decision or bad? For one, I could drop out and go at my own pace, but then I don’t get the benefits of riding in a back who’ll suck me along at a quicker rate, breaking the wind for me. I decide to stick to the final third of the bunch.

And we are off.

We go about a 12 mile pace. It’s not fast enough for me. We are all over the rode. I’ve never ridden on the line before. It sucks and is worrisome, but because we are riding 2 abreast, you have to ride the line in order to pass people. I am part of the bunch that misses the light at Shawan and Cuba. The first, faster group looks to be about 300 meters in front. We go across and begin an ascent and immediately the group starts stringing out. I climb with a pack of twenty riders.

This route feels hilly, and not in the good way. A ride with rolling hills is fun. You go up a hill and come down it all in a gentle manner. This ride feels like its going to go up abruplty and down quickly. 30 mile? Shit.

We make it to the top of a hill and start coming down. I like to pedal downhill, because going fast is fun. Other people do not, and I ride the breaks so as not to bump wheels. It had rained the day before, so the roads are filled with debris and are damp so we’re only going a cautious 30 mph. We go over a wooden bridge. This group I stick with for another hill. Then on the third on Falls Rd. I am dropped. I yo-yo back on the downhill, but on the next hill I am dropped for good. My little group goes away and I am left turning the cranks over. It is not fun to be 5 miles into the ride and pedalling squares. Of course on the downhill, I pedal to catch up. Yes.

I like to yo-yo while riding. Struggle up the hill, then fast down it. I pass riders going down as fast as they passed me going up. I wonder if this ticks them off. What ticks me off is riding up hill at a faster pace as a couple who take the entire road.

The views are nice, but I hardly notice them, because of struggling up and down. I lose my chainring twice both inner and outer(!) both going uphill and coming down(!). I wonder if my chain is clean enough and lubricated.

Every hill spied in the distance brings a muttered curse. Sometimes the road looks to lead up a steep pitch, but luckily the route turns at the base. I make it up most of the hills cranking on the granny gear. Hurray for the triple!

A fellow rider speaks to me. I say hello. He’s from Jersey where it’s flat and the hills are brutal to him. Tell me about it. I leave him rather rudely on a downhill. I can’t talk to you if you’re not pedalling downhill.

The first waterstop is 19 miles in. Although I am not thirsty I was looking for a rest from pedalling. I stay for about 10 minutes then make my way out on my own. I climb more hills, but faced with a steep one I dismount a few feet from the top. Look! Another water stop. This one 4 mile from the other. I grab another drink and some GU. The powerbar stuff in vanilla is much better. I like it.

I set off for the final leg. We make it to the inbound road, Cuba, that was fun to go up. Twenty-eight miles ago there was no hills. It turns out there were two climbs on this rode. I make it up both! On the triple! Huffing and puffing but not getting off! They were each probably a quarter mile in length. I was challenged and I met it. Yes!

I make it down the hill towards Shawan Rd. Cars start coming out of neighborhoods, but I am doing a steady 34 mph pace to the stoplight. At the stoplight I wait with another couple. We cross over to Beaver Dam Rd. Don’t cruise now, where there. Finish it off with a flurry. In the parking lot a ride volunteer has us take a final lap for the kids. I made it. And I received a cool poster from one of the many children whom this charity ride is for. I feel saddened that I didn’t get more donations for them. Damn, I am a selfish bastard.

I made it back with gas in the tank. My legs were not tired like the last time. Hopefully this bodes well for next week. I liked the challenge of this ride and perhaps next year I may be able to ride the 60 miler.

This is me after the end of the ride. No wonder the racers zip up at the finish line: the picture looks so much better. That dazed look I need to work on.