Didn't Sag; Wasn't Last!!!
Day 4
Delta to Gunnison
108 whopping miles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I was an absolute muddy mess when I arrived in Gunnison at 6 p.m. But I arrived! I made it! I completed my first century!!!
This was the day I trained for. I knew I could do the rest. Sunday was more difficult than today, but today was the challenge. Today was the Ride I wasn't sure I could do. Today is the goal I've been shooting for since February.
AND I DID IT!!!
As every morning this week, I awoke before my alarm went off. Nervous energy immediately sent me into wide awake and alert mode.
After I saw the line for breakfast, which was not even being served yet, I decided to head out, at 4:45 a.m. I was the fifth bag on the truck. I followed twinkling lights down a country road, just like in the Starlight Spectacular, until one of my leaders lost his headlight. It smashed when it hit the pavement, and his whole group had to turn back. Now I was in the lead. I wasn't first, but I couldn't see anyone ahead of me.
No one passed me for several miles. Then suddenly I heard someone call out, "I'm following your twinkling light!" A few minutes later, a dark tandem passed me. I asked how they could do this with no lights, and they answered that they weren't prepared, but like the rest of the insecure riders like me, they were worried about how long this journey would take. The sacrifice was made.
No one passed me again for several miles. The first road message of the day was "Holy Cow!" followed by an arrow pointing to a field of cattle. I laughed out loud, but there was no one around to hear me.
Eventually my bright white light morphed to yellow, then amber. The sun would be rising in about half an hour, but the twilight made the contour of the road difficult to distinguish. Next thing I knew, I was on Highway 92. I decided I best pick up another set of batteries.
The bike repair van that had suggested I get new brake pads the night before was supposed to be at the second rest stop to perform the service. I planned to take a one-hour break there to rest my knee. However, the repair van was at the first rest stop. That threw off my pacing schedule.
While replacing my brakes, the guys noticed my chain was sagging. NO SAGGING ALLOWED!!! I authorized the replacement. They encouraged me to spin through all my gears and stop at the next rest stop if anything didn't feel right. I didn't make it a mile before my chain started eating up my derailleur. I walked my bike back to the first rest stop.
Half an hour later, I had a new cassette and new instructions to spin through all the gears to make sure they worked. This time, I headed out on a dirt road right near the van. I made sure every gear worked before I took to the road again. That accounts for part of the extra miles I picked up between Delta and Gunnison.
Once again, my bike felt brand new. I could not believe the difference. I'm so glad I had the work done, and I'm so glad I had it done before anything went wrong. Shifting now is such a breeze!
My body's timing was the next thing that needed adjustment. Because it wasn't hot when I started, I didn't drink anything. I didn't drink anything during my long, unplanned rest stop. By the second rest stop, I was getting tired. Before the third rest stop, I felt horrible. Then Team Axis of Evil passed me, and their alarm went off. "Drink time!" the leader directed. In perfect synch, all 11 riders hoisted their water bottles and sipped, while drafting, then replaced their bottles without dropping a single one. Poetry in motion.
I remembered the clinic that suggested we set alarms to remind us to drink every 15 minutes. My bike computer doesn't have a chime, and I wasn't wearing my watch. I had forgotten about drinking for the first four hours. I hadn't had anything to drink the previous day during the Montrose to Delta ride.
I made a conscious effort to drink more and felt immediately better. Then it began getting hot, and the climbing required a little more effort. I didn't forget to drink again beyond that.
At the Hotchkiss rest stop, the local girls softball team was selling homemade muffins, cookies and brownies for a quarter each. The traveling cookies, fruit bars and brownies were going for two dollars each, and they were getting stale. These little sluggers had each made goodies that very morning. Of course, I go out of my way to support any softball team. I paid the girls the same price I'd paid for the traveling brownies earlier in the week and suggested they raise their prices. Their brownies, I might add, were scrumptious!
At the fourth rest stop, I slurped a Power Gel, my first of the entire Ride. At the fifth rest stop, before the final and steepest climb, I had a turkey croissant, another brownie and a chocolate chip cookie. I rested my knee for an hour.
At the viewpoints along the next stretch, my camera went back into active service. I think I used three rolls in 12 miles! There is no one-hour processing in Gunnison, as far as I can tell, and internet access is extremely limited as well.
Lots of people commented today about how "tough" I am for making this trip on a mountain bike with knobby tires. When we hit rough sections of road, they would make humorous offers to trade tires with me. I just kept telling everyone to wait until Cottonwood Pass on Friday, when mountain bikes like mine will rule.
Past the fifth rest stop, rain began to sprinkle, and the temperature had become so uncomfortably warm; the cool moisture on my face and arms felt GREAT!
I stopped for another hour at the sixth rest stop -- Curecanti. The views were as promised, "stunning," and I was tired of water. I drank my first Gatorade of the week, quite watered down. Bleh. Nasty stuff. My knees were sore, and I had to take another pain killer.
The background you see here is one of the photos I snapped while at this rest stop. This if my favorite shot of the week because it shows Colorado's grandeur and the Ride the Rockies jersey as well. I think it would make a great billboard, don't you?
After the decent descent, the rain began to really fall. I trained for this. The weather didn't bother me at all. However, my training was on trails, with no cars and no bikes ahead of me. I gradually grew accustomed to the walls of water that hit me every time a car passed, but the backsplash from other bikes caught me by surprise. I wasn't miserable. I just found myself cleaning my sunglasses frequently.
I passed the next rest stop because I thought it was the final one. The whole section of ride since the previous stop had been downhill, and it seemed to take less than half an hour. I didn't feel I needed food or a break. A few splashy miles later, after the headwind had picked up considerably and cut me to 10 mph, a cyclist behind me cheered, "Only 20 more miles to go!"
At that point, I wished the Ride was over. I was ten miles further out than I thought, and the wind was making the ride feel like a climb. My knee was burning. None of the stretches or stroke techniques I'd learned relieved the pain. I asked the cyclist who had made this fatal announcement if I could whine. He promptly asked if I needed to SAG.
That was just what the doctor ordered. His suggestion brought me right back to life. Pain or not, I was NOT going to SAG!!!
Every time one of the staff vans went by, I would count the bikes on the roof. I kept reminding myself that this was the day I had trained for. This was the specific day all my friends and co-workers had sent best wishes and positive thoughts for. This was the biggest goal I had ever undertaken. Well, except for maybe, adoption...
After drafting behind me for a while, the guy behind me offered to let me follow him. I followed him for about four miles, until I couldn't keep up anymore. I was too skitzy to follow right behind him, but even with a full bike length between us, I could still feel the relief from the headwind.
At the final rest stop, with only ten miles to go, I took courage that if I rested briefly, I could beat all the riders who were taking breaks. I would not be last! (I wasn't going to be last anyway, but I didn't want to be 1,000th or 1,500th, either.)
I ate two oranges and then headed out again at an increased pace. The trivia question at the rest stop kept my mind completely occupied for about five miles. Name at least five pro sports teams that don't end in S. I've done this question before. I knew the answer. But I guess I was close to bonk, because the answers were coming very, very slowly.
Avalanche. That was easy. Who knocked us out of the playoffs? Oh, yeah, Wild. What's that team in Utah? I know they don't end with S. I like that team. Why can't I think of the team name? Oh, yeah, Jazz. I know there's got to be another one. No, there's got to be two. Okay, think hard. Let's see. Gosh, it's getting hot. Oh, yeah, Heat! That's one! One more. Come on. You can do it. I one by one tried to think of all the names of all the teams, starting in California and working my way up through Oregon and then Washington, and my oh my the miles were ticking by. Red Sox! That's it!!! But you won't find me pedaling back for the prize!!! No stupid T-shirt would be worth the extra ten miles!!!
People who passed me during the final few miles complained about the rumble strips, the "nothingness" of the last 30 miles and the blasted headwind. I kept trying to think of Rocky theme music.
Then I passed a road message: "Celebrate Good Times, Come On!" The song started playing in my head, and the words started coming out of my mouth as I found my second wind. I stood and pedaled as hard and furious as I could, and I passed, and I passed, and I passed! Oooh, boy, was I getting excited!
A welcoming committee at the school yelled and waved and congratulated riders who survived the mileage. The exhilaration of completing my very first century escaped via a long, loud, "Wooooooooooooohooooooooooooo!" that left the crowd laughing and applauding. Even riders I passed chuckled at my exhuberance, perhaps too drained to join in.
As I parked my bike in the security lot, tears began streaming down my face. I made it!!!
Before I reached the finish line, I couldn't say it was fun. I thought century rides were not for me.
In retrospect, when I finished climbing Longs Peak, I swore I'd never climb another mountain. Now I've climbed five more 14ers, and I want to climb as many of the 54 as I can.
I don't know if my century feelings will evolve or transform. All I know right this minute is that I did it. I did something I've been trying unsuccessfully to do since March. The goal continually eluded me.
But not today. I finally did it. That alone makes the pain in my knee worth every ounce of energy it required.
PS: After setting up my tent, hanging my wet sleeping bag to dry in the sun while I showered, then setting up camp, I checked my bike out of storage and rode another four miles in search of non-existent photo processing. That definitely was NOT worth the effort. :)
Day Five
bikemaster: jrnylst at att dot net
