| | About a month ago, I decided to buy my first road bike. Between ever rising gas prices and diminishing performance from my trusty old hybrid bicycle, I decided it made sense for me to buy a really, really fast bike. I'm not sure what got me into cycling, but it's turned into an all-consuming addiction for me lately. Everyday, almost all I can think about is what I'm going to do for my next ride, or what upgrade I'm going to make to my bike. When I'm online, all I want to do is look up is better bikes for me to drool over and aspire to (Orbea Orcas and Cervelo R3s haunt my dreams). I've even been quoted as saying "I could whack off to sexy bike frames"; a disturbing fact I let slip in a dingy bar filled with 40 year old businessmen types right as all the music died down. True story. Sure, that might be a little weird, but I see no reason to change my habits unless Pope Sidious IV decides to condemn Bikeosexuality. And build a new Death Star. Anyway, back to the point on hand. I like to go biking.
For the first few days of owning my bike, 10-15 miles seemed like a long ride. But gradually, I felt myself getting stronger and more confident on the trails and roads. I attempted a 60 mile ride about 2 weeks after getting my bike. I hit a wall at about 40 miles and suffered through the last 20, but I made it. I decided my goal would be to do a 100 mile ride before the summer was out. I felt it was somewhat ambitious, but very doable.
Fast forward about 2 more weeks. I have an uncle in town who is an avid biker. His passion for cycling was one of the main factors that motivated me to buy a road bike and get into this greatest of sports. I decide to call him up to go for a ride.
"Let's go to Devil's Lake and back. It's a pretty ride. Should be about 80 miles." And so the trap is set. And now, I present you with my thought process throughout the ride.
The Night Before: My ride is mapped out for 80 miles, but deep down, I know that once I find myself that close to 100 miles, my supercompetitive nature will kick in and I'll have little choice but to push on for the final 20 miles of pain. I call friends and 'hire' them to be on call riders, ready to pace me through the final 20 miles if my body starts going down. Century ride, century ride, century ride. I can think of nothing else. I have to work a closing shift this night, and I don't get into bed until well after midnight. I try to fall asleep, but I feel like Hector preparing to accept Achilles' challenge on the field of battle. I'm up against a superior foe, one where victory is not assured. Perhaps I will smite my foe on the field of battle and attain a level of glory and honor achieved by only a chosen few. Or perhaps, 100 miles will be my undoing and I will be struck down, then have my lifeless corpse dragged around the walls of Troy. Or perhaps, 'tis only a bike ride and drawing parallels between a simple bike ride and the legendary battles of the Illiad is blowing things out of proportion. I decide it's only a bike ride, and finally get to bed.
Miles 0-10: I have my alarm set for 6:30 in the morning, but somehow nothing rouses me until 7:30. Damn. I'm running late. I scramble to get my gear in order. Helmet? Check. Gloves? Check. Clip-in shoes? Check. Sunglasses? Check. Biking jersey? Check. Said jersey packed to the hilt with granola bars and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? Check. 2 water bottles? Check. Asstight biker shorts? Check. I look every inch the typical biker douche, but damn do I feel good. I down a quick breakfast of cereal and toast, and hit the road. It's roughly a 5 mile ride to rendezvous with my uncle. It's a good little warm up for today's main course. My uncle is a little upset that I show up an hour later than anticipated. It's slated to be a hot day and thanks to me sleeping in, there will be one more hour we have to spend under the scorching rays. But he gets over it quickly, and we begin the journey.
Miles 10-20: I'm settling into a rhythm for the ride. My uncle and I are going at a pretty fast, yet efficient pace, talking and chatting while we ride (mainly about bikes). At this point, we're out of the city and on to some nice country roads. I'm feeling pretty good. 100 miles seems a long way off, but I feel confident I'll hit it.
Miles 20-30: We hit a hillier stretch. While once my nemesis when first starting to ride, hills have become my favorite part of a ride. The Tour de France has been on during the same week as this ride I'm taking. I've watched the riders attack MOUNTAINS, which puts Wisconsin's little hills into perspective for me. I attack my hills hard, and try to get to the top as quickly as possible. My uncle and I have some small competitions during our ride, be it racing up a hill or sprinting down a descent. My uncle has a much nicer bike than I do, and many more miles under his belt, but my youthful vigor powers me to the top in first place on just about every single hill. However, he's got me by quite a few pounds, so momentum guides him to victory on nearly every descent. Me uncle and I are really in a good rhythm now. We don't talk as much now. My main focus is the road in front of me. I realize I'm at the point of no return. No matter how tired I get, I'm now 30 miles out, and that number is steadily increasing. If fatigue gets the better of me, I'll still have quite a bike ride ahead of me just to get home. There's no going back at this point. Not that that was ever a feasible option in the first place.
Miles 30-40: At around 35 miles, we run into what appears to be a huge problem. The road in front of us is flooded for a few hundred meters. My uncle and I stop and contemplate our situation. We decide there's only one option. The oxen begin fording the makeshift river. But it's not as deep as it looks. We both make it across this vast ocean without a single full rotation of the pedals. We pull a Jesus and float over the water, emerging on the other side dry and unscathed.
Everytime I've gone for a 50+ mile ride, I seem to hit a wall right around 40 miles. My hope on this day is that all the training and miles I've put it in the past few weeks pay off, and I avoid my 40 mile hangup. Sadly, this is not the case. We're 40 miles in and our destination, Devil's Lake, is in sight. There are signs along the roads that read "Devil's Lake, 3 miles". 3 miles isn't much, and yet, it seems like an eternity. We hit our longest ascent of the day right at the entrance to Devil's Lake. It's not a particularly steep hill we find ourselves battling, but it appears to be THE LONGEST FUCKING HILL EVER. Up and up and up we go. I turn the corner, expecting to see the welcoming descent just around the bend. But up and up it goes some more. I'm very fatigued at this point, and this hill isn't helping things. I struggle to go even 10 miles an hour. I'm half tempted to hop off my bike, set up base camp, and plan to reach the summit at a later date. But I fight on, and finally we are rewarded with the inevitable descent. Victoriously, we coast down to Devil's Lake.
Devil's Lake is a beautiful state park formed when a glacier's path ended and formed the lake. It's a good destination for a bike ride. I relax on a park bench and break out a few granola bars and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We've gone 43 miles in a little under 3 hours. It's not even 11 o'clock yet. I find it amusing and rewarding to think that I've already biked 43 miles and most of my friends probably aren't even awake yet. I had always thought it was a long car ride to make it out to Devil's Lake, but now I've made it all the way out there on nothing but the power of my legs. It's really a rewarding feeling. We keep our lunch break short to avoid cramping. We top off our water bottles, and it's back on the road.
Miles 40-50: That same hill that kicked my ass on the way into Devil's Lake proves to be quite a thrilling descent when approached from the opposite side. When I look down at my bike computer and see I've hit 50 miles, my thoughts are mixed. On one hand, I'm already halfway done with my century! On the other hand...I'm only halfway done with my century.
Miles 50-60: There is no talking. There is only riding. At this point, my mind begins to turn off and my body begins to take over. Earlier in the ride, I had been thinking plenty of thoughts. My mind would wander to things I'd done in the past week, my upcoming weekend plans, the usual girl issues, song lyrics, Orbea Orcas, what I wanted to eat once I finished my ride, and a variety of other random thoughts. But now, my mind is blank. The only thing I'm really conscious of is the rhythm of my gears turning and the sound of my breathing. 100 miles. So close, and yet so far.
Miles 60-70: We enter into more familiar territory. I start to recognize my surroundings, which turns my mind back on a bit. Once I hit 70 miles, for the first time, the Century Ride really feels like it's within my grasp. 30 miles is my average ride, and I know I can do 30 no problem. It's just that I've never attempted 30 immediately following 70. This could turn out slightly differently.
Miles 70-80: I'm in very familiar surroundings now. Fatigue is starting to set in again though. I take a quick pit stop to down some more granola bars. I pull my phone out of my pack and give my on-call biker friends a ring, hoping for the royal escort for the last 20 miles. It seems everyone is too busy with work to go for a 20 mile jaunt. I swing by my parents' house and pick up my dad and brother. Partially, I want someone to pace me for these last 20 tough miles. But also, I wouldn't mind having someone else there to share in my hopeful triumph. I'm grateful that dad and bro are up to the task.
Miles 80-90: Something happens to me a little after 80 miles. I catch a second wind, and now I feel unstoppable on my bike. I don't even know how to explain it. I start practicing my sprints. I'm flying down the roads. I picked up my dad and brother to pace me for what I thought would be a tough final 20 miles, but I find myself going at a blistering pace that they struggle to keep up with. I didn't think this would happen. At this point, I don't really have a specific ride in mind. I just want to grind out my last 20 miles. I try and think of where I'd want to hit 100 miles. I head for Madison's arboretum.
Miles 90-100: Once I surpass 90 miles, I can smell victory in the distance. I'm incredibly excited, but also very in-the-zone. My 80 mile mark second wind burst of energy has settled down into a more focused power that I harness and control. Once again, I turn my mind off to a degree. I settle into a rhythm. Dad and brother can't keep up at this point, but I can't break my rhythm. I'm too focused to adjust my speed at this point, so I leave them in my wake. The arboretum loops around, so I figure I'll catch them on the turnaround. There are a few riders in the arboretum ahead of me. My competitive nature kicks in again, and I make it my goal to catch and then pass every other rider I see on the trail. I'm over 95 miles in, yet I'm maintaining the fastest cruising speed I've gone on the entire ride. 96 miles. 97 miles. My pace just keeps increasing. I want this so badly. When my bike computer reads 100.00, I want to be going really fast. 98 miles. I can't believe what is about to happen. I get to 99 miles. I basically go into a sprint. I look down a bit later and see my bike computer hit 99.78. At this moment, I am overwhelmed by my now inevitable achievement. My eyes get a little bit moist, and I am washed over with a wave of euphoria. Faster and faster I go. 99.97, 99.98, 99.99...
100 miles.
I stop. I hop off my bike, savoring the moment and taking in my surroundings. I admire the spot where I accomplished my first century ride. It's quite a feeling. I bike 3 and a half more miles to my house. A part of me wants to just crawl into bed and sleep forever, but there's no rest for the weary. I take a shower, and then I immediately go out to grab dinner followed by a 7pm Ultrascreen showing of The Dark Knight. I'm really too tired to say complete sentences at this point, but I feel amazing. I slam a Red Bull, and enjoy my first viewing of the Dark Knight. A pretty solid day's work I'd say. Next up, the bicentennial ride baybee!
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