Little Red Riding Hood

Saturday was Little Red Riding Hood. 

100 miles.

If I thought that I was nervous before riding 60 miles at Goldilocks, it was nothing to what I was feeling the night before this ride.  So much so, that if I said I got 2 hours of sleep Friday night, I would be exaggerating.  This was not the way that I wanted the night before my longest ride to go.  I had hoped to sleep like a baby and wake up feeling refreshed and confident.  Instead, I waited impatiently for my alarm to go off at 5:35 and got out of bed feeling exhausted and doubtful.

The drive into Lewiston where the ride was starting only took about 25 minutes, but felt a lot longer.  Marci and my mom were dealing with their pre-ride jitters in incompatible ways.  Marci plugged her MP3 player into the car's radio and cranked the volume, while my mom seemed to be needing quiet; perhaps going over a mental checklist.  In my state of sleep deprivation and near-consuming nervousness, I found this really funny and sat quietly trying not to giggle. 

Here's the only picture that I was able to get.  It was taken right before we started.        

The first 30 miles I rode with a group of women from a riding club that my mom is a part of.  We rode in a double pace line and kept up a pretty quick pace.  I kept doing mental checks of how I was feeling.  As  I completed each of these inspections I was happy that my legs seemed to be holding up pretty well, but soon I realized that something wasn't quite right.  My stomach started hurting a lot and I felt like I was having a hard time breathing.  It didn't take me too long to figure out that I couldn't keep up the pace that these women were riding at.  I heard someone say that they weren't planning on taking a break until mile 50, that's when I knew I had to let them go.

So, I peeled off the back of the pace line.  As I watched them go on ahead of me I had a very distinct thought.  I said to myself, "I am going to finish this, but I'm not going to finish with them," and somehow, that thought gave me a lot of confidence.

I stopped at the next rest stop (about 39 miles, I think).  I knew that I had to eat something, but I was worried about the messages that I was getting from my stomach.  If I threw up I was afraid that my body wouldn't be able to continue.  So, very carefully; very slowly I ate a quarter of a PB&J sandwich.  I hopped on my bike and was grateful that my stomach started settling down.

The next several miles were blur of beautiful vistas and interesting people.  I rode off and on with small groups, drafting as much as possible.  I was so glad to have people to talk with when the road felt long but  having time alone to admire God's handiwork was incredible too.

When I reached about 85 miles I hit a stretch of road that had some great downhill.  I was enjoying being up off my seat and giving my legs a bit of a break.  Then I started thinking about what the end of this respite would hold...uphill, of course.  I saw it then, the biggest hill so far on the course.  I gave myself a little pep talk and then dug in.  I passed a woman who had stopped about a quarter of the way up the hill, I asked if she was ok, her response was, "I don't want to do this part!"  I really couldn't blame her.

The top of the hill eventually came. I felt a surge of energy thinking that the hardest part was behind me.  That feeling turned out to be short lived; that's when I noticed my first flat tire.  (Now, when I say first I mean two things.  I mean this was the first flat that I had ever had, so I didn't know how to change a flat.  I also mean that this was not the only flat that I ended up having on this ride.)  Remember the lady stopped on the hill?  As I was fumbling with my spare tube and other tools she stopped to help me.  It meant the world to have somebody else there to walk me through getting the tire changed, and after I botched using my own CO2 cartridge, she lent me one of hers.  Changing the tire took awhile, and watching so many riders pass by was frustrating, but we got the tire changed and we were off.

I rode three miles, only about thirteen to go; that's when I noticed my second flat.  I got off of my bike feeling more than a little annoyed.  I was off of my bike for less than a minute when the same lady stopped to help me again!  Since she had helped me before, she knew that I didn't have a second spare tube, so she gave me one of hers.  This woman is now one of my best friends.  Have you ever had a best friend whose name you didn't even know?  She didn't have to stop at all, let alone twice, and she certainly didn't have to give me any of her gear.  I asked her if I could get her information and replace what she had given me, she refused saying others had helped her in the past and she was just paying it forward.

After we worked on the tire for a little bit a car pulled over and a guy got out and ran over to us.  He told us to stretch our legs while he took care of the tire.  He's my new best friend too.

Pretty soon, I was off again and the end was in sight.  As I crossed the finish line I saw Marci and my mom cheering their guts out for me.  I couldn't help myself as tears welled up in my eyes.  I had ridden 100 miles on my bike and I had survived!  I was elated!                      

Goldilocks

Saturday was my first "official" bike ride.  Goldilocks. 

If you are interested in hearing more about my experience- if you want to learn about the power of peer pressure, my two personal rescuers, and sore hineys; please, read on.

The ride started at 8:30 and I was nervous; nervous but mostly excited.  I was excited because I was doing something that I had never done, and I was excited to be pushing my body to ride further than I had ever ridden before. 

I was nervous for the same reasons.  By the power of peer pressure and a bit of my own stubbornness, I had been convinced to ride the 63 mile course instead of the 30 miles that I was originally registered to ride.  So, in reality, I was asking my legs to propel me twice as far as my longest ride this season.  I was nervous that maybe I was asking too much of my body.  But I was determined to do my best.

My number: lucky # 238.

After we got all of our gear put together and our bikes ready to go, my Mom, Penny (my sister's mother-in-law) and I met Marci (my lil' sister) at where the ride was starting.  There 600 women were gathered together excitedly chatting.  The rides' director had a microphone and started giving instructions.  The chattering didn't quiet down, instead the din seemed to rise so that individual conversations could continue over the noise of the instructions.

     

Soon, people were getting on their bikes and heading out on the course. There was confusion everywhere around me. People were looking at each other asking "Where is everyone going?" "Are we starting?" "Which arrows do I follow?"  I would later learn that a bell had been rung, but nobody heard it for all of the other noise.

I rode with Marci, Penny and my Mom for the first mile and then they pulled ahead of me, as I knew they would.  I thought about the long road ahead of me.  I tried to envision the course in my mind, and anticipate what was coming next.  Soon, I looked up and saw my Mom riding back toward me.  "What are you doing?" I asked.  But she wouldn't ride ahead.  She stayed with me for the entire ride.

Around mile 20, Penny was stopped at one of the Rest Stops, waiting for us.  For the rest of the ride the three of us rode together, forming a paceline when we could.  These two women, who are much stronger riders than I am, took me under their collective wing and pulled me along.  Honestly, it's very possible that I wouldn't have been able to finish without them.  

I'd gotten past the two parts of the ride that I was the most worried about.  Two hills between miles 17 and 30.  They were hard, yes, but not as bad as I had thought.  My legs were feeling good and I had ridden the majority of the last half of the course on training rides.  Knowing what to expect gave me some confidence. 

42 miles into the ride I starting feeling tired.  I wondered, for the first time since the start, if I had gotten in over my head.  And then, miracle of miracles, lunch!  It was an awesome spread with great sandwiches, chips and delicious cookies.  Not only did the food hit the spot, but even the presentation was incredible.  There were decorations on the tables; cruisers with ribbons and flowers adorning them, pink, blue and green balloons and music playing.  It was just what I needed to get going again. 

Lunch made a big difference for me.  Resting my legs for a little bit and getting some substantial food refreshed me and gave me a morale boost as well.  Just 21 miles to go.

The last 10 miles started getting difficult; my legs and my back were asking me to "Please, stop!", but that was nothing compared to what my hiney was yelling at me.  Luckily, I recently changed out my seat.  The one that I had before would have made things much more uncomfortable for me.  So, I said to my sore hiney, "Quit complaining!  It could be a lot worse!"

We finally got back into Herriman, where we had started.  The finish seemed to follow along the same lines as the start, in that, it was a little confusing for me.  There was a general feeling of "Is this the end?"  "Are we really done?"  We found Marci (she'd done awesome, by the way) and we relaxed on the grass for awhile, enjoying the warm afternoon.

This is Marci, my Mom and me, just after finishing. 

              (Is that a smile or a grimace on my face?  Hard to say.)                   

 

This is Marci and I.

There's a smile!

Penny, Marci, Mom and I

All in all in was a great experience!  The course was great, with lots of variety, it was well marked so we didn't get lost (always a plus) and the lunch stop was awesome!

I'm getting excited for Little Red in June.

Wish Me Luck

Awhile back I wrote a post entitled My First Retraction. The purpose of that post was to take back a post that I had written previously. Here's the recap; I was going to run in a relay-type race with my sister and my mom but we couldn't get a team put together in time for the registration deadline. In My First Retraction I committed to doing another "similar event."

I'm here now to make good on that commitment. Without further ado, I would like to announce that I am registered for two bike rides with my mom and my sister. (You may have noticed their logos on the side bar to the right.) Goldilocks is May 8th and Little Red Riding Hood is in the beginning of June. Both are women's only rides.

Okay, I guess I am using the term "similar event" pretty loosely. There are some pretty obvious differences between what said I was going to do back in Jan. and what I am currently signed up for:

-The biggest difference you may notice is that the relay was a running event- I am now registered for two biking events.

-A second difference; I was slated to run 5-7 miles- I am going to be biking 30 and 80 miles. (Come on now, no laughing. It could happen.)

-Another difference worth mentioning is the attire used in such events; I have swapped out my running shorts and shoes for biking gear. I think you know what I am talking about- the, ahem, spandex shorts with the padding built right into them, the biking jerseys (shirts) with bright colors and crazy patterns that scream to passing cars, "PLEASE, DON'T RUN ME OVER!" And, of course, the shoes that are designed like a death trap. These shoes clip right onto the pedals. No matter what happens, I'm stuck to my bike.

Speaking of my bike, here she is. Ain't she purdy?

Despite the glaring differences, these bike rides are filling the "similar event" quota. The fundamental purpose in doing them is the same: to spend time doing something fun/challenging with my mom and my sis.

Wish me luck!