'05 Flat As A Pancake Century

I don't think I ever posted this but found it on my computer. It’s been kind of slow around here, so I’ll go ahead and post it. It was one of the first century rides I did in New Baden, IL around September of 2005.

I woke up this morning debating between hitting the snooze button and falling back asleep or actually gathering my gear and going out to ride my bike for 100 miles. This was going to be the first century ride that I would be doing myself since I started riding. I can tell you for certain that it’s a lot easier to get out there when you know someone else might be waiting on you than it is when you’re going to be hitting the streets alone. I usually like to finish what I start and since technically I started as soon as I signed up, this was going to be no different.

I had just ridden the MS150 a couple weeks ago and it was a rather painful experience given the fact that I’ve never ridden that far on a bike and worse yet was convinced to ride 175 miles rather than the 150 I was lead to believe I was doing. On top of the desire to sleep in, and the idea of being on a bike alone for 5-6 hours, it was also pretty overcast out making my decision even more difficult. Ultimately I decided to mount up and head out despite the warmth my bed was providing.

As I was rolling into IL the clouds loomed overhead. The hour drive felt more like a decade as the rain rolled off of my windshield. When I finally arrived at the starting area, which was in a small park at the center of New Baden, the rain was reduced to a fine drizzle.

“Oh this won’t be so bad. It’ll probably clear up in an hour anyway.” I thought to myself, despite lacking any meteorological backing.

I bobbed and weaved my way around puddles to the registration desk.

“How many people showed up today?” I asked the woman manning the registration box.

“There were about 200 people registered to ride, about 50 have checked in so far.” She responded.

Those numbers seemed reasonable. There are a lot of people who might have signed up and decided not to ride. It was still early and a lot of people might just be running late, plus I’m sure a lot of them went out the night prior and maybe they just weren’t feeling it today. Maybe some of them were sick too… Basically I was thinking of any excuse for why ¾ of the people weren’t there, other than the obvious weather element.

Fortunately, actually more unfortunately, by the time I got my packet the rain had stopped and the sun was peeking through the scattering clouds. Given my propensity for minimalism I decided that since the weather was turning I would just leave my jacket in the car. I wasn’t about to wear it if it was going to get hot and I really don’t like carrying anymore than I need, especially if I have to pedal along with the extra weight. On a side note, I’ve since reconsidered that minimalistic attitude, but not enough to change the habit…

While I was getting my packet and attaching my race numbers to various spots on myself and my bike I met a few people and asked them if I could join their group. Fortunately they saw me as friendly enough, or maybe just not fast enough to catch them, and agreed that an extra rider would be good to have in the draft line. So that took care of the 5-6 hours of loneliness that I wasn’t looking forward to. But as it turned out that wasn’t my main enemy for the day.

As we rolled about a mile outside of the park the rain started again. It was back to the down pour I experienced on the way to the park, except this time I wasn’t within the safety of my vehicle. Despite all signs pointing to the contrary, I decided that I’d keep riding without the jacket, even though it was only a short distance away at this point. It couldn’t possibly rain the ENTIRE time… Could it?

Yes it could… It could rain the whole time and it could rain harder and harder as I got further and further away from my car and my jacket. By the time we’d reached 20 miles our group of 5 to 10 riders had dwindled to 2, me and another guy who happened to ride at the same pace as I was riding at the time. Two guys trying to push the limits of Mother Nature’s fury. But as long as he kept pushing, I would keep pushing, even though it was starting to make less and less sense to do so.

And thus the fury of Mother Nature continued to the point where less and less sense became straight stupid. The rain came in so hard that it fell sideways. The wind blew as if God himself was on a sneezing fit and we were his handkerchief. It was wet, it was cold, and it was awful. My shorts were soaked through to the padding, my jersey clung to me like an insecure girlfriend, and my whole body quivered like I was a freshly delivered baby in Antarctica.

These 100 miles were going to be a test of will. But the reason I got into this was to better myself, and what better way than to push my body and my mind to their operable limits. It was certainly a test. It was like a one question college physics exam meant to take 2 hours. However, in this case I couldn’t just write down all the formulas I remembered and hope to get partial credit for pity, weather pities no one…

The other guy had other incentives for being here. This particular ride was part of the 5-Star Century Series. If you ride all 5 rides you get a free jersey and this was his second to last ride before achieving that goal. He wasn’t as strong as I was on the bike but the desire to get through the last two rides was enough to keep him going as strong as I was and stay on my back wheel as if the earth was crumbling behind us.

No matter which way the route turned we’d hit a head wind. We’d be traveling south into the wind and turn east to get another face full of wind. We’d start turning north, hoping for a little reprieve just to face another disappointment. I was becoming more and more agitated by natures refusal to give me a tail wind. In my delusional and agitated state I started cursing at the weather, luckily the other guy had already fallen behind and wasn’t there to wonder if I was insane. Even though most of the drivers along the road were sure to think we all were.

Around mile 60 was the lunch stop inside the VFW Hall where could get warmed up and dried off. At this point I had been on my bike for about 3 1/2 soaking hours. There were a few others there, which made me feel a little better about riding through the rain. Plus it was another opportunity to hook up with another group of riders and get in another draft line to ease the persistent headwind.

I made a sandwich, grabbed some chips, a drink and sat down. Despite the hard plastic chair, it was far more comfortable than my bike seat at that point. I was able to stretch out a bit and let my legs be free of the restrictiveness of my bike pedals. Plus I was able to talk to some of the others still riding, in addition to the event coordinator, which was a moral boost. Not to mention the fact that I was over half way through with the ride.

Getting back on the bike was tough given the fact that the rain hadn't let up at all. I joined another group of riders during lunch, which I was sure to lose promptly, and sure enough about 20 miles out I dropped off the last wheel of the draft. Being in a line is great. There isn’t any headwind at all because the guy up front is taking the beating. Trouble is that everyone gets their turn and my turn was enough to drop me off the back and I watched, sadly, as the group pushed further and further away.

There were 15 miles left and the rain was coming down harder now than it had all day. I was moving pretty slow now. Between losing that second group, being soaked and cold, the morale boost at lunch wasn’t enough to push me at any good pace through the consistently strong headwind and torrential rain. Then temptation in the form of a couple guys in a flatbed pulled up and asked if I needed a ride. Give up now, so close to the finish or am I close enough that I might as well say I finished? You have to finish what you start and you’re not finished until you’re rolling into the parking lot with a relieved smile across your face. So I declined, and the truck rolled off into the rain.

It wouldn’t be long until I finally reached the town again. The joy of knowing that you’ve battled through everything and have nearly survived is overwhelming. There wasn't a sole in sight, neither in cars nor on bikes. But finishing alone isn’t near as scary as starting alone and that’s how I rolled back into the park, alone.

When I got home and finally watched the weather report I found out that I rode through the leftovers of Hurricane Katrina. I guess it could have been worse, I could have ridden through the hurricane itself.

Randomly Assorted Candy

You know how all those people who have these near death experiences say that their lives flashed before their eyes? Imagine, in an instant the prior 10, 20, 30 years flip away like an animation in your head. Wouldn’t it be cool to see some of those memories again, even those that you can’t consciously remember?

Somehow on our way out of the dining facility tonight we got on this subject and it kind of stuck in my head. It got me to thinking, how entertaining those last moments of my life would be? Would it be something I’d want to watch or would I just want it to be over with? I’ve never walked out on a movie, then again I’ve never gone to a movie I didn’t want to see, but would I want to walk out on my own near death experience? I should certainly hope not.

I think I’ve based my choices in life on story type experiences. Adventures through Europe, marathons, multiple road trips around the US and of course this little jaunt to the Middle East. I think it would be interesting to revisit those experiences in an unexaggerated form, as I usually add a little pizzazz to my stories. It’s kind of like how Emeril adds a little something to all his dishes… BAM! I guess exaggeration is to stories as spices are to food.

I’d hope during those few seconds that some memories that I don’t consciously remember will sprout back up. I wonder if they would only be good memories to help calm the brain or if memories are chosen at random. If it is random I hope it’s not like getting a box of Runts with more bananas than cherries.

You know you’re excited to get a box of Runts but then you want specific Runts. It’s one of those unanswered questions. Will my near death experience be like a box of Runts with more banana than cherry? I certainly hope not, I really like cherry Runts and I really don’t particularly like banana, but I guess you get what Willy Wonka gives you.

Of course you can substitute whatever box of candy you want, from whatever manufacturer so long as it’s randomly assorted. If I had my choice my near death experience would be a bag of Cherry Pull ‘n Peel Twizzlers.