The Christy Century

"A great wind is blowing,

and that gives you either imagination

or a headache."

Catherine the Great 

My heart sinks as the date for my century approaches and the prediction for wind increases and the prediction for temperature decreases.  Steady winds of fifteen miles per hour with gusts up to possibly fifty.  Temperatures to decrease throughout the day until the wind chill is thirty eight degrees.  The day before was lovely. Light winds and low seventies.  The day after is predicted to be nice.  But not the day I have the ride scheduled. And my imagination is giving me a headache as I imagine myself buffeted by winds until all my strength has ebbed and left me stripped bare, humbled by weakness, embarrassed in front of friends who are stronger than me.

 

 A part of me longs to do the easy thing, to cancel the ride.  As I recently told  a friend, I fear I have become a weather wienie.   A part of me wonders if even the few who said they would show will change their minds.  A part of me wonders if I will be capable of completing the ride in these conditions.  It is only my second century of the year and I am not as young or as strong as I once was.  But a part of me remembers that it is the challenging rides that bring the most rewards, that there is a satisfaction in finishing a difficult ride that does not come with an easier ride.  That the hard rides play their role in making for future rides.  "But nobody wins afraid of losing, and the hard roads are the ones worth choosing, someday we'll look back and smile, and hope it was worth every mile." (Chris Stapleton) 

 

And so I center my imagination on a successful if difficult ride to win over a headache.   The only way I know to delay the coming of a time when I no longer can ride the distance and fight the wind is to fight the battle for as long as I can.  Strength ebbs quickly, more quickly with age than with youth, when unused. And it becomes much harder to regain that which has been lost. The battle is mental as well as physical, and sometimes it is harder to win than others.  But for today, will triumphs.

Five others show for the ride:  Jon Wineland, Larry  Prebble, Mike Kamenish, Thomas Nance, and David King.  All are strong riders.  All are capable of exceeding my pace and dropping me with little effort.  At the ride start I tell them that I am fine with their going ahead and that I don't expect them to hang back at my pace, but they don't listen well and we start off as a group toward Commiskey, then Vernon, and lastly Crothersville.  The wind is from the North West and our journey stretches to the North East.  There will be times of respite  with a tail wind, times of crosswinds, and times of head winds.  The fact that the route zig zags favors us for it gives us breaks, but the first time we head full face-ward into the wind doubt enters my mind.  The wind is incredibly strong emphasizing what it can do to a puny mortal.  I am pedaling with all my strength to maintain a bit over 9 miles per hour.  But I remind myself that it blows not just on me, but the rest of the group and I was the one who did not cancel.  

At least for part of the ride there is sunshine.  With the daffodils dancing, it is hard not to notice the beauty of the season even in the midst of adversity.  Spring is so long anticipated and so short lived after gracing us with her presence.  Larry has asked that we stop at certain intervals so that he can send up his drone, and the group willingly complies.  Despite knowing that it adds a bit to the time of what we all know will be a long day, it also adds an additional short breath to allow muscles to recover before once  more straining against the wind.  It seems it is rarely a tail wind and more often a cross or head wind, but I remind myself it always seems this way.  Additionally,  Larry is quite the artist with his videos and photos and I think most if not all enjoy watching them.   As we ride along, I notice that the creeks are swollen and the water is encompassing tree stumps.  This worries me as one time there was a flooded road on this route that I had not expected.  I did not think we had gotten that much rain, but doubt floods my mind as I see water stretching further up tree trunks than it should, challenging the sides that contain it, swirling with mud and debris.

At lunch I share the concern with the others along with advice on how to bypass it; however, nobody takes the bypass and we find that the way is just fine with no flooding.  I breath a sigh of relief knowing nobody would want to add another few miles onto the 102 we were already riding, particularly as it would mean more headwind.  Everyone but Jon and I eat at Subway.  Jon and I eat outside having brought our lunches.  But during lunch I notice that it is obviously colder.  I brought a string pack with some extra clothing and slip on a vest wondering if it is a mistake.  So often one chills during a stop but then warms up quickly once back on the bike and pedaling.  But I am never sorry for putting it on, even during the climbs.  

The pack breaks up after the lunch stop, but I am fine with that.    People have things they need to do, dinner plans, places to be.  And it is definitely colder.  I know I have to keep a steady pace to finish. Taking off my gloves at the third stop is a mistake and I am glad I still have my barr mitts on the bike while they warm up again.  And we really only pause as chill sets in the longer the stop. When we reach the intersection of State Road 39 and State Road 256, I know the head wind is finished.  It is  like a gift from God.  Success, barring a freak accident or mechanical, is almost assured.  And we do finish in good spirits, weaker but knowing that weakness will contribute to greater strength a few days down the road, and satiated with the company of others who love cycling as much as we do.   And satisfied that for today, at least, we conquered the wind and our fears.  Thanks, guys, for sharing the roads with me.  Thanks for coming out to play.