Bob Grable's Century: Scotland Bound

"It's all to do with the training:

you can do a lot if you are 

properly trained." 

Queen Elizabeth II

 

It has been awhile since I have really trained for anything.  I suppose the last cycling event I really trained in earnest for was the 1000K brevet designed by Crista Borras that ran through Virginia into West Virginia, the one I completed shortly before my husband died in December of 2014.  While I am not training as assiduously for this event as I did back then, it feels good to have at least the outline of a plan in my mind and a goal to reach.  And it feels good to feel my body adapt so that I am in at least half way descent shape for a change.  I do not adapt nearly so quickly, and it takes longer to recover, but I do adapt.

The spring the Pandemic started, I entered a cycling contest on Zwift that was put on by Wilderness Scotland.  It was hard.  Even with the rubber band (and that didn't work on one ride) it was difficult to keep up requiring all the effort I could muster. I had to ride a number of Zwift rides to qualify for the drawing, and for once I actually won something: a cycling trip  in Scotland.  This was so exciting.  I love the beauty that is Scotland.  But of course with the Pandemic, I was  not able to go right then.  

When I contacted the company this spring, I was not sure if they would still honor the win, but not only did they keep their word, they upgraded it.  And so, I chose the week long tour I wanted to complete, the Tour of the National Parks, and signed up.  And now to train.  The distances each day are not long, but it appears there is lots of climbing.   Plus riding day after day for a week with no rest day is not normally on my agenda anymore.  Oh, I could ride in the van, but I am not going to Scotland to ride in a damned van:  I am going to ride a bicycle.  What a vacation it will be.  The icing on the cake was when I found out that Dave King decided he will join me.  It will be so lovely having the company of someone that I know and whose company I enjoy.

 

And so there is more of a purpose when I ride now.  It is lovely to ride just to ride, just to ride with no goal or purpose other than pleasure,  to watch the road give way to my wheels, to see seasons change, but it is nice to have a goal beyond that. And to know I will see the beauty that is Scotland again, that is heavenly. But I have been off the bike for over a week due to grandmothering and travel.  

 

When I awaken after returning from visiting the granddaughters, the day of Bob Grable's Adjective Century, it is raining and thunder seems to shake the very timbers of my house.   I don't want to get out of bed.  I have not slept well and would like to stay tucked in, snug and warm, shutting out the day.  But I need to ride.  The cats rejoice at my early awakening which equates, in their world, to early feeding.

Dragging myself out of bed, I wonder if Bob will cancel or at least delay the start. It is raining but it is quite warm out.  Still, it is raining hard, not a gentle drizzle.  The last I checked, the rain was supposed to end early morning.  I check the web site and there is no delay or cancellation.  I get ready for the ride, don a  yellow rain coat to load the car with my bike and other necessaries,  and head out the door shortly before six into a driving rain.  

By the time I arrive at the start, the rain has eased down to a drizzle that will pretty much last the entire day.  I suspect that because of the rain, the attendance is quite small.  But then numbers have dropped consistently over the past years.  Certainly starting the TMD in winter did nothing to improve numbers.  Things change.  If there is one constant in life, there is that.  And sometimes in fighting the change, one accelerates it.

We start out and I find that I remain in a somewhat foul humor.  Some days are like that.  I don't feel like talking.  I do feel okay with riding, but even this early in the ride I can tell I have been off the bike.  Still I know a ride is what I need to burn this mood off.    As always, I am amazed at how quickly fitness evaporates.  After all, being off with a one (almost two) year old and a three (almost four) year old is not like just sitting on your bum eating bonbons and watching television.  But that is how it is.  Fitness leaves us much more quickly and easily than it is gained.

I pull into the first store we come to, our traditional store stop, rather than riding across the street to where the majority are stopping. I leave the first store stop with a group that I know I won't keep up with (Tom Hurst, Tom Askew, and Mike Kammenish) and soon find myself riding alone.  I am okay with that today.  No need to blanket the entire world with my bitchiness. Plus I just notice more if I am by myself.  Some days I want company and other times I prefer my own company or a companion who is well versed in companionable silence rather than idle chattering. 

 

As I ride, I realize that it has been quite awhile since I have done a century in the rain, and I find myself remembering that sometimes it can be quite enjoyable.  And lord knows, we need the rain.  Everything was starting to turn brown and my lawn is crunchy.  The rain seems to accentuate the greenness of the leaves and grass and the crops I pass.  Flowers seem more brilliant except for the lilies who hide their faces as there is no sun to impress with their smiles.  For a moment my thoughts run the rainy ride that I completed following a canceled century, the ride that earned me my nickname, Puddle, bestowed by Carl Davis and Mike Pitt, neither of whom ride with the club anymore. 

On the hills, my legs complain at what is being asked of them, but I grit my teeth and tell them what they need to do and they do it however grudgingly.  Sometimes I wonder what it will feel like one day when the inevitable happens and they refuse to obey, but for today I am good and t hey are good.  I think how easy it would be to just drop into granny, but that will not help build the strength I am trying to gain.  I grind on sending my mind elsewhere.

When I pull into the lunch stop, Mike and Tom Hurst ask if I have seen Tom Askew.  He was riding with them and dropped back but never showed at the lunch stop.  I tell them he probably missed the turn to the lunch stop and is half way up the long, though not steep, climb that comes shortly after the stop.  But they worry that he has gone off the road and crashed prior to the lunch stop.  They call and text but thus far have received no reply.  

After a quick sandwich, I begin to chill.  There is still no work from Tom A. but there is also nothing I can do. Amelia Dauer and Steve Meredith pull in from the wrong direction having missed the turn. The others have arrived and are ordering, but I ride out alone.  

 

The view up in the knobs after the climb out of Borden is lovely, particularly once you reach Skyline.  This is my favorite part of the ride.  In fact, it is the part of the ride that makes me ride on River Road, something I absolutely detest. But a thick mist appears for awhile that really obstructs my ability to see anything much at all.  I stop to make sure my red flashers are on to try to protect myself from an altercation with an automobile with limited vision.  They are. I remind myself that in  Scotland there is likely to be one or two days like this, maybe more, misty and rainy.  When Amelia and I rode there last time, there was an 8 mile climb that we did in the rain, and I remember how cheated I felt at the top for not being able to see and on the descent for having to be so cautious.  

This scenic part of the ride ends all too quickly and before you know it I am descending down toward the greenway, the bridge to Kentucky, and River Road.  My legs continue to feel sore from the effort despite a reasonably slow pace, but I know that is the pathway to greater strength.  On the bridge there is a large group of people taking the entire bridge.  Luckily for me and them, I am going slowly as despite my asking they refuse to yield any of the pavement.  But after that I am good.  When I reach the park, Tom Askew is pulling out and tells me he has let the others know he is safe.  As I suspected, he missed the turn to lunch.  How dependent we are on GPS routes.  

And so I continue to work toward "proper training" for my Scotland trip.  Tomorrow I will, despite any residual soreness, throw my leg over the seat of my bike and ride, though not quite so far.  And so on and so on.  Hopefully I can avoid illness or injury that would prevent my going as the trip is all planned.  And hopefully I will be strong enough to never, never hop in the van.