RIde Report on Old Gilgal: TMD STAGE 12

"May you never fear those mountains

in the distance, 

Never settle for the path of least

resistance.   Living might mean

taking chances but they're worth taking.  

Loving might be a mistake but its worth

making, "

 Mark Sanders and Tia Sillers 

 

 

 

 Old Gilgal is a tough century.  I know it will be even tougher than normal with the weather prediction:  nineties with a feel like temperature of over 100 and high humidity.  I toy with the idea of skipping it because I know this will not be a "fun" century under these conditions despite the beauty of the course.  But the challenge draws me out.  I guess I like the feeling that comes with accomplishing hard things along with the risk of failure.  How often have  I not done something because of that fear?  I think that, perhaps, in the end, I will regret not taking the challenges more than any failures I might encounter.  For failures teach us about ourselves and are an integral part of learning.  Are we smart enough to say enough when  it has, indeed, been enough for us?  Are we brave enough to continue when it would be easier to quit?  When does bravery become stupidity and even selfishness?  How easy it becomes  to "fear the mountains in the distance."

 

 And with more miles behind my legs than in front of them, I decide not to waste the day sitting at home wondering if I made the right choice.  I will not "settle for the path of least resistance," at least for today.  I fear that once you do, it is the kiss of death, that you never, ever pick it back up.  And frankly, I love it.  I love the challenge, the sounds, the scenery, the companionship, and the effort that is distance cycling.  I love the way my thighs and knees ache on climbs and the way the wind kisses my cheeks and whispers in my ears on descents. I love not knowing what might lie just around that bend ahead in the road.  I love using muscles and brain to navigate and decide how to corner a certain turn or master a certain climb.  I love cresting a climb and knowing that hill was conquered for today. And I love that moment when  you know that, despite everything, you are going to finish, that the parking lot nears.  Or at least most of the time I love that part.  There are those rides that I wish never had to end. 

 

I heard from someone today that didn't ride the overnight that most of you really hated the French Lick overnight experience and I was saddened by this information.  Like most things in life, I suppose overnight journeys are not for everyone.  I truly felt a sense of accomplishment and pride at conquering a difficult  course under difficult decisions.   And I was not only proud of myself, but of each of you who rode and endured with not one word of complaint.  I suppose, because I am the oldest and often the only woman on the rides, I feel motherly toward you.   Frankly, I miss the old club overnights:  Wacky Tacky, Mammoth Cave, and TOKYO, and would not trade those memories for anything. I hoped to give you the same.  I wanted it to be a gift from me to you, this sharing of something I love. I suppose, as I told Fritz when I told him maybe next year he should re-consider whether to hold an overnight despite the vote to have one, that I am weird.  On the Monday following our trip, a part of me was sad not to be putting my leg over the top tube and heading out for new roads and new places in your company.  Anyway, I do apologize and freely admit that had Thomas and I known it was going to be so hot while you could have gotten your money back, we would have canceled and rescheduled given the difficult of the courses and the expected heat. 

 

But back to today.  Fritz, the ride captain, is much stronger than I am (heck, everyone riding the centuries is stronger than I am anymore) and so I email him early in the week  asking for permission for a couple of us to leave early.  And he says he is okay with this.  So Bob Grable, Dave King, and I leave 45 minutes before the rides official start time.   When we head out, there is not even the briefest kiss of morning coolness on our cheeks.  It is 76 degrees already when I pull into the parking lot.  But it is not yet searing hot and I do have some time to appreciate not only the company, but the greenness and beauty that surrounds me.  Despite the heat we have been having, everything has remained oddly verdant, I suppose due to the rain that has accompanied the heat.  It is a deeper and richer green than the green of spring when tendrils and leaves spring forth innocently tentative.  "Is it time," they seem to say.  "Is it time?"  I suppose June's beauty  is the same beauty as that of an early middle age woman or man who have reached the peak of development before the atrophy that is old age begins.  

 

I later learn that there are fourteen that sign in and twelve that finish.  One person forgot their shoes and never started.  The nine finishers, besides Dave, Bob, and myself, are Larry Preble, Fritz Kopatz, Rory Whitaker, Vince Livingston, Michael Kamenish, Bryan Holden, Dominic Wasserburg, Glenn Smith, and Jon Wineland.   

 

At first, there is conversation and laughter and catching up to be done.  Bob believes we will be caught by the others by the first store stop.  I think it will be at lunch as it was the previous year on this century.  Bob and Dave talk briefly about the new bike Bob has purchased.  David and I talk a bit about our upcoming trip to bicycle in Alaska.  I tell him I believe there is a twenty mile climb on our route, though the grade is not huge. He tells me he dropped by Scheller's and dealt with John Molnar to check out the bikes we will be riding there.  He also tells me John says hello and it makes me smile inside and remember the many trips to Jeff Schwinn years ago.  John was always so encouraging, never laughing at my stupid questions, showing me how to change a flat so that I felt I could explore more roads on my own unaccompanied for I did not, at that time, ride with any club.  Not laughing at my pride when I finally finished a century with a 15 mph average.  I owe him much. 

 

 

But I know conversation will fade as the day progresses and the miles and heat begin to take their toll for it is that way on almost any century, and today's will be especially challenging.   As I said earlier, I do not believe this will be a "fun" century, but it will be one where you get a lot of satisfaction from conquering the course. 

 

We reach the first store stop easily but already every stitch of our clothing is wet and we have not been riding hard.  We have not been lollygagging, but we have not been pressing the pace.  I even manage to wring a few drops out of my saturated gloves.  I tell myself and the others to remember to drink knowing that not drinking enough on a hot ride is a personal weakness of mine.  I also remind myself to taste my sweat as I know that when it stops tasting salty, I need to get some salt in to balance things out.  There is really no way though, even with drinking, to replace the amount of fluids we are losing and the day is still young.   At least I know I am going into the ride fully hydrated.  

 

During the miles between the first stop and lunch, Dave drops a chain early in the climb.  He says he is fine so Bob and I progress up the hill. No Dave.  We continue to climb.  No Dave.  Bob says he does not want to go back and climb up the hill again and I agree, but we both know we will if we need to.  We stop at the top and wait and I pull out my phone to call Dave when he appears.  He said he spent some time finding a stick to assist so he didn't get his hands all greasy.  This will be the only mechanical we have all day other than Bob's disc brakes screeching like a banshee from hell.  Bob says he thinks this is from his sweat falling on them.  Dave teases him about putting some oil on them.  But for whatever reason (we never stop sweating) they stop doing this down the road.   

We keep expecting others to catch us, but it is only at the lunch stop that Glenn "Clothesline" and Vince "Invincible appear, and this is as we are heading out.  There is a strong head wind that we must face and a few lesser climbs before coming to Old Gilgal.  I still think it interesting how different the climbs are counted between Garmin and Wahoo, and even individual units of the same make count differently.  For me today, with my new Wahoo that I am not very happy with, I have 29.  Why, you ask, am I not happy with new new Wahoo?  Because it randomly tells me I have completed a course when I have not and I have to reload it or it loses the arrows completely.  They tell me it is a known issue and they are working on it, but can give no estimate on when it will be correctly and have not yet replied to my request concerning a return and refund since it does not work as expected.   

 

We don't see Glenn again until the end, but Vince catches us at the third store stop.  He jokingly asks me if his century will still count if he calls an Uber.  I take it as a good sign that he can still joke because I am almost beyond that point.   For those that don't know, Vince designed this course and Rory designed the Crestwood Killer.  I am hot and tired and long to stop cycling.  My feet have been aching but it is helping walking around the rest stop in my socks.  Inside the store is a refrigerated beer cave.  Bob and Dave make use of it.  The owner urges me to while refusing to charge me for ice, but I head outside to the bikes and picnic tables after thanking him for his kindness.  The biggest climbs are behind us.  Successful completion actually seems possible.

 

 Vince will catch us at the end, but we head out while he is still resting.  Big, gray storm clouds are gathering and thunder explodes.  Somehow, we miss most of the rain though wet roads tell us it rained there before we were on them.  What was a head wind becomes at times a ferocious tail wind helping us to quicken our slow pace.   

 

I don't think any of us are sad to reach the parking lot.  I, for one, am glad to get off my bike and put on my sandals.  We are weary, but I believe that each of us is glad we came.   In the end, it is really not about just getting your 10 centuries in.  This is 12 for me and a few others.  It is about the love of distance cycling and about "screwing our courage to the sticking point" and facing those mountains in the distance, not just on but off the bike.  It was a great ride, Fritz, thank you for captaining.  And thank you to Vince for the course design.  Next up:  Amelia's century.  Hope to see you there.