January Centuries

Yesterday, when I found that the snow had not reached this far north and that the weather, while cold, was predicted to be sunny with winds that were not very strong for this time of year, I decided I would ride a century. In the winter months, one never knows what week-ends one will be able to ride because of the fickle weather. As Steinbeck pointed out, "The best laid plans of mice and men," and that includes winter rides. I debated whether to post and seek company or not. Posting a show and go or captaining a winter century has potential risks: people without the proper preparation showing up, people showing up who will hold me up, people showing up who I will hold up. Rides in winter are just harder for some reason, and it seems I will never know how I will feel that day. In winter, I despair of ever again having summer's strength.

I decided to post and got one reply: Mule (Steve Rice). He is a stronger rider than I am, particularly in the winter months, but I also know he knows how fast I can ride and would not commit if he wasn't willing to ride at a pace I can maintain. He is one of the riders I know I don't need to worry about. The pace will probably press me a tad, but that is good for this now overweight body. I think how it is good to have friends with the same interests.

At 8:00, we leave the firehouse. I have no route planned and asked about looking at some of the new brevet routes, but as we head that way we find that there is some snow and ice of the road. We ride on thinking maybe it will fade as we head to the west, but when we get to Liberty Knob, we decide to turn around. Meanwhile, my big chain ring froze. Attempting to emulate Mule, I try to kick it over to the small chain ring without dismounting. My foot gets sucked up and caught. Luckily I am able to unclip and tilt to the other side. Mule grins and asks me if I remember what Skippy tells me, and I say yeah, not to follow Mule I manually move the chain to the small chain ring vowing to keep it there the entire day. In my head I vow I will practice this move with no audience in the future until I master it.

We head back north as I know there is no snow that way having come from the north east yesterday on my return from Cincinnati and having ridden 39 yesterday on my short jaunt. We head toward Brownstown. I am comfortable despite the cold, maybe even a tad overdressed. By now my water bottle is frozen solid and I wonder why I bother bringing water on a winter century. I think maybe this is one of the things that make winter centuries harder, having to go without water except for store stops. On 39, the water has receded leaving the ice above. I know it will glitter in the sun like diamonds if we return this way, but who knows if this will become our plan.

At Brownstown we stop at the gas station for a snack and drink, then decide to head northeast. We pick our route from the map as we go. I have never been to Freetown before, so we head in that direction. Surprisingly, it is a fairly large town with a couple of stores. We don't stop, but I store the information for future use. We then decide to head to Seymour. I have been to Seymour before, but never by bicycle. I am dragging and feel much worse than last week-end despite the fact that there was double or more climbing last week-end. I am glad when we stop. This will be our last stop before home.

The restaurant reminds me of a small town restaurant. The people inside are amazed that we are riding our bicycles in this weather. They are even more amazed when they find we have ridden 70 miles and intend to ride 30 more. One woman comes to the table and asks if we can eat all we want since we ride so much. If only this were true. Mule tells her it is not true. I think that I wish it were true. I also think that this is another thing making this winter century harder: the winter weight gain. The food is good and I feel more able to face the inevitable west wind that I know we must face to get home.

We head south and west in chunks so that we aren't in the west wind for miles and miles. I am glad we did not do my Half and Half Century as it has a such a long haul straight west. I apologize for my pace, but he assures me he doesn't mind. When we finally pull in to the fire station, we are a few miles short. This doesn't bother Mule, but I need to the 100 to get century credit for the ride. I decide to take a break and get something to drink before finishing it out.

Once in the house, it was so tempting to just let it go and quit. After all, I have my January century in. It is warm here. There is unfrozen liquid to drink here. But I know that if I once again intend to do PBP, I need to be able to get back on the bike when I am tired of the bike, to get back on the bike when I hate the bike, to get back on the bike when my eyes feel like they want to roll upwards into my skull, to get back on the bike when sleep seems the sweetest ambrosia on earth. So.....I force myself back out to ride it out, to head once more into the west wind. Yes, there definitely something a tad off about those of us who love distance cycling when the description somewhat resembles torture;-) I comfort myself with the thought of re-entering the womb in my bath tub, sloshing in the hot water, completely at rest.

Back at home, I wash my hair quickly in the shower and then treat myself to a hot bath. When I come back downstairs, I am clean and sweet smelling. It is 4:45 p.m. My husband looks at me. I tell him that you know you are getting old when you have your p.j.'s on before it is even dark outside particularly when it is winter and dark comes early. I am glad I have vegetable soup left from yesterday as the last thing I want to do is cook and/or do a lot of dishes. I am beat, but it is a good tiredness. I am glad I got the chance to ride, and I am glad I had the company of a friend.

Warm and Rainy in January

Today is one of those rare January days where it is warm, at least warm for this time of year. It reminds me of when you swim and get a chance to grab some air before going back into the water for awhile longer. I know that it will be cold again very soon, possibly tomorrow, but today it is warm and each warm winter day brings me one step closer to spring.

Since yesterday was a century day, and a hard century day, I had intended not to ride today. As the day progressed, however, and the rain was light and the wind was not too brutal and the temperature was warm, I decided to put a few miles in. My bike was still dirty from yesterday so that was not a worry. Actually some of my favorite rides have been in the rain. Unless it is a very cold rain or a very heavy rain, I can't see any reason not to ride. Bob at the bike store says it is hard on the bike, but bikes are meant to be ridden. I suppose things may wear out sooner, but I am wearing out with each passing second. Rain doesn't seem like a good reason to put my life on hold or to miss doing one of my favorite things: riding my bike. It sure is more fun than the housecleaning I have done most of the day.

I head out toward 39 at a meandering pace. After yesterday, I don't want to torture my legs with any serious hills today. A hawk glides silently skimming the tall grass, his colors blending perfectly with the scenery. Hawks always make me think of Grasshopper because he loves them so. The world is filled with water and I am surprised that 39 has not yet flooded. The road work they did last summer has definitely helped. The ground can't absorb more and the water laps gently against tree trunks changing the world. Sage's Ferry is flooded and the waters cover the launching site and reach for the road. 700 and Medora will be impassable. I grin thinking of the time I got caught out and had to wade the flood waters to make it home before dark. Such a scolding I got.

The clouds move quickly across the sky, grey and sullen, and I wonder when I will next see the sun. I can't remember the last sunny day. I think briefly of Mule saying that he e-mailed Bill saying the only thing they were accomplishing asking about my new bike was to make me second guess myself. I am glad for his insight. I say a prayer for the friends I have, each one so very special.

All too soon it is time to turn around. There is supper to be made and I have left one half of the kitchen floor to wash until my dirty bike rolls over it. Tomorrow may be cold, and I am glad I made use of this warm, January day.

Paris Brest Paris 2007 12

The journey has ended. We are waiting for the restaurant to open so that we can eat. Everyone is tired. All of us finished. I am homesick and it will soon be time to go home. I dread the thought of the travel, but I long for my own little bed and my own routines and the people who love me. They lose my luggage on the way home, including my bike. This may be a blessing as it is delivered to my door the next day so I never had to try to carry it all. My bike case had been opened, but it appears to be fine other than being impossibly light without the heavy carradice.

When I return to work, I find they have tracked me. There are banners across my doors and windows: Congratulations. But I am only there a short time before the phone call comes and I am out the door to the hospital. The light is that this didn't happen while I was on the road somewhere in France and that there is still some hope that all will come out okay.

PBP 2007 11

The journey is ending. Things are becoming blurred in my mind and I begin to wonder what quits first: the mind or the body. I determine it is probably the mind. Though my body is exhausted, I feel like my legs could continue their journey forever, but my neck is starting to hurt and I feel at times as if my eyes want to roll back into my head. I begin to dream of hot water and the smell of shampoo and soap and the feel of toothpaste for I have lost my toothpaste somewhere along the way. At one point I stop to lie down and rest in the beautiful yellow flowers that line the road only to find that they are some type of stinging plant. While it is painful, it also wakes me up and I am able to ride farther while the welts subside. I decide to take caffeine at one point, and only realize later that it was not caffeine that I took but Ibuprofen. I don't know why I brought the Ibuprofen as it would be a real emergency before I took it on a ride due to the preliminary studies about its effect on liver and kidneys when a person is dehydrated.

I realize as I write this that it was a later control where I found Johnny, during my last nap. Dave was long gone. I had found Steve Royse eating at that control as well. He looked as fresh and as upbeat as the day we left and I was feeling so very sick that I wanted to slap him. I was sitting there with all this food I was going to force myself to eat, unable to stomach more than a bite or two. I will later run into him on the road, but only after I have awakened and hammered the hills hard afraid I won't make the control deadline. I end up in a paceline with people from four different countries. The one from the US is trying to make 80 hours. We are moving at a pretty good pace and I hold on for about a half hour, but then I am spent. I also paceline with some man with a white and light blue pants and jersey. I can't remember the lettering and I am not sure where he is from, but he makes me feel good right before he drops me by looking back and nodding his head in approval. Funny how some things transcend language. Not eating has done me in again. Royse came along and swept me up off the road giving me lollypops and encouragement, and we end the ride together. I am able to keep down soup at the last control. I cry as we reach the finish line, but I am smiling. One woman comes up to tell me she thinks what I have done is wonderful, and I agree. We wait a long time to sign in at this control, much longer than anywhere else along the route. Royse talks about a party, but I insist that I just want a toothbrush and a bath and to try to eat again. I know my body needs food even though it doesn't want it.

At the hotel, following a good toothbrushing and a hot, sweet smellings shower then bath, I realize I am glad to be able to do girl things again like spread lotion on my skin. It feels so soothing. My private areas are pretty raw from the rain, the distance, and losing my butt paste along the way. I have learned so much from this experience. I think of all the people who made this trip possible, this feeling as if I am in awe of myself and what I have done. I don't know if I will ever do it again, but I am so glad I did it. So many people to get here. Eddie, Davy, the Steves, and on and on. And now I have something I can hold tightly to myself when I am feeling caged in or lonely. I hope I can remember the feel of the wind, the rain on my skin, even the smell of my wool jersey at the end of my journey. I think of the thinking errors I made during the ride and am amazed at how sleep deprivation blurs thoughts. I still don't really have an answer about the body/mind connection and which gives out first. If I ever ride another such event, I will be able to ride it better I believe. But mostly, I am glad I was here and that I did this thing. I finished. Along the way I saw many who did not. I saw strong men broken by the weather and the course, pain on their faces as they realized they could not go on. So many things that I could never write them all down. I wish I had taken the time to take more pictures. Perhaps in the future......

PBP 2007 10

After Loudiac, I finally manage to throw up. While it scared me due to dehydration concerns, I felt so much better. The rain had stopped temporarily and I had a wonderful hour or two. I knew I was feeling better when I started to sing and climb. It was one of those times when those around you seem to be feeling weaker and for some strange reason you are feeling stronger and stronger. I stop to take pictures of some of the flowers. When I stop to brush my teeth alongside the road as they feel like they have developed fur, I see a beautiful creek off to the side. At a small village, I find a stream with the most beautiful swans, and always there are the French yelling, "Allez! Bravo!" The climb into Brest is fun and when I get to the top, there are crowds of people who seem to go wild when I reach the top and am still climbing standing out of the saddle. I am sure it is my imagination, but it seems real and so I pretend. Then comes the most wonderful descent that seems to last forever. Near the bottom I pass a large group and cry, "Rally Brest! Rally Brest!" Being male of course this meant they had to give chase and we hammered for quite some time before I saw Johnny riding off to the side and dropped to chat for a moment. I then started stopped at each child I saw and leaving some gift with them: a sticker or a toy parachute or a tootsie roll. We come to the bridge at Brest and the wind almost blows me over. One of my great regrets of the ride is that I didn't stop to take a photo as I thought the route would be out and back and I would catch the view on the return. I later take pictures at the summit of the hill I was on such a high over earlier, but it was nearing dark and they did not turn out so well.

At the control, I find my stomach is upset again. I have started eating at the bars and places between controls, but I decide to eat at the control here. I am waiting in line wondering if I can ever stomach another jambon avec fromage sandwich again when some man dressed in a suit asks if I am aware there is a restaurant with no waiting a bit up the hill. He walks me up there and speaks perfect English. He asks if he can take my picture and e-mail it to me. I tell him yes. He writes my e-mail address down and I note that he has the addresses of many others. I have never gotten my picture so I wonder if I have been scammed, but if so, it is too late. I am missing broccoli and spinach and roughage in my diet. While at Brest, Dave comes in after me. I tell him where I will be in case he wants to ride with me. He finds me in the restaurant and we decide to continue our journey together for awhile.

We ride into the dark and see a man weaving on his bicycle. He asks for help. Dave stops and then I stop. We find that he has not eaten or drank anything since 5:00 as he got sick to his stomach. Jamie from England stops as well, and then a nurse. We make him eat and drink and spend quite some time helping him. Jamie says to me that it is time to try some tough love as we will not make our time if we continue to stay, so we take off. Dave catches us and we make the control. I was thinking this was where we find a McDonald's, but I must be wrong, because wherever it is we end up, we see Steve Rice getting ready to head out. It must have been Loudiac as Joe wasn't with him and must have been at the hotel. Dave and I get into a small tiff when he wants to tell me when to get up rather than when to leave, and I hope I don't hurt his feelings as I suggest we just take off alone. I want a bit more sleep than he is allowing and decide to give myself the luxury of three hours. I go to bed and look over. There is Johnny three mats down. What a hoot. Later I will tease him about sleeping with him;-) This from the woman who, despite temptation, has not slept with anyone but her husband in 28 years. The next thing I know I feel tiny hands on my shoulders, and a child is whispering, "Madame, madame, it is time to get up." Even the small children know quite a bit of English and I feel stupid. One of the things Jamie and I talked about in the dark of the night is that he was amazed when Dave told him he doesn't know French. Jamie teaches French to adults. It makes me realize how little he understands America. I don't speak French either. If I were going to learn another language that I would use, Spanish would make more sense. But I just listen. Jamie is big. He has one daughter. He has never done LEL and has no desire to do so.

But enough for now. It is time to leave for the hospital again.

PBP 2007 9

The day is finally here and we are preparing to go to the start. I notice that my stomach is feeling rather badly, but I figure it will pass as the ride starts. Wrong! It will haunt me with nausea throughout the entire event, though it does ebb for short periods of time. It is not raining, but there is the promise of rain in the air. The crowd is large and it would be easy to get separated. Some people are pushing and shoving. I hang onto the back of Steve Royse's carradice so as not to get separated. I still am not sure about finding my way if I get lost. Someone at the hotel tell me the arrows here are used differently than they would be at home.

There are fireworks and other exciting things going on in the distance. I notice a man and a woman speaking french and they are pointing at me and laughing. He tries to talk with me, but I don't really speak but a few words of french. I call on Johnny for help. I find that my Boure hat means being drunk in french. I will meet this same people in a bar somewhere in France in the middle of the night later during the ride and the giggle will continue. It was almost like running into old friends.

The ride gets ready to start. Someone wants to see both of my lights work, but my secondary has not worked since I got here. Perhaps I should have asked Dave or Steve for help, but I was proud of myself for finally getting the primary to work without help and I figured I could get by. I hate always having to ask for help. Asking for help is hard for me to do. There are reasons for that, but this is not the time to go into that. I have my primary light, my head lamp, and a cats eye handlebar light.

The ride thins out more quickly than I would expect and I hang onto the people I am riding with. Unfortunately, there are enough people that I am not very comfortable eating in the midst of everyone. If I ride this type of ride again, I either need to practice or come up with something that works for me. In the dark I hear someone go down and the sound of their helmet scraping across the pavement. Water bottles seem to be everywhere, but I manage to remain upright and with everyone. I find I am overdressed, but I don't feel as if I can stop. By the first stop, I am starting to feel very dehydrated. Coke tastes like the sweetest of drinks, but my stomach just won't get over it.

I later end up bonking and Steve Rice gently pushes me up hills and feeds me caffeine to pull me along. I am amazed at his patience and gentleness, and I feel badly because I know I am impacting his ride strategy. Strangely enough in light of what is to come upon my return home, I think about when I will be without Lloyd for I am realistic enough to know that barring illness or accident, I will outlive him, and I think that maybe with friends like this I can somehow survive that loss when it comes.

Sometime or another, we come upon a stand where children are giving out hot chocolate and pound cake. It tastes so good. I am glad I have a little something to give them in return: stickers and toy parachutes. Sometime during this time, I realize I must separate from the group for their own good and my good. Unfortunately, when I try to communicate that need to Royse, he won't accept it telling me that I will be amazed at what an hours worth of sleep will do for me. When we reach Loudiac, Dave is there and says we will meet at 1:00. I am in no mood to argue, so I go to bed and explain that I will need to get up at 1 to tell some friends to go on, but want to sleep another hour or so after that. Luckily, the man at the control speaks English. They wake me at 1:00 a.m. and I go outside, but I must have gotten the time wrong because nobody is out there. I try to find paper and finally manage to snag a scrap piece from one of the tables. I write a note intending to leave it on Dave's bike as I think he will find it as he is so observant, but I can't find his bike. I leave the note on Steve's bike asking them to go on. My bike is not shifting right and I need a mechanic and I need a bit more sleep. When I awaken, they are all waiting and I feel like a piece of shit. They had not found my note. I tell them to go on and finally they go. I will finish this ride, but at my own pace and in my own way. I have realized I must do this to be successful. I remain sick to my stomach. I was amazed at the control at how I could sleep. As soon as my head hit the pillow it did not matter that there were a hundred strangers around me, I was asleep.

I am amazed at the people along the route, even in the rain and the chilly, windy night air, they are there helping. They all blur together. Rain impacted picture taking, and I am glad my camera was not destroyed. I had bought waterproofing for my handlebar bag and applied it prior to the event, but it had never been tested. It worked well.

PBP 2007 8

We are back at the motel. The bikes are not allowed in our personal rooms, so there is a large room where they are kept. The carpeting is covered with plastic. The room is filled with bicycles and bike boxes. The boxes also litter the stairwells. When we take our bikes and check out, this is where our luggage will stay until our return. I feel very lucky that I never had to move more than five or six bikes to get to my own. I also am glad I am not neurotic about scratches on my bike like I am about so many other things. I learn so much by just watching the others. Many are veterans, others are new like me. I see different seats and different lights and different thingamajigs.

The other picture is the bar where people kind of loiter on the first floor. Only two more days and we will be leaving. Tomorrow is bike check in. I grow more and more nervous, but the good kind of nervous. I ask myself over and over why I want to do this and never do come to much of a good reason other than to see if I can. I am hoping for good weather, but I hear the forecast is for rain. (Boy were they right;-)