On finishing last and doing hard things.

Last Saturday Dave and I had our first century ride of the season. Friday night I dropped the chickens off at the grandparents house while Dave was at work and then came back home to get everything ready for our ride.  Our alarm went off dark and early at just past 4:00 in the morning.  Although the ride didn't start until 8:00 we had over an hour drive to get there and still needed to pick up our packets and sign a waiver.  Dave insisted we get there early because there would be "at least 200 people in line".  Imagine our surprise when we pulled into an empty parking lot around 6:30 to find they hadn't even started setting up yet.  I teased Dave (a lot), we had a good laugh and then headed to McDonalds to take advantage of their flush potties and grab a smoothie.  We headed back to the high school, signed in (only 2 people in line) and I lounged in the car eating while Dave did some last minute bike tuning.  I like to be helpful like that ;).

At the starting line I was feeling strong and confident.  I had trained hard and felt like I was in the best shape I've ever been in.  It was a sunny, gorgeous day and I had nothing but miles and miles of open road ahead and Dave beside me. It was going to be a fantastic day!  And it was... maybe not the perfect day I was expecting, but it did end up being an unforgettable day.

The first 60ish miles were quite hilly and we had a strong head wind battling against us.  My legs definitely felt the strain but I still felt strong. I kept cranking along with a big smile on my face reassuring myself that what goes up must come down (it was a loop route) and that we would have a tail wind on the way back. It was a smaller event (only about 250 riders vs. 2200 like other events with only about 1/3 of those doing the full century) and had a more intimate feel to it.  I was able to chat it up with several other riders as we biked and at the rest stops. The rest stops themselves were awesome.  There wasn't much to them- just a shade canopy, a few volunteers, some jugs of water and some buckets of gus and chomps but because it was a smaller event and there was only a handful of riders at each stop at any given moment we were able to chat with the volunteers. They were all so encouraging and helpful.  I sure appreciated them.  I'm sure it was a loooong day for most of them.

At about mile 65 I began to fade.  I usually struggle around mile 60 so I was expecting the fade.  I decided to try downing a gu or bag of chomps every 45 minutes from the very start of the ride to see if I could avoid the fade, but alas, I don't think it worked.  I started to get discouraged.  We were still climbing with no sign of downhill in sight.  And remember that tail wind I was counting on?  The wind shifted so we were still battling against it.  Dave said it was the most consistent head wind he has ever encountered.  By mile 70 I was hurting.  By mile 75 I was slurring my words, shaking like crazy and freezing cold even though it was full sun and 85 degrees outside.  By mile 80 I started crying over everything. And I do mean everything- like a banana for example.  I was breaking...

There was another couple and an older man (who reminded me a lot of my dad) we had been leap frogging with most of the ride.  As we all got tired we settled into a pace line and all plugged along together.  It took everything I had to hang on to that line.  The older man (I never learned his name) was in suffer-fest just like me.  Although we barely said 10 words to each other (much to tired to talk) I bonded with him.  Nothing like joint agony to bring two strangers together. Another long climb finally separated our little group and Dave and I were on our own again.  I don't think words can express how hard that last climb was.  To make matters worse it became apparent that we were becoming the stragglers of the ride.  I noticed the aid stations were beginning to clean up as we approached them and the sag wagons kept passing with bikes hooked on the back and riders in the front who just couldn't go any further.

At the top of the last climb there was an aid station.  I didn't think I would be able to get back on my bike if I got off so I stayed put.  Dave, being the stellar guy he is, headed to the table and brought me back a bruised, overly ripe banana.  I cried.  And then cried because I was crying over a banana.  That banana was the first piece of real food I had had since breakfast.  Most of the real food, aka anything other than quick packaged sugar like gus and chomps, was gone at the stations before we reached them.  That banana meant everything to me.  It makes me laugh and shake my head in utter embarrassment now.  The volunteers tut-tutted over the fact that we hadn't been offered lunch yet and reassured me that we only had about 13 miles left and most of it would be downhill... finally.  Dave took off and I struggled to clip back into my pedals to follow him.  It was the weirdest thing, for some reason I couldn't make my foot line up with the pedal.  We had one more short climb and then a fabulous, fast decent for several miles.  It. was. glorious.  I only wish the decent could have lasted longer ;).  The last 5 miles were flat.  Those last 5 miles, man, longest 5 miles of my life.  I would check my Garmin sure that we had at least gone a mile or two only to discover we had only gone .2 of a mile. Thank heavens for Dave.  He was so encouraging and supportive.  I kept my concentration on his back and didn't think about anything else but following him.  It worked and somehow or other we made it to the finish line.

As we approached the finishing shoot most everyone was gone and they had begun to pack up.  Yeah.. discouraging.  There was one little boy though, around 4 or 5 I'm guessing, that was standing at the finish line.  He saw us approaching, looked around to see if anyone else noticed and then started clapping like crazy.  As we got closer he raised his tiny hand and gave us the best high 5 I have ever had in my life.  You guessed it... more tears.

We didn't have a lot of time to linger because Dave and I both had to rush home, Dave was on call with the ambulance and I had a shoot that evening but were able to stay long enough to see the rest of our little group come across. I was so happy we all made it.

I ended the ride in a much different frame of mind than how I started it.  Instead of feeling strong I felt utterly wasted.  Instead of feeling confident I felt deeply discouraged. I felt like I had given it everything I had but I was still one of the last to finish.  That hurt.  Stupid pride.

On the drive home I began reflecting on the ride.  Was I glad I had done it?  Yes.  Even though it was one of the most discouraging and painful experiences of my life I am so glad I did it.  It showed me that I'm stronger than I think.  It showed me that I can keep going even when I have nothing left.  It reminded me that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have such an encouraging and positive husband by my side. It showed me that coming in last isn't the end of the world. After all...

Dave and I have another century lined up for tomorrow and I'm resolved to relax, enjoy the child-free time with my hot honey and not worry about a finishing time or how I am doing compared to other riders.  I will simply be proud of finishing and thankful that I have a healthy and strong body. 100 miles and 7+ hours of biking is no small feat. Tomorrow I will enjoy the journey.  After all, that is why I bike, because it's supposed to be fun...  and so I can stuff myself with things like Trader Joe's chocolate covered peanut butter pretzels all in the name of carb loading ;).

I'm just hoping it doesn't rain too much.  Stupid "expect rain and wind all day" forecast.