My Second Century Part II:  The Journey Continues

After logging only 17 miles in four weeks after suffering from a pinched nerve and topping it off with a broken elbow, I was getting pretty anxious to get back on the road.  Sixty minutes on a stationary bike feels like an eternity.  I finally got some good news when my second round of X-rays showed that my elbow was healing faster than expected.  I’m sure it had something to do with my new diet and workout regiment.  Anti-oxidants, calcium, protein, mineral supplements, exercise to get the blood flowing to the bone…I would have tried voodoo if I had come across an article on the internet saying it would help.  My doctor said I should be fine to resume normal activities after four weeks.  We probably should have discussed what she meant by “normal activities” because I'm pretty sure she would not have agreed with my definition. 

So three weeks after breaking my elbow, I was back on the road.  I did take it easy those first couple of times out.  Just a few short rides here and there.  I then decided to scrap physical therapy.  First, the routines they gave me were suspicious.  Standing on one leg? Walking backwards on a treadmill?  And second, if I was actually going to get myself in a position to ride 100 miles, I needed some positive support; not glares of disapproval.  

With just over a week until My Second Century, my longest ride since being injured had only been 20 miles.  I had my doubts if I could even make it.  I wasn’t training hard; I missed several prep rides including an 80 miler; and it had been nearly two months since I rode over 50 miles.  I decided that before I commit to the century, I needed to put in a 60 mile ride to get an honest gauge of where I was physically.  It wasn't pretty and it wasn't fast; and when I finished, there wasn't much left in the tank.  To my surprise, my injuries were no worse off and I recovered from that ride rather quickly.  My decision was made.  I was going to start My Second Century, but I had no idea if I was going to finish it.  

early

After getting what I can only characterize as a few naps the night before My Second Century, I was up at five in the morning.  I got dressed, ate a bagel and headed over to Hershey Park.  I was one of the first to get signed in.  I wanted to give myself plenty of time to take it all in and relax before pushing off a little after seven.  It was was cold, but it was supposed to warm up a little as the day went on.  I was more concerned about wind and rain.  Good news was the rain in the forecast had passed.  The bad news was that we were looking at 15 mile an hour winds picking up around noon. 

The tour has a rolling start meaning you can leave anytime between 7:00 and 8:30.  They give you about nine hours to finish before they start closing up shop, and even though that shouldn’t have been a problem, I wanted to leave right after the first group of riders to give myself as much time as possible. 

Unfortunately that first group of riders wasn't just the people doing the century, it had inexperienced riders doing the 17 and 35 mile courses.  I have nothing against most of them.  I will always encourage anyone and everyone to get on a bike and ride.  I would also encourage them to learn the rules of the road and brush up on their cycling etiquette.  There was a group of us who managed to get stuck behind everyone who was riding three wide and chit chatting.  The first mile went through Hershey Park, so there was no chance of passing there.  Things thinned out a bit over the next few miles, but we were still dealing with people riding towards the middle of the road making passing both difficult and dangerous.  It wasn't until mile 10 when I finally hit a comfortable and steady pace.  I had a few supporters early on.  My parents were up from North Carolina and got to see me ride through Hershey.  My children came with me this year and cheered me on with my sister and brother-in-law.  I got to blow them a few kisses before the first of five graded climbs.

If I was nervous about anything, it was the hills.  With my pinched nerve, I had lost a lot of strength in my leg, particularly my calf.  When it came to the hills, I just did not have the power I was accustomed to.  Not only wasn’t the power there, I could not stand up out of the saddle to give myself a little extra push.  The first hill didn’t give me many problems.  With fresh legs and the adrenaline still pumping, I was able to drop a few gears and pedal my heart out.  I got to the first rest stop at mile 16 without any issues.  I took my time, filled up my water and set back out on the road.

I had a lot of fun on the next stretch of 20 miles.  I hooked up with a pack of about 12 riders.  For the first time since I began riding, I had a true understanding of what the draft is all about.  As a group we were flying.  Being towards the back, at times it felt like I was just being pulled along.  I found myself having to occasionally break on the flats because I was being sucked forward, almost hitting the rider in front of me.  We made it to the next rest stop as a group (mile 36) and I was anxious to head back out with the gang.  Unfortunately, the band broke up rather quickly.  The first part of the group took off before I had chance to finish my bagel.  The other part of the group was only doing the 65 mile course.  So as I began to follow them out of the parking lot, they went right and I went left.  From that point forward, I was pretty much on my own.

I rode solo for the next 16 miles.  I could feel the wind picking up, but I was still happy and confident.  I was passed with a few miles to go by a gentleman who commented on my jersey.  I don’t want to brag, but I had the best jersey of the day.  Every time I was passed or met up with someone at a rest stop, people were commenting and asking where I got it.  I must say, I do love my jersey.

The next stretch was the hardest of the day.  Not only were there 3 major climbs, the wind had picked up to over 10 mph.  It was one of those winds that seemed to be in your face no matter which direction you turned.  I hit the first hill and no more than 100 feet into it, I dropped my gears too quickly and my chain slipped and I came to a dead stop.  Once I got situated into the right gear I had to push up the hill with no momentum and into the wind.  It was at this point where I had my first doubt.  My brother-in-law was on call with his truck to come pick me up if needed.  All the way up the hill it was in the back of my mind and I had to talk myself out of it.  That scenario repeated itself on the second and third climbs.  I dragged myself to the forth stop without seeing a single rider.  It was the loneliest ride I was ever on.  I took a long break and downed some food.  31 miles to go and I still wasn’t sure if I was going to make it.  The longest climb was still in front me.

That first mile was flat and was one of the few moments where the wind was at my back.  All doubt was gone…briefly.  I hit a small hill and turned into the wind.  It was all a cruel joke.  I pushed on for a few more miles until I came to the start of the final major climb.  I decided to hop off the bike, take a quick stretch and eat a few Swedish Fish for energy.  I knew if I got over this hill, I was home free.  The forest we were riding through was tall and thick.  I was blocked from the wind.  It was quiet and peaceful.  Without being over dramatic, I was one with the road.  It was nice not hearing the constant rush of wind in my ears.  I can honestly say that I enjoyed the climb.  Even more, I enjoyed the descent as I coasted to the final rest stop at mile 83. 

I was in no hurry to finish my second century.  I took my time at the final stop before I pulled out for the last 17 miles.  The wind was back in my face and I was alone once again as I pedaled down the road.  Most of the race, I tried to avoid watching the miles tick up on my Garmin.  Now that seemed unavoidable.  There was no doubt that I would finish, it was just a question of when.  My legs were gone; my back was tight; and my elbow was throbbing.  I was starting to realize that my doctors were right.  I probably should not have been on that bike.  I had to stop one more time with about 7 miles to go.  I needed to stretch things out and I finished up my snacks.  Back on the road, I quickly became distracted by the familiarity of riding through my childhood neighborhood and riding the roads I did so many times as a kid.  Finally I could see Hershey Park in the skyline.  I was almost home.  The last mile took you all the way around the park.  I was directed into the stadium and noticed right away that the finish line had already been taken down and the volunteers were packing up.  The next thing I noticed was my parents and my kids waiting where the finish line once was.  Seeing my children jumping up and down and clapping for their daddy provided all the energy I needed to make it though that last lap.  Unfortunately I finished short, 99.85 miles on the Garmin.  So I continued up the track and past the family until I made up the shortfall.  There was no way I wasn’t logging triple digits.

My Second Century Part I: Blog Resurrection

I'm back!  But just a brief recap of the Summer of 2015.

I set out with two goals at the beginning of the summer.  The first was to ride another century, but that didn’t light the fire like last year.  It was one of those “Been There, Done That, Wrote a Blog about it” kind of things.  My second goal was a little more ambitious.  I was going to try and ride 3,000 miles.  To put that in perspective, I finished last year just shy of 2,000.  Making things even more interesting, I made a friendly wager with my buddy Steve.  It was known as the Race to 3K.  I am going to Memento this story just a little bit and tell you that I lost the bet.

Let’s back things up to last September first, to just after My First Century.  Even though I was on top of the world and felt great about my achievement, I was exhausted and physically worn down.  I had tendonitis in my elbow; I had discomfort in my back; and I was experiencing pain from my knees.  I decided to take a few days off, which turned into a few weeks, which turned into a few months.  Before I knew it, I had put back most of the weight I lost and fell back into my old bad habits.  With spring around the corner it was time to start working my way back into shape.

I started hitting the gym again and I laid out my summer goals on how to get back into shape.  It was at this point when I discussed the idea of riding 3,000 miles with Steve.  He threw down the gauntlet and offered me a challenge.  And the Race to 3K was born.  I was out early and often.  I bought some winter gear for those early morning work commutes.  I felt great.  I was quickly way ahead of last years progress.  I physically felt better.  I had a new confidence.  I was determined to win the Race to 3K.   

By mid summer, I had jumped out to a sizable lead.  I think Steve realized that I was on a mission and started logging some serious miles himself; which only pushed me to log even more miles; and back and forth we went always trying to out do the other. 

I was up 500 miles, closing in on 2,000 and ready to put the nail in the coffin.  I took my bike to the shore on vacation.  I was planning a massive week on the sweet flat roads of Holden Beach, North Carolina. 

After a 40 mile ride on my second day, I started to experience some tightness in my hamstring.  I didn’t give it much thought and figured it would loosen up on my next ride.  Except I couldn’t get my leg to loosen up and was forced to cut the ride short.  That night, I was in some serious pain which eventually made its way from my hamstring down to my calf.  A few days later, along with the pain, I started to experience numbness in my foot.  When I got home I was diagnosed with a pinched nerve.  Other than the pain and the numbness, it had also caused me to lose most the strength in my leg, particularly my calf muscle, which was now just for show. 

After resting for 10 days, I decided to give it a go.  I had been able to manage the pain, but I was still lacking the strength.  But my lead was quickly shrinking and I had an 80 mile race to prepare for.  Unfortunately misfortune struck again on my second day back.  I had my first cycling accident since I was in second grade.  It wasn’t anything major.  I cut a corner too sharp and my back wheel slipped out.  I took a tumble, brushed myself off, popped my chain back on and continued my ride for another 5 miles. My elbow was a little sore, so I threw on the bag of frozen corn we keep for bumps and bruises.  Things started to swell over night and I found myself at urgent care the next day.  X-Rays showed a radial head fracture. 

My first question was “how long until I can get back on the bike?”  My doctor told me at least 6 weeks.  I tried to explain to her that I was an avid cyclist and that I was currently in training.  I thought perhaps if I showed her my desire to get riding again, she might pull out her super secret, aggressive, recovery method allowing me to speed up the healing process.  She did not…6 weeks. I needed to allow myself enough time to heal.  I did however talk her into allowing me on a stationary bike where you don’t need to put pressure on your arms and the risk of falling again was pretty minimal.

At this point, I was never reaching 3,000 miles, let alone winning any bets.  However, I had yet to rule out the chances at My Second Century.  There was one big problem; the Tour de Chocolate Town was only 6 weeks after my fall (you do the math).  I was riding a stationary bike a few times a week, trying to stay in some kind of shape.  But even that was limited as I was still having issues with my pinched nerve.  I was even going to physical therapy twice a week.  They did not like me riding the stationary bike, something about not giving myself enough time to heal.  I tried to explain to them that I was an avid cyclist and that I was currently in training.  Again, I thought perhaps, just maybe, they would show me some secret recovery method to speed up the healing process.  Like my doctor, they did not.

To Be Continued…

My First Century

Shut up legs. Do what I tell you to do.
- Jens Voigt

The day before My First Century, I took a 30 minute ride around the neighborhood.  I had been cutting back my miles all week and I just wanted to get loose and get out some prerace jitters.  I spent a lot of time stretching the night before and my legs were fresh.  The hardest part was trying to maintain a relaxed pace.  My legs just kept saying “Go, Go, Go.” 

I had planned to spend the rest of the afternoon packing and preparing to head to Hershey where I was spending the night at my sister’s.   I pumped my tires and oiled my chain.  I took what I thought was one last spin around the block, just to make sure everything was working properly.  That’s when things started going wrong.  I never oiled my chain before…I know, I know.  You don’t start making changes to your bike or your routine right before a big race.  Lesson learned.  Rather than gliding into gear, my chain was hopping.  I took it home and started a detail cleaning of my chain.  My hands were shaking, I started to sweat.  I thought my entire journey was going to come to an end because I decided to get cute.  After a couple of hours, countless trips up and down my street, a few Youtube videos and one old T-shirt later, I finally got the bike rideable. 

I never like that shirt anyway

If that wasn’t enough, while I was making sure I had everything I needed, from water bottles to sunscreen, I noticed that my Garmin GPS would not power on.  My first thought was, “this is going to cost me a pretty penny.”  Thanks to the intraweb, I was able to find a quick solution (just hold 3 of the buttons in until it resets).  I finally loaded the bike and the rest of my gear into the jeep and hit the road.

That night I went out to dinner with my sister’s family and fueled up on my favorite food, D.A.’s pizza.  I debated having a couple of beers to settle my nerves and help me get to sleep.  I cut out beer and caffeine all week long and foolishly stuck with that plan.  I went to bed at 10:00, but didn’t go to sleep.  Nature called around midnight.  For some odd reason at 2 a.m., I was up reading text messages and checking sports scores.  At 4:55 a.m. I was able to shut down my five o’clock alarm without it going off. 

Before I get into my day, I would be remiss if I did not pay tribute to the race itself and all the other riders.  I am proud of my accomplishments, but I learned early and often that there was something bigger than my journey on the road that day.  The race itself was to raise funds for the Children's Miracle Network at Penn State Hershey Children's Hospital.  Children's Miracle Network funding enhances the ability of the Penn State Hershey Children’s Hospital to provide top-notch pediatric healthcare for the sick and injured children of Central Pennsylvania.

  

Even more amazing than the race were the participants from all over the country.  Everyone was there for their own reasons and their own causes.  I learned about the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and their Team in Training program.  This is the largest sports training program in the world.  It provides coaching and training in return for its members helping to raise money for blood cancers.  There were groups from Texas, D.C. and Boston (just to name a few).  It was a humbling experience right from the start as I passed rider after rider with some form of:  In Memory of…hand written on their jerseys.  I had the pleasure of meeting and riding with a few people whose stories easily eclipsed my own. 

I spent most of my day with a gentleman named Joe.  I’ll speak more about Joe later, but he was riding for his brother who had passed away from lymphoma at the age of 41. 

At one rest stop I met a man who was riding his 4^th century, but the first one since he had recovered from heart surgery. 

I also met Bill during the race.  Bill had planned to ride his first century on his 50^th birthday.  After which, his wife had a huge party planned with all of his friends and family.  That morning, Bill received a call from his doctor with his MRI results and was told that he had cancer.  Bill later regretted that he cancelled both his ride and his party but vowed not to let cancer take anything else away from him.  Five years later, Bill is cancer free and it was an honor and a privilege to spend a few miles with him as he finally got to ride in his first century.

  

I can not come up with an appropriate segue, so I decided on this.

.

What the what?

With only a few hours of sleep, I dragged myself from bed and got dressed while my bagels were toasting.  I ate one and took one for the road.  It was still dark as I loaded up my bike and headed off to Hersheypark stadium.  I got checked in early, ate my second bagel and tried to relax with some tunes.

Me and my bagel

The rolling start began at 7:00 a.m.  As planned, I let the first wave of riders head out. 

I assumed that the first group would end up being the largest.  Also anyone that was “racing” or riding for speed would want to get an early jump on the field.  I certainly did not want to lead the pack, so I waited until 7:15 to start My First Century.

And they're off!

After 14 weeks of training and over 1,500 miles, it was finally time.  I reminded myself that it was a ride and not a race.  I deliberately went out slow and enjoyed the first few miles which went right through Hersheypark. 

All smiles

As I exited the park, I was grouped with a pack of riders as we waited on traffic.  I stayed in the back just following the flow to ensure I didn’t push too hard too soon.  At about mile four I checked my cue sheet which said we were supposed to be on Chocolate Avenue.  Since I grew up in Hershey, I knew for a fact that we were no where near Chocolate Avenue.  We missed the second turn out of the park and rode a mile and a half in the wrong direction.  I quickly learned about road markers, what they looked like and where they were placed.  That was a mistake I certainly could not afford to make again.   Even though I added three extra miles to my day, it turned out to be a wonderful distraction.  For every turn on the cue sheet, I had to figure out the math by subtracting 2.9 miles from my Garmin distance to figure out how far I had to go.  “First rest stop at 20.7, well then I need to get to 23.6 on the Garmin.” It may not sound like much, but I was making those simple calculations once every few minutes for nearly seven hours.

The route took me close to my sister and brother-in-law’s house.  They came out to cheer me on and take some pictures at mile 11.2 (per the cue sheet or 14.1 on my Garmin).  I’m sure they assumed something had happened since with the extra distance, I was running about 15 minutes behind schedule. So far, the ride was easy and I was feeling great, but I was also heading towards the first big challenge of the day.

Hey, I know you.

It wasn’t the steepest or the biggest hill I had ever been on, but then again, I never had to do another 80 miles after any of those other hills.  After I lost my initial momentum I was taking it very slow, too slow.  It was not the pace I wanted, but the road was crowded and I was still a little uneasy about passing especially with some of the novice riders having difficulty maintaining their lines.  As my legs began to burn, I said to hell with it and really started pushing and passing.  On a hill that was about a mile long and two hundred feet up, I passed a least a dozen riders and that’s not counting the handful of people that were walking their bikes, the guy who appeared to have wrecked and the two guys tending to him.  Keep in mind, the shorter loops were still sharing the same course; so many of these riders were not as well trained as the century riders. I stood up on my bike and glided at the top of the hill just to catch my breath and stretch out my legs.  As I cruised down the other side, I had a new found confidence.  I was feeling strong and if I was going to have any issues with my chain, it would have been on that hill.  I over heard a guy say that it was the second biggest hill of the course.  I wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but at least that hill was behind me.  If I took anything away from this, it was that all the hills I complained about this summer were really starting to pay off.

For the record, other than the guy on the hill (partly because I was sucking wind and partly because he already had help), I checked with every rider who was stopped along the route.  I’d say there were about 10.  Fortunately no one needed my assistance so I always kept riding.

I made it to the first rest stop in one piece. 

I initially planned for my first break to last about 5 minutes.  I believe the stop lasted 10.  There were lines for water and lines for the porta-potties.  I certainly was not in a hurry after that hill.  The first twenty miles were a bit of a blur so I took my time, relaxed and enjoyed the moment.  I sent a couple of text messages and updated the Facebook for a few people that were following along at home.

The next leg was pretty short, just 13 miles.  Traffic was thinning out as the shorter courses (17 & 33) began turning back.  I was finding my groove and my space on the road.  At the second stop, I again took a longer break.  I changed my game plan a little and decided to take advantage of my time off the bike.  I had 23 miles until the third stop and so I wanted to make sure I was fueled up and fully stocked.

I found myself in a pretty decent gap; exactly where I wanted to be.  Close enough to see the group in front of me on the longer stretches.  In the distance, I noticed someone slowly gaining ground on me.  It was around mile 40 (I can’t recall if it was 40 Garmin or 40 cue sheet).  I was completely expecting to be passed, but this guy just sat on my back wheel…for the next 15 miles.  I was able to pull away once.  I cleared an intersection and he got held up.  But less than half a mile later, there he was.  I was a little irritated at first.  He was obviously faster than me.  Why didn’t he just pass? 

When we reached the third rest stop (which was a little more than half way), I officially met Joe.  He approached me and said he liked my pace and asked if I minded him riding with me.  I was not excited about the idea, but I wasn’t going to say no.  I decided that if he wanted to tag along, that was fine, but I was not going to change my pace.  If I needed to be slow, I was going to be slow.  If I wanted to push, I was going to push.  After a 10 minute break and two delicious Smucker’s Uncrustables later, we pushed off together.  And for the next 14 miles, Joe and I owned the road. 

Yummy

There’s a point where you’re not sure if you are going to make it.  The doubt sets in.  For me it was around mile 70 (mile 67 cue sheet).  The hills were taking a toll.  My legs began to feel like rubber.  I creeped into the fourth rest stop happy to get off the bike.  I tried to cut Joe loose.  I explained to him that I had no idea if I had anything left in my legs for the hills that were coming up and if he wanted to take off without me, I would not hold it against him.  He looked at me and said, “You’re doing a hundred mile bike ride, how did you think your legs would feel?  Let’s get out there and see what happens.”  It was at that moment when I first realized how glad I was to have Joe around.

As we approached the hardest part of the course with multiple climbs, I tried my best to power through.  It would have been easy to stop and take a break between hills, but I did not want to let Joe down.  I wasn’t just happy to have Joe around, at this point I think I needed him right there; pushing me; keeping me focused; encouraging me to press on.  We hit the biggest hill and I put my head down and tried not to look up until we reached the top.  We continued to pass riders at a steady clip. I was on a mission and Joe was my wingman. 

On one of the flats between climbs, we were passed by an older gentleman who looked as if he’d been riding since before I was born.  It was the first time that I had been passed since before Joe and I hooked up.  Early on I had been passed by a dozen or so riders who were flying past everyone.  I had no way to know if they were doing the century or possibly one of the shorter loops.  I was also passed by a couple of groups that I assumed were on some type of “team” or part of a cycling club.  But that was 40 plus miles ago.  I started to realize that I was one of the fastest guys on the road (at least in my small section of the course).  Perhaps Joe was not just being nice, but maybe, unlike me, he had a hard time riding alone.  Maybe he hooked up with me, because I was the only one on the road that could pace him close to the speed he wanted.  I know he said he was worried about missing the turns and his cue sheet was a balled up mess.  Perhaps Joe needed me just as much as I needed him.  In hindsight, that probably was not the case, but I used it.  I used anything if it was going to help me get over those hills. 

At the final rest stop, Joe got off his bike and just started laughing.  “For someone who didn’t have anything left for the hills, you sure didn’t waste any time passing everyone.”  I explained that it hurt too much to take the hills slow.  I needed to up my pace and keep the momentum.  I was feeling great at this point of the race (mentally, not physically).  As far as I knew, the worst of the hills were behind us.  Only 17 miles to go.  It was just like any other 17 mile ride that I took this summer.  I was home free.

We made a right out of the rest stop and then a quick left onto… SON OF A BITCH, another hill.  It wasn’t the steepest hill; but it was the worst hill on the course that day.  Not because my legs felt like they weighed a million pounds or the pain that was coming from the back of my knees.  It wasn’t that I had been sitting on my bike for 85 miles and nearly 6 hours.  I’m sorry, that’s exactly what made it the worst hill on the course.  That and the proverbial kick to the gut I felt when I rounded that corner.  It was at this point that I just wanted to be done.  We started our climb and slowly caught another rider.  For the first time all day, I didn’t feel like passing.  I’m not sure my legs would have responded even if I had tried.  I did not know what Joe was thinking, and frankly I did not care.  I decided to sit on this guys back wheel and let him pull me up the next two miles.

Reaching the summit top of the hill was a glorious moment.  The next six miles were mostly flat or down hill.  It would have been a really fun and fast ride with fresh legs, but we coasted as much as possible, trying to give ourselves a break before the homestretch.  With less than 10 miles to go, I was happy with a slow and steady pace to finish up the ride.

At mile 93 (96 Garmin), Joe was gone.  We came to an intersection and got grouped up with about a dozen other riders.  When the light changed, Joe ended up out in front and I got caught in the back of the pack.  I really did not have anything left to push my way through, so I just sat on the pace.  Slowly the group got spread out and Joe, with a few other riders, began to pull away.  I thought to myself, would I ever see Joe again?  Was he even real?  Maybe Joe was never there, just a figment of my imagination.  Maybe he was my alter ego I used to push myself when things got tough.  Perhaps he was sent from the heavens to look over….oh wait.  I got a picture of Joe.  He was definitely real.

BFFs or maybe for just a few hours

I actually caught back up with Joe thanks to a few well timed stop lights.  We came in through Hershey together along with another group of riders we picked up.  It was pretty surreal.  I had ridden those roads a hundred times as a kid.  I ran many of those same roads in cross country.  I counted down the miles, now oblivious to the pain.  My speed didn’t matter.  My form didn’t matter.  I was just trying to push through the last five miles; the last four miles.  I hit 100 on the Garmin, but knew I still had some more few miles to go.  (Suddenly math was hard). 

Our group finally pulled up to the back side of Hersheypark.  One big loop to get to the stadium.  I did not have the energy to get excited, just enough to pedal.  Head down, pedal, pedal.  Head down, pedal, pedal. 

I can only imagine the smile on my face as a security guard waved me into the cycling entrance at the stadium.  Music was blaring, bells were ringing and there were a few small groups cheering as the cyclists trickled in.    The giant inflated finish line was less than half a lap away and I was bouncing to the beat.  I stopped pedaling as I rounded the last turn.  I was just gliding, hoping my momentum would carry me to the finish line and savoring those last few moments of My First Century as long as I could. 

It has been a wonderful journey and I can say without hesitation that this ranks up there with some of my life’s greatest experiences and biggest personal accomplishments.  As sad as I am to see it come to an end; I take comfort knowing that for me, the journey will continue… minus the blog.  With the peak perhaps in my rear view mirror, I already have next year’s Tour de Chocolate Town on my calendar; an event I hope to participate in for many years to come. 

To my friends and family, as well as my 12 followers, and yes, I have increased my readership through an aggressive online marketing strategy Facebook, thank you for all your words of encouragement and continued support.  I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed writing. 

To Jenn and Dean, thank you for your hospitality and coming out and supporting me on my big race day.  The images you captured are priceless and I will cherish them forever. 

Thanks to Steve for motivating me to accomplish my goals and always being there for the nerdy stuff.  I probably would not have come this far if you had not planted the seed.  Next year’s ride is September 13^th.  Save the date.

A very special thank you to Joe (where ever you may be).  Chances are I will never see Joe again and I’m guessing he will never read this article, but I could not imagine my day without him right there behind me; pushing and encouraging me for 60 plus miles. 

For my kids, who I hope will one day read this.  Please know that it’s never to late to set new goals, live your dreams and accomplish the impossible.

And finally to my beautiful wife Shelley, who without all of her sacrifice, none of this would have been possible.  Thank you for putting up with the sweaty clothes, bikes in the dining room, and all the new toys; for picking up the slack and all of the general B.S. that went  with the hours and hours of training. I promise you, none of it went unnoticed.  I love you baby; all day, every day!!!

The Lone Wolf

When I initially made the decision to ride My First Century, the idea of writing about it didn't cross my mind. After reading a few articles documenting other first timers, I felt it would be nice to have something to look back on.  Maybe my journey could help motivate or inspire others to complete their first century.  Or perhaps I just had a handful of pent-up emotions that needed to find their way out.  I must say, that many of the early articles were definitely therapeutic.  And not just by expressing those emotions for the whole world to read, but it was a wonderful way to pass the time while on the bike.  Because on the bike is where I came up with most of my ideas.  Eventually the training and the writing became intertwined and now I couldn’t imagine one without the other.

Some passages just poured onto the page and I couldn’t type fast enough once I reached my computer.   Other articles came to me slow and piecemealed; quip by quip, line by line.  I would repeat something over and over in my head afraid I would forget it by the time I got home.  I probably lost troves of comedy gold that was forgotten before I could write it down.  Other times ideas didn’t play as well on paper as they did in my mind.  Possibly the hilarity could only be experienced after 40 miles, under the sun and in the heat of July.   

I kept a lot of notes.  Thoughts I wanted to convey but never had the appropriate context.  Funny pieces of information that I came across in my research for both the blog and my training…Like these gems from the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation’s Bicycle Driver’s Manual:

Pedalcycle: A vehicle propelled soley by human-powered pedals. The term does not mean a three-wheeled human powered pedal-driven vehicle with a main driving wheel 20 inches in diameter or under and primarily designed for children six years of age or younger.

Just in case there is any confusion, the definition is properly clarified:

Comment: Pedalcycle is the legal terminology for a bicycle in Pennsylvania.

Or perhaps you thought your bicycle was something other than a pedalcycle, PennDot is here to clear that up as well:

There are a couple of other common mistakes people make in getting onto their bikes. Some people push the bike along with a foot, like a scooter. Other people stand next to the bike, then leap over it, the way you mount a horse. But a bicycle is not a tricycle, a scooter, or a horse.

I’m both happy and sad to say that this is my last entry before the big day.  And while most of my articles have had a central theme, today will be a little retrospective and a little random.  I hope to pull the curtain back as they say and unload what’s left of my collection of loose thoughts.

  

I typically keep to the same roads.  As I increased my mileage, I expanded my loops, but still started and ended in familiar territory.  I often stopped at one particular spot.  Sometimes I stopped to rest, sometimes to grab a snack, and sometimes I stopped just take a few pictures.

It’s just a little old school house.  I don’t think anyone uses it anymore, but the old man who owns it spends hours and hours taking care of it.  The school always looks like it has a fresh coat of paint and the bushes must be trimmed on a weekly basis.  It’s the perfect place to get off the bike and admire someone else’s handiwork.

On the other side of the spectrum, I occasionally road past this:

 Not sure what it is or what they are doing, but I believe it's called art?

Here is an example of one of my completely random notes…”I can smell the corn!”  This was from a ride that would never make it into any other article, but was too unique and wonderful to discard.  During one of my many trips through the corn fields of Kutztown, when it was just about fully grown; the smell of fresh corn, like it was straight off the grill, rose from the fields.  It’s something I have never experienced before nor have experienced since. 

I have no shame admitting that I do not like hills.  Where I live, it is difficult finding a direction that doesn’t have a significant elevation gain.  But I have learned a few secrets to keeping off the steeper grades.  Avoid roads whose names fall into certain categories.  Obviously avoid any road that that has Hill in it.  That’s a gimme.  I once found myself on Hard Hill Rd.  That was not a fun day.

Also avoid any roads named after churches.  Surprise, surprise, those roads usually have a church on them.  And more times than not, those churches are at the top of a hill.  Finally let’s put the two together, and at all costs avoid any road named Church Hill.

This hill is big enough to hold two churches.

I have seen a handful of friends get turned on to cycling just in the past few months.  I certainly can’t take credit for their new passion, but I have taken great pleasure in answering their questions and advising them in any way I can.  I’m also hopeful that there are others out there who are taking something from these articles and putting it to good use.  I’m sure I’d be a little lost if I didn’t have someone I could turn to for advice.

My friend Steve summed it up best by saying its good to have someone to nerd out with over cycling.  I recently had the privilege of joining him for my final long prep before My First Century.  We broke 75 miles and got in some decent hills.  If anything, I learned that I’m a lone wolf.  Unlike most, I much prefer riding solo.  I love to stop and take pictures (obviously).  I'll hop off randomly to grab a snack, other times I'll see how long I can go without stopping. I have gone as far as 40 miles before I ran out of water.  I definitely don’t like being in a position where I’m holding someone back or stressed out because I am pushing to hard to keep up.  Perhaps one day I'll worry about someone slowing me down.  The point is: it’s my pace and I like it. 

Things were a little different with Steve.  He, more than anyone else, knew where I was physically and knew what to expect.  I would absolutely do it again, because it was a great day with my good friend.  But I’m certainly not looking to join a cycling club anytime soon. 

It was a great experience and one that I needed before the big day.  This ride actually served a secondary purpose other than just distance, because I definitely needed more experience passing and how to be passed before I get grouped with 1,500 other people on bikes.  I certainly don’t want to be the cause of a pileup in the first few miles.  We stuck mainly to the bike paths, passed dozens of cyclists and surprisingly we were only passed once.  We even got into some nice congestion in downtown Philly, which completely reinforced my desire to be far away from other riders.

After my 75 miler, I only had one more training ride on my to-do list before the My First Century.  It had nothing to do with the distance this time, but all about the experience.  Weather has been one of my chief concerns, specifically from a training perspective.  Fortunately this entire summer has been beautiful.  Temperatures have been mild and rain has been minimal and at the most opportune times.  But as the century ride approached, I got more and more concerned about race day weather; especially since I really haven’t had to deal with any harsh conditions throughout this entire process.  So when the forecast called for all day showers, I geared up and hit the road for two hours and 30 plus miles of steady rain. Thanks to that ride, I have the confidence that if it happens on my century, I know what to expect and I’ll be ready to push through 100 miles of it.

Do This. Don't Do That

I have done plenty of research getting ready for my My First Century.  I’m always scanning for tips on better riding or better equipment.  I invariably come across some article with the Dos and Don’ts of cycling.  It’s all pretty generic and mostly common sense:  DO eat breakfast.  DON’T forget to drink plenty of fluids.  I wanted to write something helpful, but not something that has already been done over and over.  So here are my Do's and Don't for all the non cyclists out there.

Let’s start with the trail/bike path walkers. 

DON’T walk your dog on a 10 foot leash.  Please keep your pets close to you.  If you want to let them run around, take them to the park…And the same goes for your kids. 

DO walk to the side of the path, not in the middle.  This is even more important for couples and/or groups.

DON’T lunge left.  When I call out “passing on the left,” that means my left, which also means your left.  So please, DON’T LUNGE LEFT. 

DO be prepared to have the piss scared out of you if you’re cranking music through your headphones.  As I mentioned above, I’ll call out that I’m passing, but I’m not trying to scream over your Taylor Swift tunes.

Like some pedestrians, many drivers also need to be educated on the many aspects of living in a world with bikes. 

Do share the road.

Don’t expect me to obey all traffic laws.  I admit it, I’ll make an illegal turn from time to time.  I follow the Idaho Stop rationale that lets cyclist treat stop signs as yield signs.  When it comes to street lights, most states only require cyclists to treat it as a stop sign: 

Red or completely unlighted signal shall stop in the same manner as a stop sign; and the right to proceed shall be subject to the rules applicable after making a stop at a stop sign.

Here’s another interest fact on the law:

Any person violating any provision of this subchapter is guilty of a summary
offense and shall, upon conviction, be sentenced to pay a fine of $10

Do admit that if your fines were only 10 bucks, you’d be rolling those stops signs as well.

Don’t honk to say hi.  If you see me, just send me a message on the Facebook like:  I saw you on your bike today…I was in my car.  Seriously, my initial thought when I hear a car horn is that several cars are careening out of control behind me.  So even if I do see you, I will probably have a death grip on my handlebars and unable to wave.

Do assume that cyclists are everywhere. 

Don’t text and drive.  Seriously, don’t text and drive.

Do give cyclists 3 feet when passing.  In many states the law in 3 feet.  In Pennsylvania, motorists are actually required to give cyclists 4 feet.  The 3 feet cause even has its own Facebook page.

https://www.facebook.com/3FeetPlease

Don’t assume I will always stay on the shoulder.  I will move over if the surface conditions are not ideal.  Here is a small sample of things I’ve seen just this summer:  Rocks, a dirty diaper, snakes, broken glass, a doll, sewage drains, a horse shoe, screws, branches, dead animals, and not so dead animals (a groundhog will hiss something fierce if threatened).

Not the actual groundhog I encountered, but just as scary.

Do give me the right of way when I have the right of way.

Don’t be the lady in the red dress.  When I’m on a busy road, I assume everyone will perform as expected.  I call this my Matrix Mode, where I am looking out for minor deviations in the typical flow of traffic, because it’s those deviations that will get me killed.  Occasionally you will get the overly cyclist friendly driver who thinks he’ll get a merit badge by stopping in the middle of the road to allow you to proceed.  Don’t do this.  First, I have no clue what you are doing.  Second, none of the other drivers on the road have a clue what you are doing.  Are you turning?  Did your car break down?  And now, other drivers are focused on you and don’t see me.  I’m focused on you and not on the drivers who are probably trying to navigate around you.  You have just become the lady in the red dress. 

  

Don’t say I don’t pay taxes.  I am a home owner; I pay property taxes and school taxes.  The sales tax on all my gear alone was a huge chunk of change.  Oh, and I do drive as well.  My jeep is a wonderful gas guzzler, but instead of sitting around eating Egg McMuffins and Slim Jims while drinking that double mocha mocha latte, I’m staying healthy and fit which is lowering insurance costs for everybody.  If you want to complain about someone not paying taxes and on your road, complain about the Mennonites.  And their horses crap all over the road as well.

Speaking of Mennonites…

Don’t drive your metal tired tractors on freshly laid asphalt. 

                                                  

This road was paved 6 days ago and is now lined with these grooves from the tractor treads.  They are probably less than an eighth of an inch deep, but they feel like rumble strips.  Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Mennonites Rumble Strips.  They’ve probably saved a few lives here and there.  I just don’t want to be flying over them on a road bike. 

Feel free to add your own Do's and Don'ts in the comment section below.

It's Called the Metric System

Riding a hundred miles isn't something you just jump into.  I have always known that I would need to steadily increase the distance of my rides.  Along the way I would hit a handful of milestones.  The first on my list was The Half Century. I reached that a few weeks back on my trip around Blue Marsh Lake.  In a few weeks from now, I will try to ride 100 miles in two days.  Today however is about the Metric Century…or what we like to call in America:  62.1 miles. 

I actually planned to hit at least 63.  I’ve learned that I much rather ride a little extra than get close to home and be a little short.  Zig-zagging the neighborhood after a long ride knowing you can stop at anytime is not fun. This ride would push me about ten percent further than my previous rides.  I was looking forward to the challenge all week and I was pretty excited to cross the Metric Century off of my to-do list.

I started the morning off with a new breakfast routine, two bagels with cream cheese.  I had been feeling a little empty on some recent rides and thought this would definitely fill me up and add the extra carbs I needed for a long trip.  Could just be coincidence, but I felt better during this first half than any of my previous distance rides.  Needless to say, my First Century Breakfast has now been determined.

Before I hit the road, I made sure my tires were pumped full of air and my GPS was fully charged.

I put my contacts in so I could sport my new cycling shades….and now I probably need to go back and update one of my earlier blogs. 

I made sure I had a few snacks and plenty of fluids before I set out. I typically like to take a banana, a few cookies and a granola bar.  I also freeze a Gatorade which I throw in the back pocket of my shirt for later.

I almost forgot to apply some sunscreen for the second week in a row.  Fortunately, my three year old daughter was kind enough to remind me moments before I hit the road.

I started my ride with one of my shorter loops just to log some miles and make sure everything was working properly before I strayed too far from home.  I made my first stop after about 15 miles.  A little earlier than I wanted, but I was heading into no man’s land and I wouldn’t see another store for the next 20 miles.  I topped off my water and ate a banana.  Five minutes later, I was back on the road. 

Before my next stop, I hit the Bob Rodale Cycling and Fitness Park.  I love this little place.  I wish the track was a bit longer.  It is a smidge over one mile but has a couple of nice up and downs.  As long as everyone stays in their designated lane, it’s a great place to add a few miles to your route.  I put in 6 laps and was on my way.

Right up the road I stopped for lunch at Joe’s Pizza.  I was in and out in under ten minutes.  I had a quick slice that was delicious and completely guilt free.  Even better, Joe’s is stocked with sports drinks.  After getting refueled, I was ready to tackle the second half of my ride.

Six dollar lunch

With about 18 miles to go, I made my final stop.  Three minutes to grab another bottle of water and finish off my Gatorade.  I was now back in familiar territory and feeling great.  Nothing was chaffing and my backside wasn’t really sore.  Riding with the wind at my back didn’t hurt either.

Other than my three scheduled stops, I did pull over to take a picture of this guy and his massive horns.

Finally, I finished my first metric century and even tacked on a couple extra miles for good measure.

Not only did I feel great through most of the ride, I had no issues that night or even the next day.  I’m not quite at the speed I was hoping for but this pace will still let me finish my First Century in less than seven hours.  And if there’s one thing I’ve heard over and over again about your first century:  It’s a ride, not a race.  I’ll be happy just to finish My First Century and I will worry about the speed next time.

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

“It never gets easier, you just go faster” ~~Greg Lemond

It's been a little over six weeks since I began training for my century.  I am really happy with the gains I've been seeing, especially considering the short amount of time. As planned, my longer rides keep getting longer and I've seen a small increase in my speeds, even on the longer trips. I'm also down about 10 pounds since my training started, which keeps me on schedule to hit my desired race weight.

I was curious how I was stacking up to last year's workouts.  I scrolled through my cycling app until I got to a ride from one year ago.  I wasn’t working towards a goal like I am today, but I had been riding a few days a week for almost four months at that point.  I was serious about shedding the pounds and getting into better shape.  But I wasn't even close to where I am now.

So for fun (and because I thought I could turn it into a decent article), I decided to ride the exact same route.  To get a fair comparison, I rode the old bulky bike.  I cut 25 minutes off last year’s time.  Since I was in comparison mode, the next day I took the same route again; this time on my new road bike.  I beat last year’s time by 32 minutes which was seven minutes faster than I just did on the old bike.  There’s no arguing that better equipment makes a better rider.

 “It never gets easier, you just go faster.”  I would expand on this to say you just go faster and farther.  12 miles, that was a big deal back then.  It would be an entire month until I broke 20.  A few weeks after that,  I logged my longest ride of the summer which was 27 miles.  My best week was just 65.  Now I routinely do 100 miles in three days.

Every week I set one day aside for my long ride.  I have been increasing the distance a few miles each time.  In addition to the normal pain and discomfort you experience from any workout, being on a bike for three or more hours can get boring from time to time.  In order to break the monotony, I keep looking for new travel destinations.  Sometimes it’s nothing more than a new gas station to refill my liquids.  Other times I’m looking for some place a little more scenic.  Either way, new roads make the trip a lot easier...at least mentally.

My scenic trip around Blue Marsh Lake 

A few weeks ago, while I was trying to plan one of my longer rides, I remembered an old high school friend, Colleen, lived about 25 miles up the road.  I shot her a few messages and she invited me for a visit.  We coordinated a day and a time.  She just bought a new farm and was excited to show it off.  I was looking forward to catching up and really happy to have an objective that did not revolve around my next bottle of water.  I set out on my trip late in the morning.  The temps were in the mid 80's and I had to make a few hard climbs just to get to her place. When I finally arrived (a hot a sweaty mess), I was thrilled just to get off my bike.  The first thing I did was apologize for my stench. After that, I got a tour and she introduced me to all of her beautiful horses. We also managed to get a couple of cool pics.

I smelled so bad, this horse had to be bribed with treats to pose with me.

We had a great visit, but eventually Colleen filled up my water bottles and sent me on my way.  It was such a memorable trip.  Not only because of the destination, but I also learned two valuable lessons. 

First, it helps to know your roads.  The elevation gain on this trip was way more than I wanted and/or expected.  But I fought through it and I’m probably stronger for it.  I also found myself on a long road which was freshly and only partially “oiled and chipped”.  If you are not familiar with the term "oiled and chipped", it’s when they tar the road and dump loose gravel on top.  I’m sure they probably steam roll it, but not all the gravel gets embedded.  It just lies loose until enough traffic kicks it off the side of the road.  It definitely is not an ideal riding surface for a road bike.  But that wasn’t even the worst part.  As I stated earlier, the road was only partially oiled and chipped.  Half of it was just dirt and stone.    

Not to mention a pretty steep hill.

I’m not ashamed to say, I walked the dirt and stone section on my way back.  I almost wrecked several times trying to get down the hill and riding up the thing with tiring legs just added a few more levels of difficulty.

The second lesson I learned: keep your breaks short.  As much as I enjoyed catching up with my friend, touring the farm, and seeing all the horses; I spent way too much time out of the saddle (if there’s a pun there, it’s intended).  Getting back on the bike after about 90 minutes was a miserable experience.  And it wasn’t just that I was tight.  I was tight, I had 25 miles to go and that was all I could think about. Fortunately I started to loosen up after a few miles and I eventually became distracted by things other than my legs; like this interesting wood sculpture. 

 Are Gnotem Poles real?  Yes they are.