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 4th
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 50th 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 13th. 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!!!
