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…