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 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 of 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 were 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 your 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.