I had gotten back on my bike, after an almost 18 month hiatus, in January of this year. I had dusted off my bike, literally, and reminded myself how to hook it up to the bike trainer that had found what it thought was a permanent residence in the corner. For my first ride I had a goal of riding 45 minutes. I barely made it through 30.
But that all seems like years ago. Since that first ride back in the saddle, I have done nothing but focus on getting through the 112 miles that will be required of me at the end of Oct. And then, somehow, I found myself on my way to my first "only bike race". Not only just a bike race, but a 100 mile race.
My friends/teammates/advice givers had reminded me over and over, that this was NOT a race, but a 100 mile bike ride. A ride in which we could try out race day techniques, find a cadence that works, and of course work out any food/fuel issue. There was a time limit, but that should be far away from my mind, as I would make any cut off necessary.
We arrived, somewhere in Cowetta (I am not entirely sure), and met up with other people from our training circles. It was suggested that we go and register first. Everyone around me started pulling out their paperwork. I started to panic in my mind. I had been so overwhelmed with my life in August I had given so little thought to this event, that I hadn't even thought about what I would need for "race" day. I lied and said I had left the papers on my counter at home, and grabbed my ID in hopes that would be enough. It was, and I was given my black bracelet to wear during the ride. We went back to our bikes to get ready. Others were putting on sunscreen, something else I 'left on the counter'. But let's be honest, I was just happy I had remembered my two bike shoes, and helmet. After picking up a map, two potty breaks, packing my bento box, and water bottles (I carry 4, two with food, 2 with liquid) our group decided to head off a little before the official start at 8 am.
It was a nice cool start. I had been warned that the course was "hilly", but that is what you would expect in northern Georgia. But this was rolling hills, after rolling hills, after rolling hills. Most of my training has been in my basement on the trainer, or on the only "flat" area in Atlanta the Silver Comet Trail. But I took the hills on with the best attitude I could muster. The first part of the ride was shady, and in the country. Cute, farm houses and large fields. As the sun came up I could feel it get a little warmer, but I was really enjoying the ride.
Somewhere around mile 15-18, I found myself in Tour-de-France-hell. The pack of bikers, who apparently didn't get the memo that this was just a "ride" had finally caught up with us. They were packed in 4 wide, and touching elbows. The anxiety in my body went wild, and it was a struggle to keep my breathing under control. I focused on the road ahead of me. I came up out of my arrow bar position. I just kept repeating "keep your bars straight" over and over in my head. It seemed to last forever. In reality it was maybe a full minute of bikers, but that is not how I would enjoy a bike race.
I think the first rest stop (forgive the non-bike lingo, as I still feel a bit out of my element when discussing bike things) was around mile 20. Unlike a water stop in a foot race, at these stops you get off your bike, walk around, talk with others, use the bathroom, eat food, fill up bottles, drink, talk a little more, pack a few items on your bike, and then get on your bike. No hurry. It was a little weird, as I was still a little in "race" mode, but I knew the hard part of the bike was coming, so I just did what the others were doing, and tried not to look out of place.
At this point people who were doing 62 miles, which I found out was pretty much everyone, split from the idiots who were out to do the full 100. Barbara, Lia, and I are all training for the same relay so off we went. Talk about feeling out of your element. Barbara and Lia are both amazing athletes, and Ironman, (or Ironmen?). A feat I will only be 1/3 of, when I finish the 112 miles. Not to mention they are both much more comfortable and faster than myself on the bike. But it was the three of us, and I figured I would follow their lead, I mean who better to learn how to do these bike events than those two. There was a stop between 30-40 but that was a short stop, and we didn't even get off our bikes completely. Just a fill of the bottles, and ate some fuel.
The next stop was at 50 miles. I felt really good yet. My butt had just started to ache, and it did feel good to get off the bike at that point. Each rest stop was "sponsored" by a group of some kind, and honestly the 50 miles stop was kinda pathetic. I knew we were kind of the slow people in the group at that point, as they were running low on liquid, and the food options were not as plentiful as the other stops. We looked over the map and figured out we had a 16 mile loop, and we would be back at this stop at 66 miles. We took off.
The miles between 55-65 were horrible. I had the same song running through my head over and over again. The sun was beating on my back. I was in my arrow bars most of the time, and the sun was just so hot. There was almost zero shade during this entire stretch. As I think back on this I am pretty sure I was under nourished, and slightly dehydrated. I had a hot spot on my right foot, and the pain was almost unbearable. But I just kept pedaling. One foot down, then the other. Repeat. Repeat. Again. Again. My bike computer has been broken for awhile, so I was relying on my Garmin watch for mileage. It wasn't perfectly accurate, so as it came around to mile 66 I didn't start to panic that we weren't back at the rest stop. I mean I was for sure it was right over the next hill. Then I was sure it was over the next hill. And then of course it was over the next one. Mile 67, then mile 68 showed up on my watch. I started talking crazy in my head. I was out of water. I was starting to figure we had taken a wrong turn, missed a road somewhere. I felt as though we would never get out of the sun. Then over a hill, and to the right sat a rest stop. Not the rest stop we intended, but a rest stop.
Rolling into this rest stop was a welcome site. It was under a picnic shelter, and the food was plentiful and diverse. They had ice and many liquid options. They had benches, and a clean porta-potty. Then I overhead a few other bikers talking about taking a wrong turn. I thought, us too, and started to listen in. While still in what I thought was a heat daze I heard them saying that this was the rest stop for mile 84. Wait. What? Mile 84? My watch said just a little over 68. What the bleepin' beep happened to the other 16 miles? What do you mean I won't actually finish 100 miles today? What did I train for? How was this happening? I just walked away. I went and filled up my bottles and figured I would talk with Barbara and Lia. I think Barbara could see the signs of the heat exhausted disappointment written all over my face when it was confirmed we were 14 miles short of where we needed to be.
We devised a plan. We would ride back out the way we came for 8 miles, and then ride back, which would put us back at this very spot at mile 84. Then we could go out and finish the last 16 to the finish. Well of course the last thing I wanted to do was to go back on the path that had lead me astray so mentally, but what better way to fight through the mental game of this ride than to do it again.
Out and back with no real problems, besides the part of us kicking ourselves for having to what we considered some of the hardest road to cover, again. The best part was making it back to that wonderful, fully stocked, cool rest area. This time it was a struggle to get Barbara and Lia to leave. The shade and abundant ice was just too perfect, and the thought of the final 16 miles seemed almost overwhelming. At that point I was so ready to just finish, I didn't care to sit around and relax a minute longer. We all saddled back up, and the last 16 miles went along without a hitch.
My watch gave out at mile 97 and it said it had taken us around 8 hours to get there. After my watch gave out, I felt as if I didn't have a gauge for distance so the last 3 miles went on f.o.r.e.v.e.r. And then it happened. I saw the school, where we would end, in the distance. Only there wasn't any finish line. No one waiting around cheering us on. What was once a full, busy parking lot, now held 4 cars, and not a single tent. I crossed into the parking lot, and no one was around to see it.
The school building that once held a full end of course buffet, was locked and completely cleaned up. One of the volunteers who was finishing cleaning the cafeteria handed us a bag of chips, and said she would make us cheese sandwiches. It was literally all that was left in the large, empty room. I ate the chips, but passed on the sandwich. I had snacks in the car to eat.
The full 100 miles took 8 hours and 16 minutes. I completed my first 100 in a way that is not in typical Amanda fashion. Quietly, and mostly alone. And yet it was a perfect way to end a full 100. I had the two people who have trained with me from the time I hadn't ridden a bike since middle school, to I think I can do a triathlon, to why not try a full Ironman. Two friends who had stayed with me, encouraged me, and set me up for success to finish my first 100. There is a picture on Lia's phone of the three of us, but I don't have it yet. I will post it as soon as I get it.
Somewhere in the 8 hours it took us to finish, I became more confident on my bike. I now feel at ease in my arrow bars. I don't break when going down steep hills anymore. I change gears from the inner to the outer without even thinking about the steps that it takes. I enjoyed my mostly solo 8 hours. Just me and Alice.
But did I mention? I rode my bike 100 freakin' miles?!
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| An old picture, but a good one of Alice and me |
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