death ride 2007

For the first time since the MS150*, I rode 100 miles this week. And also like the MS150, the last 20 miles were the hardest. My ride was so bad this morning that I skipped my favorite part of the route to cut it shorter, and limped into the finish like no one has limped into the finish of a 23-damn-mile ride in the history of cycling.

Okay, maybe I exaggerate a bit. But this morning's club ride was something of a death march for me, brought on by a few small mistakes all coming together at once.

Mistake #1: Brought my seatbag into the house. This one actually happened last weekend. I discovered that my front tire was flat while taking my bike out of the car. Since I was at home and there was no sense of urgency, I took my front wheel and tool kit off my bike to change the tube in front of the TV. Then I left the speed lever on my coffee table.

Mistake #2: Overreaching on the Saturday ride. This is the weekend that my ride starts from an alternate location, and this time the faster group was leaving out of that same location. Since only 2 people showed up to do my ride, I made the command decision to try to stay with the faster group. This was not a huge deal, since "faster" really means 16-20 mph instead of 15-17 mph. Plus, it is a bigger group, and both of my guys can handle pacelines pretty well. However, it did mean that it was more of a workout for me than the usual Saturday, compounded by the fact that I also rode on Thursday, which I don't normally do. Still, it was fine...I felt strong, we kept up with little trouble, and I felt pretty good about my cycling abilities.

Mistake #3: Drinking heavily Saturday night. If I were ordering these by rank rather than chronologically, this would have been mistake #1. I'm not normally much of a drinker--a glass of wine here, beer there...you know, your typical social stuff. Every once in a while, though, I like to tie one on. Usually, this happens at family gatherings, club meetings, and Christmas parties. Apparently, it can also happen at birthday parties, which is why I was out last night. :) Anyway, I found my way home around midnight, after a margarita and 3 4 um, several cape cods.

Mistake #4: Overestimating my cycling abilities. I got up this morning, all gung-ho about making the Sunday club ride. With the Thursday ride, I only needed 22 more miles to get to 100 for the week! I hadn't had a 100-mile week in so long, it would feel just like old times, back when I was all fit and productive. I was feeling a little rough, sure, but you know, I had ridden after drinking before, and it was never a problem. What I didn't take into consideration, however, is that one glass of wine at 9 pm does not have quite the same effect on my morning-after as a running bar tab at 10:30. Also, riding 100 miles this week after riding just eight miles the week before? Maybe I could have paced myself a little better.

So yeah, all these things sort of came together in a perfect storm of suck. I arrived at the start location at around 8:00, kind of fuzzy headed but otherwise fine. I stopped at the grocery store to fill the water bottles and grab a smoothie for breakfast, then parked the car and took my bike out--with a flat rear tire and no tool bag. CRAP! I did have tubes and a floor pump, but it was less than 10 minutes before ride start and I didn't have time to mess with a lever-less tire change. So, I tried pumping the tire to 120 psi, and it seemed to hold air--no hiss, no squish, no problem, right?

As soon as we set off, I knew it was going to be a bad, bad day. For one thing, my gearing felt way too high. Do I always ride in this gear? Criminey! I downshifted, felt a little better. A few minutes later, I downshifted again. By this time, I had lost sight of most of the front group. It was 65 degrees outside, yet I was sweating like a whore in church. I was also barely managing 15 mph on flats and coasting at every opportunity. The girls in the back rode up to let me know that they're going a modified route and there's no need to wait up for them. Heh. I nodded, smiled, downshifted again, surreptitiously checked my computer. Less than 6 miles in. Fuuuuck.

When I got up this morning, I was planning on business as usual...hang back a little bit behind the middle of the pack till we get to the first regroup, then try to keep up with the front group for as long as I could after that. By the time I actually got to the first regroup, however, I knew that was never gonna happen. By this time, I was down to 13.5 mph and had given up on the big chainring completely (What I used to think of as my "climbing 10" have now become my "hangover 10"). After telling one of my friends in the group that I was going to go back the short way, it occurred to me that maybe this death ride wasn't entirely the result of vodka and sleep deprivation. I pressed my thumb to my rear tire...squish. Slow leak! Of course, by the time I had thought to do this, the entire group had gone ahead on the main route, leaving my tool-less butt in the parking lot to fend for myself. I could have chased someone down, but trying didn't seem like it would be much fun with tire that felt about 60 psi and a head that felt about 180. So I let them go, and decided to take it easy the rest of the way home.

And a looong way home it was. My rear tire was bouncy, the wind blowy, the road rolly, every muscle achy, stomach rumbly. My brain started trying to put the lights out about 3 miles from the finish, so I switched to the bike trails...if I was going to weave or nod off, better to do it off-road. Those last 12 miles probably took me the better part of an hour, but I did manage to stay upright, so I guess I can't complain. I felt a little more human after the post-ride coffee, but I gotta tell you--never again. :)

*apparently, I had blotted Bike Around the Bay completely out of my memory when I wrote this. I guess what I was thinking, clumsily, is that the last time I trained at 100 miles/week regularly was before the MS150. Going off half-cocked and riding around Galveston Bay doesn't count. :)