50 Miles! PIECE-O-CAKE! (not really)

I did it!  I completed the Rip Roarin’ Ride in Liberty Hill this past weekend.  I did the 50 mile route.  And I did every bit of it.  50.38 miles to be precise.  How did it feel?  Well today, two days later, I feel pretty freakin’ great.  Still a little stiff and sore in certain places, but overall, pretty stinkin’ good!  Right after I completed the ride, great and good were words that no longer had a place in my vocabulary.  In fact, I no longer had a vocabulary.  For the last 12 miles of the ride I couldn’t speak.  You read that correctly.  I, Biggie From Texas, could not speak.  Nothing, nada, bupkis, zippo, silencio, NOTHING could or would come out of my mouth.  Well, maybe a little drool, some spittle, perhaps a few chunks, moans, gutteral-animal-like-sounds, but nothing resembling a word.  I was done.  I was toast.  I was in excruciating pain, no, I was beyond excruciating pain.  I was whatever is on the other side of complete and total exhaustion.  It was ugly. However, I DID IT!

I have to admit, I really feel good today.  There is a sense of pride, of accomplishment that comes from having set a goal that you have to train for and then achieving that goal.  It really feels great.  There were some great times along the way too.  Not just during the 50 mile ride itself, but in the weeks leading up to it.  There was the first time I rode more than 30 miles.  That felt great!  The first time I rode 38 miles.  That felt fantastic.  The first time I fell and got right back on my bike and kept riding.  There was the first time I made it up that ferocious and loooong hill in Lakeway on 620 without stopping or walking.  The first time I rode 30, very tough, miles over the hills on north Parmer Lane.  There were a lot of good, fun, beautiful and challenging miles that led up to my 50 mile ride that started and ended in Liberty Hill.

And then, there was the Rip Roarin’ Ride itself.  The night before the ride we had a carb loading (nutritionist approved) breakfast/dinner at iHop.

It was FABULOUS! Harvest Nut’n Grain pancakes, scrambled eggs and ham with syrup!  Not a bad dinner, if you ask me.  Then the morning of the ride.  We got up at 6:00AM and had whole wheat bagels with peanut butter.  And “no” it was not reduced-fat crunchy peanut butter either.  It was the full meal deal. CRUNCHY PEANUT BUTTER. The full fat variety.  We made a couple of bagel and peanut butter sandwiches to take in our jerseys too.  And here’s some shots of Biggie & Jess before the ride:

We were ready to do it! Jess, my brother-in-law (and coach) Mark and I were all ready to go. It was a gorgeous morning too. A little chilly, crisp and beautiful. We were all at the start, which was packed. I don’t know how many riders there were, a few hundred I suppose, but everyone was really excited.  This was going to be GREAT!  We headed out and I was loving it.  I mean why wouldn’t I be?  We couldn’t have asked for better weather, I knew the day was going to be a warm one, near 90 I heard, but I would be finished waaaay before it started getting toasty.  I would be finished early after, of course, I had the opportunity to show off some of my mad cycling skills.

Now many of the people out there were of the B.P. variety.  You know, B.P., the Beautiful People. Serious, hard-core cyclists with precisely .0003% body fat.  Those with the style and grace of a gorgeous gazelle.  Gliding up hills as effortlessly as those beautiful, light wispy clouds were moving over head.  I may not be one of the B.P.s, or be graceful like a gazelle, but I was having a great ride.  I was thinking to myself this is so much easier than I thought it would be.  I thought there would be much tougher hills and more of them.  This is really going to be a piece-o-cake! Then we came up on the first rest stop at about mile 8.  I was feeling great and I wasn’t hungry at all.  So, while Jess and Mark were loading up on fruit and cookies, I just stood by with my bike and waited for them.  Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was making a BIG mistake that I would pay for many miles later.

As we continued on, I was still having a good time.  I was enjoying the countryside.  All the beautiful farmland and the cows, sheep, goats, longhorns, an angry-looking ram and the different farm dogs running the fencelines.  I was starting to notice that the hills were not only becoming more frequent, but also steeper and l-o-n-g-e-r.  The BPs had been passing me for quite a while, that was of course, to be expected.  Now I was also starting to be passed up by those who had a little more meat & years on their frames.  I guess that was okay too since I was still having a good time.  Wasn’t I? Well, maybe not as good a time as I was having the first 8 miles, but I was still having a good time.  Sort of.

Whew!  Here comes the next rest stop.  Boy was I happy to see it too.  I actually laid my bike down this time and walked around.  I wasn’t really hungry, so all I had was a single chocolate chip cookie and a bunch of ice cold water mixed with gatorade.  I don’t really care for gatorade, but that was the best gatorade I’d ever had in my life.  I talked to Jess and Mark.  Talked to some people I had met, in the high school parking lot, at the starting point of the ride.  I even waited in line at the Port-a-Pottie.  Not really because I needed to, more because I wanted to wait as long as possible before getting back on the bike.  Still having a good time though. Did I mention that I didn’t eat anything at the 1st rest stop and only a small cookie at the 2nd rest stop?  And did I ever mention that the nutritionist has explained to me MANY TIMES BEFORE that if I am going on a long ride (anything over 90 minutes) to refuel with solid food every 45 minutes?  Yeah, I seemed to have forgotten a key piece og riding knowledge along the way….

Mile 20 coming up.  Lots-o-hills on this ride.  Funny how the Texas Hill Country is so, hilly. Hills are food for the gods.  For the BPs, with .0003% body fat and anyone weighing under 120 pounds.  For people like Biggie, not so much.  I’m great on the downhills, but not so great on the uphills, and there were a lot of uphills.  I was nearing mile 28 or 29 when all of a sudden my legs felt funny. I mean really funny. Kind of like they weren’t even mine anymore.  Kind of like water balloons that didn’t have enough water in them and I’m trying to make them be stiff and supportive and to work.  I was feeling really shaky all over and I didn’t know what was wrong…. what have I eaten today?  HOLY COW!  NOTHING!  I HAVEN’T BEEN EATING ANYTHING DURING THE RIDE.  WHAT THE HELL?  AM I HAVING A STROKE?  HAVE I FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING THAT I HAVE LEARNED? I feel funny because I have run out of fuel. Am I completely intellectually disabled? Have I had a total brain fart?  Why yes Biggie you have, you’re a  freakin’ moron!

So, I know what I need to do.  I need to EAT!  Now you’ve got to try and picture this.  First, I am not very coordinated.  At All.  I have described myself before as a pregnant goat trying to cross over a mudhole on a twisted 2×4.  Second, I am bottoming out because I have completely burned through my fuel.  Now you’d think someone the size of Biggie would have plenty of reserves right?  I mean look at the size of my ass, right????  Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that.  So, I’m not only my usual uncoordinated self, but I am very shaky because my blood sugar got left behind about 12 miles back.  Now, I am going to try and pull this bagel and peanut butter sandwich out of the back of my jersey under my water pak all while continuing to ride with my very shaky brain and leakey water balloon legs.  This is a great idea.  I’m starting to sweat profusly, I’m cussing like a sailor and I am all over the road.  If a truck pulling a trailer with cattle in it were to come by at this particular moment, well let’s just be glad that it didn’t.  What did come along?  The world’s largest flying beetle.  I do not like bugs.  I do not like any kind of bugs.  I really do not like giant, flying, buzzing beettles hitting me in the face while I’m trying to pedal, stay upright and get this godforsaken peanut butter bagel out of the back of my jersey, I’m fine.  I got the plastic baggie with the peanut butter bagel in it out of the back of my jersey.  I proceed to go after that bagel like an alley cat after a bag of trash with half empty cans of tuna in it.  I’m glad there was no one watching that.

I start to feel a little more human again after a few minutes.  I see Jess and Mark up ahead.  They pulled over on the side of the road and were waiting for me.  I’m the luckiest person alive to have such great friends.  I pull over, neglecting to share my peanut butter bagel and flying beetle story with them.  I figure that one, is just for me right about then.  We chit chat for a few seconds and set off again.  At about mile 33 I realize that fueling up after I’ve already started crashing, doesn’t entirely fix the situation.  I’m feeling rough, and then we coast into the next rest stop.  I don’t gently lay my bike down, making sure to not lay it down in the mud, I drop it like a hot poker and head straight for the Oreos!  I could have dropped it down a well.  I did not care.  I didn’t chit chat with people.  I didn’t thank the people working the rest stop for their help and dedication.  No, I grabbed Oreo after Oreo, oranges and bananas, pretzels, hand over fist into my mouth, down the front of my jersey, crumbs flying everywhere…  It weren’t pretty.  I gulped down ice water and gatorade, stuff running down my chin.  I may have belched out loud I do not know and I certainly didn’t care. Get the hell outta my way, I need to eat, people!  Well, now then, I think I may feel a little bit better.

Here we go again. I feel pretty good now.  A little tired and my legs aren’t what you might call fresh at this point and neither is my jersey.  I’m doing okay though. When we hit the town of Oatmeal, we stop and take some pictures next to the giant Quaker Oatmeal container that sits at the edge of town.  We laugh and get silly and then we’re on our way again.  We come to a downhill that was fast. I’m flying down this hill and laughing and woohooing all the way down.  It was fun again.  I was doing well again.  I was going to make it to mile 50 and still have legs to go.  The downhill is behind us.  We’re making our way through some pretty bumpy road and it’s really starting to get warm.  And then I see it.  It kinda takes my breath away at first.  And I see Mark going up it and he slows down.  I mean waaaay down.  It’s, THE HILL! I had been told about this hill by people who had done this ride before.  They would say, The Rip Roarin’ Ride in Liberty Hill, it’s awesome.  What a beautiful ride and great rest stops.  A really good time, but there is this hill. Well, Mark was on it.  Now Mark is an incredible rider  He has great legs.  Strong legs.  I have to admit though that I have never seen him slow down quite like he did on that hill.  And now Jess is on it.  When she gets a little over 1/2 way up she’s really slowing down and then she gets off of her bike.  That was it for her and that hill.  She walked the rest of the way up with her bike.  I’m pretty sure that all of the color has left my face at this point.  The high I had from that incredible downhill is long gone now.  Do I pull it together, relax my upper body, breath slow and steady and give it my all? HELL NO! I hit the base of that hill and jump off my bike.  I ain’t gonna be a rock start today.  Are you kidding me?  I’m dyin’ here people.  I’m sweating like a farm animal and with every pedal I’m making sounds the likes of which I’ve never even heard before.  I get off of my bike and walk up that evil hill.  Jess was waiting for me and when I reached the top we ride off again together.  At this point, I just want to finish this damn thing and get the hell outta this place.  All the damn farm land and cattle.  Cow crap and horse crap and hay.  I ain’t cut out for this.  Just show me the finish line.  I’m ready to get outta cow country and back to the city.

At mile 38.76, I’m really starting to have a rough time. I am exactly .76 miles farther than I’ve ever ridden AND it’s been almost entirely HILLS FROM HELL. It’s hotter than a blast furnance and my sense of humor took a turn several miles back and no one can seem to locate it.  I am pushing on and really, I mean really hating life and this stupid ride, couldn’t I have just written a bigger check to the Lions Club?  Did I really have to do this stupid, stupid ride?  And I am certain I will be taking this torture contraption known as a bicycle to Goodwill tomorrow.  For Pete’s sake, I have a perfectly good truck, a car and a motorcycle.  Why in the world would I need a bicycle.  It’s stupid.  Everything is just stupid.  And then when I was entering my darkest hour I hear someone shouting “Come on Biggie!  You can do it!  You’re awesome!  You’re doing great!”  And then I see her up ahead.  My best friend in the whole entire world, who isn’t stupid, Jess has stopped at the side of the road and is waiting for me and is cheering me on with everythin she’s got left.  The riders behind me go “what a great cheering section!  How lucky yo are.”  And at that very moment, I felt pretty good again.

That good feeling lasted for about 12 minutes and then it was gone again.  The first 8 miles were fantastic.  The next 12 miles were really good.  The next 10 or so miles were definitely not as good.  The next 10 were downright ugly and the final 10… I saw a bad horror movie a couple of weeks ago about a giant, human-eating crocodile.  And the star of the movie, you know, the guy still left alive at the end.  After the crocodile had eaten everyone else and he was the last one left with half of his hand eaten away, hadn’t eaten or drank anything for more than 48 hours, laying on the floor of a cave bleeding to death with the crocodile about to eat his head…. That’s where I was for the last 2 miles.  A lot of people who run marathons say that those last 8 or so miles are tough, but when they just have a mile or so leftm or when they are crossing the finish line that they feel like they could just keep on going…  What kind of horse shit is that? I saw that 2 miles to the finish sign and I wanted to cry.  No, not tears of joy.  Tears of 2 MORE MILES!  2 MORE MILES???  How in the hell am I going to finish 2 more miles?  Isn’t 48 enough?  2 more miles??? And then I saw the sign the said 1 mile to the finish, and then I saw the high school.  The place where it began and where it ended.

I did it! I set a goal.  I trained for it and I did it.  It was not easy and I made some mistakes. but I did it.  It wasn’t a piece-o-cake, but I think that makes it even better.    peace