Club Century
The 2006 Mohawk Hudson Cycling Club Century weekend was beautiful and crowded. As always, there was a large turnout for the Saturday century, I estimate about 50 or so riders.
Anthony and I had aspirations of breaking our century PRs–mine was set on this ride last year, a 4:50:24 time. Though several things got in the way of our goal. Throughout the day the goal kept creeping downward like a spitball on a detention room window.
The first hiccup came when Anthony flatted the rear tire when accidentally hitting a sharp stone. Only 17 miles in and we had to drop out of the lead group’s smooth suction. Bob Willard kindly stopped and waited with us while Anthony efficiently replaced the tube. The B group strode by with Kyle up in the front. A little bit of overenthusiasm on our parts led to a hectic attempt to reintegrate into a big group. Inevitably, we caught the B group, though not without expending a fair amount of energy. 
A few miles later we stumbled upon the first rest stop, manned by non other than recent Dad, John. John was generously donating time by manning a rest stop since he couldn’t join in the reindeer games. I said “stumbled upon” earlier because you didn’t realize the rest stop was there until you were right upon it. We witnessed a slow motion crash as we were milling about passing baby pictures from sweaty hand to sweaty hand. No one was hurt, just two guys falling over when their forward momentum reached zero.
Gradually Anthony, Bob and I pulled away from Kyle and his group (we missed you buddy!) once we all got back on the road.
The fifty mile rest stop was packed! I think close to two-thirds of the field must have been in attendance. Big lines to the water jugs. Bikes strewn across the grass like fallen soldiers. It was choas. But a good, jovial chaos with some camaraderie thrown in.
The frequently-spotted-novelties stats are getting a little skewed. I spotted two Pontiac Fieros, and I wasn’t expecting to see those until next week at the ADK540!
While the new century route didn’t include Jockey Street (thankfully), it did include nearly every other roller in western Saratoga County. Anthony and I gave up on a PR attempt and decided finishing comfortably was more in order. Sadly, Anthony’s hamstrings had other plans. First one, then the other started singing in a voice that left no doubt in their master’s mind as to their take on our first half of the ride. Anthony tried a couple times to drop off the pace and finish by himself, but Bob and I would hear nothing of it.
Bob. He’s one strong SOB (and I mean that in the nicest way). Claims he rarely rode more than 40 miles at a clip, maybe a 60+ miler a couple times this year. His smiling demeanor and steadfast pulling were only belied by an admition at mile 40 that his legs were ’starting’ to feel it. And, around 85 miles that the quads were acheing. I love having him on my team!
As for me, my story ends at mile 90. I bonked. Dammit. Why?! Why can’t I freakin’ eat more! Color me stupid. Don’t even bother staying inside the lines, I don’t deserve it. Just scribble stupid all over the place. Color the jersey and shorts I’m wearing a stupid shade of purple. Color my bike a stupid shade of periwinkle. Color my face a stupid shade of pink, cause I’m so embarassed at bonking. I ate half a chocolate PowerBar and about 6 miles later I could hit the gas again. But, damn.
You know, I generally don’t like PowerBars, but the chocolate ones taste like Tootsie Rolls.
The after ride meal was delicious. ‘Course, anything edible would have garnered a ‘delicious’ vote in my calorie-deprived state. Got a nicely designed t-shirt (not like last year’s debacle). And chatted with the guys about the highs and lows of the day. We complained about a certain erratic rider we all disliked and laughed when we realized we were talking about the same guy! I seem to remember few idle comments were tossed around about the hot blonde in the (very) short shorts.
Nine more miles and I would be home for the day–118 total for the day. But wait there’s more. Just before getting home, nature calls. As if I’m not embarassed enough. So I squirm and shift while pedalling home. Moments of peace wash over me followed by moments of not-so-peaceful insides. The sudden intake of calories after my bonk must have confused my system and made it think it had to hurry up and process the whole meal in the space of thirty minutes.
Well, I make it home intact, and planning the process of entering the house so as to not waste any precious seconds, I know I have to get the key from the seat bag to unlock the front door (Steph was out with friends). Pull into the driveway, prop the bike against the wall next to the garage door, open the seat bag and look for the key. Looking. Still looking. Not in the little pocket. Uh-oh. It fell out when I helped Anthony with his flat. NOOO! Wait, maybe it’s in deeper. I dump everything out on the driveway. Nothing. I peer inside and there’s the glint of copper, UNDER the stupid velcro securing strap deep in the bag. Grab it. Hobble carefully up the front steps (you can’t run with biking shoes). In the door, and a wave of peace washes over me again. I take this opportunity to hobble through the house into the garage to bring the bike inside and shut the garage door. I guess that says something about my priorities (or paranoias). I struggled with how to write this last sentence–let’s just say the day ended like a Friendly’s meal… with a happy ending.
4 Comments to Club Century
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I am happy to hear that I am not the only one who has that ending to a Friendly’s meal.
Still sounds like a great ride and it was a great day. If I do man a rest top again, I’ll make sure to have the water jugs more visible. Unfortunately, MHCC didn’t have any signs prepared for the rest stops.
Oh, sorry for the crappy quality of the pictures. I had left the memory card in the printer at home and had to run off the camera’s onboard memory. I didn’t even realize I had you in one of the shots until you had asked for the pics.
well, we gave it a shot anyway. I was so thankful that you and Bob did not let me quit. It would have been a first for me to bail mid-ride and I would have hated myelf for it.
After getting home, I pondered my “loss of spark” on the century. Came up empty on that. All I know is that it was a good ride and great day despite the physical discomfort. Soon after, I forgot about the shortcoming with regard to setting a PR and remembered more about having a good time and how strong and consistent you and Bob were. My guess is that your bonk was as much as the enormous effort you put into pulling me as it was not eating. You could not have expected to put in that kind of effort. Had you stayed with the group, you would not have used up all your energy.
Many thanks!!! I would say I hope I can return the favor, but that would mean that I am hoping that you cramp and that I bonk after the rescue, so here is hoping that the next ride is free of the little annoyances!!!
Kurt,
I thought I had your email, but I don’t. Drop me a note at the above email or my blogname at mindspring.com