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Miles rode: 300km or 187 miles
Time: 14:30 hours
Heart rate: 145 for the first 11 hours and 128 for the last 3.5 hours (somehow my HR monitor reset itself)
Perceived effort: 6
Elevation gained: 7470

What were you doing at 4am Sunday morning?

I was already up for nearly an hour and preparing for a …
4am start.

Now I’ve never started a ride before sunrise before. Having to have a light was a nuisance. Especially since I couldn’t find the mount for my light. The night before I gave up trying to find the mount and looked around my garage waiting for inspiration to hit me. My eyes lit upon the electrical tape hanging on a pegboard peg. That’ll do. That tape also worked in lieu of the bungie cord I couldn’t find to secure my extra layers to the underside of my handlebars once the temperature increased.

Notice the light taped to the underside of the right aero bar, and the bag under the center of the bars. Not elegant in the least bit but it worked. Note to self: buy a stronger light.

I hung nearly the whole time with John Ceceri, the ride organizer. He wasn’t feeling entirely charged for the ride (later he realized he wasn’t drinking enough). So we went at a slower pace than we rode the 200km. I think I needed the slower pace to help me meter my energy and have a successful ride.

Riding very long distances gives you time to think. Even with a companion, there are long silences. Conversation only lasts so long before that gets tiring too… Or you have to climb a hill. Thinking about how you feel is deadly. “That twinge in my right knee is back.” “It’s getting worse.” “Will it get so painful I have to stop? Have to drop out?” These are the things that can get stuck in your head and gnaw at your confidence like angry termites on a dog house. “Now it’s my lower back. Damn. That hasn’t bothered me in months. How come NOW it’s making noises?” Thirty or forty miles later I don’t even remember worrying about the back.

The knee is still talking back to me. It’s like your drunk uncle arguing with you that he’s actually fine and can drive Aunt Matilda back home. It’s saying, “You haven’t been riding as much as you should have. You’ve been out the sallying about in your running shoes neglecting the bike. You think you can ride 300km on so little training? Well I’m here to tell you you’re nuts for trying and on every pedal stroke I’ll remind you.”

Stupid knee.

But I know better. I can tell it’s talking out of its ass. (Yes, apparently my knee has it’s own ass.) The pings of pain are just the pain from an overuse syndrome. Too much, too soon. Comes from too little training. The left knee is experiencing the same thing to a much lesser degree. The climbing, of which there is plenty, puts the greatest strain on them.

The climbing. Nothing really hellish on this course. The climb up Greene by my house is probably the steepest, and it’s pretty short anyway. Even that climb on the eastern part of North Shore road on Sacandaga was over before I realized it. (The one up to the lookout.) Most of the climbs I did with butt firmly planted in the saddle. It’s definitely easier that way. Unless it’s a very short climb. Or a very very steep climb. Everything in between… I take sitting down. THIS is where strain on the knees comes in. But, hey, a couple hundred more miles (what’ll that be, another 3 rides?!) and the knees should be back in shape.

Speaking of North Shore Road… John and I consider ourselves lucky for making it through unscathed. Three times the same pair of BMWs screeched by us. Twice towards us skidding around a curve and the third time then had to meekly keep pace behind a pack of motorcyclists. We were fortunate the motorcyclists were there at the right time to temper the Beamers’ speed. One more drive-by and we were going to call the Troopers. If we had been on an inside curve with them flying around it blindly, I shudder to think what may have happened. Even my shudder is shuddering.

The first 50 miles presented me with the added challenge of a soft front tire. It wouldn’t hold full pressure. I borrowed a pump from Glen at one checkpoint and inflated it to about 100 psi, but it didn’t last. Eventually I replaced the tube in that tire and with John’s pump, and again got it back to about 100 psi. So I rode the whole even with a slight handicap of a softer than normal front wheel. Damn I wish I had an inflator canister to get to full pressure.

The other riders. I met Ferdinand who road cross country from Seattle to the east coast. He’s a high school math teacher who really puts his summer vacations to use. Glen was on the 200km also–he’s from Albany. Andrew and Heather are an energetic pair. I chatted with Heather briefly about her training and experiences with ultra running and the handful of 100 mile runs she’s attempted. Buck, it turns out lives just north of me (well, two exits north)–yet we’ve never encountered one another on the roads in our neighborhoods. Dick unfortunately packed it in. He wasn’t feeling up to snuff I think and decided to abort before reaching Sacandaga Lake. Bill Schwarz on the hand cycle also didn’t finsh. I’m not sure what the details were regarding his DNF.

Lunch consisted of a Stewarts slider hot dog, package of Damn Good Jerky, a Red Bull, and an entire 32oz bottle of Gatorade. I’ve never eaten this much at once on a ride, but I erred on the side of eating TOO much. No bonking for this puppy. John started with just a Coke and Twinkies but after seeing how scrumptious my Stewart’s hot dog was got himself one as well. Frankly anything is scrumptious at about 130 miles in. Even those hot dogs.

Things I noticed:

• Lots of miniature Collies
• Lots of cops (though none on North Shore Road where we needed one)
• 13 riders, 3 DNF (did not finish)
• I should use my left hand when squeezing energy gels from their packaging. Sticky fingers on my digital camera were harshing my Monk mojo.
• Speaking of gels. Warm vanilla Clif Shots taste like crap. GU brand were better. Oh, and the banana Hammer gels are good too.
• It’s unnerving riding without a pump OR air canisters. I realized I didn’t have any canisters until too late the day before.

Here’s a video of those frustrating dogs on Route 32. Not bad for first take, no practicing, one-handed while riding, eh? Notice the shape of the ground at the end of the dog’s run up to the fenced corner of the yard.

Click for Google map

Click for elevation profile

This entry was posted Thursday, April 26th, 2007 at 11:42 pm and is filed under Cycling. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.