30th
On learning and choices…
“Like a bride goes to a bridegroom” said Bob as we enjoyed a postride Guiness.
I had just finished two consecutive days of riding - 644 kilometres, 400 miles, in total. Bob had joined in for day 2.
He had made an excellent point. No one makes any of us get on a bike - we choose to do it. We make it happen. There is no invisible force that puts us on the road, we have to motivate ourselves - we have to want to do it.
The amazing part is that its becoming relatively easy to motivate myself to do big distances like I did this past weekend.
A few weeks ago I’d mentioned to Peter Murk that I’d intended to ride the route from Toronto to Niagara Falls and back again, twice in two days. He looked at me with some disbelief.
“You just can’t go out and do a ride like that. You need to prepare for it…” he’d said.
Peter was part of a group of rider that held the time record for this particular route - they’d covered off 200 miles in 10 hours in 4 minutes - a blistering pace for this kind of distance. Out of all of the riders I know, Peter definitely knows what he’s talking about when it comes to this route.
I mumbled something about not wanting to set any records. “And besides, its pretty flat, ” I added.
“Its not that flat - plus you want to do it twice,” He countered.
He said it with a certain finality and I thought better of trying to change his mind.
Looking back, he was right. Sort of. One shouldn’t just go out and do rides like this. Even some basic preparation would have been useful. Somehow, I took Peter’s words as a challenge - *I* could do it cold, I thought to myself.
Which is exactly what I tried to do.
The first day went pretty well. It was a wet, drizzly morning - mud was everywhere, so we got pretty wet and dirty. This cleared up by the early afternoon - and it got humid. We’d packed well, so there was no shortage of food or hydration. Plus, we were never far from civilization, so we could essentially stop whenever we wanted.
Although we started out with three riders, only two of us made it the entire distance the first day. Not daunted by the rain, mud or early morning start, one rider had the good sense to realize that his sore knees were just going to get worse, so he headed home at around the 100k mark.
Around the 180k mark, my lower back started to ache a little more than I was comfortable with. An hour later, it was getting worse, so we made a quick stop to pick up some Advil. This seemingly simple choice set the stage for a huge sufferfest on Day Two.
The Advil kicked in pretty quickly, and by the time we got back into the hills, I was feeling awesome - I set a pretty hard pace up a few of the bigger hills, quite happy with how much energy I still had so late in the day.
What I didn’t realize was that I was only feeling awesome because I had dulled my pain receptors. I rarely take painkillers, so the effect was pronounced.
We finished the first 200 miles of the two day trip in approximately 13 hours.
When my feet hit the floor the next morning, I could feel the stiffness in my lower back and knees. Nothing terrible, but I could feel it. I brushed it off thinking I could just spin out the stiffness in my knees in the first few kilometres and take more Advil to help my back if necessary.
Wrong.
We had a larger group the second day - six of us in total. We left a few minutes later than planned, 30 actually, but this had the side benefit of letting the worst of the rain pass.
Coming off the first few stoplights, the group got a small jump on me. Nothing serious, but I knew that my knees were slowing me down. Still I wasn’t too worried.
That is, until we started getting into the early hills. 30k into the ride, and the small group was dropping me hard. They were kind enough to wait up for me at the top of each rise, but it was obvious to everyone that I was the weak link.
By the time we got to the Jerseyville turn at the 60k mark - I say “we” loosely. It was more like they got their, waited for me, and then I got there - I realized that I needed to start making some choices. I knew that I had to cut the string between me and the group. I didn’t feel comfortable holding them back waiting for me all day, nor did I think that I could get my head straight riding at someone else’s pace.
“Don’t worry about me guys. I’m not going to get in over my head - if the knee’s don’t get better, I can just head north back to the start.” I was lying, but it worked. They let me fall back. I last saw them as they crossed the highway overpass on Fiddler’s Green.
I had a few Tylenol and Advil, so I made it a priority to get to Wellandport as quickly as possible to stock up. It was only 60 kilometers I told myself. It was a tough 60k, my knee was getting worse.
By the time I got to Welland, another 30-40k or so past Wellandport, the pain was becoming pretty extreme. I could barely turn the pedal with my right leg. Any pressure I put on the pedal caused a sharp pain to see across the left side of the interior of my knee cap.
See a pharmacy up ahead, I crossed the road, parked my bike against a display in the cosmetic department and made a beeline for the pharmacist in the back. I explained my situation to him, and asked for some recommendations. We eventually settled on an analgesic cream used to treat arthritis and a one piece knee wrap.
I sat down on the curb out front and applied my ointment and bandages and hopped back on the bike. I instantly knew that the additional technology was exactly what I needed to make it through the day - that, and a lot of teeth gritting, a whack of Tylenol and Advil and a great deal more time than I had initially planned.
Doing the math, I realized that I still had more than half the journey in front of me, and possibly not enough daylight to finish it in. I hadn’t planned on riding in the dark, so I didn’t have proper light on my bike. The last 40-50 kilometres of the trip was through suburbia, which would give me enough light to finish up the trip. I put together a plan to buy me back as much time as possible without pushing my pace over the very feeble limits that my tensor bandage and stinky, burning knee cream allowed me.
The plan? Maintain a 20-23kph pace and stay on the bike. Over the next 140 kilometers, I was only off the bike for 15 minutes. Two stops to pick up bagels and coffee to eat on the bike, and 3 “pit stops” to get rid of the coffee. If the lines at the coffee shop had been shorter, I probably could have minimized this even further.
Each stage of the trip required that I adjusted my riding a little bit to match the terrain and conditions. The hills were the hardest. I couldn’t really push the pedal with my right leg - but I could pull. My left leg was working fine, so I was able to power my cadence with a full stroke on the left, and a 3/4 stroke on the right - through the bottom, up the back, over the top, but that was it.
On the steepest hills, I could barely maintain a 7kph pace - the bike seemed to come to a standstill everytime my right leg went through the downstroke. There just wasn’t any power there.
I eventually made it back to the start more than 15 hours after I had started. Mine was the last vehicle in the parking lot. I’d travelled over 640 kilometers in just over 39 hours - total time, including a good 12 hours off the bike between the two rides.
I learned a lot on this trip.
I learned the value of a good plan when faced with a crisis. If I hadn’t broken the ride down into manageable chunks, I probably would have packed it in.
I learned the importance of patient tenacity - taking the time to see how the plan unfolds without taking the easy route. It wasn’t easy pushing the pedals while I waited to see if the Tylenol would help. Nor was it pleasant sitting on the bike without a solid break for so long - but it was an important part of the plan, and I knew I had to see it through.
I also learned the importance of listening to my body, and make sure that you can hear its messages. I never should have taken the three Advil on the first day. They immediately dulled my pain receptors and masked a serious issue developing in my knee. I should have taken one pill at a time and not taken any more than I really needed - riding pain free isn’t as important as riding well.
Finally, I learned that you never really know what you are prepared for. In this case, I now know that deep down, I’m ready for The Next Big Ride. But, as Peter said, its not the kind of ride that I can just walk into. I still have months of preparation to make and thousands of miles to ride before I’m completely ready, but I am 100% certain that I can complete the trip within the 30 hour goal I’ve set for myself.
Posted at 23:05 - Comments (View)
