For me, a Century was something that I wanted to repeat. I did a century in 1993, a week before our first child was born. I was 28 years old then, and in pretty good shape. One of my fitness goals has been to complete another century. Thanks to my new riding buddy Jason, I had logged enough miles in the last couple of months or so that the idea wasn't just vanity. So - This past weekend I did it! A Century! It feels different at 44, but the sense of accomplishment is the same. In 1993, I carried a pager. In 2010, I had a cell phone, and some in our group had GPS on their bikes. Today, there are mileage training charts, and a wealth of information to help prepare for a Century. Bikes are lighter, and better built. My old bike has been well taken care of, and I repeated on the same 1989 Rally Nishike Suntour that I rode the first Century on. Have I wanted a new bike, sure I have. Have I been willing to spend $700 to $1000, not yet. Our local Bike shop, Woody's Bicycles, in Sewanee Tennessee, has helped me maintain my bike, and it's still serving me well.
The ride was the United Way Dogwood 100, in Winchester, TN, on April 24, 2010. The organizers did a great job of putting together a class event, and the road was very well marked.
I had only two goals starting out on this ride. 1) survive the mountain climb, and 2) complete the 65 mile ride. In the back corner of my mind, I know the 100 mile was out there, but with the bad weather moving in, I would be happy with 65 miles.
So this past weekend a couple of cool things happenned. The obvious is the completion of a 102 mile bike ride, that went up and down Mt. Eagle mountain. The second cool thing, that no one can plan, is making a new friend. About mile 10, there was a cyclist on the side of the road, finishing a tire repair. I stopped, with another guy to offer help, or just encouragement. Fixing a flat out on the road is never easy. The cyclist name was Caroline. And she had her flat fixed, and was pumping her tire back up and was well in control of the situation. She looked tough, and was in great shape for bike riding. The guys in my group started back out. I waited, for reasons I can't explain, for Caroline. She insisted that I didn't have to wait for her, and I told her that those guys go faster than my pace, and if I tried to stick with them, they would drop me sooner or later anyway. I told her I'd be happy tag along with her. I even said "if you want some alone time, I'm good with that, but I can't keep up with those guys all day." She said fine.
Caroline didn't say much for several miles. Maybe it was the frustration of the early flat tire, then she asked me, "how many miles ya got on those bike shorts?" From that point on, as the miles passed, I learned some things about her, and I probably told way too much about me.
So we traveled the next 92 miles together. The first 30 miles or so, I felt great. The early adrenaline, and the excitement of the ride carried me down the road. I found myself coasting, and taking a glance over my shoulder. Everytime, she said, "you don't have to wait on me." At mile 35 or so, we had a rest stop. This is where we heard the first big rumble of thunder. The people at the rest stop spoke of squall lines, tornado warnings, and torrential rain. They looked at their weather enabled phones and shook their heads at us. A couple of the serious guys decided to quit, and they caught a ride back to the parking lot. I don't mind the rain, (20 year old bike remember?) and having a fair skin complexion, rain is much preferred to heat and sun. Caroline was determined and insistent about continuing. She was there to do the 100 miles. She was the ONLY rider that showed up, and signed up, for 100 miles. I had signed up for 65 miles, and in the back of my mind I knew I'd decide at the last minute to stretch for a 100 or not.
We left the rest stop. The rain started, and we rode straight into the storm. Now we began the 2.6 mile climb up Mt. Eagle Mountain. The rain blew sideways, and the thunder and lightening was terrible, and we pedaled on. The road was perfectly smooth, and freshly paved, a nice surprise. About halfway into the climb, my legs started cramping, and my heart was beating faster than a teenage kid doing a drum solo. I wanted to pedal, but couldn't. So I got off and walked. The mountain had slowed me down, but it didn't stop me. The sag wagon offered me a ride. The hot shot that had already mailed it in was riding in the front seat, and I think he wanted me to get in the van too. In my mind, he needed me to validate his decision to quit, and agree with him what a terrible day it was to be on a bike. I refused. I walked on. Caroline was gone ahead of me and out of sight. After a couple of minutes of walking, I got my legs back, and my heart rate slowed, and I got back on my bike, and pedaled. I finally caught up with the other riders at Woody's bike shop in Sewanee. (link below)
A three mile decent off of a mountain is what every chubby bike rider lives for. It didn't matter to me that the pavement was wet, or that the wind had blown fresh green leaves and twigs onto the road. You tighten your chin strap and go with it. How many chances do you have to go 40+ mph, without busting a gut? It was awesome. At the bottom, as I turned to the right and coasted, I waited on Caroline for the last time. After this moment, she would wait on me, patiently, many times. We pedaled our bikes through the headwinds with our climbing gears. It was almost funny how hard the wind blew right in our faces. Just about the time I would feel like giving in to mother nature, we would turn and ride beside, or with the wind, and I'd hardly have to pedal at all.
On one of these flat sections with the wind at our backs, we were shouted at from a mini-van on the side of the road. There was a bike rider, and his family, and he was loading up his bike into the van. He had suffered his second or third flat tire, and used all the spare tubes he had, so he was done. He offered us some of his food and Gatorade, and we accepted, because we were both low. Bike riders are like that. Maybe because we spend so much time alone, we are always ready to help one another. They had animal crackers, and we took them too. We later talked about how the animal crackers probably belonged to their small daughter who was watching a dvd in the middle seat. We had just taken food from a small child! Not a great way to build positive momentum, and stay mentally focused on a bike ride. They were gracious, and kind, and we were glad for the break, and the food. We wished them well, and rode on. (** The fellow with the flat tire and no more replacement tubes was Anthony Watts. He is originally from Chattanooga, and lives in the Tullahoma area now. We rode in several club rides in the following years. He was always one of the strongest riders. Anthony is known in the local cycling community for his long, fast, solo, one day rides. He has a high level of mental toughness and physical skills. And on top of all that, Anthony, his wife Betsy, and their daughter, Megan, are just really nice people.)
As mile 55 got closer, it was decision time. The split for the 65 mile ride, or the 100 mile ride. Turn right and make it 10 miles back to the hot shower, and the car. Or, turn left, and stretch myself for 45 more miles, hoping my leg cramps didn't start back up. I was recovered from the climb, but tired and wet. The rain had been constant. The wind was steady at about 25mph and gusting to who knows what. Caroline had ridden out in front of me, and I struggled to keep up. I made up my mind. I wanted to go home. At the split, my buddy Caroline was about 50 yards or so ahead of me, and took a quick left. I wanted to go right. The arrow pointed right, my mind said go right, but I turned left, and followed. I hoped I'd catch up with her and say a quick good bye, and it's been fun, and maybe she might even call it a day too. The storms were about to kick back up, and the hot showers were less than an hour away. She stopped on a bridge a couple of miles later, and waited on me. It was at the foot of a long, ugly climb. She assured me we could do this. I was within 40 or so miles now of completing a century for the second time. How many more times would I be in this position? I wanted to press on, but I had my doubts because of my earlier leg cramps. We took a long break there, and the decision was made, press on to 100! We pedaled on. She slowed often to look back and make sure I was still pedaling. I had to walk again later as the leg cramps, and hills both returned at the same time. We kept pedaling southwest, into the storm. My hope was, as we kept pedaling into and beside the wind, we would eventually turn North, and the same headwind that we had struggled against all day would then become our "best good friend". A 30 mph tailwind means you barely have to pedal. If I could just survive the headwinds for a few more miles.
We pedaled past abandoned rest stops. These people were volunteers and didn't have to be out in this weather. Who could blame them? But a little gatorade and and a banana left in a box somewhere for us would have been nice. Caroline found a faucet at the back corner of a little country church, and we refilled our water bottles. Her experience and survival skills kept us hydrated. And we pedaled on.
Just about the time we would get agitated with the headwinds, we would see something unusual. For example, there was an exotic animal sanctuary on the route. We saw, and were seen by llamas and camels. One good camel sighting in Middle Tennessee is good for 15 minutes of conversation. Then there were all the normal farm critters like donkeys, horses, cows, peacocks, chickens, pigs, goats, and at least 500 dogs.
At about mile 70, a blue truck slowed beside me, and I recognized the driver to be one of the volunteers supporting the ride. He said there was a rest stop at mile 75. We knew we could make that. When we got there, he was the rest stop! He had a small cooler and a box of food. We took shelter under a big porch, and listened to the rain, and thunder. He said we could stop if we wanted to, and he would give us a ride back. He said there would be no more support for the last 25 miles. We were in fact, the only two riders on the road. Everybody else had either finished their rides of 65, 35, or 10 miles, or sacked it up because of the weather. He was nice, but a little confused as to why we would even think about continuing. Again, I thought about that hot shower, and sacking it up for the day. But I wanted to ride on! Caroline had no second thoughts. She was there to do the whole ride, with or without me. We left the safety and comfort of the porch. A couple of more climbs, and 25 miles separated us the finish line.
The last climb was about a mile long, but the grade was not too bad. Somewhere around 20 miles to go something amazing happenned. The headwind became a tailwind. The last 25 miles was covered in 1.5 hours, a respectable time given the distance we had already traveled. The rain continued, the wind, thankfully, continued, and so did we. As we approached the start / finish line, I realized that it had been an amazing and unforgettable day. There was no one there to greet us, but the showers and restrooms, thankfully, were open, because there was an indoor pool. They had left us two styrofoam boxes of lunch from earlier in the day. The ride was over.
At the beginning of the day, who would have guessed that the guy with the old bike, and the girl with the early flat, would be the only ones to complete the whole ride? We did it!
Caroline said it was 102 miles to be exact. We had been on the road 8.5 hours, including all the stops. There is no way I would have continued and finished the whole ride without Caroline. She is one tough girl. And she was a great encourager to me. Maybe I will have another chance to tag along with Caroline on a long ride, maybe not. I sure hope I get to. it is truly amazing what the human body can do when there is a basic level of fitness, a whole lot of determination, and a friend at your side.
The Dogwood 100 route is still online at...
www. http://connect.garmin.com/activity/8112178
Caroline - Tristan Vann
