Dear Blog Reader;
I hope that this finds you doing well. I am fine. If you are
a facebook friend you know by now that I finished. I finished the 161.1 miles
across the state of Indiana ,
“160 miles, one day, one way.” The small animal sacrifices worked. The tubby
gods were appeased by the hot fudge smeared on my front and back tires. The
amazing thing is that I am not too sore. Thanks to all of my pickle juice
pushing friends, I only had two small, tiny really, cramps on Saturday night. I
have never done an exercise until I reached a euphoric state. In fact, I
thought you were all lying to me. But I may have gotten to the outskirts of
that place Saturday. I did not hurt nearly as much as I should have in my
wrists and seat connectors. My left foot did not give me debilitating pain from
a pinched nerve that developed during previous long distance rides. All three
places hurt from time to time but the pain was not even close to debilitating.
They were just along for the ride.
Before I go any further, I want to take a minute and sing
the praises of the lovely Miss Beverly. She, of the lovely, sleek, jet-black,
hair, and gracious hostess spirit, was a fantastic support crew during the
weekend. She picked me up at work Friday evening, drove me half way across the
state to Terre Haute ,
woke up at 5:45 a.m. on a Saturday morning, delivered my anxious self to the
start line, went back to the hotel to
take a nap, followed the green dot from my Iphone ½ way back across the state
to meet me at the 94th mile lunch spot, stopped by home to pick up
Grace, stopped by Walmart to pick up some stuff that I was going to need to
survive the 40 minute car ride back home, gave me a morale boosting visit along
Highway 40 after a demoralizing huge hill 10 miles from the finish line and
then raced ahead to the finish line to provide photographic proof of a job well
done, and did it all in one sentence with lots of colons. Thank you Beverly .
SOME OF THE NOTES
FROM THE RIDE:
It is a little intimidating when you turn on to the road
where the start will occur and they have signs queuing up participants who will
ride 160 miles in less than 7 hours, or 8 hours, or 9 hours. I chose to start
with the humble who “just hope to finish”. Those were my people. People who
chose animal sacrifice over training and weight loss.
It is a bit ominous talking with a fellow finish hopeful
before the start; asking if he had ridden before. He had ridden last year. They
had a significant headwind so the riding was very difficult. He had gone 140 miles;
was riding in a large pack to lower the wind resistance and had missed the
looming pothole. He crashed and was unable to finish. I made some excuse and
made some space. I didn’t need his bad karma hanging over me during this ride.
One cannot image the joy of finding out that the event
organizers provided unlimited pop-tarts for energy bars. There were shouts of
joys emanating from my young boy self. I have had a love affair with pop tarts
since my grandmother had introduced me to their empty calorie decadence some 40
years ago. True; cinnamon frosted tarts are a bit self-regulating; not a
favorite. Cherry or strawberry frosted tarts might have kept me from ever
progressing on from the 1st stop.
As I passed the Putnamville Correctional Facility and saw
the sign about not picking up hitchhikers, I was glad that I only had one seat
on my bike. It eliminated the conundrum of should I or shouldn’t I. “I’m sorry I can’t. You see I only have one seat.” Then
I immediately started wondering that if I had a tandem bike I could do my part
for rehabilitation and force one of the inmates to pedal the rest of the way
across Indiana .
That led me to wonder if a tandem is better than a single wouldn’t a triple be
better?
There are some big hills between Putnamville and Plainfield .
I just finished the easy 80 miles.
Gatorade leaves you with a very sugary mouth after 84 miles.
A roast beef on a hard bun never tasted so good. I think
that I will have two of them. I am very tired of Pop Tarts.
At the 115 mile rest stop, I had to look at the Rain
Participants sign a third time because the first two times I thought it said
Pain Participants.
Turning back onto Highway 40 in Greenfield thinking the 45 miles of mostly
flat wouldn’t be so bad.
Trading positions with a father and his 16 year old daughter
over the next 35 miles; they were faster but I was studier. She was starting to
flag and her determination was waning. They would pedal ahead of me. I would
pass them when they stopped. Dad would
have his arm around her shoulder. I heard him say one time. “You are so close.
Just hang in there a few more miles and we’ll see then.”
Seeing a sign at the last rest stop, 30 miles from the
finish, it read “Nick Norris has never ridden 160 miles in one day in his life.”
It made me cry. We walk past the
milestones in our life without ever noticing. This was a mile stone that I had
been moving towards since last November. It was moving to know that Nick and I
were probably going to make it if we could just keep pedaling.
Seeing Grace and the lovely Miss Beverly drive by with calorie
counting signs and a note that the 160 miles equaled 7854 calories burned and
that was equal to 39 pop tarts. I could have eaten 30 more. That’s good to
know.
Thinking that it is really mean to make us go up this big
hill just after Knightstown. Life would be so much easier if it were down hill
all of the way.
Why am I craving chocolate milk with 20 miles to go? Thankfully,
I have a phone and a wonderful support crew. That was a delicious stop.
I can’t believe that Cambridge City
Oh the damned hills. I am tired of the damned hills.
There it is; a mile away. I can do this.
I really imagined that the finisher’s medal would have been
a little larger and had a neck ribbon.
Hugging the lovely Miss Beverly and lovely Miss Grace.
I did it. I really did it.
Take care,
Roger
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