Today was BikeMO. I had a fantastic time for the first 61 miles (of 65). A ride where nothing goes wrong, no one runs out of food or water or gets lost or wrecks, is not very interesting. But a ride where these things happen to other people (like colorisnt) is interesting without being uncomfortable. I didn't have any interesting adventures, other people did, I just didn't like the last 4 miles.
My friend and I left home at 6:30 a.m. and had just enough time to get our numbers and put our bikes together and hook up with colorisnt before the ride started at 9:00 a.m. It was just a bit chilly, the sun was shining and the wind was pretty decent. There was a short stretch of headwind but it wasn’t bad. We chatted with each other and with other riders. One woman in particular was right about at our pace and we leapfrogged a bit with her, so I started talking to her for a while. Later, she had gotten ahead of us, and I noticed that we turned and her bright turquoise shirt was going the wrong way! I raced after her and got her turned back around.
At 20 miles we were at the decision point of whether we’d do 40 or 60 miles. Colorisnt and Turquoise Shirt intended to do 40 miles. We felt pretty good and decided on 60. Then they decided to do 60 as well. A few others at that SAG stop also were doing the 60 mile route, and we left as a single group, 7 of us. With one exception we kept together the next 40 miles so we were like BFFs by the end. I even know their names, which for me is something because I don’t often ask and less frequently remember people’s names.
At one point I was in front and the cross traffic had a stop sign at the bottom of our hill. As I flew through the intersection, an SUV at the stop sign started to go! My friend thought for sure she was going to be on his windshield but he stopped in the middle of the intersection and let all of us past.
I was concerned because Turquoise Shirt was no longer with us by the time we got out of Fulton. The next thing I knew we were up near I-70, and the next SAG stop was fabulous. Homemade rye banana bread and almond butter. Instead of just setting out the peanut butter, jelly and bread she and the kids had assembled little sandwiches.
For a long while I rode with Gretchen, a woman who has done a lot of triathlons over the last couple years. Today would be a record distance for her and she was one of the strongest riders I’ve ever ridden with. The wind turned against us (or we turned against the wind). I was impressed that I could stay with her. A big part of that was drafting off her. I’m a wheelsucker!
It was a long haul against the wind to the next SAG stop. In fact it was broken by a convenience store which we stopped at, but I did not go inside to refill my water bottle, and I regretted that. It was only 8 miles to the next SAG stop, by our calculations. Well, it was more like 12, my odometer or my calculations were off a bit. The route got hilly and the SAG station just wouldn’t appear. It should be here any moment. We are almost there. I’m sure over the next crest we’ll be able to see it…nope. Just another 3 crests.
The SAG vehicle passed us and we saw Turquoise Shirt inside. That was a relief. Maybe she should have done the 40 mile, but she gave the 60 mile route a shot. I was glad to see she was ok.
Colorisnt had dropped back a bit. But she was still tackling those hills with gusto. Partway up a very steep one her chain slipped. I could tell that mentally she was done then. I helped her get her chain back on, she walked to the top of the hill and got back on. I stayed with her until the next hill when she got ahead of me. “Good,” I thought, “she still has some in her.” She was about halfway up the hill in front of me and I looked down, concentrating on an orange reflective sticker on my fender. Actually I looked at the spot of dirt on it. I am very familiar with that spot of dirt.
Then I looked up again. Uh oh. There was a bike on the side of the road and no sign of her. I raced up to her bike and I saw her at the bottom of a very steep ditch. “Crap,” I said, “crap crap crap.” She was obviously terribly upset but hastened to reassure me that nothing was broken, she was all right. When she felt herself going over she just went with it and managed to unclip and roll down the hill. She got herself calmed down and back up to the road. I thought if she could just make it to the SAG stop and take a break, a real break, she’d be ok for the last 10 miles.
That was when I still believed it was only 10 miles from the last SAG station to the end. That was also when I believed that the next SAG station was about 2 miles away.
Just then a truck pulled over and a couple walked over and offered her a ride back to Holts Summit. They had been out checking on their son (who had just passed us). “I don’t know exactly where I’m supposed to go,” she said. “Don’t worry about that,” they replied, “we know where you need to be.” They live in Holts Summit. So she went with them. I was relieved. It’s one thing to accept a ride that is offered, and another to admit defeat and call the SAG vehicle. But I don’t think she cared at that point, she probably would not have felt it was a failure to call the SAG vehicle. And she shouldn’t feel that way. She also gave the 60 mile route a shot, and she completed 50 miles of it.
On to the elusive SAG station. It was a couple miles beyond where I thought it would be. SO glad that she didn’t try to make it there. I refilled my bottle-drank it-refilled it. I wasn’t hungry but I ate a little. Plain bread tasted pretty good. We lingered but finally got back on our bikes. Only 10 more miles, right?
Hills came and went. We were quiet. We rode in pairs or triplets and took turns drafting off each other. “We’re almost there,” we kept telling ourselves and each other. I tried not to look at the hills, just at the spot of dirt on the reflective sticker on my fender. Another lady called me the Energizer Bunny because I just kept tackling the hills in my lowest gear and kept going and going.
Finally we made what had to be our last turn. (It wasn’t.) I was sure it was only one or two miles further. (It wasn’t.) I put on a burst of speed but the parking lot never appeared. Instead there was one more turn. And one more. I stared at my spot of dirt and pedaled. We rolled into the parking lot, some of us (me) more weakly than others (Gretchen).
The big deal this year was pumpkin pie at the end of the ride. I took a smaller piece, not sure how much I wanted. I figured I could have a second small piece if I wanted. About two bites later I started to shake like a leaf. I finished the pie, thinking the sugar would help me. I got even shakier. A few minutes later I stopped shaking. Then I realized that it was the sugar that had made me shake.
I chatted with some friends, said goodbye to my new BFFs, we loaded up our bikes and patronized the local restaurant. DELICIOUS cashew chicken. Our appetites weren’t as keen as we thought and after a few bites we asked for boxes and started our two hour drive home.
http://www.kemenel.org/melalvai/wp-c...10/BikeMo.jpeg
colorisnt, me, and my friend
