The century ride

That wasn't.

I trained. I anticipated. I ate pasta. I recruited.

But it just wasn't to be.

I thought this would be my first epic century ride-seemed fitting on my 38th (gulp) birthday.
But the weather refused to cooperate. Saturday's radar showed a mass of green the size of, well the entire midwest and it was cold (44 F) and rainy all day. The creepy monster storm was re cycling like a hurricane, blowing in from the east-we never get wind from the east- and swirling back up on itself. We adjusted our plans and opted for the 62 mile route. by 8 that night the floodwaters were rising and my training partner and I were bailing. I to stay afloat, she to jump ship altogether.

5 am Sunday morning came and the green mass hadn't moved, so we rolled over and went back to bed thinking a later start might help. 7:30 am-sometimes you just have to say to heck with it and ride.

It was 9:00 by the time we'd driven to the ride, unpacked, drank coffee, checked in etc.

The first hour was great. Our $6.00 rain suits worked like a charm and we were comfortably warm. Hit a landspeed record of 32 and pulled in 17 miles. Then came the real hills. and the wind. Damn 20-25 mph wind.

The hill that sealed my fate was a 1300 meter verticle with a 60 degree rise. Over the previous hills we'd fly down and spin like crazy up. I knew I was in trouble when flying down into the wind netted 12mph. I watched the spedometer drop 12-11-10-9-8-7-6 and I was standing. My quads were burning and there was 40 more miles to cover. So I disgraced myself and all bikerdom and walked the final 300 meters. Dang. Trihubby for the record reached the top with room to spare. He is such a stud.

We rolled on, but somewhere around mile 25 I realized this is just not fun. Fun can be working hard and gutting it out. But this was just straight into the wind, no talking, just gritting, not fun. And it was my birthday. We arrived at the rest stop and refueled with the idea that we would ride to mile 48 and reassess. But 12 miles of the 18 were straight into that wind. The Tribe was waiting at home to go out to dinner with grandma and grandpa and we were far from home.

So, we turned back to the rest stop, clocking 32 bitchin miles

100 will have to wait for another day