Vineman Ironman 70.3 - Bike Leg: Not Exactly As I Planned It

I got off to a smooth start which is something a lot of competitors can't say. Immediately after the bike mount line is a very short, sharp uphill. In my research, I learned that I should run up the hill and mount at the top of the hill. I did that weaving through people who were toppling over like dominoes on the incline.

I was going well when my shifter broke on mile 5. I was stuck in my big ring for 30 miles of rolling hills. I stopped once to try and fix it myself, but I was losing so much time that I decided to ride in the big ring. Vineman is endless rolling hills though the vineyards of Sonoma County. On every hill people passed me climbing blissfully in their small ring. Irritating. I decided that:

1.  I was going to ride anyway. If I failed to finish, it wouldn't be because I quit. Big ring? Tough it out cupcake.
2. I was going to get mechanical help to put the bike into the small ring at the aid station at mile 30. I'd use the small ring to climb Chalk Hill and then I'd manually move it to the big ring for the long descent. I felt good about my strategy, but lost at least 20 minutes at the bike mechanic at mile 30. Ouch. That hurt.

After climbing Chalk Hill, I stopped and moved my chain into my big ring. It fought me and the chain jammed. A really nice man in a tie-dye shirt stopped to talk me through the repair. It meant more to me than I can say that someone stopped their own race to cheer on another participant. As a competitor, you can't accept tools or assistance. Moral support is allowed and greatly, greatly appreciated.

Unfortuately, it was all for naught. As soon as I started pedalling, the bike went right back to the small ring. GRRR! I spent the nearly entire race slowed by using the wrong chain ring - big ring for climbing and small ring for descent. Plus, I lost a good 30-40 minutes on trying to fix it.

But here is the good news, as I was pedaling toward the bike finish, I realized I had conquered the bike leg. No matter what happened in the rest of the race, I was now officially a cyclist. A big part of the reason I wanted to do the triathlon was to conquer my fear of the bike because Steve loved riding. I did it!

As I came into the bike transition, I had to ride past people who were finishing their run. I did start in one of the last swim waves, so some of these people had started the race an hour and a half before I did. However, I also knew that my bike leg was ridiculously long due to the gearing and attempted repairs. It was crushing. Then I heard my friend Melissa cheer my name and it lifted my spirits.  There's nothing quite like seeing a friendly face on the course.

The Most Specialest Chain Ring Bolt in all the World

Before every race I go through a period where I hate my gear.  I fret that my sneakers will give me blisters, my bra will chafe and my water bottle is too big.  Being a triathlete brings this to a whole new level of angst - my wetsuit, my pedals, my cleats.  In the past 10 days, I've stressed out about them all.

The one exception is my bike; I love my bike.  Unfortunately, it's been an endless source of hassles for poor Steve.  When I said I wanted a triathlon ready mixte, I thought I was asking Steve to find me a something unique, but within the Earthly realm.  What I didn't know was that it would be an endless pursuit of esoteric bike parts from thirty years ago - special cranks shipped here from France, special everything.  I wasn't just asking Steve to find me a unicorn.  I was asking Steve to find me the one unicorn that breathes rainbows and farts out glitter.  And he did it.

Last night, at 10pm he was doing his final check on the unicorn-bicycle.  We needed to give the bike to the transport company today at noon.  I'm not good at bike maintenance and Steve was dutifully making sure every item was in perfect working order.

Then.
It.
Happened.

He was ratcheting down a loose nut on my spectacular Stronglight chain ring and the bolt broke in half.  This is a Very Special bolt and the bike wasn't safe to ride without it because the chain rings might...I don't know, self destruct or immolate or something.  Steve was devastated because he knew that bolt was pretty much irreplaceable.

Emergency emails to our local bike shop owner followed. (Heart you Velocult!)  In the end, Steve had to rip apart one of his favorite bikes to give me a safe and suitable crank for the big climbs.  Velocult was nice enough to do some final emergency work on my bike so we could meet the transportation company deadline.

We made the noon bike transport with minutes to spare.

Heat Training

When I signed up for the Vineman race, I assumed that Northern California would be much cooler than Southern California.  Wrong.  Vineman is one of the hotter races in the Ironman calendar.

Like most larger people, I suffer more in the heat than skinny minnie athletes.  For the last few weeks, I've been trying to do my long runs and rides in the heat.  Last weekend on Saturday, I went for a 15 mile run in the sweltering heat starting at 1pm.

On Sunday, my husband, Steve, volunteered to accompany me on a training ride in the midday heat.  The only person who dislikes the heat more than I do is Steve.  About 5 miles in, we started pedaling up the hill on the Route 52 bike path.  Pssst.  I got a flat.

The 52 bike path is brutally hot and there is no shade. Steve can change a flat in under a minute.  Of course, I need to know how to change a tire myself.  I'd done it once before, but it took me a long while to complete the task.  And poor Steve stood there baking in the sun while I completed a Slo-Mo tire change.

I finally had the tire changed and we continued our ride.  We got less than 10 feet and Pssst.  Now Steve had a flat.  I offered to change it for him, but he declined.  It's a shame, I bet I could've change that second tire in under 20 minutes.

Franken-bike Part 2 - The Donor Cycle

Once we had the frame and fork for my bike, thing got a bit more complex.  The frame is French and that means French-threaded.  (Who knew there was such a thing?)  You know the old saying "Lefty loosy, Rightie tighty."  Not true with the French.  They screw things on and off the opposite way.

That sent Steve searching for French threaded bike parts - wheels, headset, bars, brakes, derailleur, chain rings, chain, seat post, cranks.  Low and behold a few days later, a Motobecane bike came up for sale about an hour away from San Diego.  The bike had been repainted and we couldn't tell exactly what it what model it was.  Steve studied the photos and said "those dropouts were on put on the top end bikes.  Let's go take a look."  On the drive, I tried to not get my hopes up that we'd find all the perfect parts  in one stop.  I'd be happy to find one or two parts that we could harvest.

When we pulled up to the seller's house I knew the bike would be perfect.  In the driveway there was a vintage Jaguar XJ Convertible, 3 meticulously maintained Harley-Davidson motorcycles and 2 SUVs in perfect condition.  His garage was perfectly clean with one wall dedicated to those big red Craftsman tool cabinets.  Next to those cabinets was a hand-built triathlon bike.  This is a guy who knows good quality and knows how to take care of his stuff.

The donor-cycle was a gem with every component being top or near top of the line. The re-paint job was a signed Joe Bell paint job - again top of the line.  Steve wiped the drool from his chin and I paid the man.  Yep, miracle of miracles we found a perfect donor cycle on the first try.  It's almost a shame to harvest the parts, but the bike is too small for either of us to ride.  We'll resell the frame and some tiny person will love it. 

(PS...Sorry for the posting scarcity.  We've planned an entire wedding in the last 2 weeks.  We rock! But man, we're exhausted.)

Franken-bike Part 1

A few months ago, I told Steve that I wanted to to the triathlon on a mixte bike.  (Mixte is what many people remember as a ladies bike.  To there's no top bar on the frame, instead both bars go lower.)  The last bike I really loved was a mixte.  I want another one and I want to ride it in my triathlon.

There are certainly no modern racing mixtes. Steve told me he'd research to see if there were any vintage mixte racing frames.  It turns out, that there were a very, very few built and they are generally expensive if you can find one.  I'm 5'8" with long legs, so I'd need an uncommon frame size which would make finding one even more of a challenge.  Plus, he'd have to find suitable parts all on the vintage market since modern parts might not fit  Steve said, it would be some sort of Franken-bike, but he'd try.

Once I knew the bike had ever existed on the planet, I knew Steve would find it.

He put together a list of specs that I don't understand.  Things like Reynolds 531 tubing and blahblahblah.   Steve has been searching the internet and visiting bike shops.  Finally we stopped into Velocult the vintage bike shop by our house.  And behold - a perfectly sized mixte frame and fork.  The shop owner just had it repainted and the original chrome fork is in perfect condition.

We snapped up my beautiful hot red Jeunet mixte.  Now that we had the frame and fork, we could start the search for parts.

Bike The Bay

This morning we hooked up with 2,700 other riders for the annual Bike the Bay ride benefiting the San Diego County Bicycle Coalition.

More importantly, I  rode my bike over this.

For Reals - I rode my bike over the Coronado Bay Bridge.  It looks sort of piddly in that photo, but it's 20 stories high at the peak.  It's tall enough for an aircraft carrier to pass under the bridge.  Peak - that means I needed to ride uphill and downhill (my nemesis!)  It was fine; I didn't panic.

Other than one moment where I thought I dropped my chain going into a turn, I had a very good ride. (Sorry for the folks behind me.  I know I stopped shorter than I should have.)  

That's two successful group rides in consecutive weekends. I'm ready for the bike section of the triathlon.

Midnight Madness Bike Ride

Saturday night we rode our bikes in the 37th Annual Midnight Madness Fun Bike Ride.  It's 2,000 cyclists riding a 20 mile route through San Diego. The ride goes through some of the prettiest sections of downtown - along the bay, the Embarcadero, Little Italy, Old Town, Shelter and Harbor Islands.  I run those areas often, but never at night and it was beautiful to see the city lights and the boats lit up in the harbor.

Despite the fact the we had race bibs, it's a fun ride not a race.  There's a Light Your Bike contest.  Many of the cyclists are in costumes.  My personal favorite costumes were the people who showed up as astronauts with one cyclist towing the Apollo 11.  Fantastic!

Race or not, this is exactly the type of bike event that has terrified me in the past - the bedlam of a mass start, riding on the roads. I've really been working on my bike handling and it paid off for me.  The ride was fine and so was I.  Except for one little thing. The course was flat with some gentle rolling hills. Then there was one really steep downhill toward the end of the course.  I wasn't expecting it at all.  I turned a corner and suddenly it's a drop zone. I couldn't do it.  I had to walk my bike down the hill.

Okay, here's the thing.  I'm a perfectionist, not with other people but with myself. The fact that I had to get off my bike upset me.  A lot.  I was nearly in tears because I felt such a huge sense of failure for walking down a hill for a quarter of a mile. 

Let's get some perspective.  Saturday morning I did an exercise class followed by my full triathon workout:.Swim: 500 meters,  Bike: 15 miles, Run 3.5 miles. Saturday night, I started a ride at midnight and got past some of my big fears of group rides.  That's a day anyone should be proud to complete. Tears?  Over a hill?  I've got to get over it!

Setting high goals is a good thing.  Letting my perfectionist tendencies bring me to tears at the end of a fantastic day was just stupid. 

A Little Knowledge Is a Good Thing

Tuesday night I went to a 90 minute seminar about basic bike maintenance.  When I've ridden before, I've always had Steve to deal with flat tires.  He's sort of my bicycle AAA.  At the triathlon, no one else can touch your bike.  If a tire pops, you've got to fix it yourself.  That meant I needed to get some knowledge.

The class was offered at REI for the low, low price of free.  Cheap is neat, but free is for me.  Of course, I live with someone who knows gobs about bikes and he'd have given me free advice too.  Sometimes it's easier to learn from someone neutral.

I'd have considered the night a success if I learned to change a tire.  The class was far better than I could have hoped.  In an hour and a half I learned to adjust my brakes, my shifting and my dérailleur.  I also learned the correct way to clean and oil a chain and what to do if one pops off while I'm riding. Oh, and I did learn how to change a tire.

The bonus is I'm so much more confident about the bike.  Looking back, I should have taken a class ages ago.  I don't mind figuring things out on my own, but I appreciate having a head start on finding my way out of cluelessness.

So Proud

We're home from Northern California and the Death Ride.  The Death Ride is over 100 miles and 15,000 feet of climbing (and descending!) the Sierra Nevada Mountains.  On a bicycle.

Of course I didn't ride that race, but Steve did.  After that horrible crash descending Mount Soledad on his bicycle 2 weeks ago, Steve decided he still wanted to ride the "California Alps" with the Team in Training ACE team.

Race morning we left our hotel at 3AM, the team started the ride by 4.  I spent the day handing out Cytomax to riders, directing traffic and cheering the cyclists.  Our team rode over 12 hours with every TNT cyclist completing the ride safely.  Not every rider in the race was so fortunate; there were lots of ambulances and Care Flights.  There were moments of heart stopping worry, but I'm so grateful that I got to have a tiny part in their day.

By the end of the day, Steve and 16 of his teammates completed all 5 mountain passes.  On bicycles. Wow.  I'm in awe of the team, the coaches and their mentor.  I'm just so proud of all of them.

Ouch

Running is a time specific workout.  Once I pick my training distance, I can accurately estimate my finish time. Cycling is totally different story. Steve can be delayed by a flat tire or a broken spoke. If any teammate has a mechanical problem or just a bad day, the whole team is delayed - maybe by a few hours. Every couple of months, Steve calls me to tell me that someone isn't able to finish the ride.  That's when I hop in the truck and pick them up.

When Steve called me last night from his regular Tuesday ride, I wasn't all that worried.  He said he'd taken a spill and that he had a cut on his forehead. Nope, he didn't need a ride home, but he'd be late. Then another friend called and said "We've got his bike and his stuff and they're loading him into the ambulance."  WTF!

The next hour was sort of a scramble of grabbing stuff for Steve (pajamas, food, eye glasses) and  heading to the hospital - the wrong hospital.  Then I got lost a second time by taking the wrong highway split.  Finally, I got to the correct ER. I must have had my "Don't mess with me" look on my face, because the ER nurse immediately walked me back to see Steve. If you work in the ER, let me give you a free tip.  Tell the family member what they're going to see.  I was visualizing a little knock on the head.  Not gushing blood, a swollen face and cervical collar.  How's about you give me a friggin' warning ER nurse?

Luckily, Steve is okay - no concussion.  (Thank you helmet!  A million thanks.)  He's got a wicked case of road rash on his face,  lots of stitches on his forehead and cheek and a shiner you wouldn't believe.  A little cosmetic damage and general soreness, but time, Neosporin, and Tegaderm will take care of that. 

If you'd have told me that one of us would have a bike accident this week, I wouldn't have guessed Steve.

It's As Easy As Riding A Bike

Triathlon training is coming along swimmingly (HA!) Yesterday, I did a good long workout: swam 500 meters, took an hour long spin class and ran 2.5 miles. That's nearly the distance I'll do in the race. I'm trying to make sure that I'm physically super conditioned for this race. The only thing that can get between me and the triathalon finish line is panic.

Steve offered to tune up my bike for me. When I got rid of the fancy road bike, I bought a heavy steel hybrid bike that I call Blue Steel. I've never actually ridden Blue Steel, but I'll occasionally throw it on the spin trainer and do a spin workout. Steve spent the better part of the afternoon getting Blue Steel ready for service. He got rid of the clip on pedals and he fixed the derailleur (Derailleur is the mechanism that shifts the gears.)

This is all well and good, but when Steve finished the job I needed to get on the bike. Somehow I've managed to completely paralyze myself in fear regarding the bike. I used to love to ride and spent hours on my bike. Granted my road cycling experience wasn't very good, but really, but there is simply no reason to have a panic attack at riding my bike in my friggin' neighborhood. Embarrassingly enough, I had to talk to myself for the entire 10 minute ride. By the time I got back to the house I was shaking.

Here's the plan. I'm going to ride every day - not far, just consistent riding until I don't have a panic attack at the thought of hopping on the bike.

Share the Road

Sometimes you scratch your head and wonder what people are possibly thinking.

Dr. Christopher Thompson had pretty nice life going: head of emergency services for Beverly Hospital, owned a medical record company, had a nice house on a California canyon down the road from the Governator. Nice life. He also had a nasty habit of harassing cyclists who rode in the canyon by his home. He graduated from yelling and cursing to stopping short in front of cyclists by slamming the on the brakes of his luxury car.

He probably would have gotten away with that behavior except last summer he stopped short in front of two guys who were unable to avoid him. One suffered a separated shoulder; he got off easy. The other slammed into the rear windshield suffering shattered teeth, broken bones and lacerations that left his face permanently scarred. Dr. Thompson told the officer who came to investigate that crash that he did it "to teach them a lesson."

Last week, Dr. Thompson was found guilty of 6 felonies and a misdemeanor. He was found guilty in part because other cyclists testified that he had done his brake slam maneuver previously. Which is horribly sad, because as an ER doctor he had to know how vulnerable a cyclist is.

I've been thinking about this case a lot in part because Steve and so many of our friends are cyclists. Over the past for years, I've seen plenty of drivers act like jerks to runners and riders. Every time I wonder what makes someone mentally unstable enough to think that his car is an acceptable weapon.

For Dr. Thompson, he's in custody awaiting sentencing. It could be up to 10 years, but it's certainly likely to be much less. He'll almost definitely lose his medical license. Hopefully, the two men he injured will prevail in some civil litigation also. Seems like an awful lot to lose simply because one sunny afternoon Dr. Thompson decided he was entitled to the entire road.

The Tahoe Trade Off

Two weeks ago Steve was cheerleader extraordinare for me and my run team at the Rock N Roll marathon. Last weekend it was my turn to support his cycling team at America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride in Lake Tahoe. I didn't have much to do except photograph the team's finishers. We flew to Tahoe and I didn't have a car to chase the riders for 100 miles. Instead I plopped down at the finish line and snapped photos.

Here are our San Diego riders coming across the line - look at those clean pace lines. There's no team in the ride that's more trained and efficient at pace lining. Lots of teams rode in swarms, but Team San Diego rides smart.

Here are the guys showing off there medals and reminding you it was 1oo miles!

A Weekend of Surprises

Our Saturday run was supposed to go along the trails in the Los Penasquitos Canyon Preserve. It's a beautiful location, complete with a waterfall and lots of wildlife. I was really looking forward to it, even though I'm not much of a trail runner. Unfortunately, when we got there both entrances to the trail were flooded. (How exactly? This is the desert.) With the trails a no-go, we ended up running up (and by that I mean uphill) Black Mountain Road to the Highway 56 bike path. It was a route chock full of hilly glory. It was a pretty tough 8 miles - hot with no shade and extra heat reflecting off the asphalt. Again, my hydration wasn't the best and I had leg cramps on the hills. Must drink more water.

Sunday Steve and Donna rode the Grandfondo Century Ride. I met them at mile 60 with comfy chairs situated in the one shady spot available, lunch, sports drinks, sunscreen and 20 pounds of ice. As I was waiting for Donna and Steve, I got some strong clues that the Grandfondo was a tough ride. Relatively few riders made it to mile 60. The riders who made it in were all exhausted and this was only a bit past the midpoint of the ride. Plus, I saw a number of riders stop and phone for rides home. My last clue was that Steve and Donna were almost an hour later than they'd planned. Since they are both strong climbers, I knew it was tough out there. When they arrived, Steve checked his cycle GPS. The Grandfondo was supposed to have 4800 ft of climbing, a tough ride by any standard. However, at mile 60 they'd already climbed over 6,000 feet. Whew. Glad it was them and not me.

That's endurance racing in all it glory - you plan, you prepare and sometimes the course laughs at you.

Second Verse, Same as the First

Long time readers (both of you) may remember that my last tangle with cycling didn't end well. I decided to go back to marathons and I sold my beautiful bike to someone who loves it.

That left me without a bike which was kind of a bummer, because I missed the Team In Training spin classes. TNT spin class is different from spinning at the gym. Classes are held outside and you're on your own bike which is harnessed onto a spin training stand.

For the last few weeks, Steve has been searching Craigslist for a bike for me. Since I'm not doing endurance cycling I decided that I didn't need (or even want) a super-duper-all-carbon road bike. I wanted a solid bike with big fat tires - heavy and stable.

This weekend we found a nice hybrid bike and made an offer. The seller is training to be a professional cyclist which is perfect. Those types of riders take excellent care of their bikes. The bike he listed on Craigslist had been his commuter ride. (He also had a Trek Madone and a yummy Felt Triathon bike.) He was a total sweetheart and threw in spare tires, tubes, a rack and panniers. He also swapped out some pedals for me.

Last night Steve and I hit the TNT spin class. I was having a great time. To wrap up the class, we did some standing spinning. You won't believe this, but a pedal flew off the bike. If you're doing the physics, you can probably imagine how this went. I'm standing on the bike pedals. One bike pedal flies off. I slam down on the bike's top tube. Yep, right on the hoohaa. Ouch.

Sometimes, I think maybe I should stay off bikes entirely.

On The Road Again

We're driving to Tucson for Steve's bike race. Well, Steve's driving; I don't text and drive. A drive East on Interstate 8 only means one thing to me: Sonic Drive-In. I've missed you my beloved Diet Cherry Limeade made with Real Limes and Diet Cherry Syrup and Extra Cherries.

Dear Southern California Cyclists;

Hey cyclists, did you hear that there's a new metric century ride on December 6?

The ride is the Milestone Challenge and benefits San Diego endurance athlete Skip Gleavey. This summer, Skip was in cycling accident which has left him paralyzed below the waist. Proceeds from the Milestone Challenge will go to help cover his health care costs during his rehabilitation.

Skip has completed marathons, century rides and triathlons. He did those events while recovering from heart surgery and Stage 4 Lymphoma. Now he needs to conquer another challenge - life after a devastating accident.

The ride will be a typically beautiful Southern California course starting in Solana Beach and going up the Pacific coast.

Cyclists and San Diegans. It's time to do a race for one of our own.

Ride
Donate
Volunteer

Lake Tahoe, AMBBR and SAG

Lake Tahoe is absolutely stunning. I love it and I'm incredibly happy to have made the trip.

I was a little worried about the trip, not about Tahoe, but about being there for America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride. This was the 100 mile bike ride that I decided not to do. Honestly, I was more than a little worried that I'd be heartbroken and petulant all weekend. It's not my nature to sulk, but then it's also not my nature to be a quitter either.

In fact, I had an absolutely fabulous time the day of the race. My job was to help with SAG - that's either "Support and Gear" or "Sympathy and Gear" depending on your day. First, I met the team at Inspiration Vista above Emerald Bay. It's beautiful there as you can clearly see in the photo. At Vista I took the cold weather gear they needed to ditch. I also snapped team photos and did whatever the riders needed. Then I had a few hours off so I went for a run. (Oh, I ran three times in Tahoe. Chi Running is awesome.) Finally, I wrapped up my day cheering on the cyclists at Spooner Summit. This was toward the end of the ride and after the cyclists had finished a 9 mile climb.

In total, I spent about 7 hours and it was great to be able to help people succeed. I had never done SAG at an event, but I've always always appreciated it. There have been plenty of events where some TNT person called out "GO TEAM" and it gave me the push I needed to reach the finish. Last night at the victory celebration someone said that seeing me at Spooner was like a "Ray of sunlight. All the cheering is great, but when it's someone you know cheering for you it's a big lift." Her taking time to say that made my weekend.

It is a huge lift to see a familiar face along the course. I'll always remember seeing Coach Ellen at mile 19 of my first marathon and seeing Steve cheering at Nike Women's Marathon. I hope I was able to provide some joy to the riders along the course.

The Trip Keeps Going

Despite a canceled flight, I am finally on a plane en route to Pacific Northwest. Before I left San Diego, I was sitting on my porch in a tank top. The pilot just announced that it's snowing in Portland. Ugh!

Let's see. Now that I have a few minutes to write what can I tell you? I dropped out of the Century Ride. It broke my heart to do it, but there was a point when it became obvious that it was the right choice.

We were riding along the coast on Saturday and it was incredibly windy which was making the ocean a wild, choppy mess. Of course, that makes the ocean deliciously tempting to surfers and daredevils. As we were riding along the shoreline and we heard people shouting for help. We stopped and scanned the water for the people shouting. There were two people being pulled out by the riptide. They were pretty far out there and there was no way to help them. I'm a very strong swimmer, but not strong enough to pull two people back from that ocean. For all I knew, they were stronger swimmers than I am. There wasn't anything to help either - no rescue buoys or even driftwood. In your heart, you want to run into that water like Pam Anderson. In your head, you know that adding a third stranded swimmer to the mix is not helpful at all.

The police were called and we waited and hoped. We waited so that we could point out the swimmers to the rescue team. It was frustrating to watch; sometimes the swimmers would get closer to the shore. At one point, we almost thought that they were goofing off. Then they got pulled out by the undertow again and we knew that they were in trouble. Finally, the police got there and the ambulance and the coast guard chopper and everyone else who does these types of rescues. In this case, "finally" means about 5 minutes but it felt like forever. The swimmers got pulled to the shore and we got back on our bikes to continued our ride. As we rode off I thought, "Missed opportunity! If I'd have jumped in the ocean I bet I wouldn't have to finish this @$*#ing ride."

Something about watching those people struggle made me realize it was time to quit the Century Ride for now. With the help of the incredible TNT mentors and coaches I came very far in 6 weeks, but it made me so unhappy to have to ride on Saturdays. This was supposed to be fun and instead I dreaded it. I'm not a crybaby but I was constantly, secretly crying because I was so worried about falling in front of a car. That said, I haven't given up on the idea of the Century Ride forever. Having conquered big hills, clipless pedals, and many of my riding fears I just need to give myself some time to remember how to enjoy riding. Even a few years ago, I loved my bike. I'm going to ride on my own for awhile and relax. I think it'll all come together. I'll try it again another season.

Mostly, I'm deeply and profoundly relieved that I quit this season. I miss the team and I miss-miss-miss the spin classes. Of course, it damn near kills me that I disappointed people. But overall, I'm relieved.

It's Pace Line Appreciation Day

Yesterday, I went riding by myself at the lake. When I ride alone I go very, very slowly. The lake trail has a few fairly sharp turns and some minor slopes. I still get a little nervous dodging people and other riders. At the lake I also need to avoid the ducks which can be more of a challenge. People move out of the way, ducks not so much.

I decided to ride at the lake because there's a portion of the trail that has fences on both sides. Whenever I have to ride in areas that are really enclosed I feel some panic. It gets better every week, but I still don't like it.

Last Saturday, we rode through a very enclosed area. I was really uncomfortable because I was afraid other riders would be coming the opposite way and there wouldn't be enough room. I'm absolutely positive this stems from a car accident I had years ago. The other driver was drugged up from the hospital and ran a stop sign. She forced my car into the concrete wall of an underpass. Luckily, I was driving my Mom's 1970's Pontiac Grand Prix, an enormous car/tank my parents saved so that I could learn to drive in it. (Thanks Mom and Dad! Sorry I totaled your car.)

Last Saturday, my mentor was riding behind me speaking very calmly to help me ride through the enclosed area. She said something that made me instantly more relaxed. She reminded me that no one was coming the other way, because the front of the pace line would have warned me. Ah.

Ahhhhhhhh.

Sweet bliss, I was not alone in that tunnel. It was the first time I felt real gratitude for the pack of riders. Normally, I'm so worried that I'm going to screw up, than I can barely ride with them. Instead of grudging acceptance of the pace line, I felt genuine gratitude.

Here's to the pace line which makes me ride faster and protects me from riders (real and imagined) coming in the opposite direction.