Century Ride - Top Female...?!

Sure, I was only 1 of 3 people to do the full century ... and sure, I was the only female ... but I bet that that headline got your attention! :)
.... Although perhaps I should have admitted to this at the end of the post so that you all continue reading ... :)

Clear Skies, Sunshine, Temperatures in the low 80s - it was going to be a beautiful day for a bike ride.... or at least that is what the weather said when I packed Thursday night.

After my successful century ride last weekend in Hagerstown, I will admit that there was a little bit of excitement for the Knights for Sight Century ride I had coming up in Salisbury.... a little bit... because really, who get that excited about biking 100 miles [especially when you do two centuries in successive weekends].
The ride wasn't going to live up to the Hagerstown one, I already knew that.... that was too great of a day.
But now that I knew I could do the distance, so I was ready to see what kind of time I could get.

Since this century was on the eastern shore, it was going to replicate my race day ride - flat, [hopefully] fast and windy. For this reason [and because I knew I wouldn't find people as awesome as the ones in Hagerstown], I went into this ride knowing I was going to ride it solo.

If nothing else, I wanted to make sure I was mentally tough enough to push myself through all the boredem, all the walls and all the pain..
I was ready.

I was ready until about 9:30 Friday night, when - as I sat on the floating deck eating a delicious dinner at the Market Street Inn - a flash of lightening lit up the sky in the distance.

What the...

A weather check showed storms all night and rain in the morning.
... Apparently I should have checked the weather more often then I did....

A pilot 'comforted' me [or thought he was] when he checked his map and said the rain would end by the afternoon... you know - well after my ride would to end.

Excitement... gone.

Have I mentioned that with all the 20 bags of gear that I managed to pack for this trip, no where in there did I pack anything that would be appropriate for rain?
Yup. Smart.
Lesson learned - be prepared ... for everything.

I went to bed that night sounding like a broken record...
... Please no rain
... Please no rain
... Please no rain

I had no problem falling asleep, but I did have a problem staying asleep as I woke up several times to - yup, you guessed it - the storm outside.
... The storm and the constant worry that I was sleeping through my alarm, which was set for 4am.

As I reached over to turn my alarm off, I said a wish. I wished that it would be silent and that the sound of rain would be gone.
... It wasn't.

Rolling my face into my pillow, I pulled the covers over my entire being.
I don't want to bike in the rain

The same fears from last weekend ran through my mind, and I once again imagined myself falling on the slippery roads. I worried about being cold since I didn't have proper clothing for the rain...
I worried about crashing my Trek...
I worried about not even being able to push myself to the start line, let alone the finish.

The event was a rolling start, which meant I could start anywhere between 6:30 and 9:00. Since I planned on doing 100 miles, I wanted to start at 6:30.... but as I laid there hiding under the covers, rejecting my alarm that was becoming a constant annoyance in my ear, I started to make excuses for not getting up.
Perhaps if I start a little later the rain will stop and the roads will dry up.
Why risk getting hurt when my race is so close...?!?

Doubt and worry began to overwhelm me
I'm going to get too wet ... get too cold and I'm not going to be able to do the full 100.
I don't know if I can even manage 65 miles in bad weather... and even if I can, I'm still going to feel like a disappointment.

It was now 4:45 ... and I was still in bed.
The clock wasn't the issue - I always give myself plenty of time. My 4am alarm is set ridiculously early so that I don't have to rush and can prepare myself - both physically and mentally - for the day to come. The issue was that with every minute I lay there in bed, my chances of talking myself out of the ride is more likely.

I needed to change my way of thinking. Instead of thinking what could happen, I thought what would happen if I didn't.
I thought about disappointment, I thought about the regret.

I didn't drive 3 hours here to not even try.
I didn't intrude on the Bankert Family home to lay in their bed all morning and not ride.
I thought about everyone who was proud of me, everyone who was going to keep track of my ride that day, and everyone who supported me.
.... I realized that I would rather say I rode 35 miles in the rain then say I hid under the covers.

What if it rains race day? - are you just not going to go?

With that, I forced myself out of bed... and I was grumpy.  Not even my banana bagel would bring me any joy this morning.

I cursed under my breathe as I sorted through my bags - picking out what I would need that day.
How could you not be better prepared?
My reflective vest was at home, of course, because that is helpful. I even thought about packing it but decided against it since the weather was forecasted sunny.
I already have enough packed... why not save 1 centimeter of space and 1 oz of weight by not packing this.
I did, however, decide last minute Friday morning to use my camelbak as my purse - you know.. because I'm very lady-like and classy - which did hold the blinker I had stolen from my mom last year [!!!]. The batteries, though, were dead... because it would have been too convenient if they weren't.
A gas station stop was now added to my list.

As I finished getting ready that morning [...slightly more rushed then I would have liked due to my extended stay in bed, and my added stop from some triple A batteries...] I happened to glance up into the mirror. My eyes focused on a picture hanging up on the wall behind me. I had forgotten it was there, but it was exactly why I was standing there that morning.... it is what this day was about.

a dream. a dream that is becoming my reality.

I walked out the door that morning not sure about how the day was going to turn out ... but I did know that a. I was going to bike until I finished or b. I was going to bike until I couldn't bike anymore. Whether the 'I couldn't' was a physical reason or a mental reason - wasn't determined.

It was strange to feel a chilly August morning. The rain, though [and thankfully], had stopped - at least for that moment. I could still feel the lingering drops in the air that were ready to fall at any time.
Please don't....

It wouldn't be until 6:50 that I would finally climb onto my bike that morning.

When you are riding solo, there isn’t much to report back. There was a lot of talking to myself [out loud of course] ... pep talks, conversations, arguments with body parts and perhaps just a little bit of complaining. There also could have been some cursing at the wind that almost blew me over at several points. It was on this ride that I became in international pop star as I belted out songs - some real .. some made up... and at one point, I may or may not have talked to a fallen banana peel that laid there in the middle of the road... iinnnn a British accent.

If anyone was nearby to hear, they may have mistaken me for a crazy and would have admitted me to the nearest looney bin ... and stat.. but luckily, for me - there was no one. As I would later find out, not that many people showed up for the ride. It isn’t the most popular ride Salisbury hosts... and I'm sure that the questionable weather had something to do with it ... but only about 75 riders participated... and with a rolling start – I maybe saw 10.

As I approached the rest stop at mile 44.2, I was feeling good ... for the most part. There were times that I would get a jolt of pain in my right knee, but it would only last for a pedal or two and then be gone...

I shook it off and changed my position slightly.

At the rest stop there was one volunteer…. a nice fella standing underneath a Ravens tent. I complimented him on his good taste in sports teams as I demolished 2 fig newtons and a banana in no time flat. As I stood there making small talk, I began to realize just how much pain I was actually in.

My knee ached.

It was at this stop that the 65 mile course split from the 100 mile course. 65 miles – go left; 100 miles – go right.
I didn’t allow myself a chance to even think about whether or not I was doing the 100.
I went right...

And that is when things started to go downhill... nothing major, but a lot of little things which were just an annoyance.

I couldn't clip my right foot in. I'm not sure if my knee hurt from my pedal clips being to tight and the amount of force needed to clip in and out... or if I couldn't clip in because my knee hurt to much to push down - but either way, it was a struggle [and something I will need to look into]. It wasn't even a struggle for just a few moments... but for a good while.
While I was already fighting the battle with my foot pedal, I also noticed that my bike computer stopped registering... so now it was 2 against one. 
As I tried and re-tried to clip in, I also tried to get my cadence to register... eventually giving up and restarting my computer [forgetting to check my time before doing so ... of course. I was angry].

The periodic pain I felt from the start of the ride, was back - and it was constant. The pressure to clip in, the rotation of each pedal, sent a shooting pain through my knee. I thought about turning back, but didn't... I couldn't... I wouldn't... I concluded that if it got bad, my left leg will pick up the slack... because that is the very stubborn side of me.

Eventually... after what seemed like an eternity - I got everything settled. My foot was clipped and my computer now read an accurate speed and distance. I was disappointed and upset that I wouldn't know my exact time for the day, but I did at least see my average pace before I resetting everything. Using a little bit of my awesome mathematical knowledge, I was able to come up with an estimated time for the first 44 miles.

Everything was finally looking alright... and then I made a left hand turn ... and I found myself on a very loose gravel road.

This can't be right ..
After giving it a few moments to hopefully smooth out, it didn't.
Certain I made a wrong turn, I pulled off to the side of the road and carried my bike back up to the road to the street sign. Checking it with my cue sheet I realized that ..
I was on the right road

Why would they put us on this road?!?

Instead of carrying my bike back down the road [or at least part of the way] to reduce the risk of getting a flat or slipping on some gravel, I was smart and just climbed back on.
... or you know, I could have pulled out my smart phone and pressed the little 'where am at?' arrow on the map instead of walking up the street in the first place...
Once again, my brilliance shines through.
But anyway.... I expected a flat, and thankfully never got one.

This ride was mostly back roads and corn fields. I passed more animals then I did cars and people. Not just cows and horses... but dogs, chickens and turtles just hanging out in the middle of the road. I did my best to avoid them, not wanting another bunny fiasco to take place.

If there was a point in this ride, aside from actually getting there, that showed my mental toughness - it would these 35 miles. Miles 44 - 79 were lonely... there was nothing, there was no one... and I hurt. I was hoping for more aerobar practice, but once I got in a position that wasn't as painful - I didn't want to move. One saving grace on this stretch of road, is that at mile 50 - the sun came out, and the day became a beautiful one. It helped to lighten my spirits.. slightly.

At miles 65-67 I gave myself a pep talk... and my eyes watered up. I couldn't tell you the reason for the tears... if they were good, or bad - or both. But they were there.
Perhaps they were a result of this entire 140.6 journey ...or the images I saw of race day.
Perhaps because I actually felt proud for pushing past the morning and actually being out there ... or they could have been a result of the amount of pain I was now feeling.
It could have been one, none or a combination of a few - all I know is that I couldn't hold the feelings back.

There were also more accents, more conversations with the corn fields as I passed by, and for the entire ride I tried to figure out a fitting name for my bike - which never did come.
Apparently I'm just not good at naming things... so God save any child I may have in the future.
When I was little I had 2 gerbils. Those gerbils were in love, and before I knew it - I had a plethora of gerbils.
I had Creampuff and Tootsie.. and after so many, I had No Name, No Name 1 and No Name 2.
Perhaps I should just leave my bike nameless.

But anyway, back to my ride thoughts.... I also thanked the course for not having hills because my knee would not have been able to push me up them, and my motivation to get to the mile 79 rest stop was no longer for the cookies, but to pour ice cold water down my pants... and maybe even an actual piece of ice or two [which by the way - was heaven].

And at last, it came... Mile 79. I found myself back at the rest stop with the Ravens fan volunteer... and it was here that I learned that I was 1 of 3 people to do the century ride... and that the other 2 guys were together and much [much] faster then me.
I was the last person ... out of everyone [minus the one causality that sat beneath a nearby tree waiting for his wife to come pick him up...]
Knowing this, I decided that it would be best if I got going and if I finished up the last 21 miles as quickly as I could.

Perhaps taking the break was exactly what my aching knee needed... or perhaps it was the happiness in knowing that I had pushed myself through the hardest parts of the day and had finally reached the last 20 miles- but my pain, was gone. [.. at least for the most part... and at least in my knee.]

There was one more rest stop between me and the finish - which I would be skipping. I don't know about you, but a hot dog with 10 miles left to go didn't sound too appealing.
No bueno.

At mile 94 my eyes widened.
Was what I seeing correct? Could it be?! Is it true?!?
It was[!!!]
... there, in the distance, was a set of riders.
This was the first time in the last 50 miles that I had seen another biker... and this was my chance to not be last.
I quickened my pace.
I passed them.

Once I did, one of the guys jumped in and drafted behind me...
I pedalled faster.
Annoyed that this guy was drafting me after I had just biked 95 miles, when if anyone should be drafting, it should be me - I did what I could to lose him - but couldn't. I averaged 20/21 mph these last 5 miles and still - there he was - cruising on my back wheel. At the red light, I took my time in getting started again and let him go ahead of me...
Jerk.

Pulling into the finish ... there wasn't one. There was no finish line, no announcer, no catered BBQ. Actually, there wasn't anything. Everything was packed up and everyone was heading out. There was a parking lot with three cars, it was a bit disappointing. The excitement, though, was inside me. I didn't need an applause or an inflatable balloon that said 'FINISH' ... I was still proud. I got myself out of bed on a rainy morning, I pushed through pain and I finished a very secluded 100 miles.
I did that.
Even though my exact time is unknown, my estimated time is about 6 hours - which I will certainly take - especially for having knee pain for 35 of the miles.

Finishing that ride made me feel good - it made me feel good about myself, about my mental toughness, and about where I stand in my training. That course was similar to my race day ride - and I could definitely pull out an additional 12 miles, and [as long as my knee held up] I could have ran. Could I have ran 26.2 miles? maybe not .. but perhaps if there was race adrenaline and a crowd.
I felt confident [...and please.. copy, save, take a picture, tattoo this on your arm, whatever you can - because in 39 days 15 hours 49 minutes and 35 seconds I will be saying the complete opposite].

As I drove out of Salisbury the next day, I passed through the town of Cambridge. Emotions of excitement overcame me as I saw images of race day. I saw the hotel I would be staying at, the streets I would turn down, and as I passed over the Choptank River I looked down at the waters edge - where next month I will stand, waiting for the horn to blow and my dream to become a reality.

Knights of Sight 2012 Century Route