My Life On A Bike

Life for the past 5 weeks for me has been anything but Life on a Bike.  It has gone from one extreme to the other.   Returning home high on adventure from 10 incredible days at Camp MountainFinder in Switzerland, my life was immediately thrust into the throws of one of Life’s Suddenlys.

Suddenly life was hanging by a thread.  All priorities shifted and my time on a bike was no longer a focus, but merely a once a week outlet from the darkness that hung over my family like a heavy blanket.   I hung onto what little shred of fitness that remained and managed to eek out a few good rides.   With each passing week, I could sit and watch as my legs wasted away.

Now finally having made it through our dark  valley, I have more time to ride, but less strength with which to do it.   To add to my frustration, we experienced record rainfall like never before…..non stop rain, torrential rains, causing floods and mayhem while my bike collected dust in the corner.   In regards to cycling fitness, my outlook was not looking good, at all.   Time for the ole shock therapy treatment.

The weekend fast approaching, I was going to ride my bike regardless of the weather.   Saturday’s forecast was for rain.   Taking a lesson in motivation from my Swiss friends, I worked on a positive attitude and resigned myself to a ride in the rain.   Getting up at 0:darkhundred was hard enough.   Knowing I was going to go ride in a downpour while getting my legs ripped off was even harder to stomach.    One last turn of the Attitude Wrench, I tightened down my resolve to do this thang.

Damyankee, Greg, Chris, TomA, and Rich were the only toughies in the parking lot.   The rest of my friends were scared off by the threat of rain.   We rolled out on our ride, totally convincing ourselves that we would beat the storms.

Our route was Taylorsville, a flat course through dog infested back country roads.  Absolutely terrified of dogs, I was highly motivated to keep up with the group.   Otherwise, I would meet my fate at the jaws of a pack of redneck pitbulls and a 3 legged mutt on attack from a doublewide trailer up on a hill.   These Polk County roads are beautiful, but the dog to rider ratio is out of control!

Trying my best to conserve energy, I drafted every wheel and kept my pedaling light.  Tomorrow was suppose to be a perfect day and I had plans to go ride in the gaps.  Therefore, I did not need to be blowing out my legs today.   I was not happy with how much effort was required just to hang on to Keith’s wheel.   My hopes of  having some reserve fitness hidden deep down were dashed to the pavement.   Riding in the gaps was going to hurt.   Heck, today hurt, and we weren’t going all out.

We made it to the store stop at mile 32 on dry ground, but a quick glance at the sky told us things were about to change.   There would be no avoiding the rain on this ride.   Oh well, like Jeff says, “build a bridge and get over it.”  Or in this case, “put on your rain jacket and ride through it.”

The next 25 miles were through varying degrees of downpour, drizzle, and rain.  Rooster tails blinded me in the eye and I did not get to take as much advantage of the draft.   I was seriously questioning my sanity at riding for 3 hours the day before a hard ride in the mountains on already weak legs.   Viewing it all as training, I tried not to worry about it.   It is what it is.

You know what?  I survived the ride and didn’t melt in the rain.   It felt good and I am glad I did it.  Time in the saddle, that’s what I need.   Now, time to stretch, hit the sauna, and do everything possible to get the legs ready for some real riding tomorrow.   5 am is going to come early.

Sunday was the official Six Gap Century.  If I was going to do the century, I would have had to been there long before my 7:30 meet time with Robb, Michael, and Rlaz.   Having done Six Gap a number times in my deep dark past, I had no desire for a repeat.   I did, however, want to take advantage of a beautiful day on my bike.    All I could think of was how all my Swiss counterparts do rides like Six Gap every other day.   I was so behind, it wasn’t even funny.   Time for me to suck it up and ride like we do in Switzerland.   With 2,000 participants for Six Gap, it would be a great place to ride while being motivated by other cyclists.

We started at Turners Corner, about 12 miles out from the Century start.   Even though it was foggy and cool, the promise of sunny blue skies could be felt in the air.     For over 20 years I have been a baby when it comes to cooler temps, and either Switzerland has toughened me up or I just don’t care anymore.    While Michael and rlaz layered up, I didn’t bother with arm warmers, but used my jersey pockets for extra water bottles and food.    We would have to do everything self supported and don’t have quaint little village water fountains for water refills here in the North Georgia mountains.

We started the climb up Neels immediately with roads still wet from the night before.   Michael vowed to ride with me and not push the pace, but I knew not to hold him to it.   I understand what it’s like to have to hold  back for someone, and I didn’t want to cramp his style.   He’s riding like a pro right now, just a few weeks away from the Xterra Worlds in Maui and I’m placing my bets on him to win.    I was happy to have Robb along to give Michael some entertainment.   I just wanted the peace of mind of having some riders around me in case I ran into any trouble.  I didn’t need a babysitter today.   I’m a big girl now.

Seven miles later we reached the top and passed the Century Sag stop already manned with volunteers.   Time to blast down the other side.   The guys were tentative with the wet roads, but I know this descent well and wasn’t afraid.   My legs had made the climb unpleasant, so I at least wanted the pleasure of a descent.   Descents are sacred ground.    Bye, see ya!

Surprised that we had not been caught by the lead group by now, we made the turn to climb up Jacks.   The morning was spectacular and I was happy to be soaking it in since I was not caught up in a race pace focus had I been in the century.   Hints of color from changing leaves dotted the trees up the climb.   The fog and mist wisped in and out teasing us with views of the blue sky.  The rolling pastureland looked as though it had just been carpeted with vibrant green turf, thanks to all the rain, and cows grazing in the fields  made me feel like I was indeed in Switzerland.

We passed by the turn to Hogpen as I told myself that all too soon I would be on the other side and the pain would be over.   For now though, I had still had to get up Jacks. One by one, the guys dropped me and my legs could not deliver any power.   I refused to get mad or frustrated and focused on making the pedals turn over.   Jacks bites almost as much as Hogpen because the rough pavement  goes straight up.  No switchbacks, just UP.

At the top, we pulled off to the entrance of Brasstown Bald as I stretched my hamstrings.   Not 5 minutes later, here comes the pack making my climbing pace look like a snail.   Faces grimaced and blank stares greeted me as I cheered them on and they began the descent.   Taking advantage of a break between groups, we hopped on our bikes for the long ride down to our next gap.

Jacks is another easy long descent without any tight turns, but you have to work a little on it because it is not terribly steep.   A lean machine came zooming by me with another skinny dude on his wheel.  This was my chance and I was taking it.   If you want to catch the draft on a downhill, you cannot hesitate for even one nano second.  I jumped on their train and caught the express line.

All the pain from the climb was quickly forgotten as we booked down the road.    I could read the fatigue in the guy in front of me and related all to well to how he felt.   Usually at this point in the century, I never have the luxury of a draft for this descent and it seems like more work than a downhill should be.   Shaking his head, he pulled out and I hollered at him to hang in there.   He got on my wheel and we continued on pedaling hard.  The guy in front then gave me the elbow signaling for me to pull through.   Okay, no problem.   I can do this, dude.   I haven’t been laboring at race pace like you have.

I felt fantastic and pulled through keeping the train going at high speed.   Fully expecting one of the guys to get impatient after a minute, I was surprised that no one came around me.  At 5′2″ and 115lbs, I’m not the best person to draft down a descent.  I looked over my shoulder quickly.  “Oh, crap,” I muttered under my breath at the sight of a train of guys behind me.  I resumed my position, tucked every part of my body in to get as narrow as I could and pedaled like mad.

Michael came by eventually, and I waited for someone to jump on his wheel, but no one did.  The front pack was within sight and he was going to bridge us up.  I did not think it wise to follow his lead, but then thought better of it as some of our group took the bait.  Mission accomplished, we joined the pack and took a right turn together for the climb up Unicoi.

I wanted so badly to stay with the pack up the climb.  It’s not a bad climb and I could feel that rhythm being pounded out.   It was so real to me that I could practically taste it.  I love that feeling,  sitting in the pack, powering along steadily up the climb, marking a wheel,  matching the accelerations, staying relaxed, playing the game,  in control…….ah man, I wanted it so bad.   Wanting and Doing, ain’t the same thing.

Watching them slowly pull away, they disappeared around the corner through a canopy of trees shrouded in fog.  Focusing on finding my own rhythm,  I told Michael to go ahead and not to worry about me.

Knowing now that I’d be continually picked off by all the stronger riders on the climb, I had to keep myself from being defeated mentally.   Cheery hellos and greetings from various friends coming by encouraged me to keep it steady.   FarmerG hollered out to me as he came from behind, so I got out my camera to snag his pic.   Funny, we’ve been riding together for almost 20 years and he’s still got it.  He deserves it because he works much harder at it than I do.

Robb and rlaz caught and passed me and another pack came by to swoop me up to the top of the climb.  Quickly sizing up the situation, I realized I had a decision to make.  My buddies were waiting for me at the top, but there was also a huge pack getting ready to make the very long descent down Unicoi.  Not wanting to get stuck in the throngs of riders to mess up the downhill for me, I disregarded my riding partners and made the jump to get to the front of the group of cyclists as they started downhill.   Sorry guys, but today when it comes to the descents, it is all about me.

Unicoi descent is long, fast and fun.   Guys were giving me the double take and I knew what they were thinking, “why are you worming your way up here little girl, this is going to be too fast for you, don’t get in my way.“   I was in full on confident aggressive mode and did not let anybody bully me.   In my mind I was thinking, “don’t worry about me dude, I’m faster than you and you better get outta my way.” Cocky little girl I was, but I sure was enjoying it.

As terrible as my climbing was for the day, the downhills more than made up for it.   Everything was jiving and I had no fears.   Our pack of about 9 riders sliced and diced it out with perfect flow.  I felt like I had gone back 12-14 years ago and was in the middle of a race.   Savoring every second, I ate it up.

The adrenaline buffet soon came to an end and we made the right turn over the bridge towards my doom;  Hogpen.  I quietly slipped to the back of the pack, unhooking from the train.  Looking back for a glimpse of my buddies, I saw no one.   Knowing they would  catch me soon enough, I tried to recover from the jolt of coming back to reality.

Michael finally came by and carried on to catch up with the pack.   Making the turn to start Hogpen, volunteers were ringing bells and cheering me on.  I sheepishly slid by, but was in dire need of the motivation.

Seven miles began of torture.  It was not torture for Michael, he was long gone.  Robb caught up to me and loomed just ahead of me for miles like a carrot.   His gearing was not suitable for this climb and I could see him labor.   I had my triple, but decided to save it for the worst parts between miles 4 and 6.

Guys came by slowly grinding away, but still passing me.   I could not match anyone’s rhythm and continued to mash it out while keeping beat to my breathing.   Some riders responded to my hellos while a few were a bit too focused to have my voice register.

Every time I climb Hogpen I feel different.  I prefer feeling stronger than I did today.  Although it felt like I was going backwards, my speed still registered above 4mph.   I have recollection of going 3 mph at times in the past, so at least I wasn’t setting a new record for slowness.   Refusing again to focus on my weakness, I thought about my position, my legs, my cadence, tried to relax, look ahead, and so on.

“Oh, thank God, the top is just around the corner,” I told myself.   I know this climb all too well, so my mind was not playing tricks.  Cheers and the sound of ringing bells let me know for sure I was not hallucinating.   Waiting for me at the sag stop, Michael sat propped up against his bike as if he had just done an easy 5 mile spin.

I happily welcomed the break and stood with Michael as we watched for the rest of our crew.   More of my friends came by waving and saying hello.  What a different experience this was for me and I enjoyed soaking in the atmosphere and cheering folks on as they topped the infamous climb.

Regrouped and rest time over, we began our descent of Hogpen.  This side is steep and you can easily get to 50 mph if you don’t watch yourself.  Going that fast is not a wise thing to do, and I lose my confidence anywhere above 45mph.   At the bottom the road undulates more and the legs scream in protest at the slightest rise.   I hooked in with a small group of guys and once again happened upon another longtime friend.  Scott and I chatted as best we could in the paceline, finally having to give up the small talk to focus on our riding.

Now the course was working steadily up to Wolfpen.  This is where the century riders would peel off and we continued straight on back up and over Neels Gap.   Closing in on 4 hrs, I needed to be back to the car by 1:30 in order to head to the airport to pick up Roger.   Thank goodness I had that valid excuse to get me out of doing Wolfpen!

The climb up Neels usually seems easy to me, but it did not this time.   My legs and back were killing me and I just wanted to be done.   The descent is fun enough, but the rush was slightly interrupted when we passed by a motorcycle accident in one of the tight turns.   The rest of the way down the pass, emergency vehicles with blaring sirens raced by us coming up the road to the scene.    Unfortunately, that happens every weekend up here.

You know you’re cooked when you’re ready for the downhill to just be over!  Back at the cars, Robb and I could barely get off our bikes while Michael was still ready for more.  Rlaz was last seen fighting off leg cramps, so we sent Michael off in the truck to retrieve him.

Yes, there was a lot of suffering and pain involved, but I would not have had it any other way.   The satisfaction of knowing you made it up 7,500′ of mountain roads by the power of your own 2 legs more than makes up for the temporary anguish.   Hogpen was every bit of the challenge as I remember and continues to earn the name Buggy calls it,  HawgPain.

What a joy it was to be back on my bike for a real ride.   My head is back in the game and my heart is no longer heavy.   I’ve missed my bike and I’ve missed all my friends!   I am looking forward to some more great rides and good ole fashion side splitting laughter that we all share on our adventures.   That’s the joy that makes me forget the pain!  See ya’ll out there!