I’m Through With Centuries

Now that the Hotter ‘n Hell Hundred is done, I’ve had time to reassess my long-distance biking efforts. My conclusion: I’ve ridden my last century.

This represents a major turnaround in my thinking about cycling. When I started in mid-2007, I thought the goal would be to continually build mileage and do longer and longer rides. My first big organized ride was 50 miles, which was a major accomplishment then. It was quickly followed by a metric century, and a couple more 50s. My goal was to work my way up to an Imperial Century ride (100 miles).

I did my first one in October, 2008. In 2010, I did two of them — one on the first day of the MS 150 from Houston to Austin, the second a repeat of the 2008 ride. The Hotter ‘n Hell was my fourth.

I realized after the first one that no matter how many centuries you have under your belt, these are challenging rides. If done well, the rider will have prepared for the rides with adequate training — including building up to the 100-mile distance by working in some long rides in the month immediately before the century. And by long rides, I don’t mean 45 or 50 miles — or even 65 miles. I mean 75 or 80-mile rides.

Interval training helps, too, because when you build up your speed you’re also adding to your endurance. It’s easy to go online and find lots of training plans for century rides, both for beginners and for riders who want to finish strong — maybe post a personal best.

For others, century rides are just the beginning. The shortest distance randonneurs ride in a sanctioned brevet is 200 kilometers — about 125 miles. But they’ll do 300K rides (180 miles), 400K (250 miles), and 600K (375 miles) — all in one year. I read several randonneuring blogs, and I admire the fortitude and stick-to-it-iveness of randonneurs. But while I once thought that might be where my own cycling would be heading, I know it’s not now. The accomplishment of riding a 300K ride isn’t important enough to me.

My friend Barbara, whom I mentioned in my account of the Hotter ‘n Hell, has an ambitious goal: to ride a century in each of the 50 states. Go for it, Barbara! I won’t be joining you.

My problem is that I prefer the idea of the century ride more than the doing of the century ride. I have never yet put together a training program that really got me prepped for the ride. That meant that when I got there, I was able to finish the 100 miles, but I was worn out at the end. After the latest 100-mile extravaganza, I wondered why I did this kind of thing.

And I came to the conclusion that I don’t need to. Most of the group I participated with in the HHH last weekend did the 100 kilometer version. These folks are all experienced cyclists, and most of them have done centuries in the past. They’ve just reached that point in their cycling that four hours on the bike — the time it takes to finish a metric century at roughly a 15 mph average — is challenge enough for them. And you know what? I think that describes me, too.

So I intend to keep riding. I’ll bet I continue to put up mileage totals similar to what I’m doing this year. I’ll ride hills — I’ll even practice to get better on them. I’ll do speed work occasionally. My long weekend rides might increase their distances, and I’ll work in more in the 50-mile plus range. But from here on out, my cycling is going to be fun, not work.

The Hotter ‘n Hell Hundred

The Hotter ‘n Hell Hundred in Wichita Falls, Texas, is considered a must-do ride for people in this region of the country. Over its 31-year history, it has grown into what it bills as the largest ride of its type. I’ve always wanted to ride it, because…well, it’s just one of those events you’ve gotta do. This year, the stars came together for me, and it turned out to be one of my cycling highlights. My good friends Russ and Debra have been going to the HHH for several years. They rent a recreational vehicle to have complete independence over the weekend. When they invited me along, I jumped at the chance. Several of us joined Russ and Debra. Their friend Toni took the 350-mile ride up there with us.

Bike Noob, Toni, Debra and Russ ready to hit the road. Russ said this unit was the smallest available at the RV rental place. (Click all photos to enlarge.)

Yeah, we were living in the lap of luxury for this trip. Our friends and fellow club members, Jerry and Maggie, met us in Wichita Falls, along with Nancy. Even in a bus the size of ours, that many people bunking in created some interesting living conditions.

When three bikes are stowed inside, traffic patterns are a challenge.

We carried Debra and Russ’s bikes on an outside rack. When we got to the RV parking area, they were coated with road dust. An early order of business was to get everything shipshape.

If you want a clean bike, call Debra.

The weekend is about everything bike. A big bike expo crowds the convention center. Ride organizers put on a carbo-loading spaghetti dinner the evening before the ride, and then we went outside to watch some of the criterium racing that was part of the weekend.

Just some of the people at the spaghetti dinner. Service was available for four hours.

Sanctioned criterium races ran Friday evening and Sunday morning. A 100-mile road race was also part of the weekend’s events.

The weather forecast is always on everyone’s mind as ride morning breaks. Because August in Texas is hot, hot, hot, the ride starts just after 7 a.m. That meant 12,000 cyclists got up at the crack of dawn, and many (including yours truly) headed back to the arena for a big breakfast. Then, we rode a few blocks in the dark to the starting area. We all grouped in the starting grid for the second group of 100-milers, even though only Nancy, late arrival Barbara, and I intended to ride the full 100 miles. I thought I had Russ talked into joining us, but he opted for the 100K along with the others. Tandems took off first, then the official start came at 7:05, for the fast 100-milers. Our group was held back until 7:25 before we got the go-ahead.

Looking back at some of the starters about half an hour before the cannon sounds.

And they’re off! (Photo from the Wichita Falls Times-Record.)

The only similar experience I’ve had on a bike was at the MS 150 from Houston to Austin. The group didn’t really start to thin out until well after the second rest stop, 20 miles into the ride. Nancy, Debra, Toni, and Barbara got well ahead of Russ and me right off the bat. The two of us rode together until we reached Iowa Park, about 10 miles out of Wichita Falls. There, the route made a left turn and crossed some railroad tracks. Just as we made the turn, the gates started coming down and we could see a long freight train heading our way. Russ shot across the tracks before the gates lowered all the way. I was trailing, and had to make a split-second decision. I decided to go around the gates — something I’ve never done in my life. Good thing the freight was moving slow.

The split between the 100-mile and the 100K routes came soon after. I was torn when I saw Russ turn off on the 100K route, but I plunged into the 100-miler, and soon picked up a nice paceline. The southeast wind blew briskly at our backs, and pushed us along at around 23-24 mph.

I had planned to limit my time at rest stops to about five minutes, but it was apparent that that wouldn’t happen. At rest stop 2, the first one I used, I stood in line for food, then stood in line to refill my bottles, then stood in line for the porta-potties. It took almost a half hour before I was back on the bike. Barbara and I had agreed to meet at that rest stop, but I couldn’t find her, so I got going again. She sent me a voice mail minutes later that she had waited around for me for 10 minutes, then assumed I had gone on ahead and hit the road. We didn’t see each other again until I caught up to her at the 74-mile rest stop. She had had two flat tires, which slowed her down. But she was just leaving as I arrived, so I never saw her again for the rest of the ride.

The landscape in North Texas is featureless. But it’s the mostly flat ride that attracts so many first-time century riders.

The Bike Noob still going strong at about 60 miles. Honest, I do not normally ride with my elbows locked.

Oilfield services is an important industry around here. This is a pumpjack graveyard.

The sun broke through the overcast skies at about 1 p.m., and the day heated up quickly. It wasn’t Hotter ‘n Hell, but the strong wind made it windier than all get out. Even so, one rider I talked to at a rest stop said his Garmin was showing a surface temperature of 107-111 degrees (41-44C). Obviously, that was because of reflection from the road surface.

By now, the route had turned east, and the wind was hitting us from the right front quarter. It made the going tougher, but I could still keep up a 15 mph average. I stopped at every rest stop to top off my bottles with ice. As the day wore on, ride organizers set up new rest stops at closer intervals — so you never had to ride more than five miles without a break.

I was starting to slow. My butt was sore on the saddle, but I could see lots of other riders stand up to shake out the soreness as well. The SAG wagons did a land office business. Actually, I saw my first load of riders sag out at about 38 miles into the ride, which amazed me. Why sign up for 100 miles if you can’t do half of that? But now, after 75 miles, it seemed that I was passed every 15 minutes by another pickup pulling a trailer loaded with bikes and a bunch of guys (always guys) in the back. And a lot of these guys looked like they were real bikers, too — big guys who probably went out too fast and couldn’t finish.

At Burkburnett on the border with Oklahoma, the route turned south  onto the I-44 frontage road, and dead into a strong wind. Cyclists dropped to their lowest gears and made slow headway. I caught up to Roy Jones from San Angelo, whose blog — “Pedal Pushers” — I read. “This isn’t any fun anymore,” he said.

Despite the rest stops every five miles, the scorching sun and the fierce wind forced cyclists to rest whenever possible. Some just stopped along the roadside and stood over their bikes, heads drooped into the wind.

“You okay?” I asked one.

“Yeah, fine,” he barked back. He didn’t look fine.

The route was wide open, with no shelter from either sun or wind. A clump of trees off in the distance beckoned. They turned out to be part of a roadside rest stop along the Interstate, but worn-out cyclists filled it. Many flagged down passing SAG wagons, but they were all full, and wouldn’t take on anyone else. I got back on my bike and slogged ahead.

Worn-out cyclists make their own impromptu rest stop under shade trees along I-44.

The effect of the wind and all the stops showed itself while I was at the next-to-last official rest stop. A volunteer strode through the tent, and announced that if we wanted to finish the ride, we had to leave the rest stop immediately, or be sagged out. Heck, I hadn’t even had a chance to get one of the sno-cones they were handing out there.

After another three miles, we hit Sheppard Air Force Base. This has always been a treat for the riders, and this year for the first time in a long time, the 100-mile ride was routed through the base. A highlight was riding past a collection of jets — a B-52 bomber, F-15 fighter, T-38 trainer, A-10 Warthog — cool stuff. A little farther down, the cadets lined both sides of the street, cheering for riders and high-fiving.

Cadets at Sheppard Air Force Base hand out water and cheer on riders five miles from the finish.

Five more miles to go. I passed a few more riders and turned onto the same street we had left earlier that morning. I turned into the convention center area, passed under the big balloon arch, and was handed a medal signifying my accomplishment.

It was a bittersweet feeling. I intended to finish this century strong, unlike others I’d done in the past. But I didn’t put in enough really long training rides, which hurt my endurance. The wind was something no one could prepare for. My on-bike time: just over seven hours. But I crossed the finish line nine hours and 39 minutesafter starting — pretty miserable. My average speed over the last 20 miles couldn’t have been more than eight miles per hour.

Still, this was a great event and I’m glad I finally did it. Many thanks to Russ and Debra for sharing their RV and the rest of the gang for putting up with me. Thanks also to Development Counsellors International — the marketing group for Wichita Falls — for comping my entry fee. I’ll be back — but it might be for the 100K next time.

Prepping For A Century

I’ve been hemming and hawing for awhile, and during the week I finally made my decision — I’ll be riding in the Hotter ‘n Hell Hundred next month. Yes, it’s an organized ride, but there aren’t many like this one. It’s as much a happening as anything.

Held in Wichita Falls, Texas, in the far northern part of the state, the Hotter ‘n Hell always runs on the last Saturday in August — when summer heat is expected to be at its peak. As a counter balance to the heat, the route is flat. This year it’s been modified so that 100-mile finishers will go through Sheppard Air Force Base along with the 100-kilometer riders. In past years, the 100-milers missed the terrific welcome from the airmen.

Now, I’ve done centuries before. But as I mentioned in a previous post, I might have finished them, but I’ve been pretty trashed at the end. My goal this year is to finish and still be able to function normally.

I decided to start getting serious this weekend. Mrs. Noob wanted to head out for an easy ride Saturday, and I was happy to join her, knowing that when she wrapped up her 13 miles or whatever, that I could continue on and do my own ride.

She started to complain almost immediately. “I just don’t feel it today,” she said. She waffled about which route to take, but finally decided a Mopac loop would be good for her. But once on the shoulder of the expressway, she said she didn’t seem to be loosening up. I pedaled easily, to stay with her.

At the top of Escarpment Hill, I waited for her as usual, but when she caught up to me, she said, “I have an idea. Let’s go up to the next street, then work our way through the neighborhood and head back home.” Her hip was bothering her, which hadn’t happened for several weeks, and she was struggling.

When we went our separate ways, I headed for Convict Hill, the neighborhood hill that offers several short but steep climbs as well as a nice longer one in a generous shoulder beside the main road over the top. I did my usual repertoire of climbs, enjoyed the quick descent, and figured I’d head back to Mopac to do a complete loop before calling it a day.

But halfway back to Mopac, I started feeling like Pat. I had no snap in my legs. I turned the pedals, but didn’t pump them. My speed slowed. Once I got on Mopac itself, I realized I’d better pack it in. I turned off at the same street we had before, stopped in the shade of an overhanging tree, and rested before going home.

If this was the way I felt halfway through a summer of regular riding, I was concerned about getting ready for the Hotter ‘n Hell.

This morning’s club ride was going to do a Dam Loop — probably my least favorite ride in the Austin area. I knew that I wasn’t going to do the whole thing, given the combination of heat and higher-than-usual humidity we’ve put up with lately. But I felt good as our big group hit the road.

One of the highlights of the route is “Hail Mary Hill” — a tough one that ends at a church parking lot where we can take a breather. This is a steep one, and it has been my nemesis for as long as I’ve been riding. I made sure I was near the back of the group when we hit the hill, in case I had to unclip and walk up, as I’ve done so many times before.

But today, I felt strong. I was in my lowest granny gear, but stayed on the wheel of Jordan in front of me. I even got out of the saddle to pump a bit, which I’ve never done on that hill before.

I got to the top, and when I turned into the parking lot, got an ovation from everyone who was already there. We turned onto Bee Caves Road, which features a lot of long hills, and rode to our regular rest stop at a Walgreens. I decided to turn around at that point and head home, but instead of taking our usual route, I would go back the way we came, and deal with the hills on both Bee Caves and Barton Creek Blvd. A new rider decided he’d be smart to turn back too, so we swapped the lead as we made our way back, this time having a lot more trouble with the hills than we did on the way out.

Total mileage: 36. Average speed: 14.2 mph. Not big numbers for a guy who faces a century in a month, but because of the hills we tackled today, I figure the numbers did not represent our effort. If anything, the weather conditions this weekend were a good indicator of what the Hotter ‘n Hell ride will be like. I think I can be ready.

I Went Out Too Fast

I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen it — cyclists complaining that they would have had a great ride, but they set too fast a pace during the opening miles, which wore them out for the finish.  Taking my cue from those experiences, I went into Saturday’s Outlaw Trail 100 in Round Rock, Texas, planning to take the first third of the ride easy, pick up the pace in the middle third, and have plenty of fuel in reserve for the last third of the ride.  The best-laid plans…

I always get a kick out of meeting riding friends at or near the start of these rides.  John T, who is new to biking this year and rides with me from time to time, was there.  He was planning to start with the 100-milers, but do the 63-mile route.  I ran into a couple of folks I’ve met on rides once before, and at the starting line I rendezvoused with Rick, my riding buddy from my bike club, and Torsten, a Twitter buddy whom I’ve met before but never ridden with.

 

John T., left, and Rick.

 

 

Torsten.

 

The police car siren sounded at precisely 8 a.m. and we were off.  I settled in next to Torsten, who is 6’7″ and probably the biggest guy I’ve seen on a road bike.  (By the way, his new blog, “Giant On My Bike,” is worth a visit.) I knew he was a strong rider, but the pace was easy at the start, and he and I fell into a general conversation.

Rick was with us, too — unfortunately, I think we left John T. behind pretty early.  I sensed that I was riding at a faster than usual pace, but I felt good, and kept up with Rick and Torsten.

In the crossroads town of Weir, the two of them got a jump on me at a stop sign.  This time I couldn’t catch them, and although I continued my faster pace, they disappeared off in the distance.  I caught them several miles later, when they stopped to wait for me at the second rest stop, which I skipped.

For the next 25 miles or so, I could tell that I was pushing it.  They’d get out ahead of me, and I’d get down in the drops to get more power to my pedals.  I’d catch them, and then they’d pull away again.

The Granger Dam marks the halfway point of the 100-mile route.  I had stopped to take some pictures of the lake, but could feel the complete lack of zip when I started up again.  There’s a rest stop at the far end of the lake, and I took advantage of the opportunity to unwind.

 

A tired Noob resting at Granger Lake, only 55 miles into the ride.

 

We got going again, and again I had trouble keeping up with Torsten and Rick. At about 60 miles, Torsten said, “Guys, I’m taking off.  Nice riding with you.”  We said our goodbyes, and in minutes, he was out of sight ahead on the road.

At the next rest stop, about 69 miles into the ride, I was spent.  I seriously considered grabbing a ride in with one of the many Round Rock Park Dept. pickups that were serving as sag on this ride.  But Rick said, “I”ll ride ahead of you to block the wind. If you fall behind, yell ‘I’m off!’ and I’ll slow down for you.”

Now began the slog.  The 16+ mph pace we had kept up for the first half of the ride slowed perceptibly.  Rick could have ridden at a much faster speed, but he stuck with me.  At the 78-mile rest stop, I felt almost rejuvenated — a relative term, but at least I could keep up.

 

Some of the farmland typical of the route.

 

I was uncomfortable, though, because I had two hot spots on the balls of both feet.  They made pedaling very uncomfortable.  By now, the temperature was in the upper 80s (30ºC) and I started to slow again.

Rick suggested I put Chamois Butt’r on my feet.  A small packet of the stuff came in our goody bags, and I had stuck it in one of my jersey pockets.  At the last rest stop, I shed my shoes and applied the soothing lotion.

It sort of worked, but by now, it didn’t matter.  The finish was in our sights, and I struggled to keep up with Rick as we passed other bikers on the way in.  The wind from the south was quite brisk now, and I could feel my skin burning under the hot sun.  I couldn’t figure out how Rick managed to wear his arm warmers right up until the last rest stop.  We crossed the line, and met Rick’s wife, Penny, who was waiting for us after doing the 40-mile ride.

I was disappointed in my total time: 7 hours and 41 minutes.  I had done this ride in 7:15 two years ago.  But my computer showed the on-the-bike time to be 6:39 — only six minutes slower than in 2008.  Average speed was 15.2 mph — higher than I thought it would have been, given the trouble I had over the last 30 miles.

So — what do I take away from this experience?  Obviously, it’s to make a plan and stick to it.  I had a plan, but instead of telling Torsten early on that it was nice to ride with him, but I’m going to take it easy, I let hubris take over.  After all, I had gotten in better shape, added many more miles to my yearly riding totals, and had done more long rides to prep for the century.  And now, I could hang with this big guy.  If I’d stuck to my plan, I should have easily bettered my last time, especially in light of the nearly perfect riding conditions.

The other takeaway is the importance of a good riding partner.  Without Rick, I wouldn’t have finished the ride at all — I would have sagged out at 70 miles.  His patience let me complete my third century.  Rick never spoke about his own riding plan (“I’m just looking to finish the course,” he said), but I’m sure I wrecked any thoughts he had of finishing in a respectable time.  Thanks, pardner.

Are you a century fanatic?

This heat wave won’t last forever. I’m looking ahead to more reasonable weather, with lots of long rides. In fact, I’m toying with the idea of riding another century.

It seems that many cyclists set riding a century (100 miles) as a long-term goal. They put in the hours and the miles training for it, then it comes. They manage to get through it, and have a rush of exhilaration that comes from reaching their goal.

When I finished my century, I had the “been there, done that” feeling. It wasn’t something I expected to do anytime soon again. I trained for the MS 150, which if it went off as scheduled, would have involved a 99.6-mile first day. As you know, that was rained out, and we only did the second day, about 77 miles. It took me longer to ride the 77 miles because of the huge field and a longish lunch stop than it did to finish the century.

So I haven’t been piling on the miles since then. My long rides are in the 30-35 mile range, and that’s just fine with me. That’s still over two hours in the saddle. Besides, my mileage is picking up, and so is my strength. I can ride faster for longer distances than I could two months ago. So what the heck — should I plan on doing another century?

Luckily, because summers are so hot in Texas, we’re in a lull in organized rides. I’ll have time to boost my mileage to do the hundred miles, and I  have several choices. There’s the Waco Wild West in September, the Outlaw Trail 100 in October, and the holy grail of Texas centuries, the Hotter ‘n Hell Hundred in August. That’s up in Wichita Falls. It’s a Texas happening, with over 11,000 riders, and several days of bike-related activities. Problem is, the hotel rooms are all booked. I’d have to find some other accommodation.

So I haven’t decided for sure yet. I haven’t even decided if I am going to ride 100 miles again.

But there are lots of riders out there who are crazy about centuries. They do one, and can’t wait to ride another. Some set a target of a century a month. A couple in my club are heading west to do a double century (200 miles) this weekend.

What camp are you in? Do you like riding centuries, and try to ride in a lot of them? Is it something you would like to try once, just to say you’ve done it? Or are you among those who think riding that far is crazy, and there’s no point to it?

And if you’re targeting a century, which one is it, when will it be, and how’s your training going?

My First Century

A big day for me: I rode in — and finished — the Outlaw Trail 100 in Round Rock, Texas. Finally, I have a century ride under my belt. And as it turned out, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.

I thought I was pretty organized. I did most of the work the previous night, loading the car, laying out my clothes. But when I got to the starting area in Round Rock, I found that I had forgotten something — my floor pump. So I figured I’d use the new frame mounted mini-pump to top off the tires. Uh, the pump is broken. It’s missing a piece where the pump attaches to the presta valve. It’s useless.

My blogging friend Jared found me, and I rushed to get myself together to go meet our other blogging buddy, Mike. In my haste, I left the route map in the car. It would have come in handy later. While they caught up on their biking exploits, I borrowed a floor pump from the bike shop sponsors and topped off my tires.

Jared (left) and Mike both showed up in their new Fat Cyclist jerseys. They’re in the starting area with the other 100-mile riders.

Then, we were ready for the race. I cut a most un-athletic figure while waiting at the line.

I’ll try to remember always to face the camera when posing in a cycling jersey (!).

It took about two miles before Jared and Mike were out of my sight. No matter. I had planned to ride at an easy pace throughout the ride. I could see quickly that my easy pace and the rest of the riders’ paces were in two different leagues. Up until the second rest stop, riders continually passed me. Although I was tempted to grab the wheel of more than one rider, I remembered to keep my eye on the prize — and finish, not race.

The ride traveled county roads through eastern Williamson County, Texas. It’s a farming area, known as “Blackland Prairie.” The harvest is in, and the fields are tilled. And the soil is black.

A typical view along the route.

I hadn’t been through here before, so I was interested to see what it looked like. In addition to mostly flat farm fields, we did go through a few small towns. Walburg has some old buildings that harken back to its beginnings as a mostly German settlement.

Doering’s general store dates back to 1881.

The biggest town we went through was Bartlett, the route running right through its business district. On a quiet Saturday morning, there wasn’t much activity.

Bartlett used to be a major cotton shipping point — but cotton declined in the 1930′s, and so did Bartlett. Note the street paved with bricks.

Several miles past Bartlett, I came across the most notable incident of the day. A biker riding the Granger Dam road “caught on something” and went down. A trailing rider crashed into him, leaving the first rider with a broken collarbone. How the accident happened on the straightest stretch of road on the ride, with everyone moving at roughly the same speed and in the same direction, is a mystery.

Emergency vehicles at the accident on Granger Dam Road. That’s Granger Lake on the left.

The rest stop at the far end of the Granger Dam marked the 55-mile point in the ride, and I was starting to feel the miles. My seat had the comfort of a hatchet blade. My foot was singing its usual song. I started to wonder if I would be able to finish.

The advice given about riding a century is to break it up into parts. Ride four 25-mile rides. Or five 20-milers. Since the rest stops were roughly 12 miles apart, I decided to break the remaining ride up into four 12-mile parts. I figured even I could do 12 miles. Then do it again. And again.

That was a bit of a challenge, because as the day wore on, the wind from the northeast picked up. Although the route was generally clockwise, and the wind would be at our backs for much of the second half of the ride, the ride organizers managed to incorporate a surprising number of jogs that took us into the wind. I got onto my small chain ring and just spun and spun.

Riders I had passed miles ago now passed me. With just a few miles to the finish, I was all alone on the road. I turned into the large park where the ride began, and picked up the pace as the finish line approached.

I gotta tell ya, it was a bit of an anticlimax. The announcers were still at their post at the start-finish line. When they saw me coming, they started yelling encouragement on the PA. The theme from “Car Wash” blared. I zig-zagged to the music, and they got a kick out of that. Then, across the line — and no one around to watch.

There were maybe a dozen vehicles left in the parking lot. I couldn’t even find someone to take my picture next to the finish line. But I do have a record that the century is in the books: A shot of my cyclocomputer. The tale of the tape: 101.39 miles at an average speed of 15.47 miles per hour. Six hours, 33 minutes, and 14 seconds on-bike time. Not bad for a Bike Noob. I had expected to finish somewhere between 3 and 3:30 p.m., and I crossed the line at 3:15.

The only place I felt the ride was in my thighs. They were sore, but even that was to diminish within a couple of hours. For once, I hydrated correctly during the ride. I stopped at every rest stop but the first, and mixed up my food choices from stop to stop: banana here, orange wedge there, pickle at this place. And I, who likes long breaks during long rides, managed to keep my time at the stops to about five minutes. All in all, a very satisfying day.

Would I do it again? I don’t know. I’ll be riding long distances in April in the MS 150, but getting out and doing one of these again isn’t tripping my trigger right now. I guess we’ll just have to see. After all, there is the Hotter ‘n Hell Hundred next summer, and I’ve always had an idea that riding in that one would be fun.

“Every ride must have a plan”

Regular readers of this blog have figured out that I’m a professor at a nearby university.  School is back in session now, and I’ve become concerned that full days at work will cut into my riding.

So today I made an effort to get home in time to sneak in a ride before supper.  I rode to the Veloway, where I connected with my friend David.  We set an easy pace down the trail.

After a lap of the track, chit chatting about stuff and such, he asked me a question: “What’s your plan for this ride?”

“What?” I asked.

“You’re training for a century.  Every ride must have a plan from here on out.  What’s your plan for this ride?”

“I don’t have a plan,” I said.

“Well, you’ve gotta start thinking about a plan for each ride.”

“You know,” I said, “I haven’t ridden since that ride Sunday with you.  I wanted to get out tonight to get some miles in.  I’m not thinking about intervals or hill work, or cadence — I just want to get in some miles.”

“OK.  That’s your plan,” he said.

Earlier, he had steered me toward some training plans for a century ride, archived online.  I bookmarked those sites, as well as some others I found in a search.  I’ll be poring over them in the next few days.  I’ve never approached a ride goal with a plan before.  But I will now.