We Are the Champions, My Friends!

So we should have had some music by Queen playing when we got back from the ride today but in all the other preparations for today’s Victory Ride, the boom box was the last thing we were thinking about.

Today was the day for the First Annual Connor’s Army Victory Ride! After a year of planning, commuting, logging miles and generally driving my poor wife crazy, it came down to today finally being the culmination of all of our hard work. But what is it that Robert Burns said, “the best laid plans of mice and men oft gang agley?” Well, we’ve been watching the weather for about two months (courtesy of Farmer’s Almanac first, then National Weather Service) and up until about two days ago the weather forecast was that yesterday it would be rainy but today would be clear. Well, the weather itself apparently didn’t read the reports because today the dawn came up overcast and the report was for light rain beginning about 10:00 (the start time for our ride) and ending about 1:00 (a little after our estimated end time) with the temperature hovering around 32 degrees.

Due in part I think to the weather forecast and the distance we ended up with 22 people registered for the ride out of the 100 we had originally hoped to attract. We even had two people show up and register on the spot but I think they elected to wait later in the day and do their own 25 mile circuit. Anyway, we still had eight intrepid souls willing to brave the elements – myself, Chuck Gleason, Steve Jimenez, Charles Elioseff, Paul Orzel, Michael Roux, Robert Litzke, and Efrim Sherman. All in all, a stout showing considering it was drizzling as we started out. We were a mixed batch of riders ranging from an A+ rider down to a C+ rider. We just basically stayed together and had a great time riding in the rain. As we started out the temperature wasn’t too bad and I found myself laughing a lot just from the sheer joy of riding and the reason we were doing this.

As we got to Stillwell to start the last two miles to the turnaround point we were deluged by a monsoon rain that caused visibility to go down to about 20 feet – it was rough. And of course, to my own chagrin, it was about 60 seconds after I had just said that it looked like it wasn’t going to rain too badly today. So, between the rain and the fact that the pace had been relatively slow, Chuck and I mashed the gears going up Stillwell. I looked down at one point and saw that I was going 17mph up my daily nemesis! Amazing what a little (okay a lot) cold rain will do for your motivation.

At Syosset High School we had coffee, hot chocolate and donuts courtesy of Howard Feinstein (the parent of one of my students and the owner of a few Dunkin’ Donuts franchises) which was welcome considering the wet deluge we had just endured. We couldn’t stay long, however so we fueled up and headed back – just in time for it to start sleeting! At that point I was warned not to say another word about weather!

The ride back was a little higher paced as we all wanted nothing more than to get back and get warm. I myself lost all feeling in my hands about four miles out from the finish and spent the first hour after we stopped shivering no matter how much hot coffee I drank. But I think I found myself being warmed up by two more important things; the fact that we had just raised over $13,000 for Cancer Research, and that two of my sisters and numerous friends who were all cancer survivors were there to welcome us back. These were some of the same faces that had been motivating me to ride for over a year and as all of our friends and family welcomed us back the feeling that we did something that mattered washed over us.

After my teeth stopped chattering so much, I tried to give a speech to thank everyone for coming, for supporting Connor’s Army over the last year and most importantly to thank my wife for without her this ride would never have happened. However, my thoughts got all jumbled and I had to fight back the tears a number of times because despite having logged over 2200 miles, I felt as if I had done nothing compared to these women and men who had fought and won their battles against this damn disease! I truly feel humble when I compare myself to them – all I had to do was get on my bike, point it in the right direction and keep pedaling. What they have overcome is truly heroic.

It’s for this reason that Connor’s Army will not stop until the war on Cancer is truly won. I won’t be doing the year-long commute/logging of miles (although I’ll still keep riding my bike as much as I can because it’s now who I am), but we are going to continue the “Victory Ride” going each year, adding a longer distance next year and perhaps a kids’ event in the future (maybe in the spring) to the schedule as a way to allow local cyclists a chance to use their passion for cycling to help wage war against this awful killer. Connor’s Army Junior will continue as Sarah has decided to continue her fight and use her bicycle to raise money for various causes. And, perhaps the most important, we are going to spend the next two years gearing up for what we’re calling Connor’s Army XC – our plan to take the whole family on the road in the summer of 2010 as I cycle from San Diego, CA back to Northport, NY. We’ll need sponsors, donations and lots of logistical support but our goal is for me (and Sarah at times) to ride all the way back and raise at least $50,000 for cancer research. So if any of you out there know anyone who might be interested in helping out, tell them to log onto www.Connorsarmy.org and see how they can help with next year’s Victory Ride or with Connor’s Army XC.

Stay well and I'll (still) see you on the road!

We Are the Champions My Friends!

This was absolutely the worst ride I have ever had.

Average speed was 14.9 and I usually average 19-20 on the same ride, top speed downhill was 32 and my best has been 45, my ride time was 55:36 and its usually 36:00-38:00.

Yet when I stepped off my bike I was crying with happiness. Why?

Because I did it. Today I reached my 2,000 commuting mile goal.

I wish I could memorize every moment of today’s ride because, although it was the worst ride ever in, it was the best ride I’ve ever had. From the very first crank of the pedals I felt all my loved ones, my friends, and even complete strangers, all of those who’ve dealt with or are dealing with this disease, riding with me - a ghost army of riders that were giving me strength.

I knew from the weather report last night that the wind would be blowing 20-30 miles an hour with occasional gusts up to 40 mph coming from the west - just the direction I would be riding in tomorrow morning. But I also knew that I was 13.6 miles from my goal, and nothing was going to keep me from reaching that goal today.
So at 6:30am I headed out.

To get out of Northport you immediately have to climb a ¼ mile incline that has about an 8% grade. As I started the climb I began to think about all the names on “The List” - the names of people who are fighting cancer, who have fought cancer and are in remission, and those who have passed away from the disease. My sisters, my mother, Hope Machedon, Becky Grella, Michelle Kullack and others passed through my head as the first blast of wind caught me and almost tipped me over. Then on I got my “wind legs” and knew how I needed to adjust to the gusts.

The rest of the ride was pretty much a battle between me and the wind. Sometimes I’d be in the lee of the wind as I went behind a windbreak of some sort, but then I’d turn a corner and get 30 miles an hour right in the face. I’d just crouch down, “close the cup”, and crank harder. It seemed to take forever, including going down the big descent where I usually make up time at 40+. Not even that descent could help me make up time, but I was strangely happy as I watched the odometer turn from 1997 to 1998. As I hit the top of Stillwell Hill it started snowing in small flurries, and the first thing I thought was that Hope was sending them down. I wiped back some tears and kept going.

The last two miles were a tossup between pedaling faster and watching the odometer slowly change towards 2,000 miles. As I came exactly to the front of Syosset High School I hit 2,000 and immediately yelled out in triumph. The car that was passing me to the left must have thought they hit me. I yelled to colleagues in the parking lot (who all thought I was completely insane to be riding in weather like that), pulled up outside the entrance to my office, dismounted and immediately started crying tears of joy. Once again I thought of all those names and faces who had ridden with me that day.

As I walked my faithful steed into the hall I noticed all my theatre kids huddled up in the theatre with smiles on their faces, so I went in. Suddenly they were throwing streamers and yelling “Congratulations!” Then I noticed that Amy and my children were there as well.

Apparently, knowing I would reach my goal today, she’d mobilized all my kids to share in the triumph. And again I started crying tears of joy. I couldn’t believe that these kids (many of whom are definitely not morning people) had all gotten there so early to celebrate with me, I couldn’t believe my wife had done this, I couldn’t believe I had done it - and all the gratitude just came pouring out.
I was a moment I’ll never forget.

So, 2,000 miles has come and gone. But I’m still riding for Connor’s Army. We haven’t quite reached our $10,000 goal and the fight isn’t over.

In 2011 we plan to start in San Diego and spend six weeks riding back to Long Island. This time our goal will be to raise $50,000 for cancer research. And this time Sarah hopes to do some of the riding with me. Connor’s Army is far from finished. We haven’t yet won the war against cancer and I’ll keep riding until we lick this disease.

Stay well and I'll see you on the road!

What a Difference a Year Makes.....Part Deux

Every now and then I like to go back and look over my old blogs to see where I was and where I’ve come. Sometimes it’s a humbling experience and sometimes it’s an exhilarating one. This time it’s the latter.

On Tuesday I reached 1923 miles, and I still have roughly four and a half weeks left to ride. With any luck I’ll reach 2000 miles next week. We’ve raised $8,578 with about $800 more pledged to come in.

It’s truly overwhelming to me that people have been so generous and giving to our cause and to our mission. Although Amy is more optimistic than I that we’ll reach our financial goal, I know beyond a doubt I’ll reach my mileage goal and then some. Hopefully I can put in 2300 miles before the end of the year, which would be amazing.
Then we’ll celebrate with the first (hopefully) annual Victory Ride. Maybe some of you reading this would like to join us. We hope to team up with ACS to make this a yearly Long Island cycling event to raise money for cancer research, although perhaps not on January 1st every year.

But back to my main thought.

It was a year ago today that a fairly inauspicious occasion took place, but because of what happened yesterday I just had to celebrate and mark the occasion with all of you. You see a year ago today I took place in my very first A level ride and got my butt handed to me on a platter.

It all started when my friend Karen Gellert, who’s the Secretary of the Huntington Bicycle Club, talked me into joining the club. I’d only ridden solo or with her up to that point so it was a new experience for me. I went on about three B+ rides before she suggested that the B+ group was holding me back and I should think about riding with the A group. She was right, but I didn’t want to seem conceited about it.
So I went on my first ride the day after Thanksgiving and it was not pretty. I had celebrated my gratitude perhaps a bit too much, got too little sleep, didn’t eat a good breakfast, and didn’t hydrate enough. Needless to say, of the nine who went out on the ride I was the ninth one back in. The whole ugly story is chronicled in last year’s blog.

This year was a different story.

I’m older and wiser, and I planned ahead. I lubed and checked over my bike Wednesday night. On Thursday morning, before we headed out to New Jersey, I laid out all my cycling apparel and supplies. At the Thanksgiving celebration I limited myself to two beers over the seven hours, and drank about nine glasses of water - determined to stay hydrated. I didn’t overeat and I made sure that at the first sign of a headache I took some Advil so that I wouldn’t wake up with it (I’m prone to stress headaches).

However we got home later than we’d thought we would and when I woke up at 7:30 I started to think better of the idea. It was cold (34 degrees) and windy (steady from the W/NW at 6-10 with gusts to 12) and I thought I’d just wait until Sunday for my monthly ride. But my wife insisted it would make me feel good, and thanks to her I actually got up and started getting ready to go. Once again her encouragement helped me reach goals I myself didn’t think I could reach.

My main goal going out on this ride was simple … DON’T GET DROPPED!

I figured if I could achieve that one simple goal I’d be happy. I wasn’t planning on pulling too much, I wasn’t going to be suckered into sprints, I was going to ride my own ride on the hills, etc. The problem was this ride was feted as the Moore’s Hill/Lawrence Hill Road/Snake Hill Road triple, which meant we’d be climbing some of the nastiest hills on the North Shore of Long Island in quick succession - at least that was the plan. Now I’m an okay climber, but definitely not stellar. So my plan for this ride was just to hang on and stay with the pack, climb at my own pace up the hills, but always be able to stay in sight of the pack.

From the start I knew I had my work cut out for me. Of the seven of us that headed out, five were the same bunch from a year ago - Warren, Paul, Mel, Jeff and myself. I knew those guys were all solid riders who do a lot of riding - and for longer distances than the 25 round trip I normally do. I also gathered from the pre-ride conversation that the other two guys - Don and John - were also very strong riders who do a lot of climbing and riding with fast groups.

I mentally gulped and started preparing myself for a serious spanking.

As we headed out it wasn’t too bad and I held on really well. After about 8 miles the group started to split up a bit. It was Warren (the rabbit) taking off with Paul, Don, and John with him. Then there was me trying to bridge up, and Jeff and Mel following about 200 meters behind; and it stayed all the way up through Sweet Hollow Road, and to the first regrouping. At that point I latched onto Warren, determined to try to stay with him.

He’s the father of one of the kids I know from the High School and last year when I was struggling on the way home he kindly told me to latch onto his wheel, and he would pull me for a while so I could rest and get my energy back up. Problem was I couldn’t even do that without dying after about 500 meters. This year I wanted to try to stay with him and not get dropped by the group. I did pretty well … and then we started up Stillwell.

“This is it,” I thought. “I’m on my stomping grounds. I’ll fly up and then wait for them at the top.” I thought if I did that I could then just sit in the rest of the ride until Moore’s Hill and maybe I’d have a chance. Unfortunately, the other guys didn’t read the script and they blew by me halfway to the top. If I’d been smart I’d have latched onto a wheel and stayed with them. Instead as demoralized as I was I decided to just climb at my own pace, and I knew I wasn’t dropped since Jeff and Mel were still behind me so I wouldn’t get lost. However, I felt strangely good. I didn’t have the fatigue that I’d had last year when we got to the top, and I’d been hydrating every mile or so. I actually felt pretty fresh, so I decided to try to stay with the leaders from there on.

And I never went to the back of the pack again!

I found that by drafting, taking turns pulling and really attacking the small climbs to Glen Cove I was able to keep up with everyone. When we got to Glen Cove and I was at the front with the other riders I had my first victory - because last year I’d been dropped twice on the way to Glen Cove. At the break Warren and Paul both made comments about how improved I was as a rider and they both noticed I was on a new ride (leave to a cyclist to notice these things - bike envy). I told them how much I’d been riding I told them how much I’d been riding and felt pretty proud of myself. After the break I started attacking all the climbs with vigor. I felt really good and since I’d been hydrating so much I felt strong.
Now came the big test - the three big hills.

I do have to confess here that I scoped out the trifecta climb on Tuesday on the way home. I rode the three hills so I could strategize what I’d do on the climbs and how and when I’d stand and attack. On the way to the first of the climbs I stayed at the front, took a number of turns pulling and setting the pace and I was loving the day. It was still cold and windy (it seemed we never got a tailwind, even when we headed East) but strangely I didn’t seem to mind it.

When we got to the base of Moore’s Hill, I’d been pulling for a while but I felt good. I attacked and immediately knew I was going to be alright the rest of the ride. John passed me standing up in the saddle and I stood up with him for a while, but then I just sat back down when I remembered that I had two more hills to climb. I figured I’d just keep him in my sights and catch him on the descent. That plan almost worked until we realized we should hold up for the others because they were nowhere in sight!

I couldn’t believe it - I felt like a beast!

When they finally came down and we regrouped, we thought better of it decided to forgo Lawrence Hill. But we still headed off to Snake Hill. Mel gave us a route that was a big loop away from Moore’s Hill and back that was very winding and kept constantly climbing, but I attacked early on and stayed at the front all the way back to Moore’s Hill.

At that point, Mel took off and I went to catch him while the rest of the group followed behind. I caught up to him just as we turned to head up to Snake Hill to let him know the rest of the group were about 200 meters back. He told me to soft pedal to let them catch up, which I did. But I noticed that even my soft pedaling was 16mph, and I was pushing against the wind and hardly pedaling. I hit the base of the climb and started attacking standing up and pumping. About 2/3 up I could tell John was on me (I had sat back down and was just pedaling far back in the saddle) so I stood up again. I was determined not to be caught on this one. We pulled up and waited for the others who were about 50 meters back. Warren once again took off and I stayed with him, eventually pulling in the front for a large chunk of the ride. John and Don peeled off and it was just the five of us, and I never let go.
Of course, I was riding so hard I missed the turn back to the station. By the time I turned around Warren had made the turn and, though I tried to catch him, I ended up being the second wheel in - my stupid bad luck.

But the big point was, no one had to wait for me this year and I wasn’t the last in. And that is a huge victory.

Am I getting ready to be a Cat racer? Or even a weekend racer? No way -when do I have the time? But I can say that while I’ve been riding thousands of miles waging this war against cancer, it’s also made me a better rider. I’ve devoured everything I can read in Bicycling Magazine, CyclingWorld.com and other sources to find tips to become a better rider and some of those tricks paid off on this ride.

Might I get dropped on the next A+ ride when Mike, Scott, Don and the other serious triatheletes and racers take part? Quite possibly. But when Warren and Paul stuck their hands out to me at the end of the ride to tell me what a great job I did and how much I’ve improved, I have to say I was proud of myself. And I think I was even more proud of the reason behind it. I’m a better rider now because of the riding I’m doing to fight cancer.

This journey has changed me, possibly in more ways than I’ll ever know; but for now it’s nice to have this small fringe benefit.

Although the January 1st ride is shorter than they normally do, the guys said they might register and make it a part of their ride on that day. Whatever the case, I hope all of you reading this will consider being a part of this ride and climbing a small hill or two on New Year’s Day to help fight another battle in the war against cancer - and to celebrate the small victories that will eventually help us find a cure.

On Vacation in Lancaster, PA

My day began last night as I put my bicycle together for this morning’s ride. I put everything together, set out my riding clothes, and wrote out a detailed cue sheet.
The morning began early as I quietly got dressed and got the bike prepared and outside. James woke up right before I left and I got to see the sight of he and Amy snuggled in bed together before I left. She had a look pure contentment on her face!

Then at 7:20am my ride began in earnest.

As I headed off into the foggy morning I was struck by the fact that, aside from Europe, this was truly some of the most beautiful countryside I’d ever seen. No, it didn’t have the majesty of the Vermont or New Hampshire mountains; but it had a quiet power that comes as much from the people who care for the land as from the natural attributes.

I saw some simple and incredibly beautiful sights. The Amish were going about their lives and I got to see the juxtaposition of a woman cutting the grass with a power mower right across the road from a man using a push mower.

Yesterday Amy was struck by how odd it must be to live your life as a curiosity as the Amish do, and on my ride I seemed to be a bit of a curiosity to them. I guess they’re used to seeing people in cars, on motorcycles, in buggies and even on plain bikes - but a man on a racing bike in bright yellow spandex must have been quite a sight to them.

I also realized that the roads were smoother than any I’d yet ridden and that they were notably devoid of roadside trash. Of course, immediately after I thought that I saw a McDonald’s French fries container on the shoulder. So even in this bucolic setting and fairly pristine setting the corporate poster child of excess reared its ugly head.

Shortly thereafter I rounded a curve and there rising up before me in the middle of this farm country was a subdivision of McMansions called “Valley View.” I guess there really is no escape from Long Island and its creed of acquisition.
From the very first there were three things evident:
1) With this new frame my ride was going to be easier than any of my previous vacation rides,
2) Although it was much windier, this terrain was nowhere near as difficult as Vermont, and
3) Although I had studied the maps for two days and prepared a detailed cue sheet, I had grossly miscalculated the distances on the map!
To begin with, what I thought was about .8 miles ended up being double that. Then as I continued on, it was evident all my distances were way off. So only 20 minutes into my ride I began to think I was going to have to curtail my planned route simply because it was going to take too long because I’d promised Amy I’d be back in an hour and a half.

Then I realized I’d somehow missed my turn to head back north. So I decided to take a random road that headed northward. Was that a good decision or a bad one? Fairly shortly I confessed to myself that I had no clue where I was. I had to swallow my pride and ask for directions to Route 772, which would get me back on track towards the Red Caboose Motel. She told me that the road I was on would take me through Gap (was there an ironic message there?) and I’d hit 772 on the other side. But I surely didn’t want to go through downtown Gap on my bicycle, she said. I assured her I’d be fine, not wanting to go into a description of rollerblading in NYC traffic (even my wife doesn’t like me to go into that too much). I headed off leaving her looking a bit dubious, but figured it was probably a bit of the spandex reaction again.

Now, I’d been passing flocks of sheep, herds of cattle, and horses all morning thinking how much Sarah would love them. But what I found when I hit 772 made me vow that the day wouldn’t be complete until we brought Sarah back. It was miniature pony horse farm, and in a pasture next to the road were dozens of them - including several foals! Sarah would be in heaven!

Now that I was back on track, the rest of the ride passed pleasantly and uneventfully. I passed a huge high school (probably for the whole area), got some coffee and Gatorade at the Quick Mart in Intercourse (insert your own joke here), and discovered the American Military Museum of Edged Weaponry.

When I returned to the caboose (yes, at the Red Caboose Motel each room is a real caboose!) I found my family at the petting zoo. They’d been snuggled, fed, showered and dressed; and they were for another day of exploring. Of course, later in the day we visited the miniature pony farm and I was a hero!

My First Century....Almost!

Well, I said I’d be writing the occasional blog entry over the summer and I guess I occasional was the operative word.

I’ve been riding to my new summer job at Park Shore Day Camp in Dix Hills, and the people there have been really great about it. Excited and supportive, even though they probably think I’m a little bit crazy when I roll in the front gate with my tights and jersey on. Oh, well.

It’s been good, though, because I needed to get myself into shape for the Huntington Bicycle Club’s annual 100 mile Gold Coast Ride. It’d be the furthest distance I’d ever ridden to date.

Steve was planning on doing the 70 mile ride, and I was excited to have company since most of my riding is done alone and I haven’t been able to go on as many club rides as I’d hoped.

I was a bit nervous because I’ve been getting this “clicking” sound coming from my bottom bracket/crankset area and I wasn’t sure what was going on. I dropped by Adams Cyclery on Friday and he told me that if I could leave it he’d get it back to me in time for the ride. Since I was riding at the time, I sprinted home, changed and loaded the bike in the car to get it over to Darren. They delivered as promised and by Saturday afternoon it was ready to go.

I laid out all my materials and did a once over on the bike last night so I was certain everything worked right. I have to say I’m still not completely dialed in on the new Black Betty, but I’m getting closer. It was another reason I was a bit nervous. Also, I wasn’t sure my body was ready for such a long ride on a bike that only has about 200 miles on it.

Today dawned with a temperature of 68 degrees and it looked to be perfect. I took all the precautions I usually don’t take with the club rides - I ate breakfast, didn’t drink too much coffee, and stretched.

So I get to the sign in and I’m looking around at all these hard core bikers - some on teams, some on $6,000 road bikes, some on time-trial bikes (wasn’t sure about that one), and then others on hybrids and mountain bikes - okay, so they weren’t so hard-core. I was getting even more nervous until I realized it was just going to be me and Steve and whoever we were able to hook up with.

I registered and went back to my car to put away my t-shirt and get Betty ready, hoping I’d see Steve. Instead I saw a couple of guys from the city who said they were going to be doing their first century, and to be honest I thought to myself that I could take those guys. They had really fancy, expensive Canondale and Specialized road bikes, but they didn’t look to be in the best of shape.

I just kept stretching and getting Betty ready to go, and then I rode over to the registration hoping that I’d find Steve and then we’d be off. We’d mentioned leaving at 7:30 and I was early, so I figured I’d just wait for him and maybe I’d get to see my friend Karen at the same time.

Then I saw Steve. He was wearing a Huntington Bicycle Club jersey and regular walking shorts and shoes. What the ????? So I asked him where his bike was. He replied, “didn’t you get my message?” and I said, “Yes, didn’t you get mine?” He said no and that since he hadn’t heard from me he’d assumed I wasn’t going to make it so he decided to volunteer to work the ride instead.

Aaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!

He was my big hope to have someone fun to ride with. Now I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.

When I mentioned I might try the Century, he called a friend of his who was supposed to be on her way and was planning to do it. Maybe she and I could ride together. But she said she wasn’t going to be there for another 45 minutes. Hey, that’s at least 15 miles. I couldn’t wait so I headed out - still debating whether I was going to stick to 70 miles or go for the whole shebang!

The ride itself was incredible! Everywhere I turned or rode I saw another cyclist on the way. I’m so used to doing my commute early in the morning, and it’s rare if I see anyone else. If I do it’s either going up Stilwell or on the other side of the road heading in the other direction. Sometimes they wave back at me. Most times they don’t. It makes me a little sad. I figure that no matter how “serious” we are about our workout/ride we should acknowledge the fact that others are joining us.

Anyway - back to the ride …

At various times I was able to ride with someone or other that I either fell in behind or who fell in behind me. I’d pull a while or they’d pull a while, but we just kept going. Sometimes people would pass me and many times (at least at the beginning) I passed others. I even stopped twice to help other cyclists in trouble, and I have to admit I was surprised no one else did.

The big high came after the second snack break.

As I was refilling my Gatorade and eating my second orange, I noticed a group of riders wearing the same jersey getting ready to roll out. They were members of a bike club sponsored by one of the larger bike shops out east. I figured, what the heck it could be fun, so I latched on. The next thing I knew I was in the midst of my very first bona fide peloton!

Wow! I mean, I’ve been riding somewhat seriously and over the last year I’ve probably logged about 3,000 miles, but this was the first time I’d ever ridden in the middle of a pack of 20+ riders! What a rush! To be honest, I’m not even sure where I was when I connected with them, I think it was Oyster Bay. However, I used all the information I’d learned from my various readings of Bicycle Magazine and I stayed in the pack, I drafted (watching the hips of the rider in front - not his wheel), I powered forward on the climbs to stay in the middle of the pack at the apex, and when I looked down I realized that I was going 26 miles an hour and we’d covered ten miles!

This was Nirvana - I was in cycling heaven. Betty was handling really well, my new wireless cyclocomputer was working flawlessly and I was in the middle of a peloton!

However, as with all good things, this too had to end.

On a long climb leading into Sea Cliff the mighty cycling machine started to spit parts out the back and I was one of them. I didn’t care - I’d ridden in a pace line at 26 miles an hour for twelve miles and I was having a blast.

At this point it started to get a bit hairy.

There was a lot of crosswind and I went through a long flat that gave me nothing but wind right across my broadside. At that moment I wasn’t too sure if I was going to make the 70 mile course, much less anything more. But if I’m anything, I’m stubborn.

I made it to the third rest stop at the 42 mile mark and I felt a bit tight in my chest. Apparently there was some kind of crazy heat index of 100+ degrees going on and there were all kinds of particles in the air as a result. It all combined to cause my asthma to flare up. But I rehydrated, ate some fruit and an energy bar, availed myself of the bike mechanic who was doing some tune-ups (turns out my headset had worked itself a little bit loose so he added another spacer and tightened it all up), and headed back out on the road.

At the exit there were two signs, one pointing the way for the 70 mile route and the other to the 100 mile route - I took the latter, call me crazy I guess.

You know, it was hard but I had a great time!

It took me on another 25 mile or so loop, and about halfway through I hooked up with another cyclist and we took turns pulling for each other. He was more experienced than me, but I found I was able to keep up with him - boy was I proud of myself. As we got close to returning to the park after the loop we got a bit lost and as we were crossing a busy intersection he had a problem clipping in and fell. He made it back to the park, but had busted his hand up some in the fall. So he had to call and get someone to pick him up, and once again I was on my own.

I was feeling tight in the chest again and I had used my emergency inhaler once again - darn good thing they weren’t testing for steroids! I rehydrated, refueled and got back on the road, this time at the park exit I took the left turn to get me heading towards home.

At this point I was at 62 miles and I felt pretty good except for that tightness in my chest every time I tried to take a really deep breath.

After about five miles or so I hooked up with another rider who’d had some people bail out on him and was also trying to do the Century but was just pushing along. So we decided to push on together, again each of us taking turns pulling as the temperature continued to get hotter.

We hit the last rest stop at the 82 mile mark and we both discussed if we were going to take the 8 mile route straight home or the 18 mile longer loop around. At this point I couldn’t breathe deeply without wheezing - and this was after two hits of my inhaler - so I decided to err on the side of health. Mike opted to pack it in too and we headed back to the finish.

Of course, the competitive “gene” got the better of me about two miles from the finish when we were passed by a guy sprinting towards the end. For some reason my legs suddenly felt much fresher so I decided to give chase and I caught him, drafting a bit and then passing him right before the turn in to the finish. I glanced down at my cyclometer and saw that I was pushing 21 mph - sorry I don’t have a power monitor so I can’t tell you how many watts I was pushing - but I felt great that after 90 miles I was able to do that! It made me wonder what if …

Next time I’ll train a little more and I can’t wait to finish my first Century … for real.

Stay well and I'll see you on the road!