This past week I had the brilliant idea of despite being sick for like 2 weeks straight, to tackle the hilliest bike course like ever. And since misery loves company, I sent out a call to tons of cool tri people.
Well, D doesn't like to bike in groups, a bunch of people were doing the training tri, some were up in Deep Creek tackling their own nightmare bike course, R didn't have a car, so it just ended up being me and Tamara.
My thought process had gone something like this: The Eat a Peach bike is hilly, but supposedly do-able. We would do the 33 mile route which would justify the 3 hour round trip drive. It would be fun, there would be pie, I would get to touch a jello brain, it would prepare me for the IronGirl bike course, and it supported a good cause- essentially traumatic brain injuries. I would come home and shower and nap before my swim lesson. I would be tired, but in a good way, I would not eat pizza, and the world would be full of sunshine and lollipops.
What actually happened:
I woke up late. Rushed out the door. Did not realize it was really cold for an August morning. Just wearing my tri top and bike shorts, brrrrr.
Get call from Tamara, she gives me a heads up on some of the directions. She got there early, I am running late. She graciously waits for me.
Tamara also mentions what I am starting to notice. It is extremely hilly, not "rolling" hills. We discuss our wuss out options. Settle on riding the 12 mile course, and we can always ride it again if we feel we didn't get a work out.
I get there, we register, I get my bike checked out.
Here's where it gets interesting:
My chain is skipping gears, which was causing the baseball card in the spokes sound I heard at NJ.
The lovely bike people tighten some things up so I can make it through the day. Turns out it was quite tight. Took some getting used to. Especially up the first hill.
We take off, and holy cow. My spirit was almost immediately broken. I finally get the gears sorted out and have a better time of it. We pass donkeys, and a cow that moos at us, and roosters.
Then we get to the real hills. Tamara who had been doing the Conte's hill rides was in much better shape than I was. I had to get out of the saddle a few times, and I admit I totally walked part of it. Tamra was a rockstar, biked the whole thing, and even waited for me at the end of it.
You should not be able to go 35mph on your bike. All I could think was "If you hit your brakes, you'll flip your handlebars, don't touch your brakes. This is so not how I intended to die".
Thank you Cliff Shots for making margarita flavored products.
We decided after one particularly spirit breaking hill that one loop was enough, it being the longest 12 miles of my life.
We wandered throught he farmer's market, I got some specialty honey for friends, Tamara got corn for later.
I stopped at a gas station on the way back that was selling biodiesel!
Across the four lane road were a couple stranded cyclists. I waved and motioned did they need a pump (picture jack hammering pantomime here) or a tube (drawing a big hula hoop in the air)? They drew a hula hoop back so I grabbed a tube out of my bike bag and gave it one of the girls who red rovered across the highway. I think they were okay in the end and I got in my good deed for the day.
Later that day in another fit of genius, I scheduled my swim lesson with Coach Alan. We talked about the possibility of doing Sandman. I haven't brought up the whole Ironman thing yet, not sure how to broach that without sounding insane.
