I mentioned a few days ago that I’m planning to ride the Waco Wild West Century in September. Part of my preparation is to learn as much as I can about the course. The event’s site has a course map but doesn’t include elevation data. It took me a bit of searching, but I finally found a GPS track of the course–including the elevations. This GPS track is from last year, but it agrees with the course map posted on the event site for this year.

Here’s the elevation profile.

At first glance it looks pretty hilly, but it’s not as bad as it looks. Most of those inclines are less than 2%. The only bad climbs will be at 55 miles and 73 miles. Both have some grades that exceed 5%. The climb starting at 55 miles is a little more than a mile long and goes up about 170 feet. The one at 73 miles is two miles long. The first half mile averages 6.4%. The rest of the climb averages about 2% but there are some short stretches that approach 5%.

The key for me will be to maintain an even heart rate as much as possible. That’s not a problem on a 2% or 3% grade, as I can easily climb those at 75% max heart rate while keeping a relatively fast pedal cadence. The 5% or steeper grades are a bit more of a problem. I’ll either have to slow down my pedal cadence or exceed my target heart rate. I’m not concerned about the short climb at 55 miles. The longer and steeper climb at 73 miles will be a bit of a challenge.

I’d like to say that it’s all downhill after 75 miles, but there are still some short climbs. Again, not a problem if I eat and drink enough during the ride. If I do that right, I just might be able to do the second half of the ride faster than I do the first half. That’d be something.

For years, I’ve been training the same old way: starting with shorter rides and slowly building up to longer rides. I’d get a little faster along the way, but I’d always reach a plateau that I couldn’t rise beyond. I’ve long wanted to do a six hour century ride but even when I do everything right I can’t seem to break six and a half hours.

This year I’m doing two things differently. First, I’m making an honest effort to lose weight. Weight loss begins in the kitchen, and I’m really trying to watch what and how much I eat. Believe me, it’s tough. I haven’t completely given up on soda, but the 12-pack in the refrigerator is diet, and I’m not drinking a half dozen of them every day like I used to. It helps that Debra changed her diet back in March. Most of the time I eat the same thing she does for dinner. No more Papa John’s Pizza in the middle of the week, and we don’t go stuff ourselves with monster burgers any more. And working at home, I’m able to be a bit more selective in what I eat for lunch. So far, it’s working. I’m down 20 pounds from my high at the end of February. My goal is to lose 15 more.

The other thing I’ve done differently is I’ve engaged the training services of Cycle Camp USA. For a monthly fee, a trainer designs my weekly workout schedule and spends about 30 minutes with me each week on the phone, talking about the results from the previous week’s workouts and goals for the upcoming week. I’ve been working with them for a month, and the results so far are spectacular. My speed at low intensity (60 to 65 percent max heart rate) has increased 20% in just those four weeks. My speed at higher heart rates (80 to 85 percent) isn’t 20% higher, but I’m able to maintain those high heart rates much longer and recover faster.

The difference in the training is remarkable, too. I’m actually riding less now than when I scheduled my own training, and half of my rides are in the 60 to 65 percent zone. I’m doing four workouts per week: two of them are “long rides” of two hours or more at 60 or 65 percent max heart rate. The other two are speed or strength workouts: sprints, hill repeats, etc. Those typically have a 15 minute warm up, about an hour of hard riding, and a 15 minute cool down. They’re hard workouts, for sure, but doable.

I used to ride five or six days per week. Now I do my four bicycle workouts, and twice per week I do “core strength” workouts at home or at the gym. Lots of sit ups, back extensions, planks, etc. I’m also doing some upper body workouts to strengthen my shoulders and neck, arms, back, etc. All of those muscles come into play on long rides. I often get off the bike after a century ride and have pains in my neck, shoulders, arms, back, stomach–pretty much everything except my butt and my legs.

I haven’t done any really long rides yet, but the results so far are encouraging. I’m losing weight, getting stronger, and getting faster. I can actually feel the effects of the secondary muscles that the speed and strength workouts help build. I have a long way to go, but it’s very nice to see the early improvement.

I’ve selected the Waco Wild West Century as the ride that I want to complete in under six hours. I gave myself plenty of time to train for it–the ride isn’t until September 22. I did that ride in 2002, hoping to break six hours then. I thought I had trained well, but I lost my discipline when the ride started. I went out too fast, burned up after 35 miles or so, and spent the next 35 miles recovering. I crossed the line after more than seven hours, having spent a lot of time at the rest stop less than 20 miles from the finish. I was overheated, dehydrated, and completely out of energy. I will not repeat that performance.

My first real test of the training will be July 22. I’m going to do the 100 K (62 miles) ride at the Katy Flatland Century. I don’t have a specific time goal for that one. The idea is to do the first half of the ride at 72 or 75 percent max heart rate, and then see how I feel. The plan is to do a negative split–ride the second half of the course faster than I ride the first half. It’s also a test to see if I can keep myself hydrated and fueled. It will be important to drink and eat enough during the century ride, and this will be an excellent field test.

After 10 years and 20,000 miles, the bike had some rust spots and lots of scratches from where I’d laid it down a few times.  My first inclination was to sand the areas and primer/paint them myself.  But the more I got into it, the more convinced I became that I wouldn’t be able to do a good job and the result would look terrible.

I disassembled as much as I could, paid the bike shop $20 to do what I couldn’t (several things require the use of some very expensive tools), and took the frame to Accent Powder Coating.  Then back to the bike shop for reassembly.  For less than $500, I have what is essentially a new bicycle.

Can’t wait to go for a ride.  You can click on the picture below for the full-size image.

I went out this morning intending to ride between 30 and 40 miles.  At about 8 miles I ran over a piece of glass, which somehow made it through my Gatorskin tire and punctured the tube.  Disappointing, but it doesn’t happen too often.  My last flat was back in July.

A flat tire isn’t normally a big deal.  I typically carry at least one spare tube, plus a patch kit.  I hate being stranded.  This morning, though, it was a problem.  You see, the first spare I pulled out was a new tube fresh out of the box.  Well, “fresh” in that I hadn’t used it yet.  It’s been in my seat bag for the last four months.  It wouldn’t hold air.

Undeterred, I grabbed the second spare that was in the seat bag.   That one was just stuffed into the bag, kind of like how I’d stuff a punctured tube in the bag after changing it out.  But a quick test showed that it would hold air, so I installed it, pumped up the tire, put my bike back together, and continued my ride.

For about two miles.

It turns out that the tube I installed is the one that punctured back in July.  It had a slow leak.  When I got home that day, I just put the new tube in the bag and forgot about fixing the old one.

I rummaged through the seat bag, pulled out the patch kit and the tube that was punctured a few moments before, found the hole, roughed up the rubber, opened the tube of vulcanizing compound and … nothing.  Damn!  That stuff has a tendency to dry up and it’d been in the seat bag all summer.  So I’m left with patches but no vulcanizing compound.  I considered trying to slap a patch on, depending on just the glue to hold it, but decided against the experiment.  Instead, I pumped up the tire (the one with the slow leak) and headed for home.

It’s kind of frustrating, having to stop every mile and a half in order to add more air.  But it beats walking barefoot, pushing the bike.  Walking any distance in those cycling shoes is not an option.

So my “30 or 40 mile” ride turned into 19 miles, more than half of which was done on a leaky back tire.

I obviously need to pay more attention to my emergency supplies.  I get flats so rarely that I’ve become complacent.  What was an inconvenience this morning could have been a very uncomfortable walk home.

I’ve been riding in the middle of the day the last few weeks, and often “in town” rather than out on the county roads.  I forgot how aggressive drivers can be.  Every ride in town includes incidents of drivers purposely cutting me off (typically to make a right turn), or failing to see me even though I’m wearing very bright colors.  I think I’ll re-think the idea of riding in town.  It’s too dangerous.

The prevalence of stop signs and traffic lights is also very frustrating.  Out of town, even the major roads will have maybe one traffic light every few miles, and the county roads have no lights and very few stop signs.  There are places where I can ride more than 10 miles without seeing a car.  It’s a much nicer environment for riding.

I’m closing in on my 20,000 mile goal.  After today’s ride, the computer reads 19,460.  I had hoped to have 19,500 before Thanksgiving because I’ll be out of town over the weekend.  That would give me just shy of five weeks to ride 500 miles:  easily doable.  I’ll get a ride in tomorrow, but I’ll probably be 10 miles or so shy of 19,500.  Provided the weather doesn’t turn too terrible in December, I’ll be at 20K before the new year.

And then I’ll back off on the bicycling for a bit.  I need to get into the gym and build a little upper body strength.  Contrary to what many think, bicycling does require some strength in the arms and the core muscles.  I experienced some lower back pain during longer rides this year, most likely because I haven’t been doing enough sit-ups and back extensions.  I’m planning some much longer rides for next year, so it’s time to build up those muscles.

The past two weekends, I attended free training workouts with Austin Cycle Camp.  The first weekend was a speed workout combined with some cornering drills.  This past weekend we did hills, working on maintaining a steady cadence and also on form.  I picked up some good tips, and hope to engage their coaching services next year when I start training for my big rides.  I’d like to get my century time down to under six hours.  That shouldn’t be too tough.  The harder one will be a 12-hour double century.  Yeah, I’m crazy like that.

With a little more than seven weeks to go before the end of the year, I have to ride another 750 miles in order to achieve my goal of having 20,000 miles on the bike.  I’ll reach that goal, but I’ll admit that my motivation to do so has waned.

The primary reason I ride my bike is because I enjoy it.  More to the point, I enjoy setting long-term goals that force me to push my comfort zones–stretch to accomplish them.  In the context of bicycling, meeting those goals requires that I develop a training schedule and stick to it, improving my fitness and endurance a little at a time so that I’m prepared when the big event comes.  The training invariably involves riding a lot of miles, but the miles aren’t the point:  they’re a byproduct of the training.

Just “putting in the miles” is not effective training.  Doing long slow rides every day does very little in terms of increasing fitness.  It’s pointless exercise.  There’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s not going to increase my speed, build my ability to climb or sprint, or even make a difference in how far I can ride.  If I just want to get up and move, I’ll take Charlie for a walk.  Long slow distance is boring and pointless.

Bicycle training (and other types of physical training) involves three types of workouts:  base, overload, and recovery.  All three types have specific purposes.

In bicycle training, base mileage workouts are designed to build endurance, get you accustomed to spending hours in the saddle, learning how to measure your effort so that you can maintain a strong pace throughout the distance.  These rides are long steady distance, but also involve some high-heart rate efforts (climbing, for example) and periods of rest and recovery on the bike (after a hard effort).  Base mileage is the foundation.  It builds endurance and gives you a foundation on which you can build strength and speed.

Note that I said long steady distance rather than long slow distance.  The difference is that base mileage workouts are not necessarily (or even often) slow.  Most LSD rides are done at a medium aerobic effort, with some forays into high aerobic effort.  More infrequently, I’ll do an LSD ride at high effort and throw in some sprints or hill that push me into anaerobic territory.  “Slow” doesn’t usually enter into the equation.  I’m tired when I’m done with an LSD ride, but not completely exhausted.

“Overload” rides usually involve a lot of sprints and hill repeats, or a time trial that I ride as fast as possible.  These workouts are designed to push my body further than I’ve pushed it before.  I want to climb a larger hill, sprint faster, complete the time trial in less time.  When I’m done with one of these rides, I’m beat.  My legs are shaking, and climbing the stairs to the office is difficult.  These hard efforts “tear down” the muscles in my legs so that they can be rebuilt stronger.  Pushing my heart up to and beyond my lactate threshold increases the body’s ability to use oxygen and break down sugars for energy, and over time will actually increase the lactate threshold meaning that my aerobic range increases.

And then there are recovery rides.  Some coaches say that recovery is the most important part of training.  Base mileage is the foundation that allows you to do overload rides.  Recovery is the time when you let the body rest and rebuild after the overload ride.  Recovery for me is a combination of rest (taking a day off) or doing a slow ride for an hour or two, just to keep the muscles limber and the blood pumping.  A recovery ride involves sub-aerobic (i.e. “fat burning”) or low-aerobic effort.  Even so, my recovery rides aren’t just “slow distance”.  I use my recovery rides to practice bike handling skills, work on my pedaling form, test out different riding postures, etc.  And, of course, sit back and enjoy being outside, perhaps chatting with other cyclists who I encounter.

Those rides have specific purposes, and my overall training plan has a specific purpose:  to prepare me for whatever event I have in mind.  And it works.  I’ve used those training plans to train myself for many different events, and I used something very similar to help Debra go from not riding at all to completing a three-day, 335-mile ride in just a year of training.  The key is to make every ride count.

The problem is that my season has ended now.  I have events planned for next year, but I’m not going to start training specifically for them until late February.  I’ll continue to ride a bit, but this is the time I should be in the gym working on core and upper body strength.  Extreme endurance rides take a toll on the neck, arms, stomach, and back (especially the lower back), and I need to build strength in those areas if I want to meet next year’s goals.

Unfortunately, I’ve announced that 20,000 goal and I need to ride 100 miles per week until the end of the year in order to meet it.  And since I don’t have a particular event in mind–something I’m working towards–those miles are “just exercise”:  putting in the miles.  Thus my diminished motivation.

So if it’s more than miles, why do I talk about miles at all?  Because it’s a reference that will mean something to cyclists and non-cyclists alike.  Most non-cyclists will automatically assume that a 50 mile ride is harder than a 25 mile ride.  They won’t generally understand that the 10 hill sprints on the 25 mile ride made it much more difficult than the 50 mile ride at medium effort.  Another cyclist, though, who knows me and has an idea of my current fitness level, will infer quite a bit of information from a simple post about how many miles I rode this morning.  He’ll know that a 50 mile ride was probably base mileage, that a 10 mile ride was recovery, and anything in between was most likely overload:  sprints, hills, or time trial.

As for next year’s events:  nothing specific to announce yet.  I will say, however, that I’m planning at least one ride that’s longer than anything I’ve ever done before.

The 23rd annual Outlaw Trail 100 bicycle tour started at Old Settler’s Park in Round Rock at 8:00 AM yesterday.  The temperature at the start was right at 60 degrees:  a bit on the chilly side to ride without a vest or arm warmers, but I knew that it’d warm up pretty soon.  It got to about 85 in mid afternoon.

The Outlaw Trail ride is much smaller than the Hotter ‘N Hell Hundred that I did in August.  I shared the road with 13,000 riders in Wichita Falls.  There were a total of about 1,000 riders at the start yesterday, many of them doing one of the shorter distances (10, 25, 40, 50, or 63 miles).  Still, there was quite a bit of excitement among the riders lined up at the start.

The ride started promptly at 8:00 with the 100 milers going first.  My goal for today was to be more consistent than I was in my previous ride.  A secondary goal was to improve my time, but I was more interested in conserving energy so I didn’t suffer the last third of the ride like I did in August.

I kept a good eye on my heart rate monitor for the first 40 miles or so, to ensure that I kept it below 80% of max effort.  Except on the hills, of which there were many more than in Wichita Falls, I largely succeeded.  But even on the hills I kept it below 90%, and usually below 85%.  One of the better pieces of advice I’ve read on the subject says that the secret to completing an endurance event like this is “never go anaerobic.”  85% of max heart rate is generally regarded as the limit of aerobic effort, so it’s critical to know your max heart rate and what values represent 65%, 75%, and 85%.

Besides going out too fast, I made two other mistakes in Wichita Falls:  I failed to eat enough and I didn’t drink enough water.  At my normal pace, I burn from 30 to 40 calories per mile, so I have to consume 450 or more calories per hour while I’m riding.  There’s a certain amount of easily-converted fuel in my blood stream and stored as muscle glycogen, but I’d be surprised if that could take me more than two hours when I’m pushing it.

My plan for the day was to skip every other water stop (placed at approximately 12 mile intervals) along the course.  With the cooler temperatures, my two water bottles were enough to carry me 25 or 30 miles, so there was no danger of running out of water between stops.  I did exactly as planned for the first half of the ride, except I stopped at 30 miles because I had to pee.  That cost me about a minute and a half of waiting for the one porta-potty to become available.

I didn’t consume 450 calories every hour, but I ate a whole lot more on this ride than I did in Wichita Falls, and I was fairly consistent about it.  I did slack off on my eating between 60 and 75 miles, during which I was pushing pretty hard against the wind (it’s surprising how one forgets the important things as they become more important, but there it is), and I ended up paying for that between 80 and 90 miles.

As I mentioned, there were fewer riders on the course here than in Wichita Falls.  There, I could almost always see a dozen or more riders in close proximity.  Although I was rarely completely alone on yesterday’s ride, there were plenty of times when the only rider I could see was hundreds of yards ahead of me.  Although there were always riders within sight, I spent most of the ride alone.  I didn’t join a paceline at any time, although a few impromptu lines formed behind me when I was headed into the wind.

There was one group who played leapfrog with me from 20 miles on.  There were stopping at every water station and spending a lot of time there.  I was making very brief stops at every other station.  So I’d pass them at almost every water station, and they’d pass me between stations.  We arrived at the 90 mile station at about the same time, and they passed me about five miles before the end of the ride.  That discouraged me for a bit and I slowed down.  When another rider caught me, I talked to him for a few minutes and realized that I was feeling pretty darned good.

I kicked up the pace the last four miles, really pushing to see if I could finish strong.  As a result, I passed a half dozen riders in the last couple of miles, including a few who had been in the leapfrog group and, I suspect, had been unable to keep up with the leaders when they kicked up the pace.

All told, I finished the 100 miles in 6 hours and 38 minutes, with an overall average speed of 15.1 MPH.  That’s 0.3 MPH better than my average speed in Wichita Falls.  The interesting thing is that my moving average of 15.9 MPH was almost a full mile per hour slower than in my previous ride.  The difference is that during that ride I spent 50 minutes off the bike.  This time I spent just a little over 20 minutes off the bike.

I didn’t finish the ride as fast as I had hoped, but I made a big improvement over the last ride.  Overall, I’m very satisfied with my performance.

Only 1,100 miles left to meet my goal of 20,000 by the end of the year!

Armadillos are an occasional feature on the local roadways. Dead armadillos, unfortunately. In 15 years of living in the Austin area I’ve seen three live armadillos. The rest have been dead–splattered on the highway like a ‘possum on a half shell. But I’ve seen more than usual on my bike rides the last few weeks. I’m thinking that the rain we got from Hermine (16 inches at our place) drove the creatures out of their normal hiding places and they’ve been on the roads in unusual numbers.

But I can’t explain the number of shoes I’ve seen on the road lately. I’ve occasionally seen a shoe on the side of the road in the past, but last week I saw at least one shoe on every bike ride. I’m not talking ratty old beat up shoes, either, but relatively new and expensive looking running shoes. The majority were on the 1.25 mile stretch between the office and the data center. I ride that nearly every day to retrieve the backup drive. Most days, I saw a different shoe lying in the road. My only explanation is that the road is used by high school students, and somebody (or several somebodies) thought it’d be funny to throw his friend’s shoe out the window.

The other road on which I encountered shoes is a major surface street, and I suppose also used by high school students on their way to and from school. Whatever the case, if you figure $100 for a good pair of shoes, last week I saw $400 or $500 worth of shoes on the ground. Always just one shoe at a time, though, and I don’t think any two together would have made a matched pair.

Yeah, one gets an entirely new perspective of the road when riding on the shoulder at 15 or 20 MPH.

I picked up an old rusty metal file from the shoulder of the road the other day. I don’t particularly need a rusty file, but I’ve been told that they contain very good steel. A number of wood carvers I know make custom knives from discarded files. I thought I’d give it a try.

I’ve signed up to ride the Outlaw Trail 100 on October 9. Debra and I did this ride in 2005–her first century. I’ve continued my training since the Hotter ‘N Hell ride, and expect to do a bit better here in Round Rock.

The ride was scheduled to start at about 7:15, and this event was serious about being on time. Even at 6:30, there was a huge number of people heading towards the start. We took up at least six city blocks on a four-lane (maybe five-lane) road. The number of people there was just astounding. I’m disappointed that none of my crowd pictures turned out well. Standing there on the edge of the road, I could easily see 10,000 cyclists lined up to start the ride.

My friend and fellow Marine Military Academy alumnus Frank Colunga had come up for the ride from College Station. We started the ride together, but separated early on. I didn’t take any other pictures during the ride, but Marathon Foto was there, and I got a bunch of shots from them.  You can view them on my Facebook photo album.

After a few announcements and the traditional singing of the National Anthem–it was amazing how the chatter stopped with the first notes of the Anthem–a flight of four fighters (I think they were F-15s, but I could be mistaken) from Sheppard Air Force Base did a low fly-by, and as they passed the cannon fired to signal the start of the ride.

It’s hard to explain to somebody who hasn’t experienced it just what the start of a large bike ride is like. We’re all packed together far too tightly to just get on our bikes and start riding. They line us up by expected finishing time, with the faster riders in the front. Those of us further back end up walking a hundred yards or more, slowly pushing our bikes along until we get to the start line, where the road widens and the space in front of us opens up enough that we can get on the saddle and start pedaling. Then, we slowly increase speed, always being mindful of the people in front and the speed demons coming up to pass from behind. The key here is to keep your eyes on what’s happening ahead of you, keep riding in as straight a line as possible, and always look carefully behind before making any lateral changes. You have to pay attention to hand signals from riders you’re approaching, keep your ears open for shouts of “hole” or “bottle” or “glass” from riders warning of hazards ahead of you, and “on your left” from people coming up from behind. I’m surprised at how many riders were wearing ear buds and listening to music at this point. I can maybe understand listening to music once you get out on the road and away from the crowds, but at the start of a big ride like this, you really shouldn’t have anything interfering with your awareness of the situation.

I’ve done quite a few of these organized rides, and I’m fairly accustomed to the things that happen at the beginning. But it seemed to me that there were a whole lot more lost water bottles–especially at the beginning of the ride–than I’d ever seen previously. The first five miles was a veritable obstacle course of bottles rolling around on the road. It’s a good thing we had a four-lane road all to ourselves for the first 10 miles or so.

I felt good. The temperature at the start was about 70 degrees, and the forecast was for a high in the low 90s and a south wind at about 7 MPH. The route is roughly a rectangle that’s approximately 35 miles east-west and 15 miles north-south, with the start point about 10 miles west of the southeast corner. The ride proceeds clockwise, so we headed west, then north, a very long stretch across the “top” as we head back east, and finally a meandering south and southwest grind into the wind back to Wichita Falls.

Frank seemed to like being left alone to zone out, so I left him behind shortly after the 10 mile mark and set to the business of riding. I couldn’t get over the number of people out there. At one point–near the 15 mile mark–I topped a little rise (the flatlanders called it a hill) and could see two or three miles in front of me. As far as I could see, the road (two lanes by this time, but with decent shoulders) was packed with cyclists. I’d never seen that many people still together 15 miles into a ride. It thinned out over time, of course, but in the entire 100 miles there never was a point that I couldn’t see several dozen riders sharing the road with me.

I do most of my training alone, so I’m still a bit uncomfortable joining a paceline, in part because I’m afraid I’ll do something wrong and cause a wreck, and in part because I have a difficult time trusting that the people in front or behind me won’t cause me to wreck. On the plus side, cooperating in a paceline can save you a lot of energy and increase your overall speed because you get the benefit of drafting off the others and–especially in a big group–only have to hammer it out up front very rarely. I joined a few pacelines along the way, pitching in to help when it was my turn, and had a few impromptu lines form behind me from time to time when I’d pass a group of riders. I stayed with one group for a good 10 miles or so until they pulled off at a rest stop while I kept going. I just couldn’t find a group that was maintaining a speed that I found comfortable.

Riding alone has its benefits. I can share short conversations with people and then fall back or speed up, wishing them a good ride and going back to enjoying the sights and the antics of the riders and spectators. And there were lots of spectators. Every little town we rode through had groups of people sitting along the road cheering us on. And, of course, there’s the mild amusement of rural Texas. The little town of Electra, Texas, for example, boasts “The Pumpjack Capital of Texas!” They even have a Pumpjack Festival. There were a few others I laughed at as I passed, but I don’t recall them now. And although I had my camera in my jersey pocket, the road was too crowded at first and I was too exhausted later to even think about fiddling with a camera while I was riding.

The town of Electra is at the 30 mile mark. I had originally planned to stop there for water, but with the cool weather and the light tailwind for the previous 10 miles I hadn’t had to drink as much as I expected. I elected to push on to the 40 mile mark before stopping. I was moving along at a good clip, too. At the 30 mile point, I was averaging almost 21 MPH–much faster than I expected, even on this flat course.

Skipping the 30 mile water stop was a sound decision. I really did have enough water and food to take me to the 40 mile point without trouble. At about 37 miles, I made the turn from north to east and began the 40 mile trek across the “top” of the course. I picked up another paceline and burned a little too much energy staying with them before I realized that I couldn’t maintain that heart rate. I was letting the excitement of the ride and my surprising speed overrule my judgement, and as the 40 mile stop approached I decided that I could make it to the 50 mile stop. That was a very poor decision. I had less than half a bottle of water left and no food except some peanuts, and I’d already determined that I didn’t like peanuts quite that much for riding food. Two miles later I realized that I’d done a stupid thing, but there was no way I was going back.

One thing non-cyclists don’t realize is how rough these country roads can be. A road that feels just a little rough when you’re driving over it in a car can be torture on a bicycle. In a car, you’re riding on tires that are at least six inches wide and sitting on a soft seat insulated from the road by springs and shock absorbers. You don’t even notice small shallow dents in the road. A road bicycle tire, on the other hand, is about an inch wide and there is no suspension. The fork and frame absorb some of the bumps on the road, but you feel a two inch wide hole that’s only 1/4 inch deep. Maintenance on these country roads consists of chip sealing, which results in less-than-smooth (to be kind) riding surface. After the first 30 miles or so, it seemed like the entire ride was on chip sealed roads. A few miles of chip seal is a minor annoyance. 10 miles or more is just punishing. Since the bike doesn’t absorb the shock, you have to: in your hands, wrists, shoulders, back, and butt. There’s no doubt that rough roads wear you down.

The “50 mile” stop was actually at 54 miles, and I was out of water. I stopped at the rest area, refilled my water bottles, drank as much as I could comfortably hold, ate some fruit and cookies, and lounged around for a few minutes. They had a band called, I think, Red Dirt Surf, playing surf guitar music. I like surf guitar in small doses, and it really seemed to fit here. I also chatted for a few minutes with the ham radio operators who had a tent there at the stop before climbing on my bike and heading out again. I had been off the bike for about 12 minutes.

I finished the first 54 miles of the ride without stopping, with an average speed of 19.8 MPH, which I’m pretty sure is the fastest 50 miles I’ve ever ridden on a bike. But when I pulled away from that stop, I realized two things. One, the wind had picked up a bit. It was still from the south, but it had become strong enough to be a nuisance as I headed east. The other thing I realized was that I wasn’t going to finish the second half of the ride nearly as fast as I did the first half. I was mildly dehydrated, and I had burned a little bit more energy than I should have. I made a conscious decision to slow down a bit, drink more, and try to rebuild some energy.

It’s funny how one’s memory of things changes once the pain sets in. After leaving that rest area, I stopped looking at the sights and concentrated more on my riding: picking the smoothest possible line (in the right tire track, usually), maintaining a good posture, pedaling as smoothly as possible, keeping an eye on my heart rate monitor, and remembering to drink regularly. My stomach was a little upset (I think it was the peanuts), so I had a tough time getting myself to eat very much. At least I put Gatorade mix in two of my three water bottles and forced myself to drink it even though by now I’d become pretty sick of the taste. About the only things I remember between mile 54 and mile 69 where I stopped again were the town of Burkburnett (the biggest town we passed through, other than Wichita Falls), and the little party going on at Hell’s Gate–the cutoff point that riders have to make before 12:30 if they’re going to do the entire 100 miles. I had no trouble there; I passed Hell’s Gate well before 11:00.

I do recall that, as I approached the rest stop at 69 miles, it dawned on me that this was the furthest I’d ridden this season. My longest training ride was only 65 miles, and I felt a whole lot worse on that ride than I was feeling at the moment. That gave me a little lift. I stopped again at 69 miles, refilled my water bottles, ate a bit more, and sat down under the tent for a few minutes with a cold towel on the back of my neck. I drank a bit, got to feeling better, and headed out again after less than 10 minutes.

The next 10 miles weren’t too bad. We were working our way towards the northeast corner of the course. There was one jog north that felt good with the wind at my back, but I knew I’d have to pay for it later when we turned to head back into the wind. That happened at about 78 miles. Mine wasn’t the only groan when we made a hard right turn and felt that wind directly in our faces.

I stopped again at 84 miles to fill the water bottles and sit down again. I wasn’t eating enough, but I feared that if I did it’d just come right back up. Cold towels on the back of the neck worked wonders to help me cool down, and I even managed to soak my bandana in ice water before taking off. With hair as short and thin as mine, I have to wear a head covering under my helmet or I end up with a rather painful sunburn.

Pulling away from the 84 mile stop, I fully planned to ride it in from there. Even as tired as I was, I couldn’t imagine not being able to ride the last 18 miles (yes, the course is actually 102 miles). I even got a good chuckle a few miles down the road when I spied the First Baptist Church of Dean (one of four buildings in the big town of Dean, TX) and thought of taking picture to send to my friend Dean. But that would have taken effort. There was a rest area at one of the other three buildings there, and I decided I’d take another break. My average speed was already way down from the nearly 20 MPH I’d established in the first half of the ride, and I had given up on the idea of finishing the course in under six hours. Plus, there was a nice big shady spot on the grass.

The stop was at 92 miles. I had only 10 miles to go, but I was ready to be done. I refilled the water bottles, took off my helmet, and laid on the grass in the shade for 20 minutes. I might even have nodded off for a few minutes. I helped a guy pump up his tire (he had a slow leak and didn’t want to take the time to replace the tube), then grudgingly climbed on the bike again for the last 10 miles.

Perhaps not surprisingly, I started feeling real good almost immediately after I got back on the road. Maybe it was the rest, and maybe it was the prospect of being finished. We were close to the big city again, meaning the roads had improved and there were people on the road cheering us on. The other cyclists around me were feeling good too, it seemed, and we were sharing some laughs and dark humor about the state of the roads we’d so recently covered.

There’s an “outlaw” rest stop–apparently not officially part of the ride–somewhere along there, maybe three miles from the finish. I think it’s a bar. They had a heck of a party going on, and were offering free beer to riders. It was sorely tempting, but I knew that if I stopped there, I’d never complete the ride. I let my better sense prevail and rode the last few miles to the finish.

Maybe a mile from the finish, the route climbs an overpass that isn’t much of a hill, but at 100+ miles any hill seems like a mountain. Plus, it was into the wind and on a fairly rough shoulder. But getting to the top was well worth it. From there, I could see the home stretch: just down an exit ramp, a few turns through the flat and smooth city streets, and a four-block straight run to the finish line. A couple of people passed me on that straight, pushing to “finish strong.” I just rode it in at my normal pace, figuring that saving a few seconds wasn’t going to make much of a difference in my time.

I completed the ride in six hours and 55 minutes, with an average overall speed of about 14.8 MPH and an average moving speed of 16.8 MPH. I spent 6:05 pedaling and 50 minutes at rest areas. Time off the bike is what kills your time in a long ride.

My major mistake in this ride was passing up the 40 mile stop. Had I stopped there to rest, refill my water bottles, and eat something, I would not have become dehydrated. I was smart enough to realize my mistake and try to recover (a good thing), but I probably should have taken it a bit easier between 54 and 69, and eaten more even though the thought of doing so turned my stomach. It sneaks up on you, and by the time you realize you’re dehydrated, it’s too late to recover without seriously slowing down.

Still, 6:55 is close to the fastest I’ve ever covered 100 miles, and I’m reasonably happy with my performance considering my abbreviated training period this year. I’m disappointed that I made the mistake of pushing on past the 40 mile mark without stopping to refuel, but glad that I realized my mistake and took steps to minimize the damage. Next time I’ll know better. Right?

Everything considered, it was a great time. I’m looking forward to next year, tent camping and all.

The Hotter ‘N Hell Hundred endurance ride was held this past weekend in Wichita Falls, TX. It’s billed as the largest one-day bicycling event in the world. I don’t know if that’s true, but it was more than twice the size of any other ride I’ve participated in. The Web site says that there were 13,067 riders, and I have no reason to doubt it. I’d never seen that many cyclists in one place before.

The HH100 is a huge event that spans at least three days. There are trail races and a criterium on Friday, the endurance ride on Saturday, and another criterium on Sunday. There’s the bike expo for at least two days, with vendors selling all manner of bicycling gear at booths inside and outside the convention center. This event is large enough that there were even some vendors selling non-cycling stuff like you’d see at summer festivals all over: jewelry, trinkets, hand-made gewgaws, etc. But mostly it’s about bicycling.

It’s not all about bicycling, though. Outside the convention center there were vendors selling funnel cakes, sausage on a stick, and other stuff that I’d categorize as county fair food. Although I didn’t see any cotton candy, now that I think of it. And, of course, there was plenty of beer. I found it odd to see Lance Armstrong endorsing Michelob Ultra. I thought the guy had better taste in beer.

I didn’t even try to get a hotel room for the event. Friends told me that the hotels were booked well in advance, and the rates were outrageous. One guy I talked to on Friday said that he paid $200 for Friday night. Rather than stay in a hotel, I elected to take advantage of the free on-site tent camping. The camping area was maybe a half mile walk from the start line, right next to a building that has bathroom and shower facilities. I figured that’d be a great deal, so I borrowed a tent, packed my gear, and headed out to Wichita Falls on Friday morning.

I timed my arrival perfectly, getting there about 2:00 PM, when packet pickup opened. I located a suitable camping spot, set up the tent, got the lay of the land, and headed over to the convention center to pick up my ride packet. I purposely waited a while in order to avoid the rush of eager beavers who just had to pick up their packets as early as possible. Unlike those people, who stood in line for over 30 minutes, I found no line at all. I just surrendered my waiver form, got my race number, and then presented my race number to get my goodie bag.

The goodie bag didn’t have a whole lot of “goodies” in it. Of course I got about a dozen flyers for upcoming rides, pamphlets about bicycle safety, and pleas for support from various organizations. A couple of course maps. A coupon for a free Whataburger (goodie #1). A water bottle with the HH100 logo on it (goodie #2, considering that I forgot to bring bottles with me). A small Cliff bar. A bottle of something called Athletes Honey Milk, which tasted okay after the ride, although I should have shaken it better. Oh, and a “Go Army” wristband similar to those “Livestrong” wristbands that everybody’s wearing. Anybody want it? Yeah, the goodie bag was a bit of a letdown.

The spaghetti dinner that I paid eight dollars for was held from five until nine inside the coliseum. We sat at tables out on the floor that is, from what I understand, usually covered with ice for the local hockey team. To tell the truth, I’m not sure why I paid for the spaghetti dinner in advance, because those mass feeding things are typically pretty bad. I was half expecting that I’d need to find some real food, but I was pleasantly surprised. How they managed to cook those mountains of pasta and sauce and get them right–not just edible, but actually good–is beyond me. But it was. Good, I mean. I ate a huge mound of spaghetti along with salad and a couple of bread sticks, and even went back for seconds. I did cheat in one respect, though: I brought my own drink into the place. The meal included tea and water, but I wanted a cola. I will have no qualms about eating their spaghettin dinner if I do the ride again. Definitely recommended.

To pass the time after dinner, I sat outside on a bench for an hour or so and carved a couple of my little dogs. It was nice there in the shade, listening to the music and chatting with people who’d stop from time to time to see what I was working on. The primary reason I was sitting around was to wait for my friend Frank Colunga and his buddies to finish their dinner before I went visiting. They drove up in two motor homes and were having a home-cooked meal rather than the spaghetti, and I didn’t want to interrupt their dinner. A great bunch of folks, and I enjoyed visiting with them for an hour or so before it got dark. They were headed off to sleep and I wandered back to my tent to do the same.

I think I mentioned that the tent camping area is right by the event center. Actually, it’s in the parking lot of the event center. There are grassy medians between paved parking rows, little grassy islands scattered throughout the unpaved parking lot, and grass on two sides of the parking lot along the road and along the river. I was surprised at how few tents there were. But that wasn’t the only surprise I’d get tonight.

Pizza Hut was there at the parking lot with a car and a sign that said, “Call <number> to order. Pick up here!” Apparently in years past they’d get calls for pizza, and instructions that said, for example, “I’m in the big blue and white dome tent over by the river,” or some such. They had so much trouble delivering that this year they decided to have a single place for pickup. They did a surprisingly brisk business.

I had planned to be in my tent and asleep by about 9:00–10:00 at the latest. I didn’t realize that there is a bar across the street from the parking lot. A bar that has live music. LOUD live music. I can sleep through anything if I’m tired enough, but I wasn’t tired enough to tune out that music. It was loud enough in the parking lot that conversation was difficult. I can’t imagine what it was like inside the bar. Fortunately, they stopped the music around 11:00. Somebody said that the city paid the bar to close early this year, due to the complaints they got last year.

With the music gone, I just had normal night noises to deal with: trains, traffic on the highway, and people arriving, setting up tents, and getting settled in. The last went on until at least 2:00 AM.  They kept waking me up when they’d drive by a little too close to the tent.

The parking lot has lights. Bright lights that stayed on all night. That didn’t really bother me, and it was kind of nice not having to fumble for a flashlight in the middle of the night when I needed to go visit the bathroom.

I did manage to get a good night’s sleep, even with the interruptions. I had set my alarm for 5:15 so that I’d have enough time to get dressed, have breakfast, get my gear together, stretch, warm up, and in general get prepared for the event. As it turned out, I didn’t need the alarm. Somebody, either by design or by accident, set off his car alarm at 5:00 AM on the dot. A car horn honking 50 feet away is an effective wake-up device.

It wasn’t all bad. Waking up at 5:00 gave me a little extra time to prepare for the ride, including checking the bike over one more time and triple-checking that I had everything I needed. There was one amusing incident.  Remember those lights that stayed on all night?  They went off at 5:30 while it was still dark.  I and everybody else around me got a good laugh out of that.  Fortunately, I had a flashlight (one of those LED lights on a headband), so the lack of the parking lot lights didn’t affect me a bit.  At 6:30 I got on the bike and headed for the starting line.