What a Difference a Week Makes

What a difference a week makes! Last Saturday: Tahoe with the family. This Saturday: the Tour de Cure with friends. Forty miles of riding in Woodinville and Redmond in the chilly grey, which turned to rain midway before drying off again. We rode together last year as well in the annual fundraiser for the American Diabetes Association, but last year was sunny and warm and I had been training. This year, I took a few rides around Green Lake and along the Burke Gilman to Fremont, but not much more than eight miles at a time. While I can get on a bike, ride forty miles and survive without training, I can't say I recommend it. There was also a part of me that longed to downshift to the twenty-five mile event, but I didn't want to let my friends (or myself) down.

Though I started the morning out reluctantly, by the time we reached the start line at Chateau Ste. Michelle, a smile erupted and my heart sang. After a reminder that "this is a ride, not a race" we set off. I realized immediately that my front derailleur had jostled out of place in the car ride up and I could no longer adjust the big chain ring. While I wasn't quite sure what I needed to do to fix it (I really should take a bicycle maintenance class rather than relying on Trent's expertise), my savvy friend got me shifting normally again in two seconds. By this point, we were still ahead of some of the folks in our wave, but less than five minutes later, our other riding partner got a flat tire. I was impressed by how fast he fixed the flat - my fingers were already numb with cold and would not have been cooperative - but by the time we got on the road again, everyone had passed us. My friends very kindly kept my glacial pace, which meant that we passed few people on the route to the finish.

I feel like such a turtle - when I purchased my Schwinn mountain bike back in 1998, it had been a decade or so since I'd been on a bike. I test rode a number of choices and felt most comfortable (i.e. least likely to fall off) a bike with a frame that is much too small for my 5'8" frame. It never really bothered me until last year when I noticed people of every age and fitness level passing me with their road bikes. My one saving grace was my endurance - I would catch up at the rest stops and then stop for much shorter periods of time. The next time I saw a reflection of myself bicycling, I noticed the inefficiency of my hunchbacked, squished-up method of pedaling. I debated between a new road bike or a folding bike and I ultimately opted for the option that assisted most in my daily commute. Now I wonder if I should splurge and do both. My helpful husband has suggested that maybe I should just save money by doing intervals to increase my average pace.

While I initially had a hard time staying in the moment, continually glancing at my bike computer, calculating the distance remaining, by the last six miles, it was as though a switch had flipped. Rather than sharing a steep road with speedy cars, we had switched to the scenic (and relatively flat) Sammamish River Trail. Without the traffic noise, it was much easier to visit as we rode along. Had the whole journey been like that, I might have easily gone the 70 miles (though maybe that is a tad optimistic). Food trucks awaited us and we greedily gulped our paleo-food before returning hope triumphant.

Note: I am pleased to report a day later that my body has not actively rebelled against me and I feel less achy than after my first half marathon.