It might seem flat in your car but it is not flat on your bike

I got to go on another ride last night. I did it after spending almost 3 hours as stand-in mom at a bridal shower for my daughter’s skating coach. After the shower, both of my kids got to play at their friends’ house and their parents let me go for a ride while the kids stayed there. So I started in wild and wooly Irmo rather than on the tranquil streets of Shandon. I decided earlier in the day that I would try to do a ride, but never really planned a route. Oh, I tried, but didn’t get very far. I looked up rides in the area on the web and found several pages of possible routes. The problem was that I just wasn’t in the mood (or physical condition) for the 98 mile ride or the 64 mile ride, or even the 49 mile ride. I had a vague idea that a certain road went a certain direction and was relatively flat and not very busy. So I figured I was safe just winging it.

Now, if I was going hiking or canoeing or fishing I wouldn’t wing it. I don’t make it up as I go along when I excavate a site or try to find sites. Why did I think it was OK to fly by the seat of my pants this time? Did I think there would be less of a chance that I would get lost or find myself on a route that I couldn’t handle? Ultimately, it turned out fine, but I could have planned a much nicer ride than the one I got. I had to work my way through busy intersections and somewhat unfriendly neighborhoods. I ended up on a fairly busy road with a narrow shoulder and no bike lane. I spent a lot of time hugging the shoulder as pick-up trucks blew past me. As an aside, it is amazing how the wind pushed by a decent-sized truck can really toss you around when you are on a bike…and when you are tight-rope riding the shoulder…and dodging potholes and big rocks.

And the hills on this route were, uh, different from my normal routine. Now, I have driven this road many times before I remember it as being flat. Here’s a cycling truism: Things that seem flat in your car DO NOT seem flat when you are riding a bike. I need to keep that in mind…especially if I continue to insist on making up my own routes based on memory. My happy little ride in Shandon has one pretty good hill—at least by my admittedly low standards. Last night’s ride started out almost immediately with a hill that was steeper and longer than the one in Shandon. I really hadn’t warmed up much so I got tight pretty fast…and that just about did me in before I really got started. And the hills just kept coming. Every time I considered turning around, another hill loomed ahead of me. Psychologically, I just couldn’t turn around at the bottom of a hill. That would be like letting the hills beat me. And this whole biking thing is one giant contest between my brain on the one side and my legs and the terrain on the other. I can’t let the hills win. Oh, they want to, but not on my watch.

I kept pushing on last night also because I secretly (I am not sure how it could be a secret because the entire “conversation” goes on only in my head.) wanted to make 20 miles. I was probably getting ahead of myself. Luckily, it was getting dark and I don’t have one of those nifty flashing lights on the front of my bike. I also was a bit concerned that my friends might worry about me being out so late.

Coming back I took a wrong turn or, more accurately, chose the wrong path back to the house. If I had simply gone back the way I came, it would have been a nice, flat ride. Because of the turn I made I had to ride up two nasty hills. That would have been bad enough at the beginning of the ride, but at the end it was a little daunting. Again, because this is a battle between my brain and the hills, I couldn’t relent. If those hills got any hint that I couldn’t cover them, they’d be all over me and I’d be done. The first hill wasn’t too bad. The second was really, really steep. I was up off my seat and over the handle bars. Luckily it wasn’t very long so I managed to mash it out. Then I got to some flat roads and zoomed for a couple more miles before heading back.

I didn’t make 20 miles, but I got close. I rode 18.24 miles, averaged 12.5 mph, and did it in just under an hour and a half. That is a comparable pace to my nice Shandon ride. I feel pretty good that the hills really didn’t slow my pace. I suppose I could look at that one of two ways. Either I am doing a good job of maintaining a consistent pace regardless of the terrain. Or I am going so slowly already that I couldn’t go any slower with out tipping over in the ditch. I like to think it is the first one and not the second. If you know otherwise, just tell me what I want to hear. I’m really very fragile.

Last night my legs were really killing me and I was worried that today I would be in bad shape. The only other time I remember my legs feeling like that was when I hiked 25 miles of the Appalachian Trail in two days without any preparation. I could barely walk when we finished the hike and was a virtual paraplegic for the next several days. Today my legs have felt fine. Sometimes it takes a day, so we’ll see how they are tomorrow.