Friday Ride: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Friday Ride:
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
It would be easy for me to sit here and talk about
failure. It would be easy to say having
to get a ride home ten miles short of your longest ride ever was a bad thing. Perhaps, that is my brains natural
state. To go negative and pick on myself
for the things I didn’t do. However, I was out there on Friday, and unless you
were out there, you’d never really know the efforts put in, or work that was
done or the gains made. A year ago, I
couldn’t ride a bike and now look what I can do. I just started riding again in May. So, no matter what happened I’m proud of what
I did on Friday and sometimes things can’t be perfect and that is ok. Sometimes you take what you can get. We learn from things that don’t go our way
and we move on. So, let’s talk about
Friday’s 50-mile ride and how I’ve come to think about 24 hours later: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
The Good:
40 miles ridden
·
1504 feet of elevation gained
·
Almost 5 hours in the saddle
·
Great picture along the way
·
Good fun had all around
·
Got to ride with a good dude, who taught me a
lot out there
I was nervous about riding with Mark because he so much more
experienced in the saddle. He has ridden
longer and more consistently than I ever have or probably ever will. There is something about that frightened me,
but it should not have. Riding with Mark
was great. He coached me, helped me,
made me laugh, and help me push myself beyond what I ever believed I had inside
myself. Plus, he helped me get home and
helped me get my bike to the shop for much needed tender loving care. I can’t thank him enough for being with me on
Friday morning! It was awesome.
I’m so proud of myself.
I stared back into the face of the insane laughing god that is the Del
Valle climb and I went for it. Honestly,
probably the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I have done 9 Half Marathons, and 9 Triathlons
but honestly, going up that climb was a bastard.
I was scared going out there. I think I would have rather been at work than
on the bike when Mines split, and I was heading up Del Valle and I really hate
working. There was nothing for it though,
I was on my bike and looking up Del Valle right where the route I created took
me. So, I did what I had to do and that
was go up. So up we went all the way up
to 1385 feet.
I could stop there and just say I fucking did it! I made it to the top, but somehow for me that
cheapens it. While it doesn’t matter how
I made it to the top, the fact that I made it is all that matters. However, that doesn’t convey the battle of
the mind, body, and soul I went through going up.
I was cranking up the hill, is it a hill it felt like a mountain. Whatever it was, I guess the climb we will
call it. I was dripping with sweat. I kept checking my bike for more gears but
there weren’t anymore. I had gone into
granny gear before I ever started up the beast.
So, in the gear department I was tapped out. So, I pushed on an up. My heart was pounding, my legs were
aching. My left hip that hasn’t heart in
a year reminded me that it that it could hurt to, and as it started to ache. Didn’t matter I kept peddling. I was not sure I was going to make it
up. My breathing became more and more labored,
and I worked harder and harder. Mark was
in front of me going up the climb in what seemed to as relative ease. I was
cranking and cranking and at around 900 and some feet I was realized I was beaten. I had no more air in my lungs. I was tired.
I wasn’t ready for this. I probably
never would be. So, my foot was down on
the ground. I was praying over my handlebars
trying everything I could to suck more air into my lungs. I was wheezing like an old goat. It just must have been a site laying in my
handlebars, wanting to drop the bike and curl up on the ground and cry. I know one thing for certain. This is the absolute truth. If Mark hadn’t
been there, I would have turned right then and there and headed back down in
defeat because I this mad angry god of a climb had won.
Like Mark had said the weekend before he was going to get me
up that climb. So, he came back to my place on the hill and rallied me. Told me I was doing good. Had me get some water and a rest bit. Then he was telling me how to get started
back up the hill. Tell me to cut across
the hill. That way I could get some
momentum up and grip the road better. As
he spoke somewhere in my mind screamed for him to say you did good, that’s a
good start up this beast, let’s head down.
There was none of that though. There was only let’s go when you are
ready. It was unspoken that no matter
what we are going to the top. That didn’t
mean some small part of me wanted him to coddle me and tell me head on down. I rested and got up the courage to continue.
So, using my ears and eyes to make sure no cars were coming
I started across the hill and get some momentum and then turn back up and keep
climbing. Mark mentioned as we went up
that you could crisscross the hill to get momentum to keep going up. So, soon as he said it, I started doing
it. I used every inch of that bike lane
to climb. Going up little by little. Then a little bit more. I was climbing. I was sweating. I was gasping for more air. I was going up. Up.
Then a little further up. Then my
foot was down again after gaining another 150 feet or so. That was when I was certain with aching legs
and empty lungs that this climb would kill me.
It took 2 or three more stops between 1,100 and 1,385. I would sweat. Breath heavily. Just in general wonder what in the hell I was
doing out here. Each time I pushed a
little farther up and Mark coached and encourage me the entire. No matter what I say it won’t even begin to
express just how supportive Mark was and how much it helped me. I swear he was like a school of sharks circling
me on the hill. How he could ride
circles, I am not kidding he rode circles around me. Coaching and encouraging the entire way
up. I really am not lying, I think I
need to get him a pair of shark socks, the way he was able to ride around
me. Someday I want to be able to do that
for someone who is going up and over Del Valle for the first time.
Then gravity grabbed me.
I had crested the hill. It felt
like it was pulling me up on like a ski lift.
It was suddenly not going up and up anymore. It was starting to come down. I asked Mark if that was Mendenhall up in
front of us. He said he would ride ahead
and do some recon and sure enough he quickly yelled back to me that it was our destination. The smile that broke out across my face was
huge. I let out a squeal. Yes, that is what I said a schoolgirl squeal
of joy. When you climb to 1,385 you can
react however you want. I never had felt so accomplished in my life. I started to turn to the left to stop at Mendenhall,
I was not using my ears because Mark yelled car back to me and sure enough
there was a big car cruising by, and I wanted nothing to do with getting in its
way. I was so freaking happy as soon as
I turned to get to Mendenhall, I let out a huge cry of victory. I made it up.
I did it. I crested the beast. I climbed to where I had set out to climb
too. I was so happy.
Coming down Del Valle is epic. It is fast.
I got up in the 30’s, but I rode my break a lot. I didn’t want to get going to fast on my descent. Last thing I needed to do was fall or
something. As I came down, I noticed a
guy who we saw coming down when we were going up. He was packing his bike into his car. Then it hit me, the next time I try to do
this bastard and there will be a next time because I am going down into the
park and then coming back up some day. Oh,
yes, I am. However, I think next time, I
am going to drive to the big climb and save all my energy to for going up and
over. Then again no one every accused me
of being smart, so I probably won’t do that, but maybe. I know there are options now. Honestly,
going up is so worth it just for the views and the downhill. Nothing feels as great as coming down hill at
top speed after you just climbed. It makes
it all worthwhile.
The Bad:
I am a terrible route planner. I know that now. The ride I put together for Mark and I was
difficult 1504 climbing for a newbie like myself and 50 miles don’t necessarily
make for a great training route. Especially
when you haven’t been on some of the roads or trails you are taking and you
find out that they are rolling hills, after you just climbed a monster.
I don’t know what the name of the bike trail we were on in
Livermore. I really need to find that out.
However, it had several rollers on it.
Individually not to bad. For a guy who had to stop four or five times
on his first big climb, it was tough.
Don’t get me wrong I loved it. I
had fun doing it. It just wasn’t well
planned. Also, I was going to say this
later, but fuck MapMyRide. All flat
after Del Valle my ass. You lied to
me. You are luck you are a website and
not something that has a neck that I could put my hands around because I would
be choking you right now if you were.
We did a nice stop at Sycamore Grove. We refilled our waters. Took a pit stop. Found out that you could take a bike trail
2.5 miles into Sycamore Grove and then 2.5 miles back. Good to know for future rides. Saw this really cool bike stand they have out
there to work on your bike if you need too.
Mark showed me how to whip my tires off after parking in some dirt and
stuff. That is when he noticed the cuts
in my back tire. I had worried about the
state of my tires, and he confirmed what I had been thinking about the last two
weeks, I needed new tires. However, they
would be good to if Id stop picking at them.
You know because it is a good idea to pick at the cut in your tire that
you friend just pointed out. Sometimes I
really don’t think. Luckily, that wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass
later. Really, it wouldn’t.
From Sycamore Grove it was over to Vineyard, and we headed
for Pleasanton. Vineyard is good
riding. It was Vineyard to Bernal. I thought I knew Bernal, I thought I had driven
it before. However, when I confirmed on
my phone it was west on Bernal, I saw hills.
I wanted to cry. Like I said I
really can’t plan a route to save my life.
I thought Bernal would be this nice easy flat to get us to Pleasanton
Avenue and headed back to Livermore, but no, it wasn’t. It was an asshole of rolling hills. I think we climbed four times. I was exhausted. The first roller was so freaking steep it beat
me, and I had foot down and was off the bike walking 50 years to a place where
I could get started again. I used the zig
zag method of cutting across the hill to get started and continue to go
up. I love it when I learn new things,
hate it when I am climbing more.
Eventually, we got through Bernal and back to Pleasanton Avenue
and eventually into downtown Pleasanton.
Although soon as we got into downtown, I think I bonked. I am not 100% sure what happened. I just knew that I needed to stop and get out
of the saddle. I think I might have waterlogged
myself. I had drained one full bottle
and more than a half-liter out of my CamelBak.
I ate my sack of nuts. I walked
around a little bit. I think I felt
better. We were at 30 miles. There were no real climbs left, should be all
smooth sailing from here.
The Ugly:
Coming back Stoneridge you go by the outlets. I was cranking away. I felt better than when I had stopped. Things were going to be fine. I’d ridden this route the last three
weeks. I knew it like the back of my hand. I told Mark to be on the look out for a place
where a bike trail began on the other side of the outlets. He got a little in front of me and I saw he
passed it. I was going to go ahead and
jump on it, and he would look over and see me and then he could join me at the
next junction. So, you cut into the lip
of the parking lot entrance for the outlets.
Take the sidewalk for a half block and then it is bike path until you
get to Isabel, easy. So, I start to steer
over to the right and…
Shit! Fuck! God! I am
falling. Oh shit the bike is going
over. I am falling. I am falling….
The world goes black as my helmet hits the ground…
My eyes are closed as I lay on the ground, and I start
telling myself its ok. It is ok. I move everything. It all moves.
Everything starts to respond when I tell it to. Nothing broken. It’s ok.
It is ok. I am just going to lye
here for a moment and collect myself.
NO ASSHAT YOU CAN’T LAY HER FOR JUST A MOMENT YOU ARE LAYING
IN A PARKING LOT!!! GET UP!!!
I pull myself into a sitting position. I swear the world wasn’t as bright as it was
before I went down. I stand up. I try to stand my bike up on the sidewalk bumper
thing around a few plants. It won’t stay
up. I try and I try. It won’t stand up. Finally, I said fuck it and I dropped it in
the bush. I walked around in a circle. I am ok.
I am ok. I am ok. Wonder where Mark is? I am ok.
I am ok. I am ok. I walk in a circle again. My head starts to hurt a bit. Oh, here come Mark. I am ok.
I am ok. I am ok. I walk in a circle again. I am ok. I am ok.
I am ok. My right leg was bleeding. My right shoulder was sore as could be. It had a little road rash on it and was turning
red.
I am 46 years old. It
could have been so much worse. I caught
the lip of the driveway at the wrong angle, and it took my bike from underneath
me. Luckily, I didn’t break
anything. I don’t think I had a concussion. Some people I have talk to think I might have. I had a little not on the head but nothing
major. Mark and I chatted for a moment. I thought about calling someone to come pick
me up. However, I was only at 32 miles,
I wanted to go 50 so bad. I rested and
collected myself and we pushed on down the bike trail.
As I rode down the trail my gears started jumping around on their
own. It was crazy. I mean it was like playing musical gears or
something. I had no ideas what was wrong
at all. Then, I noticed that my right handlebar
the side I went down on was totally bent in at the wrong angle. I yelled for Mark and stopped my bike and
told him what was going on. He did the
best mid-ride surgery you can do and tried to right the ship. Have I said how lucky I was to have him with
me on the ride? I am very lucky.
After eating it on Friday, everything changed for me. The
world as I said was a little bit dimmer.
My head started to hurt and throb a little bit. I tried to push through. I wanted to push through. However, my energy was gone. I had trouble keeping my head up and looking
in front of me. Mark mentioned he could
go home and get the car and come back and get me, but I didn’t want such an epic
day of riding and climbing to come to and end like that. So, I kept telling him I was going to push
on. Push to get home.
That changed when I realized my reaction time on the bike
was starting to suffer. Maybe I was
dehydrated. Maybe I hit my head to
hard. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I was waterlogged because I had drank
all my water by mile 39. Maybe it was all
the above. I am not sure, but I was
coming to stop light and I put my foot out to stop myself, but I never actually
pressed my breaks until I was almost through the walking lines. I knew right then and there I wasn’t being a
hero by staying on the bike. I could
just end up hurting myself. So, at Portola
and North Livermore, I pulled over and called it a ride.
Back to good:
Mark headed back to my house to get his car. I headed to the Starbucks across the street
to buy more water. I sat outside with my
bike and sucked down a big bottle of water.
Polish off my electrolytes. Drank
some pineapple lemonade drink I bought there.
Tried to flirt with a beautiful woman, but like most occasions I failed
miserably. Mostly, I sat there and
shared with everyone I could think of that I climbed Del Valle. That I had climbed 1,504 feet. Even though I had stopped short by about 10 miles,
and I was getting towed back in, I couldn’t have been prouder of myself. Couldn’t ride a bike a year ago, hadn’t been
on a bike in ten years in May, and now I had climbed Del Valle. Are you fucking kidding me, what isn’t to be
proud of? I sat there with my blood
crusted leg and headache and felt like I was king of the world. I was lucky and happy to sit right where I
was.
Mark picked me up and we headed to the bike shop. At this point I knew I was eating into my
work time for the day, but my bike needed tending too and that was the most important
thing. So, off to My Buddy’s Bike Shop
we went. I checked the bike in for some much-needed
TLC.
I ended up getting set up with new tires, new tubes, new brake
pads. A full tune up of the bike. They changed my back cassette, so it went
from a 25 to a 30. They tell me this
will help with climbs and that makes me really excited. I have been having separation anxiety from the
bike and that will continue to I get her back on Tuesday. I realize now that I am going to have to
change up my workout schedule this week as I can’t very likely cycle tomorrow
when I don’t have a bike to ride on.
That would be a neat trick.
I am very fond of the folks over at My Buddy’s Bike
Shop. They were super nice and
friendly. I even talked to their road
riding expert about maybe picking me up a new bike. I told him I was worried about the new bikes
weight limits, and he told me that it was nothing good wheels and tires couldn’t
fix. That made me feel good. I have been thinking about a new bike. Not one before the ride in September, but
maybe later this fall or early next spring.
I don’t think I said this up above, but I told the guy at My
Buddy’s that when I was out there climbing Del Valle that I made a promise to
myself that I would never got back. I would
never not ride the bike. That it was too
big of a part of my life now and I wanted to keep riding. I want to ride three days a week. I want to continue to get better. I did tell myself that out there while I was
climbing. I never ever want to go back
to being a couch potato. Someone who can’t
get up and do what they want to do. Someone
who is too heavy to live their best life.
I am not just satisfied with breathing
and waking up each day anymore, I want more.
I want to climb. I want to feel
alive out there on the road with my bike under me.
There is it. My first
big climb. My first bike wreck in a
while. My Friday ride, it was pretty
epic. As I said there was good, bad, and
ugly parts of it. However, it all makes
us a little bit better as we press forward.
Looking forward to getting my bike back on Tuesday, so I can saddle up
and go out on it again, I wasn’t joking about the withdraw.
Now we plan and get ready for next weekend’s big ride.
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