Words Cannot Express the Misery

Saturday's ride was awful.  There is simply no better way to describe it.  The weather forecast called for a 30% chance of rain, declining throughout the day.  Although it rained hard overnight, it appeared that the rain was stopping around 6am.  We thought a 100-mile ride up River Road to Poolesville, Point of Rocks, and back on the W&OD Trail would be a stretch, but with 6 riders, we could take turns pulling and give one another breaks.

We were wrong on many counts.  By the time we got into DC, it was pouring rain.  And just when we thought it couldn't rain harder, it did.  It's hard to form a paceline when the bike in front of you is spraying grimy water up your nose like a garden hose from Hades.  So although we rode near each other, we didn't get the benefit of a slipstream for the first 50 miles.  At 50, we stopped and half of the group took a shorter loop.  I needed to log some quality miles, and the rain appeared to be slowing again, so Seth Stewart, Ryan Taylor, and I decided to hit the full 100.  As soon as we took off, it rained harder than ever.  And to make matters worse, I got a flat tire at about 52.  Yes, that's the first flat I've ever had on the MacAttac -- over 4 years now.  Worse still, the brand new tube I installed was faulty and wouldn't hold air.  Worse still, I had used up both my CO2 canisters.  It came down to the last tube and last CO2 canister ... and my tire held the pressure.  Had anyone else lost pressure for the remaining 50, somebody's wife would have had to retrieve one of us ...

Shortly after the repair, I realized that I probably didn't have the legs for a 100-miler.  Well, shame on me, because I was about 50 miles from home.  At mile 75, Seth and Ryan had to leave me behind so that they could get home on schedule.  I was actually okay with this, because I couldn't tuck into their slipstreams anyway, and I needed to bonk in private.  So I swallowed some Grandma's cookies and the rest of the food I had in my pockets, and kicked it down to 16-18 mph for the remaining 30 or so miles.  In the old days, I would have completely bonked and someone would have had to pick me up off the road.  But in my old age, I've learned how to prolong the fall, and I prolonged it long enough to get myself home.

Here is Seth at about 72 miles.  He barely broke a sweat on this ride.  Phenomenal!  And you may not be able to see the thick layer of road grime on the MacAttac, but it took me a couple of hours to clean this bike after we finished.

And here is Ryan.  I owe him more than the $10 for the tube and the CO2.  He saved me from having to call my wife and explain where Poolesville was (and why it would be fun for her to drive the kids there in their pajamas).

And here I am about 10 miles from the finish.  There was barely anyone on the trail, so there was no pressure to kick up the pace beyond "survival" speed.  Yep, that face says it all.

All things considered, this was a ride I had to make.  It's hard to get over training plateaus, and I needed to start cracking the 100-mile mark sooner or later.  (IM Florida is 3 months away.)  I was reminded again why IM training is so difficult -- sitting out a ride or a run because the conditions aren't perfect just isn't an option.  That said, I might just wait for a day when there's a 0% chance of rain for my next century attempt ...