January 2010 Century

Having signed on for two UMCA challenges in 2010, my first challenge was to figure out how to get in a century in January when the temps are in the teens and snow is on the ground in Chicago.

Our 12 January days in Hawaii held promise for "getting it done" but it was not a "slam dunk, January's in the books" given.

The bike I brought to HI was my Bike Friday Tikit, named Tilda, a folder with 16 x 38 wheels, 8 gears and no front derailleur; I was one month post-op for repair of a torn rotator cuff; and Kauai had only one road with virtually no shoulder. Maui's roads were much more bike friendly, we'd be there our second week, so my shoulder would then be 5 weeks post-op.

Can't even count how many times I've ridden 100+ miles, but sleep was not to come the night before my Maui January UMCA qualifying century (90 miles or greater). Sun rose at 7:15; the Door Man at the Westin Kaanapali Resort Villas signed my Year Rounder Personal Ride Verification form--Miles ridden "0", time of departure 7:42 a.m. January 26th, address: 6 Kai Ala Dr.

A great tail wind carried me over the rollers on Honoapiilani Drive up to the steep climbs in Napili and Kapalua with take-your-breath-away vistas of the Pacific along the western edge of West Maui. Then came the rain that bathes these Maui cliffs with 200+ inches of rain a year, the fast descents that even Tilda took at 30 mph followed by mile-long climbs that Tilda took at 5 and 6 mph. To get my needed mileage I needed two of these Honoapiilani loops.

I practiced Hammer's 3 hour rule of no fueling 3 hours before a hard or long workout or race, so celebrated the completion of my first loop with a bar and a bottle of Hammer Heed and Sustained Energy. A stop back at the Resort for the Door Man to sign my Ride Verification Form at mile 27.5 and I'm off for the next 60+ miles.

Out of the rain forest now and into an arid coastal region protected from the fierce trade winds by the Arizona-esque mountains. I found the trade winds for real when I headed northeast from Ma'alae toward Kahului. They favored me with a 20 mph coast into Starbucks at Kahului which, upon the return, would be a 5 mph crawl. Fun to see a large cruise ship in the Kahului harbor and be free to cruise the island with my Tikit, Tilda.

The trade winds were now more cross winds than head or tail upon the return--I'm lovin that. My plan was to stop in Lahaina under the 130+ year old Banyan Tree, 6 miles from my finish, and find someone to take my picture since 27 years ago I finished the Maui Marathon, 3rd place in my age division, under that same Banyan Tree.

Two amazing, unexpected gifts awaited me in Lahaina. My bike computer registered 79 miles at the Banyan Tree which meant I'd need to ride back north on Honoapiilani Drive to get the balance of my miles. I had not looked at my Garmin since turning it on at the time of my departure but in Lahaina my Garmin registered 89 miles! No more Honoapiilani Drive would be needed! At that very moment my phone rang; it was Kirk wondering how I was progressing. I said, "I'm under the Banyan Tree in Lahaina looking for someone to take my picture." He said, "I'm under the Banyan Tree, too. I'll take your picture." Can't get any better than that. We recruited a willing volunteer to take our picture.

Rolled into the parking lot; the Door Man signed my form: Time--3:42, miles so far 95.5. I washed the rain, road crud, and salty air residue from Tilda out of a wastebasket filled with warm water and shampoo from my room; soaked my tired body in our in-room Jacuzzi; and enjoyed carry-in Thai on our balcony with Kirk.

Tilda was up for the task; my bod held up on the upright, although I'm not planning on any more long rides on Tilda or any other upright for that matter. But good to know I can do it, and for that I'm deeply grateful to all those both past and present who have contributed to my long-road healing process, the most recent piece being my shoulder repair.

2009--Year End

Hmmm. It's a no-brainer--snowy Chicago or sunny Kauai?

Having just re-read my last post of my 2009 Transcon, six months later the musing and wisdom of that post stand solid. The warmth of Kauai mid January, 2010 seems a very good time to wrap up reflections on 2009 and lay bent goals for 2010.

It took a solid month, maybe even a little more, to physically recover from the nutritional hole I'd sunk into across the miles. It took even longer to make friends with the self-doubts that rumbled and tumbled inside.

Re-engaging in daily, normal routines, riding age-old familiar routes, and spending time with family and good friends was a balm as healing as that in Gilead.

One of the better fitness-related decisions I made was to be performance tested in October at Vision Quest Coaching with Robbie Ventura. The upshot of that was that my performance numbers were unchanged since he tested me exactly 3 years before. That was good news at age 64. Given my struggles on the transcon I figured I was in for a performance free fall. Then I signed up to work out at Vision Quest (VQ) 5-7 days a week through the Chicago winter months building V02 max, strength-endurance, and core conditioning. After hours in the trainers next to other VQ athletes I finally have been able to trust that my transcon struggles were nutritional, not age-fatale.

Hanging out with the athletes of VQ drilled my lack of core conditioning straight to my core, double entendre intended, a function of multiple back surgeries, long recoveries, and riding a recumbent which doesn't demand core strength like an upright does. I couldn't expect to move forward with developing core strength till I had my 20-yr old torn rotator cuff repaired, my Christmas present to myself on December 23rd.

Being on the bent made it possible for me to be back on the bike in the computrainer at VQ 3 days post-op. Shoulder surgery was another really good fitness decision.

I ended 2009 with another year of >12,000 miles, probably 35% of which were commuting miles.

Where to go in 2010? Well, I've signed up for two of UMCA's (Ultra Marathon Cycling Association) Year-Rounder goals--a century every month and 3,000 miles of rides 90 miles or greater in length. I'm laying plans for a self-designed Circle Tour of Lake Michigan, Calvin's Challenge in OH, lots of hilly rides in WI, and hopefully another year of 12,000+ miles.

Sounds like fun.

Eugene_Sept 2009

Click here to view these pictures larger

Labor Day Weekend 2009 Muskegon, MI

Fun weekend in Muskegon riding with Ken and Denise. There is truth in advertising. Michigan does, indeed, have great riding.  We got in 192 miles in a day and a half.

This is Denise and me at lunch in Walkerville--population 300.

Denise

Ken

Transcon Pix

I've organized my pix from the transcon by state plus a set of individual pix of the riders and some memorable signs seen along the way.
 
Here's the link to flickr

Or, you can click on the mosaic.

Re-entry

How does my body, how does my spirit , how does my mind stop something as big as a 3,500 mile, 30 day transcontinental bike ride just because I dipped my wheel in the Atlantic? How do I walk away and re-enter my real world?

For 30 days I lived a very simple, structured life. I had two sets of riding clothes, two sets of after-ride clothes, a camera, smartphone, and laptop, Hammer nutritional supplements, a clothesline string and clothes pins. Less than 25 pounds for 30 days. Didn't want for more. My only credit card charges for over a month were for dinner. Twenty-seven of those dinners were at the level of Waffle House or below. Three of them were really high class, like Ruby Tuesdays or Cracker Barrel.

I was never more alive than I was these last 30 days--totally focused on the physical road ahead, but not the journey ahead. To focus beyond the next rest stop 30 miles out detracted from the present. Other times the focus was reduced to the radio tower on the left at mile 68.6 or the relay station on the right at mile 72.4.

People ask what in the world do you think about for all those hours, all those miles? It's a difficult question to answer because I don't think I think about much, but I feel a lot, a real lot.

I felt humbled and oh, so grateful to have the privilege to ride my bike across America. I would direct my gratitude specifically to the individuals who have given so much to make it possible for me to be able to ride today, praying specifically for their presence in my life and courage to live their lives with integrity and passion.

I felt wonder and awe as I glided across this magnificent country of ours--the great mountains some green, some barren, some white that have been there for millions of years and will be there for millions more just looking at us; rushing mountain streams, roaring washes, desiccated river beds; dust, tumbleweed, great rolling plains whose expansiveness defies measurement in units I can even comprehend; towns, like Groom and Conway that have been ghosted by "civil progress", kept alive only my those who nurture the Mother Road; all God's creatures only some of which I saw as road-kill along the way, but they were plentiful enough to remind me of the great diversity of nature and how arrogant we often become when we begin to think that we as a species, race, nationality, or gender are somehow more worthy than others.

I felt a daily anxiety ball in the pit of my being that I would not have the resources to climb or descend the next mountain, or go the full day's distance.

I felt inadequate as the fast group would over take me never to be seen again till dinner. That some of these riders were ranked by the US Cycling Organization, that all the women riders were 12-30 years younger than I didn't change things for me.

Sometimes I wore my old demons as a collar that squeezed out tears making it difficult to see and even harder to experience, the beauty and joy all around.

I felt the age of all my years, really for the first time. I actually believe my hair grayed by 10% on this trip.

It took me till about Day 20 to catch on to something really big. Yes, I was 3rd oldest person on the Tour and the oldest female. BUT, and here's the HUGE but, my bike weighed 15-20 pounds more than everyone else's bike--a blunt reality of a steel recumbent vs a carbon fiber or Titanium upright. I had HUGE nutritional restrictions that resulted in my being able to consume maybe 3,000 calories a day while others were easily consuming 6-9,000 per day. Those are pretty steep odds to overcome.

Wrestling with the demons was useless as they are ageless and rich with tenacity. It's counter-intuitive, but the only way to deal with demons is to accept them, call them by name, and keep pedaling, keep pedaling, keep pedaling, follow the white line, follow the white line, follow the white line. And at the end of the day, say thank you for a safe day doing what I dearly love, shower, share the joys, beauties, and challenges of the day with the others, try to eat something, and get some sleep.

A few things I know are true:

• In a few days, few weeks, my physical body will be healed by the tincture of time and rest along with returning to foods that can nurture and an activity level that can be supported by those foods.
• Sharing the journey with those who truly love me, those who truly were supporting me in their own unique ways, and those who are hearing about the journey for the very first time will help me integrate known gifts and discover others still packed in a zip locked bag in the bottom of my duffel bag.
• I will never be the same person I was when I left home on July 3rd, 2009. My hope is that others will be able to experience my growth and gratitude.

How long will it take to re-enter? Not sure. Maybe check the blog from time to time to see what else I've learned from this PAC Tour from Portland, OR-->Tybee Island, GA in 3,484 miles and 30 days, and 124,000' of up, ups, and upper ups.

Tybee Island Doings

That's the PAC motel truck bottom left corner

First order of business after the beach was to pack the bikes. We'll all need to do a very thorough bike cleaning once we get home followed by an equally thorough tune up given, not so much the wear of the miles, but the abuse of the rain. Then there was settling of our PAC accounts--tubes, tires, patch kits, wheels, bike box shipping, massages--showers for us, and finally time to visit with friends and family who had come to join us.

LB and Suzanne made a HUGE effort to be there for me. LB's flight was canceled, the rental car place was shut down by the time she arrived at the Savannah airport, and the first two cab companies weren't awake either. She got to Tybee about midnight. Suzanne began the 7.5 hour trip from Tampa to Tybee after she got off work; she arrived about 5:00 a.m. after a 3 hour sleep break at a truck stop. They had been at the Tybee sign only two minutes when I rolled up.

The last 10 miles from lunch to the Tybee sign were teary ones for me as I flashed through memories of the beauty and the challenges of this ride; my awareness that the probability of my doing another transcon is very slim indeed; my awareness of the huge surround of support I had with me along the journey: Kirk, Bryan, Katie, Daniel, Mark, Jeff, LB, Suzanne, church friends, riding friends, non-riding friends, bike mechanics, Rebekah's House, colleagues, people I knew and people I didn't know who cared enough to comment on the blog, and people I still don't know but who were out there supporting me in prayer and spirit, and not to forget the PAC crew and riders.

Susan Notorangelo's 45 minute slide show of daily pix from Portland to Tybee brought it all back, all of it. Wow! Hope I can get a disk. We each received a framed picture of us along the route, each had the opportunity to say a few words, and the map was auctioned off, Jonathan being the winner, to support Lon's and Susan's philanthropic projects in Peru.

Farewell hugs all around and then we dispersed to re-enter our former lives, but never to be the same person we were 30 days ago.

Crew: Beginning back, left: Alan Stokes, Rebecca Haldeman, Christopher Stegeman, Steve Shearin, Karl Stock,Franz Neuert, Susan Notorangelo, Lon Haldeman, Jon Jahant, and John Lake. Not pictured are Barb and Phil Bohaty who left us in Amarillo. Jon and John filled their shoes.

Day 30_August 3rd-->Tybee Island, GA

The day awoke with a mix of heavy heart and "let's get on with it". The heavy heart was no longer about the end-of-the-ride being near, but that one our riders had fallen hard 11 miles out from the hotel in Metter, GA on Day 29 on the wet road. He would we having surgery to repair the break in the neck of his femur about the time we would be arriving on the beach at Tybee Island.

Four trips to the hospital, three riders not returning, but having to go home, and one of them needing to have surgery seems like a high percentage of accidents among 17 riders--nearly 25%, and they were all very experienced riders!

It looked like the rain would hold off till we got safely in which was more than welcome given how very wet we had been for each of the last 7 days. There was not a "catch me if you can" sprint mentality today, just a focused, let's finish this job, and finish it well. Lunch came at mile 48 today, instead of mile 75-80. Funny to be eating lunch at 10:30 a.m. But, we needed to all be at the Welcome To Tybee Island sign by 1:00 so we could parade lap the last 4 miles into the hotel.


Through the parking lot, over the board walk, onto the beach, drop the bikes and jump into the ocean.


Then lots of pix of friends, the group, and lots of hugs from friends and families who had come to celebrate this incredible journey.

Bob

Dan and Brian Hofstra

Me

Jonathan, Melissa, and me


Says it all :)

Day 29_August 2--> Metter, GA

117 miles and a relatively flat 2,000' of climbing today. The whole crowd was relaxed today, more relaxed than I've experienced us since Day 10 riding from Vernal, UT-->Rangely, CO. Rangely was the day we had but 53 miles. Since we'd arrived so early, the whole group lunched in the grass at the city park waiting for our rooms to be readied. That turned out to be a significant day for bonding. It was still early enough in the ride that whole-group bonding could still occur. The gap between the fast group and the slow group is great enough that after ride socializing tends to happen among members of the fast and slow group. But having had the Rangely day, with an added visit to the local Espresso bar (the last time we've seen the likes of such on the whole tour), pleasantly narrowed the social gap. Wouldn't it have been nice if it could have narrowed the riding gap as well?

That the route was relatively flat today also kept the group physically closer together. The day called for RAIN and that it did. Lost count of how many days, now, we've contended with the evil wet stuff. We all smell like mildew and our duffle bags smell even worse.

We're all definitely into the bittersweet place of being quite ready for this to be over, and yet the simplicity of our lives (no responsibility but to ride, wearing the same one outfit day after day), and the friendships made are sad to see come to an end tomorrow.

I can tell you one thing for sure: I will be quite pleased to experience restaurants other than fast foods found on Interstate exchanges.

Tomorrow will be sort of like the Parade Lap. An easy 58 miles to lunch and then another 25 or so to a rendezvous spot where we will wait till all the riders arrive. Then, the whole group will ride in together through Tybee Island; we'll ride through the hotel parking lot, over the boardwalk and out onto the beach of the Atlantic Ocean. Woo Hoo: 3,484 miles, 30 days, and 124,100' of climbing.

We all knew we would make it, but what it would take to make it remained an unanswered question until tonight. Yet, accidents can happen so fast, we are all committed to being hypervigilant tomorrow, taking nothing for granted.

Oh, the good news is that Melissa, who fell so hard on her hip about a week ago, has ridden the last two days. Woo Hoo for her. She is one tough rider.

Melissa (from AU) and me at the first rest stop on our way to Rangely, CO on Day 10.