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11-26-07, 08:17 AM
There must be something therapeutic about sharing experiences after your first major long distance accomplishment. Here's mine:
After a few long tandem rally rides and MS 150s with my wife, I got the bug to try long distance riding solo. I finished my first supported century this summer with the club and set my sights on the next distance goal. I like the idea of riding unsupported and so decided to sign up for the last 200k brevet event in my area, the Turkey Trot 200k brevet out of Brentwood TN. I figured it would be a good training experience and give me an idea of if I would be able to handle the full spring brevet series next year.
The ride started at 7am on Nov 24. Temps were 28F at the start. My ride partner and I left about 10 minutes behind the main group of about 20 riders. My saddle bag was packed with food, and I had plenty of warm wool stuff on.
The first 40 miles were pretty mild, some good flat to rolling terrain, good hills to get the blood flowing and the body warm. Munched on a cliff bar, another sports bar I can't remember the name of, and drank my water and cytomax. The countryside is beautiful in this part of Tennessee, rolling hills, lots of pasture land and horses everywhere. We hit the first control right in the middle of the time limit, so I figured our pace was good and comfortable for the rest of the ride.
After the first control at 40 miles the terrain got more challenging, leaving the Nashville basin with some good sustained climbs. We had munched on bananas, ate some fig bars, drank more fluids and were feeling fairly strong. The climbing in this section really took it's toll on my partner, who has been recovering from knee injuries all summer. I normally ride around the Knoxville area in East Tennessee, so I felt well prepared for the climbs, but this section also provided a serious mental and emotional challenge.
At about 55 miles while climbing a long hill I heard a dog barking off in the woods. This area is forested, so the houses sit back off the road, surrounded by trees. I could also hear a lady calling after the dog, but it seemed like we would pass without incident. I was ahead of my partner by about 200 yards when I heard him shooing the dog off. I looked back to see that he was OK and the dog had abated it's chase. I put my head down and refocused on the hill only to hear a few seconds later the sickening sound of tires screeching and a loud thud.
I turned around to see the form of a dog in the road, with cars pulled off to the side. It appears as though the dog had turned around to go home and was hit by a car coming up the hill. It had to be going fast, the dog wasn't moving. My wife and I are SERIOUS dog lovers, we have three, and seeing this all... my heart was breaking and my stomach was in agony. In a strange and odd coincidence, my wife was in Nashville this same day, picking up our new puppy, a Rhodesian Ridgeback she's been waiting on for several years.
None of the motorist that stopped seemed to want to do anything, so I turned back down the hill, appraised the dog from a distance to make sure he wouldn't be violent (as wounded dogs often are). I dropped my bike and quickly knelt down next to the dog. He was beautiful, some kind of husky/shepherd mix. It was clear he had been hit hard, I stroked his head, talked softly to him. Motorists piled up, the fella that hit him only added "I think he's dead" (add your best red-neck vernacular to it). Moments later the owner came out of her driveway and with one look was hysterical and running up the road, her daughter (maybe in her 20s?) close behind. She was crying and very upset, came and hugged her dog next to me. I asked if she had a vet, or somewhere to take him, but he wasn't long for this world. Within a minute or so he was gone, off to chase bikes in better place.
I hugged the lady, cried a little with her, and carried her dog for her into her car so she could take care of him. I couldn't talk to anyone, I told my ride partner I was OK, and the motorists departed (the fella who hit the dog never really said or did anything). This was the first time anything like this has ever happened to me on the road. It took a lot out of me, mentally and emotionally. I teared up off and on throughout the remainder of the ride. My ride partner helped by keeping me focused. The hills continued and took their toll.
At 80 miles we found ourselves at the second control, a quirky little market in the middle of the country. My partner decided to bail on the ride, his knees were gone and he didn't want to risk injury. We ate, chatted, made sure he could be evacuated by his lady and I set off.
Cold light rain begin and continued for the rest of the ride. My wool stuff kept me warm, even though it was soaked. The remaining miles proved to be much more manageable terrain, having come down off the basin rim, but there were definitely a few small hills left. The ride was peaceful, I put on my headphones and listened to the Tenn vs Kentucky football game... all 4 (or was it 5) overtimes... that will keep you focused (Go Vols!).
The final control before going on the the finish found me back in a more populated area, but with darkness coming on. It was cold, dark, and I was beat. I called my wife, gave her my best ETA for being at the finish, let her know it had been a rough day, without going into details, and set off into the night with my lights. With only 28 miles left, this was the first time I've ever ridden in the full darkness of the country roads. It was magical. I usually like the sounds of the road, but my head would keep wandering to the day's events, so I turned on the Mp3 player and got lost in my music. The Talking Heads took me to the Finish in Brentwood, my wife in a warm truck with our new puppy, and a patient RBA to take my brevet card. Total finishing time 12:10.
This ride was the toughest thing I've ever done, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was proud of myself for finishing, my head wanted me to quit many times. The ups and downs were tremendous. I know it would have been easier without the drama during the ride, but even considering that, it was still tough. I know that I carried too much food, and I know that I can turn in a better time down the road. These are some improvements I can make, but I am hooked and I will be a participant in the spring series for as long as my body and mind will take me.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for the therapy.
After a few long tandem rally rides and MS 150s with my wife, I got the bug to try long distance riding solo. I finished my first supported century this summer with the club and set my sights on the next distance goal. I like the idea of riding unsupported and so decided to sign up for the last 200k brevet event in my area, the Turkey Trot 200k brevet out of Brentwood TN. I figured it would be a good training experience and give me an idea of if I would be able to handle the full spring brevet series next year.
The ride started at 7am on Nov 24. Temps were 28F at the start. My ride partner and I left about 10 minutes behind the main group of about 20 riders. My saddle bag was packed with food, and I had plenty of warm wool stuff on.
The first 40 miles were pretty mild, some good flat to rolling terrain, good hills to get the blood flowing and the body warm. Munched on a cliff bar, another sports bar I can't remember the name of, and drank my water and cytomax. The countryside is beautiful in this part of Tennessee, rolling hills, lots of pasture land and horses everywhere. We hit the first control right in the middle of the time limit, so I figured our pace was good and comfortable for the rest of the ride.
After the first control at 40 miles the terrain got more challenging, leaving the Nashville basin with some good sustained climbs. We had munched on bananas, ate some fig bars, drank more fluids and were feeling fairly strong. The climbing in this section really took it's toll on my partner, who has been recovering from knee injuries all summer. I normally ride around the Knoxville area in East Tennessee, so I felt well prepared for the climbs, but this section also provided a serious mental and emotional challenge.
At about 55 miles while climbing a long hill I heard a dog barking off in the woods. This area is forested, so the houses sit back off the road, surrounded by trees. I could also hear a lady calling after the dog, but it seemed like we would pass without incident. I was ahead of my partner by about 200 yards when I heard him shooing the dog off. I looked back to see that he was OK and the dog had abated it's chase. I put my head down and refocused on the hill only to hear a few seconds later the sickening sound of tires screeching and a loud thud.
I turned around to see the form of a dog in the road, with cars pulled off to the side. It appears as though the dog had turned around to go home and was hit by a car coming up the hill. It had to be going fast, the dog wasn't moving. My wife and I are SERIOUS dog lovers, we have three, and seeing this all... my heart was breaking and my stomach was in agony. In a strange and odd coincidence, my wife was in Nashville this same day, picking up our new puppy, a Rhodesian Ridgeback she's been waiting on for several years.
None of the motorist that stopped seemed to want to do anything, so I turned back down the hill, appraised the dog from a distance to make sure he wouldn't be violent (as wounded dogs often are). I dropped my bike and quickly knelt down next to the dog. He was beautiful, some kind of husky/shepherd mix. It was clear he had been hit hard, I stroked his head, talked softly to him. Motorists piled up, the fella that hit him only added "I think he's dead" (add your best red-neck vernacular to it). Moments later the owner came out of her driveway and with one look was hysterical and running up the road, her daughter (maybe in her 20s?) close behind. She was crying and very upset, came and hugged her dog next to me. I asked if she had a vet, or somewhere to take him, but he wasn't long for this world. Within a minute or so he was gone, off to chase bikes in better place.
I hugged the lady, cried a little with her, and carried her dog for her into her car so she could take care of him. I couldn't talk to anyone, I told my ride partner I was OK, and the motorists departed (the fella who hit the dog never really said or did anything). This was the first time anything like this has ever happened to me on the road. It took a lot out of me, mentally and emotionally. I teared up off and on throughout the remainder of the ride. My ride partner helped by keeping me focused. The hills continued and took their toll.
At 80 miles we found ourselves at the second control, a quirky little market in the middle of the country. My partner decided to bail on the ride, his knees were gone and he didn't want to risk injury. We ate, chatted, made sure he could be evacuated by his lady and I set off.
Cold light rain begin and continued for the rest of the ride. My wool stuff kept me warm, even though it was soaked. The remaining miles proved to be much more manageable terrain, having come down off the basin rim, but there were definitely a few small hills left. The ride was peaceful, I put on my headphones and listened to the Tenn vs Kentucky football game... all 4 (or was it 5) overtimes... that will keep you focused (Go Vols!).
The final control before going on the the finish found me back in a more populated area, but with darkness coming on. It was cold, dark, and I was beat. I called my wife, gave her my best ETA for being at the finish, let her know it had been a rough day, without going into details, and set off into the night with my lights. With only 28 miles left, this was the first time I've ever ridden in the full darkness of the country roads. It was magical. I usually like the sounds of the road, but my head would keep wandering to the day's events, so I turned on the Mp3 player and got lost in my music. The Talking Heads took me to the Finish in Brentwood, my wife in a warm truck with our new puppy, and a patient RBA to take my brevet card. Total finishing time 12:10.
This ride was the toughest thing I've ever done, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was proud of myself for finishing, my head wanted me to quit many times. The ups and downs were tremendous. I know it would have been easier without the drama during the ride, but even considering that, it was still tough. I know that I carried too much food, and I know that I can turn in a better time down the road. These are some improvements I can make, but I am hooked and I will be a participant in the spring series for as long as my body and mind will take me.
Thanks for reading, and thanks for the therapy.