Saturday, August 29, was my fifth anniversary of resuming cycling and my fifth failed attempt at meeting an arbitrary distance/time goal in the hottest weather of the year. I'm starting to look forward to achieving these failures. And it never gets any easier. I just go slower. (Greg LeMond lied.)
Each year since then I've attempted a full century and haven't managed to finish one yet. I have done a metric century a couple of times.
I did 48 miles Saturday, a little short of the full century I'd planned. I planned to ride 50 before noon, take a nap (the afternoon temperature was estimated to be 105F), and finish that evening. I figured as long as I finished by midnight it counted.
I had ridden 65 miles Wednesday evening, my last prep ride, and felt great. In fact, I should have done my full century that night. But I wanted to save energy for the official date. Dumb. Next time I'll ignore arbitrary calendar stuff and just ride according to my own body.
First mistake was leaving late, around 9 am, based on my estimated time to finish 50 miles and get home before the hottest part of the day. I didn't allow for complications.
On Saturday, even with months of careful heat conditioning, I still overestimated my ability. I expected the temperature to reach over 100F by 1 pm, but I expected to be home resting by then.
Didn't turn out that way.
According to my bike computer the temperature shot up from the 90s to 126F, then settled down to a comfortable 115F. I suspect my bike computer is reading reflected heat off the pavement, and probably about 10 degrees too high. But the freshly chipsealed and black painted road was like an oven. I can see from the bike computer's thermometer when I was on and off that 8-10 mile segment.
I decided to ride the first 50 miles around a lake to the west, mostly rural roads. I hadn't ridden that route in almost a year but hadn't heard any negative reports from other local cyclists. But the roads were a mess. A long stretch of formerly smooth paved shoulder was now the fresh hell of new chipseal, the worst I've encountered yet. It felt like railroad ballast with a little black spray paint. Making it worse, I'd just swapped from perfectly good 700x25 tires with latex tubes to 700x23 with butyl tubes. The combo felt like the Flintstone's rockmobile tires.
When I reached the farm/ranch road to the lake, the formerly semi-passable asphalt was now a chopped up and neglected mess of chunks of asphalt busted up by road machines, but never finished. Apparently the county commissioner did whatever they could afford to do quickly and just dumped a mishmash of gravel, railroad ballast, pea gravel and sand willy nilly. I was riding the brakes on every downhill, eyes popped out goggling for soft patches of sandy pea gravel that would make the skinny tires plow in.
I was an hour behind schedule when I decided to take a chance on an unfamiliar farm/ranch road that I knew friends had taken before and hadn't mentioned any problems. Fortunately the road was great, no problems.
But the weather changed very suddenly, from partly cloudy and 90s to clear blazing sunlight and hot. I'd felt cold fronts blowing in during autumn and spring changes, but this was the first time I'd experienced a sudden hot front in Texas -- although I'd experienced the Santa Ana winds in Southern California. The temperature suddenly increased 10 degrees, from the mid-90s to mid-100s. My bike computer claimed the temperature peaked at 126F but I'm doubtful. That computer tends to overestimate by 10 degrees, and seems to read heat off the pavement rather than ambient air temperature. But the pavement definitely felt hotter than 110F.
Fortunately I did not underestimate my need for water. I knew there wouldn't be any place to get refills along the route I planned to take. Besides the usual pair of 24 oz bottles (both with electrolytes, one frozen so it's still cold more than an hour later), I added a new hydration pack that held 2 liters of plain water. An O-ring wasn't sealing so there was a slow leak down my back and it actually felt good. It was so slow it didn't drain the bag, just a gradual seeping.
I had two puncture flats in the final 5 miles home, and was down to about 8 ounces of hot water. But it was still water. That was the worst part of the ride. Mostly the psychological element of being so close to home and baking along the roadside.
I got home at 2 pm, two hours behind schedule, and decided to take a nap and cool off, then start again around 6 pm to finish another 50 miles before midnight.
I slept until 11 pm.
I thought about riding Sunday to finish that 50 miles. Nope. Slept until 6 am. Got up, had coffee, stumbled around like a zombie, went back to bed at 8 am, slept until 2 pm.
No more summertime daylight attempts at centuries, or any specific goal other than to just ride my damn bike until it's no longer fun.
Next time I'll go with my natural body clock and ride at night.
Pearson Ranch, highest elevation of the ride. In one hour the temperature shot up from the mid-90s around Lake Weatherford to 115F, per my bike computer. Probably closer to 105F. 30 miles from home, decided to head back when the heat suddenly increased.
First of two flats, less than five miles from home. Hottest part of the ride. And I made the mistake of using Continental Ultra Sport II tires, tough but extremely difficult to remove and remount. Fortunately I carried a pair of heavy duty tire levers and Kool Stop bead jack, but it was a mistake switching from comfy 700x25 Conti GP Classic skinwalls with latex tubes, to the 700x23 Ultra Sport II with butyl tires. Go with what you know.
Managed to stab myself in both legs with the chainring and freewheel on the flat repairs.
Stopped to bleed air pressure from tires after plowing in soft fill dirt in chewed up road. This farm/ranch road was in good shape last time I rode, but that was a year ago.
This highway was smooth pavement only a couple of weeks ago. They'd just resurfaced it earlier this year. No idea why it was freshly chipsealed but it was horrible. I used the right side tire track whenever possible, checking my mirrors constantly.
Second flat repair in final 5 miles home.
Best part of ride, around Lake Weatherford. Was tempted to pull over for a swim.
Turnaround point, 20 miles home.