And the cheering throngs lined the roads. Hey, it's lonely at the back of the pack.
Head down, legs moving in a barely discernible rotating motion propelling me forward uphill at a dizzying rate. I are a bicyclist.I did mention it's lonely at the back? The course was much hillier than I had anticipated. Much hillier. Did I do a course pre-ride you ask? Why no, I surely did not.
35 miles and I'm pulling in to where Lu has parked. One quick look and the spoke issue became apparent. I hailed a passing course marshall and was directed to a mechanic just up the road. The mechanic was terrific. He managed to fix the thing and get me back on the road. 45 minutes later. Time enough for all that nice lactic acid in my legs to settle in and make them nice and stiff. This all took place at the bottom of the category 1 climb, 1.8 miles straight the hell up at 5 to 12 percent grade. Can't you just smell the impending doom?
Lu picked me up off the tarmac, administered a little wifely first aid and drove us home where she fed me and cleaned me up, treated my boo boo's and generally took care of me. Poor, poor baby.
So, there it is. A total, complete and Epic failure. I recognize that everyone who takes on new challenges fails from time to time and I'm no different but I hate failing at anything. Here's the really funny thing. I'm even more determined to make that 100 mile mark. I'm already planning my new training and even looking for another ride somewhere within reach. Maybe this time without the climb of death. And less crashing, a lot less crashing.