Wholly Cow

I know, I know, the last time I wrote about doing a century I bashed it. Well, the fact that I did another one, and that in two weeks time I will have done a third should tell you that they are a necessary evil.

It is disgusting what you do to get yourself ready for one of these things. The filth that you put in your body just to keep it going. All sugars: fructose, glucose, galactose, lactose, maltodextrin, and high fructose corn syrup. So much sugar that despite being in glycogen debt, your body begins to reject it. The list of stuff I ate reads like a Atkins dieter's nightmare.

Breakfast:
Oatmeal with cranberries, almonds, and apples
Peanut butter sandwich
Orange juice and coffee
Banana

During the ride:
Four Clif shots (sugar and electrolyte blocks)
Chocolate power bar
Handful of cashews and raisins
Half a PB&J
Washed down with 2 liters of Cytomax (more sugar)

Post ride:
Philly cheese steak
Big ol' bag-o-chips
24 oz. Coke (the extra sugary fountain kind)*
*This amounts to my 3rd Coke in five years. I only allow myself to drink it after one of these rides. Riders in the pro-peloton have been known to down up to 10 of these during a stage. The pick-me-up of caffeine, sugar, and carbonation is second only to an IV.

So it was only appropriate that this ride was sponsored by the Wholly Cow Ice Cream and Coffee shop. The ride left from Ravenel (just south of Charleston) and immediately I noticed the vibe was relaxed. I recognized a few of the locals and a group of about 20 of us rolled out at 9:00. The pace and the weather were brisk, 46-degrees, but both would soon change. The conversation of the pack soon faded and turned to grimaced faces. By about the 50 mile point the pack had been whittled down to about 15 (although we would pick up few more from the metric) and things were beginning to change. I started playing cyclo-banker.

Cycling can be analogous to a bank account. You make deposits and withdrawals, and so long as you don't write checks your legs can't cash, you'll be okay. Until this point, I had been doing my share and feeling pretty good. Then some people began to take some hard pulls, and I almost bounced some checks. Already hurting, we approached a gnarly bridge that would lead to Edisto Island. The group hammered up the bridge as if it were flat and it was all I could do to hang on and regroup on the descent (withdrawal). By the time I caught up, I decided that if I was to hang on, I'd have to sit out a few pulls to recover (deposit). The trouble is, it was about this same time that we turned south and into a nice tailwind. Not wanting to waste it, the group surged ahead. I just kept thinking, "Guys we've got to come back this way, shouldn't we save something for the headwind?" The group had other plans.

At the halfway point, a few of us rolled on while the majority stopped for a break. There were now just six of us, and whether it was lack of numbers or the 20 mph headwind, we had lost our impetus. I kept expecting to be caught by the others, but they were nowhere, so on we cranked. We were working together, or surviving, quite nicely until the lure a another rest stop cost us three more riders. Now down to just three, the other two left me to my own devices. I was the third man on the road, which it was how it would stay for the next 35 miles. For the better part of the next hour and a half, my mind wandered, my legs and brain ached, and I felt like my chest was caving in. I wanted to look at my odometer but I knew I couldn't; the result could be devastating. I had to stop once for water and to pee and with about a half-mile to go, the original group finally caught me. I gave it one more go to get on their wheels and roll to the finish.

I had not felt like that in quite awhile and it was good to be done. What is the half-life of pain? I'll let you know in about two weeks.