An Emotional Ride (bring the tissues, folks)...

6:30pm on Sunday and I am only now starting to blog.  Oh my!

This week was mostly riding – since Matt really needed to get my legs ready for this morning.  The details of the morning rides were as follows: COLD, VERY COLD and ANNOYINGLY COLD.  Ok, I think that should do it.

I was pleased that I got a couple of runs in, as well.  I did 6 miles on Tuesday with an 8:55 pace and then Matt joined me on Friday for a short-but-sweet 4.5 miler.  I think he decided to join me so that he would make sure I didn’t push myself too hard (what with this morning’s big event coming up and all).  Regardless, I always enjoy the company on runs, so it was nice to have someone else out there to lament the obnoxiously, unseasonably cold temps of this week.

Tuesday 6 miler

Friday's 4.5 miler

Matt had suggested I get out on the bike for a couple miles on Saturday, just to keep my legs loose, but I didn’t really have the energy to get all dressed up to ride in the dark alone, so I hit the gym for a short swim on Saturday super early.  It was good to be back in the water for a few hundred meters since I skipped Masters Swim, last week.

Which, of course, leads me to this morning’s big event.  As you all know – since you evidently read this silly blog every week, today was my first Century Ride (100+ miles).  After last week’s disasterous group ride, Matt knew I was anything but excited about riding for 100 miles with the same idiots.  He assured me that he would keep me away from the biking-divas and we’d do our own thing if we had to.

Before 7:30am, we were both at the “starting line”.  It was anything but a starting line, save the fact that there was someone there to check off my name from a list of people who paid the entrance fee.  And, people, it was 26 degrees.  YES – I KNOW – YOU’RE AS APPALLED AS I AM.  I didn’t move to Phoenix 10 years ago to EVER see sub-freezing temps, especially NOT on a morning I was supposed to put 100+ miles on my body, outside!

Once we were registered (and I refuse to go into what a cluster-f*ck that whole ordeal was), Matt and I were anxious to get out on the road.  We had hoped we could tack onto a group early on, but no one was really interested in getting out of their heated cars to start their rides, so Matt and I headed out on the route alone.  And, it was a solid 10 miles or so before anyone caught up to us and asked if they might be able to latch on.  He was a quiet guy – and likely unamused by my singing and swearing, so we just trudged forth for a few miles further until a group of 4-5 guys caught our wheels and asked if we might make ourselves into a group.  Now, at the time, Matt and I had been maintaining an 18-19 mph pace – and these guys caught our wheels.  Its important to remember this fact, because after I took a couple of miles on the front (and they enjoyed the draft), I asked if one of them might like to take over.  I got a fairly disgusted look and a “well, I don’t know the route?!” in return.  I laughed and said, “uh, none of us do, that’s why we pay attention to the signage directing us.”  (eye roll)

As the guy took off, he was pulling 15-16 mph.  Matt and I gave each other a look and Matt said, “Come on, they have to be able to do better than this – they caught up to us, right?!”  Astounded, we allowed the lousy pacing to continue for a few miles before Matt and I broke off and maneuvered around them.  As we passed, the guy on the front said, “sorry – I was going too slow.”  I laughed – I just could not understand it.  UNTIL of course I realized that they could only hold a decent pace if the stronger riders were carrying the front.  They hung onto our wheels until our first rest-stop at mile 22.  Then Matt and I hurried (in the port-potty and taking our gels) and headed back out on our own.

Shortly after that stop, I was no longer doing well.  We hit a little wind and it broke my spirit.  I was no longer able to comfortably maintain an 18 mph pace and I got really depressed – thinking I was letting Matt down.  Around mile 34, I asked Matt if he could “bring me down off the ledge because I was in a really, unusually dark place.”  He explained that he did not mind carrying me for a while and he was not going to let me fail.  Relieved, I tucked in behind him and carried on.  Shortly after, a group of riders began to pass us.  Matt said, “here’s our shot, Mer.”  It was our shot to have others carry us at a faster pace – but I simply could not catch the tail end of the group and I blew up as they passed.  And, then I was in a darker place and began to cry.  I was sad that I had, once again, let Matt down.  He could have/should have been able to work with that group – but I couldn’t make it happen.  My legs rejected the suggestion.  We were on our own, again.

Around mile 46, we hit our second rest stop.  I took an orange slice and a few Peanut M&M’s and Matt and I headed back out on the route.  Now we were keeping around a 17 mph pace and simply doing the work to finish.  It was hard – people around us were dropping like flies.  We passed one guy who tried desperately to latch on to us for a while, but once Matt and I had our groove on, we lost the poor guy.  There was another potential group who came up on our tail around mile 50 and Matt and I agreed that this was a group with whom we could gel!  We latched on and were keeping pace with them around 19-20 mph.  Every mile was still work, but it was easier work.  After a few miles, the tandem team took the lead (they were positioned right in front of Matt and me) and they ratcheted it up a notch to 22 mph off the front.  I could not do it.  I was begging for them to keep with what everyone else was doing, but it was pointless and Matt agreed to allow us to fall away from this group, too.  Again, I was sad.

By mile 60 something bad was going on with Matt.  He was complaining of breathing pains and bricks for legs.  I knew we should slow down – so we did and we carried on around 16 mph.  He was in a pain-cave I had never seen before and it, honestly, scared me.  “Everything hurts, Mer!” he said.  Right after that, we passed a sign that said “10 miles ‘til lunch.”  I asked him if he thought he could make it to the lunch rest-stop and he said he thought he might, but was pretty certain that it would be the end of the road for him.  At that point I was committed to just getting him to mile 70 – and at whatever pace his legs would carry him.  I took the lead and listened attentively to his needs.  BUT, at mile 65 Matt blew a tube.  OF COURSE!  This made me more nervous, but I told him to just chill out and I would handle it.  I think he finally cashed in on all of the tubes he changed for me.  Fortunately, it only took us a few minutes and we were back on the road to the lunch stop.

Matt made it to the mile 70 stop and had a couple of cookies and a HOT cup of coffee.  I may have failed to mention that part of the misery of this ride were the frigid temps.  We were double layered everywhere – socks, gloves, jerseys, etc.  NOTHING really helped.  The hot coffee was a godsend, for sure!

Some people actually ate lunch at mile 70, but not us.  I simply could not imagine eating anything of substance and then completing another 30 miles.  Once we had coffee in our systems, I asked Matt if he thought he could continue.  I told him I would carry him all 30 miles if need be and we’d go as slow as he needed.

He agreed and we headed out.  I was so nervous I would kill him on the ride.  I made sure to keep the pace exactly where he needed it.  What we realized, though, was that everyone was dying.  We’d gone 70+ miles and so had many others.  We began passing rider after rider – even at 15-16 mph.  I think Matt would agree – it was pretty gratifying to realize we weren’t alone.  And, I carried Matt.  Every so often he’d ask if I was ok on the front and I would simply nod – not wanting him to even know how hard it was for me.  By mile 80 we started a descent and I was so relieved.  Matt was still in a world of misery, but he seemed to be dealing with it and just laying down the miles on my rear wheel.  There’s certainly a part of me that realizes what a gift it was for him to have me there, but all I could think about were all of the times the roles were reversed and Matt believed in me – carrying me for miles without complaining.  So, I didn’t say a word about the difficulty of those miles.

At mile 86 we hit the last rest stop and barely stopped for a minute to take gels and water.  I actually told him I was willing NOT to stop – I just wanted the day over at that point.  As we turned away from the rest stop, Matt said, “Ya know, I am actually feeling better.  So, let me know when you need a break.”  It wasn’t a mile later that I allowed him to carry me again.  After 16+ miles of working on the front, I was so ready for a break and agreed to let him do so.  Occasionally someone would catch our tail as we traded off being on the front, but no one lasted long.  Those last 15 miles were simply too hard to even describe.  Somewhere around mile 92 I actually asked Matt if I could just quit.  EVERYTHING HURT!  As we traded positions at one point I said, “Just so you know, this is WAY freakin’ harder than a marathon.  In a marathon you can walk when you need a break, for crying out loud.”  Sadly, I think Matt enjoyed hearing that and he worked harder on the front to help us get it over with.

There were 4-5 of us together for the last several miles – and time seemed to stand still.  I cannot not remember ever wanting anything to end as much as I wanted that ride to end.  My watch beeped 100 miles and Matt celebrated.  I, of course, could only swear obscenities – since the damn ride was actually 101 miles.  Such a gyp!  And, as we rounded the last turn, I could see Anne and Loretta on the corner yelling at us and snapping pictures.  “Oh, my god,” I said to Matt, “they actually came out to see us finish!”

There we are - hanging on by a thread!

Anne and Loretta hurried over to our cars and snapped photos and showed us the signs they’d made to cheer us on.  I have the best friends in the world.  I simply do not know how I got them, but I am not going to take any of it for granted.  6+ hours and they were still willing to be out there, in the freakin’ COLD, to celebrate our accomplishment.

Hell, we look good for 101 mile, eh?

Anne held this sign for me as I passed her at the "Non-Finish Finish Line"

Matt and I hugged and celebrated with another guy who’d been riding “near” us for 25 miles – and then I headed off to Anne’s to eat and see the kids.

So now I am emotional and sitting on my couch reliving the day – as I do each time I blog.  This day, of course, is different.  As my dear friend Ron had said to me after we finished our first marathon together: We accomplished one of the toughest feats together and we are now bonded for life.  I needed Matt early on to remind me that I could get through the pain, regardless of the pace – and he needed me at mile 60 to get him through some of the toughest mental and physical pain of his life.  Now, we are bonded for life.  THIS WAS THE HARDEST THING I HAVE EVER DONE.  But, I did it.  WE did it.  I don’t think either of us would have been able to finish without the other.

Food with Anne and Loretta after the ride!

Had to include this picture - I am drinking the Deschutes "Chainbreak" White IPA (seemed appropriate)

And then, to be reminded at the end, that so much of my family is right here in Arizona – thank you, Anne and Loretta, for always being there to remind me that I am the luckiest girl in the world.
  

It bears mentioning that Amy's bday was celebrated on Friday night -- Loretta is not pictured (someone had to "take" the shot after all).