A Buck Fifty

Figured a weekend that included 154 miles on my bicycle deserved a post. Spring seems to be finally starting to appear in Northern California with there being mostly dry days lately and the fog has lifted for the most part.

The weekend began with the Soup Spoons & Carbon Forks ride in Berkeley on Saturday morning. It amassed to  being 42 miles of riding with 4200 feet of climbing... so essentially the ride was either up or down. Sadly had no time to take photos of the views, but they were similar to Mount Diablo since it's the same area. Since this was a SS&CF ride, everyone headed over to lunch after the ride was over. Had I know what was coming on Sunday, I probably would have fueled up with something immediately following, but alas, no clue for what was to take place the next day. Read the blog of the bike shop West County Revolution who helps to sponsor the ride. And thanks to Dan for, as usual, putting on a great ride!

So then came Sunday. Usually the Sunday group rides I go on are about 5-8 people large and go at a moderate pace. Everyone waits for the others either at the top or bottom of the hill, depending on who you are (take a wild guess where people have to wait for me). The ride began like any other, aside from two teammates of some of the usual riders who were joining us for the day. The team comes out of the Body Concepts physical therapy office in Folsom, next door to the bike shop where my team rides out of. Being Folsom, this team (along with mine) is made of all racers in the Masters (basically anyone 35 or older) division. And before you get any ideas that this is demeaning, quite the opposite. In all my experiences, Masters guys are FAST. We head out towards El Dorado Hills on some roads I have not been on before. They are rollers so most of us, minus two of the team mates who take off to duel up the hills, continue at a conversational pace.

Then at mile 20, or was it 21, I hear a huge explosion noise behind me as I'm approaching a hill. It sounds remarkably like my bike tire that exploded the day before in my car so I'm thinking holy crap who was it. Turn around and find one of the riders in a ditch. Once we decide he's okay enough to wait around for car pick-up with another ride, the rest of continue on the way to Amador County. Only a few more miles of bliss remain, and suddenly, one of the team members decides to drop the hammer once we have passed all the stop lights and heavy traffic. The first maybe 5 miles go okay. I can hang. Then the rollers get bigger and I can't keep up with the guys whenever we get to a hill. Which is sad because I fancy myself a climber... except all these guys are also climbers meaning they outclimb me usually anyways. Mile 10 one of the guys gets a flat so we chill for a bit and then start again. About this time I'm realizing I'm blowing up. After a climbing ride yesterday when I actually put some effort in trying to not let the guys get too far ahead of me and not fueling soon enough afterwards, I probably dug myself into a hole. We get to the hill outside of Plymouth where finally self-preservation kicks in and I stop trying to chase and just go at my own pace into town where luckily there is a public restroom!

The team coach asks me if I am okay when we are stopped at the gas station. I realize I can keep up on the flats and descents by sitting in behind everyone and just sucking wheel, but when an incline comes along, my legs just don't respond. And so that continues for the remaining 40 miles over to Fiddletown and the Shenandoah wine country, back through Plymouth and back towards home. Luckily the guys are nice enough not to drop my ass and the coach helps pull me along when it gets a bit rough. I find coming back into Plymouth and the rest that I am starting to recover a bit and the vomit feeling is no longer with me. Good sign I think. I also realize that not only am I riding with guys, I am riding with guys with many years of cycling experience, who currently race or have raced at some point in life. And maybe also due to self-preservation, my cornering and descending improved such that I did not want to lose them and make them have to wait for me.

Finally back into Folsom. I have 6 hours and 15 minutes written on my schedule, and we have done the initial 86 miles in just about 5 hours so I still got time to spend on the saddle. I spent 26 miles riding to the bike trail, on the trail, and back. And surprisingly, aside from being hungry, I was going at a decent clip. I hope this points to signs that my bike times will decrease this year. And the best part? Getting this email from the team coach:

Amy is a Stud…with all the riding she did on her own power off the back while Carlos was pushing the watts I’m very impressed.

So all the time spent on the bike the past few months have not been in vain! Although... I really feel "stud" is a California term. Before moving here the only time I heard it was in a reference to a guy who was able to pick up all the girls. So what is the East/Midwest word? 

Next weekend... to rival my 150 miles in two days, I get to ride 200 miles in one day. First double century and I finally started panicking today.