TOSRV 2010

May 8 & May 9

I wasn't truly aware of what I was getting myself into when I signed up for TOSRV (Tour of the Scioto River Valley) bike ride from Columbus, Ohio to Portsmouth, Ohio and back to Columbus. I was aware that the ride was around 200 miles (round trip) (add in an extra 16 miles for detours to equal 226 total round trip this year) and I was also aware that I needed some endurance bike rides - badly! That was all I needed to know.

So, on the morning of May 8, 2010, I arrived in downtown Columbus, Ohio for the beginning leg of the 113 miles I would complete. My hands were clearly shaking and I was, in fact, very nervous. I knew this wouldn't be a sight-seeing tour of Ohio, but instead a great training ride with food stops every 30 miles or so. I suppose the wind advisories for the day added to my nervousness knowing that I would be riding through the flat farmland with crosswinds exceeding 40 miles per hour. I didn't fear the wind (clearly I have been riding through crazy wind lately), I feared my ability to ride through that much wind for that long and then wake up to the same journey the following day.

The first 30 miles went well (fighting through crosswinds that shoved me from the edge of the road to the middle on more than one occasion). The second 25+ miles went well also. I was feeling good. The third section of the ride was a bit more complex as there was a detour that added an extra 8 miles of hills to the journey that I was not prepared mentally to climb. I felt wonderful up until the final two hills when my legs were screaming at me. I made it though, taking my last sip of water on the final hill only to descend to find a church handing out bottles of water along the road (A TRUE LIFE SAVER). Lesson Learned: Drink more water in the beginning even if my body isn't demanding it. It will tone down the negative reaction of my body later on.

The final leg of the first 113 miles was amazing. I was feeling great (Thank you Bill for teaching me to drag and allowing me to ride your back wheel). I was just ready to arrive in Portsmouth and set up the tent and eat something. Arrival in Portsmouth meant eating an amazing Lasagna dinner then heading out to set up the camping gear for a good nights rest. I slept well and had a blast (I was a little slap-happy setting up the camping gear, so everything was funny). I didn't feel tired or ready to sleep until I actually did lay down. I don't remember laying there very long before I knew I was falling asleep.

The next morning we all awoke to "calmer wind gusts", sunshine and temperatures in the 40's. I put on my 4 top layers and two bottom layers, helped pack up the camping gear and we all headed out (the only part of my body that hurt was the bony part of my buttocks and the area where I had a little chaffing due to the new saddle I decided to bring (not so certain is was the proper time to break in a new seat, but it is what it is at this point).

The first leg of the trip felt fantastic. 8 miles from the first stop though, my belly started to rumble and all I could think about was arriving so I could eat. I was dreaming of waffles and french toast and turkey-bacon and eggs (clearly not available during this trip, but one can dream). When we arrived, I stuffed my face (and I did stuff my face). It felt great. My stomach was happy and it was off to tackle the next part of the trip.

The second part of the trip made me extremely nervous. This time around, I knew the hills were coming. I wasn't sure my legs could handle the trip considering how tired they felt the day before. During one section of the trip I started sobbing. My mind was starting to wander and I started thinking of the passing of my friend Heather to cancer almost 12 years ago. I became suddenly grateful that I could climb those hills, enjoy the sunshine, feel the cold and feel pain at all. It must have been a sight (glad there weren't any other riders around at the time) me, sobbing, practically hyperventilating and smiling at the same time for the fact that I was alive to complete this amazing ride regardless of how painful at points.

Arrival in Chillicothe (half way back and 3/4 of the total journey complete) it was becoming a little more difficult to get back up after sitting on the ground. But, I still felt amazing. Again, I was starving, so I stuffed my face - yet again - filled up my water bottles and prepared myself for the open fields that stood between me and the end of the journey.

The third leg reassured me that my legs were going to hold up after all and that I would in fact complete my first 200+ mile ride. The only pain I felt was the rash I was clearly developing on my butt from chaffing, and a bit of pain now and then from all the work my gluts were putting forth.

Final stop - 30 miles to go - All I knew at this point was that my butt hurt. Everything else was fantastic. I didn't feel tired, all I knew is that I had to sit down on that bike again for another 30 miles to make it home (no big deal right). The Ironman Demon was telling me, "You can do 30 miles, you do 30 miles all the time". But the "negative demon" on the other shoulder was saying, "Yes, but not after completing 196 miles before doing it". AH! Why in the world can't the voices in my head just cooperate for once. Perhaps during the Ironman race they will have to get along. Either that or I will just knock the lazy demon out.

The last 30 miles went by more quickly than I thought it would. I was concentrating so hard on just making it home, I didn't hear the wind screeching like I normally do on my return rides. Everything was silent and almost as if my mind were working in slow motion, all I could think was, "you are that much closer to the finish" "you are actually going to do it and think about how awesome it will be." I was so focused. I didn't care how far I had gone, all I knew is that with each rotation of the wheels, I was getting that much closer to the finish.

By the time we finally rolled back into Columbus, I wanted to stand and peddle the last mile or two. However, the moment we got off our bikes and picked up our luggage, it was almost as if the journey was one big dream, some sort of illusion. I didn't feel physically or mentally bad and aside from the discomfort I felt from chaffing, I felt fantastic.

Quoting Bill Price here, "It's amazing what your body can do". And it truly is. To date, the longest ride I had completed was 100 miles. To date this year, the longest ride I had done was 50 miles. I was able to see first hand what "putting all the pieces together" actually meant. All of my running and swimming and biking (inside and outside) came together during this one weekend adventure and my legs pulled through.

I clearly remember last summer after my 100-mile ride. I came home, fell asleep sitting up on the couch. Then, when I actually did try to move to get something to eat, I thought I would throw up and pass out. Now, less than 9 months later, I rode 113 miles, two days in a row and I feel fantastic. I am little worn out, extremely hungry, and completely amazed at this process of getting your body in shape and what it takes to complete an endurance race.

A great many of my concerns have been put down to rest (my fear of the distance, my fear of the silence that comes with riding that distance, and the ability of my legs to cycle for an extreme period of time). I also learned how much fluid I actually do need (the entire trip) and that I need to work on my hills. Now, I feel armed and ready to tackle the remaining 111 days in order to complete the Ironman journey I have set out to complete. Thanks Bill and & Erika for an amazing weekend. Look at what we have accomplished and think about how much more we will do.