My cycling distance goal for the year was 3000 km . I’m at 1278 km, and there are only 13 weeks left in the year. I’d have to ride more than 130 km a week to make it. That seems highly unlikely.
If I change my annual goal to 2000 km for 2026, and I’ve ridden 1278 so far, that’s 722 left for the year. Can I do that?
Yes, I can! There are exactly 13 weeks left in the year, so that means I would need to ride 55.5 km a week.
What’s the plan? I usually bike to school two or three days a week, and that gets me about 15 km. And then there’s Zwift. See you in Watopia!
Sarah, Mallory, Rob, Susan, Sumaya and I were all part of the Parkinson’s Spinning Wheels Tour ride from London to Stratford. Mallory, Susan, and Sumaya drove support vehicles and Rob, Sarah, and I, and about ten other riders, rode bikes.
Here’s Susan in Stratford Today talking about the ride and her role in it.
“Susan Fullerton is a former cyclist who helped with the logistics of the event. She was diagnosed with Parkinson’s nine years ago, and she says it’s really impacted her life.
“I’m no longer able to work. I moved out of Toronto to Guelph, to be close to my family, as I don’t really drive very much,” she shared. “I have quite bad tremors, and something called dystonia, where I freeze; my toes curl, and I have trouble walking, but I’m fairly well managed on medication.”
She was a part of a clinical trial where they opened her brain and put drugs in the brain to help stop the progression of Parkinson’s, and she thinks it really helped.
“I used to not be able to smell very much at all. And I can smell some things now,” Fullerton said. “I came home from the surgery, and I could smell my cat litter, something I hadn’t been able to do for a number of years, so one of my friends sent me flowers because she said I should smell something better than cat litter.”
When it comes to Parkinson’s, there are a lot of misconceptions.
“I think most people think of old men with tremors, and they don’t think it’s happening to, people in their mid-30s, so it’s not just old people; it’s young, middle-aged, and old people,” Fullerton said. “People think it’s only tremors, and there’s so much more, and the other thing is, it’s not just physical symptoms. There’s the anxiety, depression, and the other thing is that stress is one of the biggest contributors to the progression of your disease.”
The ride is really about raising awareness of Parkinson’s and celebrating community, but it’s also a fundraiser. You can donate here if you like.
“More than 120,000 people live with Parkinson’s in Canada, a number expected to grow significantly in the coming years. At Parkinson Canada, people with Parkinson’s are at the centre of everything we do. Parkinson Canada funds critical research, provides information and support, increases awareness and advocates for improved healthcare outcomes for people with Parkinson’s across Canada. With the support of our sponsors, partners and the Parkinson’s community, we continue to invest in research dedicated to finding a cure and improving the quality of life for all people affected by Parkinson’s.”
The route was about 65 km and the day was gorgeous. There was sunshine and temperatures starting out at about 10 degrees and ending at about 15. There were also hills, but rolling hills mostly, so fine. And wind. The wind was less fine.
We regrouped for the final ride into Stratford and our highlight of the day was riding into the park, complete with trumpets and a fanfare. Thanks Mary, Larry, and Phil for the welcome!
Video of our arrival at the park, with a very Stratford welcome and a trumpet fanfare!
I rode about 40 miles the other day. That used to be a shortish ride.
Today it was, then suddenly, it wasn’t. I got too hungry & hadn’t packed any reasonable amount of food. I had a cookie, but somehow, that just wasn’t going to take care of things. So I stopped at the grocery store after calling my husband & sister to come along & rescue me, along with stuff for a very early dinner. I’m not sure why I couldn’t get this right; it’s not all that hard. I travel with a medium-sized Camelback, which helps me drink enough, and has plenty of room for nuts (and cookies) and, if I expect to be out at a regular mealtime, a peanut butter sandwich or something like it. And perhaps a nice sparkling water.
Right now I am trying to get back to longer rides of 60 miles or more. We are seriously considering two different tours next spring/summer: a couple of weeks exploring Japan, probably free-form, mostly organized by a friend who has been there several times; and/or, a ride along what Adventure Cycling calls The Transamerica Trail. That one could be quite a challenge. Although I have ridden the northern cross-continent route and the southern one offered by Adventure Cycling, I have chosen not to ride this one. I still don’t want to ride the whole thing. Why? Well, up until recently, it was because I didn’t want to take on the winds, mostly in Kansas, and because I am frankly scared of the dogs in eastern Kentucky. The winds on that open prairie state are almost constant, but can change directions quite a bit. I am small, my bike is light; my bike touring doesn’t include camping, so I don’t need to carry all that equipment. I have already experienced winds strong enough to push me a foot or more from where I thought I was riding, and in one case, 90 degrees from where I’d been heading. I just don’t want a sudden gust to come along and send me out into the traffic lane. I have ridden in Kansas, loved it in many ways, but all the way across? Nope.
The dogs are notorious among touring cyclists. There’s an area where there seem to be no restrictions on keeping them behind a fence, and they act as if they’ve been bred from Prohibition-era dogs that were schooled to keep the inspectors at a good distance from the stills hidden in the Appalachian hills. Bloggers write of using horns, water sprays from bottles, shouting, bear spray (but what if the wind is heading your way???), getting off & putting the bike between you & the dog (but if there’s more than one dog…). Anyway, I choose not to take that one on. I have ridden in western Kentucky. It’s lovely.
There was one other concern. The pass across the Rocky Mountains is high. Over 11,000 feet. I have ridden up Haleakala on Maui, a bit over 10,000 feet, and I really feel it when I get above about 8500 feet. How can all these people make it across? Why do none of them even talk about the reduced oxygen?
I read lots & lots of journals on crazyguyonabike.com. I finally realized: they spend a week or two on the ascent. I do the beach-to-summit in one day on Haleakala. Oh. Maybe I could do it. So we are seriously considering giving it a try. We would ride from somewhere in Oregon (Coast? Bend? Doesn’t matter much; we’ve ridden both those areas quite a bit) and finish in Pueblo, Colorado, where the land flattens & becomes the Great Plains.
Which explains why I need to remember my peanut butter sandwich on my longer rides starting now.
Bio: I am a lifelong Californian. My mother and father were not born here but moved to the state as small children. I have two grown daughters and five wonderful grandchildren. I spent my working life working at, and eventually running, the family insurance business. My father had introduced many employee benefits – sabbatical starting in 1970, optional four-day work week in 1972, elimination of all official work time rules in 1974. Adults like to be treated as adults, and people tended to stay a long time, so it was a very pleasant working environment with key elements of trust and respect. I also served on a couple of independent school boards, one a strong academic school serving grades 6-12, one a school designed to start helping city kids who had suffered the ongoing effects of racism & poverty to find opportunities they might not as easily discover without support. I live at a Lifetime Care Community where I serve on the finance committee and chair the sustainability committee. I also plan to join the newly formed fitness committee. And for fun, I have ridden my bicycle across North America. Twice.
On September 22, Car Free Day encourages motorists around the world to give up their vehicles for a day. Car Free Day aims to see what life would be like without cars on the road.
Part of this day will be easy for me.
On October 22nd I’m taking part in the Parkinson’s Ride from London to Stratford, Ontario. You can join our team or sponsor us here.
But the bit I can’t do is the car-free part, which is kind of the whole point. Because we need to get back to London to get our car and then drive home to Guelph.
But you? Are you in Toronto? You should go to the bike ride and picnic advertised above!
“We are partnering with Chosen Chain and the Bicycle Mayor of Toronto. They will be guiding us along a 15 km route through the heart of the city to discover some amazing car-free spaces which are connected to bike lanes and transit. Thanks to our sponsor Leone Murray LLP, food and refreshments will be provided.”
What: 3rd Annual World Car Free Day bike ride and picnic.
It’s organized by Femmes & Friends.
“Femmes & Friends is a collective of women who enjoy riding bikes and want to share that joy with others. Our events aim to create a welcoming environment for women of all ages, abilities, identities, incomes and mobilities to gather for fun bike rides without fear of judgment or competition. Allies are welcome.”
I read Sam’s post this morning, the one about gradual loss of fitness due to aging. Or perhaps not exactly driven by aging. What is the reality?
I guess I get to speak as one who is definitely older (soon to be 75). My own experience strongly suggests that you don’t have to lose much.
As I may have mentioned before, I enjoy reading bicycle tour journals on the website, crazyguyonabike.com. At the moment, I am following a woman in her 70s who, with a group of friends, is riding the famous Land’s End to John O’Groats route. They have, so far, ridden 865 miles and climbed a total of 59,101 feet. Four days to go. Yes, I typed that correctly. There are four who joined this organized tour together; three of them brought their e-bikes, and one is riding a road bike with no assist. The e-bikes are limited by the restrictions airlines put on the batteries: apparently you can bring a spare battery, which has a much smaller range, but cannot bring the main battery (fire risk). So they are confining the pedal assist to climbs, some of which are close to 20% grade. Are these women professional athletes? Well, I don’t see anything like that in the journal. Looks to me like they are just women close to my age doing a seriously challenging tour.
In my own case, so far my only real restriction is bone-on-bone arthritis in one knee. It was diagnosed 13 years ago, and with good PT, it is only recently that I have had to adapt anything. I can’t do anything that requires me to bend that knee much. It has recently pretty much ruled out running. But in terms of strength & effort, things haven’t changed much. My heart rate seems to be about what it has always been. I can climb the hills on my bike – can let that go for a while & get it back. My activity schedule – I don’t think of it as a workout schedule, although there are plenty of workout elements – is my idea of fun now that I am retired. So, last week I rode my bike 100 miles, am working back to having at least one 60-mile day most weeks; walking with friends several hours most weeks; bird watching; some yoga; some specific strength training; a couple of replacements for running, including some rowing machine time and some fast walking up steep slopes; and dance classes, 4 1/2 hours in a typical week.
I think back to my parents and grandparents. Fitness as we now consider it was nothing anyone talked about. Especially for women. One change that’s almost hard to believe now: my father felt he had to give up tennis (never played much anyway) after one of his friends had a terrible heart attack. No doctor told him vigorous exercise was a good idea. They were in their late 40s. But he was always a brisk and enthusiastic walker until he suddenly was unable to keep his balance (after he died, we learned that he had several minor strokes; they must have hit the spot that controlled his balance). My grandparents on one side travelled a lot, must have walked a lot, but never did anything like the gym time we now do, and running had not yet become a common activity. My other grandparents, well, my grandfather was never active, but my grandmother was always busy, always scooting back & forth between our house and theirs. Again, nothing we would recognize as fitness-related, but definitely more activity than most her age and era. She lived longer than the others and was active until within a couple of months of her death.
I look at their various activity levels when I think about my own. They make me realize how much difference our activities can make in our ongoing ability to maintain and improve our health and energy levels. When I launched my major fitness endeavour, over 25 years ago, my doctor asked how I found the time & energy for all I was doing. “Using energy creates more energy,” I told him. “May I quote you on that?” he asked.
Does aging even exist? Well, yes. There are definitely some changes I don’t love. For me, it is drier, more sun-sensitive skin, and a pickier digestive system (not bad, just don’t get along with a couple of things, mostly garlic). And flexibility has never been good for me & it is a bit worse, but workouts can really help that. My current assumption is that, as long as I am feeling well, keeping it up is the best choice. I feel stronger than I did 30 years ago.
Bio
I am a lifelong Californian. My mother and father were not born here but moved to the state as small children. I have two grown daughters and five wonderful grandchildren. I spent my working life working at, and eventually running, the family insurance business. My father had introduced many employee benefits – sabbatical starting in 1970, optional four-day work week in 1972, elimination of all official work time rules in 1974. Adults like to be treated as adults, and people tended to stay a long time, so it was a very pleasant working environment with key elements of trust and respect. I also served on a couple of independent school boards, one a strong academic school serving grades 6-12, one a school designed to start helping city kids who had suffered the ongoing effects of racism & poverty to find opportunities they might not as easily discover without support. I live at a Lifetime Care Community where I serve on the finance committee and chair the sustainability committee. I also plan to join the newly formed fitness committee. And for fun, I have ridden my bicycle across North America. Twice.
The National Capital Commission has opened several swim spots that are proving very popular, helping turn Ottawa-Gatineau into much more enjoyable river cities. The first was the River House, which opened in 2023. I wrote a bit about it here, after my first visit. Last year, it opened another one on Dow’s Lake, and this summer we got spots at the Museum of History in Gatineau and one at the base of Kiweki Point, right where the Rideau Canal empties into the Ottawa River.
I hadn’t made it to Dow’s Lake last year, or visited the new spots this year, so last week I headed out by bike with my friend Florence so we could try them all before they closed for the season.
We didn’t swim long at any of the venues but it still took us almost four hours to complete the route.
The first image shows the location of each of the swim spots and the Econ shows our route to get there. Most of the way was on NCC bike paths.Clockwise from top left: Diane jumps in at Dow’s lake, then at the Museum of History (with Parliament Hill in the background), Florence and Diane head in together below Kiweki Point (with the Museum of History and Alexandra Bridge in the background), and Florence and Diane at River House.
To finish off, we joined a couple of swim club mates for an easy loop around a small private lake. That took us to a little over 1800 M of swimming for the day.
Florence floats in the water as Diane collapses backwards off the dock on a lake surrounded by trees, with blue skies and fluffy clouds overhead.
Strava tells me that ride was my longest in 2026. In fact, it was about 26.5 km for the day (my phone died for the last bit). That makes it my longest ride since 2024.
My conclusions?
The new swim spots are great. In addition to clean water, plus some swim lanes and islands for floating on or jumping off, they all have decent bike parking, lots of chairs/benches with pleasant views, and places to get food and drink nearby.
Silly challenges like this are the best way to get me moving, especially with friends.
I’ve had a blog post in my head all summer about summer cycling and distance goals. It’s called “Is 50 km my new 100 km?’
In past years when I’ve done the Tour de Guelph in June, I did the 100 km distance but this year I picked 50 km. It seemed the natural choice. Now, I said I did that because we were trying to attract first-time riders for whom 50 km would be a reasonable goal that early in the summer, but also at the end of June, the Tour de Guelph was only my second 50 km ride of the season. It felt like the right distance for me.
July was a hot mess of family tragedy and wildfire smoke.
This month I’m struggling to find the time to ride 200 km. I chose that distance for my Great Cycle Challenge, thinking it wouldn’t really be much of a struggle. I thought that even if bad things kept happening and all my plans went to hell, I’d still be able to manage 200 km in a month easily.
My friend, former graduate student, and twitchy spouse of Natalie, Michel rode 600 km in a weekend recently. A weekend! 600 km!
Twelve years ago I rode 1300 km in August. I know, I know. Comparison is the thief of joy. but still.
Ten years ago I wrote, “What’s your favourite distance? I like 100 km because I can have a normal day after. Ride 100 km in the morning, done and dusted, and get on with the weekend. 160 km requires serious refueling and serious naps. Next thing I know it’s night and my Saturday is shot. How about you?” See here.
So, I know I’m older. But I don’t think this is about age.
I know what I have to do to make long-distance riding comfortable and easy. I need to ride more.
In the years I found the bike rally’s 660 km easy, it’s because I was a) regularly bike commuting, b) doing 30-40 km training rides one or two nights a week, c) doing a long ride on Saturday, often more than 100 km, and sometimes a recovery ride on Sunday, and d) doing bike vacations where we rode bikes every day.
Now I’m just bike commuting and doing an occasional 25 km bike ride on the weekend. No wonder distance goals seem hard.
I’ve realized it’s also an issue with my word of the year, expand. Yes, I’ve been swimming and skating and all sorts of other things but the only thing that makes you a better cyclist really is time on the bike.
What’s my plan then?
Well, I’ve signed up for the half bike rally next summer to raise money for the Toronto PWA–I’m planning to ride from Kingston to Montreal. This event is important to me because the money raised goes to help people living with HIV/AIDS. People who need food, wellness care, peer support or just to be in a place that is welcoming and safe for them. You can donate here.
I’d like to do the full distance, Toronto to Montreal, in 2028.
At some point, I want to ride 200 km in a day. Maybe that’s a Fall 2028 goal when I’m on research leave.
In the meantime, I’m looking for people to ride with in Guelph.
I’m looking for destinations for winter riding that aren’t Florida or Arizona, to be clear, aren’t in the United States at all.
Here’s my past winter rides:
March 2022 Alton Illinois. See here and here and here.
But while Trump is in office, I’m not going to the United States. I need another plan!
My goal for 2026 is 2,500 km, and I’m at about 1,100. There are 18 weeks left in 2026. That’s 77 km a week to meet my goal. But the problem is that the mileage goal alone isn’t motivational. I like achieving the goal when I fill my life with riding.
See you out there!
A reminder for all of us who have had tough summers:
I have marvelous friends who are supportive, encouraging and unapologetic when calling me out on being mean to myself. I’m very lucky.
There were several gems I have mined from those discussions. Today I am looking at a question my gym buddy Rob asked me.
Why did I want to ride 100 km?
The first answer that came to mind was that I wanted to test if I was ready to ride longer than 100 km.
I’m very comfortable completing the MS Bike Tour. The two days of 80 km supported every 20 km felt great. It’s a different challenge to ride continuously in 50 km blocks. I underestimated that gap and was disappointed.
The myth of linear progress
I wanted to complete a 100 km ride as part of a story of physical fitness that showed progress.
When my results were similar to the ones I had 12 years ago it felt like a set-back.
In chatting with my friends in Randonneurs Ontario they shared stories of struggling to have consistent times on a given distance.
We spoke about routes, conditions, health, training, age and injuries.
There are a lot of variables that affect how long it takes to complete a route. Only some of those are under my direct control.
Is that the real reason?
Rob invited me to push against the first answers to validate if that is really why I wanted to ride 100 km.
Hope
What I wanted out of the ride was some evidence that my longest distances are ahead of me.
Ten years ago I completed the People with AIDS Bike Tour from Toronto to Montreal. It was 600 km over 6 days. The longest distance on a given day was around 135 km.
2016 Me, in Montréal, embracing a volunteer at the finish line.
Between then and now I quit cycling in 2020 (during the pandemic) then re-started in 2023.
I’ve been inconsistent. Without a capstone event after the MS Bike Tour my distance peters off each year. I have not used the indoor trainer in the winter.
New goals
What I really want out of cycling is more adventures with Michel. We are getting ready to try some rail trails this fall. I got a trailer to bring our dog Lucy along.
Active living
My big picture goal is an active life that supports my physical and mental wellbeing. I really enjoy shorter jaunts and I want to extend that to longer rides.
Consistent Riding
There is no secret to going longer, faster and happier on a bike. It’s time in the saddle on a consistent basis.
Training for the PWA ride had specific milestones to meet in order to be allowed to ride. There were distances to hit, an average speed above 20 km/hr and a deadline for back to back 100 km days.
Unstructured fun
In the shoulder season my focus will be fucking around and finding out. I will try some wider tires and some rail trails. I will get on my bike 2-3 times a week in addition to my utility cycling.
Folks jumping with joy by the waterside.
Thank you
I wanted to wrap this up with a giant thank you to my friends and family. I never imagined my writing about being disappointed with my 100 km would illicit a tsunami of responses. Texts from Nova Scotia and British Columbia and every province in between!
Messages from folks showing they had read every word and could relate. Thank you for reading my posts and connecting over our shared experiences of try to keep these bodies doing all the things.
A coffee with ‘thank you’ dusted on the creamy froth in cinnamon.
The Future
I’m still thinking about my mid and long term cycling goals. I’ll be sure to let you know once I settle on them.
Whatever the future holds, I suspect it will include my dog!
I got my first road bike when I was 51. It felt so great that I signed up for an AIDS ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles that was to take place a year later. I trained hard and made it to LA, and as I held my bike overhead in celebration, I was thinking, “Well, I’ll never do that again!”
Got that wrong.
First I found myself doing another AIDS ride, this one 100 miles per day for 5 days. Yikes! Then a couple more. And some organized centuries.
Next major surprise: I decided I wanted to ride across the USA, and hoped my husband would join me. (He didn’t really want to all that much, but he agreed, so I let him choose the route. Fair trade, right?) We rode the Adventure Cycling route called Northern Tier, which is the longest of the organization’s cross country options. Anacortes, Washington to Boston. I only skipped a few spots, including the one where there was a hurricane looming off of Vermont, where we were headed. Yes, that was the one that actually caused some serious flooding right where we might have been. I rode 4200 miles in three months. This was in 2011, the year we turned 60.
By then I had figured out that I really did like touring, and fairly long distances, and I started thinking of places I might like to see by bike. We went to Europe and did some famous climbs, and some leisurely rides. We saw parts of northern Italy, Slovenia, France, England, and a bit of Spain . We were with friends in the French Pyrenees; we rode to lunch in Spain. Australia. New Zealand. And there was an infamous Costa Rica ride. I LOVE Costa Rica, but it’s not a cycling paradise if you’re not a fearless mountain biker. And Nova Scotia & St. Johns/Labrador (Newfoundland). Prince Edward Island. British Columbia. Even a very brief ride as part of our Galapagos tour, so Ecuador, I guess. And one bit at a time, I began to ride in various US states.
A few years back I realized it wouldn’t be that hard to ride in all 50 so I started keeping track. Hawaii is easy for me; we have relatives there and visit fairly frequently. Haleakala from the beach to the top – 36 miles, 10,000 feet, is not so simple, but I have done it a couple of times. We made a trip to Chicago & rode in Illinois, Indiana, Missouri and Kentucky. I rode the Southern Tier, and spent my 70th birthday in Suwannee state park in Florida. I was mostly on my own, and when Bruce joined me & we drove home together to California, we stopped in Arkansas and Oklahoma & rode some miles.
Last fall I acknowledged that I had not treated Iowa very well. I had only ridden across a pedestrian bridge to Iowa when I was doing some work in Omaha (Nebraska), and gone around a few blocks. So last fall we took a train to Omaha and focused most of our riding on Iowa, then went on to Des Moines & rode some more. And all the other states – we generally had a relative, or a park we dreamed of visiting, or some attraction, so they happened.
But Alaska…
I don’t love cold. My daughter-in-law’s 50th birthday approached. She planned to celebrate by taking a cruise through the Inland Passage. I figured I could rent a bike at some of the stops & get Alaska done. In the summer of 2020. That was not meant to be. It kept nagging at me, though, and we decided this summer was the time to do it. I did some research and found AlaskaBike. It’s a father & son bicycle touring outfit that takes you to places most tours don’t go, so you get a good look at the back country of the state. It has an amazing amount of back country. We learned that the population of Anchorage, the largest city, is about 300,000. The population of the entire state is about 700,000, less than San Francisco. And the size. Alaskans like to say that if you put Texas inside its borders, then another Texas, you’d still have room for another half-Texas. So we went. A few of my cycling friends joined us, and two other women, one of whom was actually riding in her 50th state, too.
Pictures speak louder than words. I don’t have any with bikes, but I really did ride about 125 miles of Alaskan roads!:
In the lobby of our first hotel. This enormous brown/grizzly bear was stuffed many years ago. Fortunately, we saw none of his descendants outdoors. Canoe trip down the Maclaren River. Peaceful. Spectacular views
Bio: I am a lifelong Californian. My mother and father were not born here but moved to the state as small children. I have two grown daughters and five wonderful grandchildren. I spent my working life working at, and eventually running, the family insurance business. My father had introduced many employee benefits – sabbatical starting in 1970, optional four-day work week in 1972, elimination of all official work time rules in 1974. Adults like to be treated as adults, and people tended to stay a long time, so it was a very pleasant working environment with key elements of trust and respect. I also served on a couple of independent school boards, one a strong academic school serving grades 6-12, one a school designed to start helping city kids who had suffered the ongoing effects of racism & poverty to find opportunities they might not as easily discover without support. I live at a Lifetime Care Community where I serve on the finance committee and chair the sustainability committee. I also plan to join the newly formed fitness committee. And for fun, I have ridden my bicycle across North America. Twice.
Last weekend I signed up for Randonneurs Ontario’s Railway City 100. It’s a Populaire (not a time limited Brevet) so the goal is to get the distance done. If I was attempting the longer 200 km route I would need to complete 100 km in under 6.5 hours.
2024
My first ride on this route was in 2024. I had had an amazing MS Bike tour a couple weeks before. I was confident I was ready to complete a 100 km after several years of much shorter distances.
The conditions started out promising but as I turned into the headwind my speed tanked. I had no depth to my strength and my speed dropped to 14 km/hr. For those doing math at home, that makes for a much longer day.
My rolling average ended up being 17.8 km/hr and 5:49 on the bike. Total time was 6:46. Too slow to even consider trying any longer distances.
I was so upset by my performance I didn’t even blog about it, save for a passing mention on how challenging that ride was for me.
2026 run up to 100 km
I had a spectacular MS Bike Tour this year with back to back PBs on 80 km while feeling strong and confident. So I had some expectations. Realistic, based on results, or so I thought.
The plan:
1 – keep breaks short
2 – maintain 20 km/hr
3 – finish around 5 hours and 30 minutes
That is a specific, measurable, achievable, realistic, and time bound goal (SMART goal!)
I bought a new saddle and installed it. I tested that it was secure and in the right position.
Pre-ride jitters
I’d had a call with a friend who was also doing the ride the Friday before. We talked candidly about hopes and fears.
I shared how it had taken a long time to reclaim fitness for myself and fitness for fun after being in the military.
Nothing saps joy out of a run when your job is on the line at your annual fitness test.
I thought that event anxiety was behind me. I usually have a taste of pre-ride jitters, some extra energy, lighter sleep and frequent pee breaks before the ride starts.
But. Wow. I had a full on gastrointestinal reaction before Michel and I hopped in the car to drive to the start. The jitters had tipped to panic and I do not know why. I’m usually pretty good at channeling that energy towards excitement. But not that day.
Beautiful start
The group was a mix of folks riding the 100 and 200. It was overcast, light winds and not too hot. An ideal day for a ride.
I got to chat with a few folks from out of town. Very Zippy Vincent shared his joy in using digital brevet cards. He’s a front of the ride kind of human that I only ever see at the start unless I’m supporting an event.
I got a hug from Maria, another hug from Gail and saw a few other folks from the Windsor area. We know each other from Strava and shared friends as well as my volunteering supporting club rides.
This club has brought a lot of lovely people into my life.
I had a chat with John, who was back from a cycling hiatus, as well as with Steve from LCC, who was looking to give the 200 a try for the first time (spoiler, he nailed it!).
The good company put my nerves at ease.
Michel and I locked eyes during Fred’s pre-ride safety brief and silently agreed to let everyone else roll out since I’m by far the slowest rider.
A squeaky start
A few minutes into the ride my saddle started squeaking. I had tried to give it one last tighten at the start only to discover that my bicycle multi-tool had only Allen keys that were too big or too small. I kicked myself for not torquing it at home and for not throwing the right Allen key in my bag before we left.
Michel’s multi-tool had gloriously exploded on the roadside the previous Tuesday when he and Fred did the 200 pre-ride. He DNF’d due to a spectacular tire failure. His rear tire split down the middle the entire way around. This happens when you wear out a tire. I hadn’t thought to pick him up a new tool when we collected his bike from the shop on Friday.
So with no way to alleviate the squeaks we carried on.
Passing Friends
A trio of cyclists from Windsor passed us as we climbed across a few roads. It was Călina and two folks I probably stalk on Strava. Michel has ridden with them before so we got big waves and smiles.
For a few kilometers I could see the flashing lights of the back of the pack. Then a surprise visit with Dave C. He had arrived in from the GTA a little late so had huffed to get a good start. He coasted alongside Michel in easy conversation for a couple kilometers. He then pedaled gently off to complete his ride. I hadn’t seen him for a couple years and it was really sweet of him to hang out with us for a bit.
Solid start
After the first hour my speed was averaging above 20 km/hr and I had come to accept my squeaky saddle. I stopped briefly to devour a banana. My hydration and nutrition were on track.
The second hour wrapped up with a Cliff bar and realizing the wind was picking up. It was a bit of a tailwind but offset to my right shoulder for mostly crosswind. I knew this would pick up as the day went on.
Midway
2 km before the control I looked at Michel.
“I need off the bike for a minute. How far to the control?”
Michel smiled.
“It’s 4 minutes away. Can you make it without stopping?”
I laughed. I was self conscious that Fred was waiting on me at the control as he was supporting the ride.
We arrived at 54 km 2:45 total time. I was satisfied with my speed and how I felt.
I asked Fred if he happened to have Allen keys with him. He did not and I agreed that was totally fair. This is a self-supported ride at its essence.
He shared that the first trio of riders had arrived 1:28 after the start. Wow. So fast!
I had expected to see the back of the pack riders as they rolled out but they were long gone. That hit hard.
Michel helped Fred pack up the snacks and supplies while I found a toilet. It struck me how very far behind everyone else I was.
I felt embarrassed. Which is wild because I was rolling at my goal speed.
I force a smile with Michel over my shoulder. The Tilsonburg Great Railway Station in the background.
Slowing
As we turned back towards St Thomas we were on a lovely multi-use path and Michel cautioned we would need to accept going quite slow.
There were lots of people enjoying the path so we carefully wove around them.
There is a bit of a bend and a climb as we left Tilsonburg and found the expected headwind.
Bonking
Maybe 10 km after the control the continuous effort of fighting the headwind asked more of my body than it was ready for. I had a lightening bolt of pain from my right groin to my ankle and a full leg cramp. I pulled over. I sobbed. I was so surprised that this was happening. And I knew what it was despite not feeling it in over a decade. I was bonking.
I put my bike down, stepped away from it and started eating and gulping electrolytes.
Michel talked me through it. The MS bike tour had replenishment stops every 15-20 km. I was not used to continuously riding. He reminded me I just needed food and hydration.
After a few minutes I stopped crying and cramping. But the shock of being in a state where I bonked shook me. I thought I was eating and drinking enough.
Back on the bike to bonk again
Another 10 km and the other leg seized up and more shooting pain. I cried out in surprise and pulled over. My face was encrusted with salt. I had a headache. The wind was helping me stay cool but I later learned the “feels like” was at 37C.
I started uncontrollably sobbing. I knew it was just food and hydration but I couldn’t stop the tears. I hadn’t had this kind of reaction since I had done some 100 km rides in 40C in 2016. Ten years since I have bonked. It felt like a stupid, rookie situation to be in and I was kicking myself. I AM BETTER THAN THIS!
Michel waited while I ate some candy and drank a ginger ale.
“Just 10 km to the MennoMex for a real break.”
I nodded and got back on my bike. The cramps never returned but the tears wouldn’t stop for another 8 hours.
Bountiful burritos
My favourite soda brand is Jarrito and it goes great with burritos.
I slowly and painfully pried myself off the bike while leaning on a post at the Mennomex . I was settling in to have another pity party cry when my friends Nancy & John rounded the corner to say ‘hi’ and give me a squeeze. They were picking up food for a dinner party.
So I zipped up my human suit and put on my best brave face. It helped to have a positive reputation to live up to.
Michel makes a silly face while devouring a burrito. There are two large bottles of Jarrito on the table and my untouched burrito is in the foreground. It tasted heavenly.
We ate and all I wanted to do was lay down and quit.
“It’s less than 20 km to the finish. It will take us 90 minutes. By 3pm we will be in the car heading home.”
That was Michel’s very nice way to tell me that I was rolling at 15 km/hr. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
My body just didn’t have any umph left. I could pedal but I had no power in my legs and the wind was only blowing harder.
I stifled more sobs and got back on the bike. We had turned onto a very quiet road and Michel offered conversation or space as I needed it.
I felt a deep shame at not being able to keep it together. It was a 100 km ride and there was a time I could do that at the drop of a hat. Not that day.
The end
The food and drinks were literally all I needed and I slogged my way back to St Thomas. It was well past the time I expected to finish. I felt humiliated.
I need to be clear. No one else was giving me a hard time but I was kicking myself the whole way to the end.
At one point, I quit cycling altogether. At another, I was tempted to throw my bike in a ditch. I was so fed up at feeling miserable.
And on and on the ride went. There were a few short legs when we turned and the wind was at our backs. It was then when the heat became apparent. I thanked the wind for pushing me up to Ron McNally line. It was a slight incline so I needed the help but I also cussed the heat. There was no pleasing me.
At that point my watch and phone flipped to power saving mode. Of course they did because I had been on the road way longer than planned. FUCK!
I knew we were within 5 km of the end and that I would finish but it just stopped making any kind of sense.
We turned off the busy road south onto lovely residential streets and full face into the wind. Then it was raining without a nearby cloud. I wondered if I was hallucinating.
Then we turned right and I saw the finish. I was so tapped out I didn’t even feel relieved.
I rolled straight to the car. Pushed my check-in and submitted my results on digital brevet card. I hoped no one was around to see me and what time it was.
After the ride. Michel in the foreground looking content. I’m in the driver’s seat of my car trying to smile. My look says “I can see a dumpster and I might still throw out my bike.”
Reflecting on the facts
My average speed was 18.2 km/hr and moving time was 5:33. Total time 6:55. Ouch. My very first 100 km ride took 7 hours in 2015. The second attempt that year I came in at 5:50.
Reading back on these blog posts I was struck by how similar the stories were to this year. I’m so done with this sobbing, cramping misery, enough already.
Deciding what to change
I am riding more consistently this year than I have in a long while but it was a late start for my season. I didn’t spin indoors over the winter.
I have amped up my strength training, swimming, walking and utility cycling. I thought this general fitness would help support my riding. It’s not enough.
I’m really fucking done with being miserable on my bike. So I have some decisions to make.
Option 1:
Give up the stupidity of riding 100 km and greater. Just let it go.
Option 2:
Stop flirting with road cycling and actually commit to riding 2-3 times a week. When I do this I am faster and happier on the bike.
Option 3:
Stop riding events and just slow roll without observation, comparison or official results. I’m doing this cycling thing for my health.
Still processing
It’s four days later and I’m still crying about my results. I’m so frustrated.
I hoped writing this would help me feel better but I’m still so damn angry and embarrassed.
Stay tuned for what I decide. Notice no options include me throwing my bike in a dumpster. Are there options I haven’t considered? I’m open to feedback!
