IDIDEARIDE (mostly)

Let me just say for the record that I have never pedaled so far (37 miles) in such weather before. I did not make it the entire 50 miles, and I'm pretty displeased with myself, but at the time I opted to bail and return to the start, I had pedaled 35 miles in on again, off again rain and it was pouring with lightning and thunder when I bailed. As I pedaled back to the start (more like trudged along pedaling, as that's a better descriptor), I wondered if I would get struck by lightning and the first thought after I posed the question was not, "Oh, that would hurt!" or "I'm on rubber tires, I'll be fine!", but no, it was "I bet I'd be warm in that instant before I (hopefully) died."

Remember how I said that Princess wouldn't start if it was pouring rain? I lied. I didn't mean to, but Saturday morning there were all these other bikers suited up and acting virile and strong (even the women were virile) and we all caved to peer pressure. It was pouring and the temps were in the mid50's at the start around 9:00 a.m. We found out that the first four miles were on dirt, service roads and would leave the state park and then loop back and we'd go right by our campground, so we all said we'd start and if it was still raining when we rode past camp, we'd bail. So, Marc, Diana and I started out and it was tough going as there were huge mud puddles all across the double track. The bikes would squirm and wiggle underneath us, but we didn't fall and there would be enough firm surface in between them that we'd recover. My Klein, although a wonderful riding bike, has a rear triangle that collects mud, and pretty soon I might as well have been riding a single speed as I really couldn't shift there was so much mud in the drive train. The rain began tapering off and by the time we reached our campsite, it had let up. Jesse, Shane, and John stopped, but just to discard a layer of clothes and to change socks and although we passed them there, we kept going because it was no longer raining and thanks to our technical clothes, we weren't soaked through. They soon passed us again pedaling strongly and looking all virile shouting "Expert Rider!" as they went zooming by. If you race mountain bikes in middle Georgia, that's an inside joke and needs no explanation. If you don't race or ride mountain bikes in middle Georgia, I won't bother explaining because it's not nearly so funny than if you do. *g*

So, on we went. Diana had done the ride the year before, but it was new to Mark and me. We alternated single track and double track on either side of a paved state road. The double track was rather monotanous, just pedal, pedal, pedal in endless loops. The rain was beneficial because all the loose sand that is Florida was compacted by the rain, making it much easier to ride, but it was still hard work because it was flat and that means constant pedaling. The double track would connect lovely, twisty single track sections that swooped among palmetto leaves and often followed the banks of the Suwanee River, which is dark from tannin and always 50 feet down a cliff. Shane said that Jesse one time lost the trail and was turning right rather than left, which would have taken him off the cliff, but Shane yelled in time and Jesse stopped.

Mark, Diana, and I took turns leading through the single track and I was enjoying myself. It would be great fun to go back and ride just the single track sections. At the first sag stop, which was about 11 miles in, I ate some orange and drank water and had a delicious piece of homemade, raspberry crumble, but we didn't linger and quickly got moving again before our muscles got cold. We'd exited some nice single track right by the state highway, and the sag was set up underneath a tent off to the side. We hopped on the highway and went about a mile before taking a right into the parking lot of Miss Lilly's Night Club, which was a concrete block building painted white with a blue roof and blue trim and a hand painted sign on the side of the building. It was closed at that hour, which was around 10:30 or 11:00. I'm sure it was hopping last night. Down more double track and then we turned onto single track, which is actually harder as it's got short, steep climbs and short, steep descents, some whoops, tight turns, and slippery roots. I was getting tired, but still felt good and thought I'd make it the full 50 miles. At mile 16 we rode up on a group of riders stopped to help a rider who'd hit a small stump and endo'd right over his handlebars and landed chest first on said stump, knocking the wind out and tacoing his front wheel. His helmet saved him. We got there within a minute of it happening. At first we thought the other riders were with him, but they weren't. They'd just witnessed it and stopped. I was the only one with a cell phone and I did have coverage, so I called Dave, who was back at camp and told him where we were (in the middle of pines and palmettos, but more importantly at mile 16) and that the biker was alright, that he could walk and talk, but that he felt pretty beat up and had to abandon and that his bike was unrideable. He told us his son was behind him and he would walk out with him. So, we hung around for a bit, but when it was apparent that he really was alright, we went on. We saw him later that afternoon back at the start/finish and he was fine, just sore.

More miles of single track (fun, but hard) and double track (not fun and tiresome) and then we got to the second sag stop. I downed some raisins and drank more water and found out we were at mile 22, almost half way. I still thought I could make it, but realized that I was going to have to have a serious talk with my inner three year old, who was griping a bit about her left hand going numb and her gluts beginning to make themselves known. Stuffing a sock in her mouth, we headed out with the words that we had about seven or eight more miles to the lunch stop. The rain was holding off, but the wind was picking up and when we got back to the highway and crossed over, it was chilly when we left the protection of the woods.

Crossing over took us through what seemed like miles and miles of double track and one point we were riding across a field, which was tough going as there was no trail, just grass and hummocks of dirt. I could see large, black birds up ahead on the ground and I thought they were crows, but as we got closer I saw that they were buzzards feasting on a mostly picked over carcass of an armadillo. Our route took us within 20' of them and they did not act concerned at all, not flying off or even waddling out of the way. In fact, they looked as though they were sizing us up. Shortly after the buzzards, we turned into the woods and went down to a deep, creek crossing and then up the other side to more single track. It didn't last long and then more double track. After about an hour, my inner three year old returned and was a bit more vocal. I was bringing up the rear and I yelled "Stop!" Mark and Diana heard me and did, and I spent about three minutes standing astride the bike, just stretching and shaking my left hand, which really was quite numb, especially the pinky and palm below it. I was wearing warm biking gloves, but they really had no padding in the palm. Mountain biking is so concussive, heck, road biking is too, so that most gloves come with padding to cushion your hands from the concussion. I was wearing unpadded gloves that I've worn before on rides and never had a problem, but then again, I've not ridden with them for four hours. After a few minutes, I clipped in and pedaled up to Diana and Mark, who were waiting for me and eating granola bars. Diana was encouraging, saying that the lunch stop wasn't too far. We pedaled on and got to last year's lunch spot, but there was no sign of it. The green arrows, that marked the route, led on, so on we went.

We finally got to the lunch spot and I leaned my Klein up against a fence and went and sucked down a bowl of vegetable soup and then half a PB&J and drank more water. We didn't want to take long as we wanted our muscles to keep warm and not seize, and the volunteers at the sag told us that it was going to start raining within an hour according to the weather radio.

At the lunch stop the trail lead in a four mile circle of single track back to the lunch stop. Mark, Diana and I conferred and decided that we would make a pact to not tell a soul (shhh!, but it's ok, we broke the pact as soon as we got back to camp) and skip that four miles because the staff said that it was going to be a hard rain. We got back on and headed back out and picked up singletrack. Pedal, pedal, pedal with very little coasting. My left hand was really complaining and I never could figure out why it did, but not the right. My upper back was tight from the weight of my Camelbak and my thighs? Well, they reminded me that my brilliant training plan of riding the couch for the last two weeks on Mondays and Wednesdays instead of my bike perhaps wasn't so brilliant after all.

Then, it began to rain. At least we were on single track and it was pretty with some ups and downs. By this time, we, along with other riders, the back of the pack types like us, not the virile studs who had long since finished the ride or were close to it, would walk up these inclines, inclines that if they were at the start of the ride would not faze us at all. Oh, and if I haven't made it clear by now, my bike, she was not shifting when I wanted her to, but was ghost shifting when she felt like it, so sometimes I'd be riding along and kerthunk. With a horrible noise she'd switch gears and usually to a harder one, thankyouverymuch. Aaaiee! I'd futz with the shifters and she'd shift back, but she did this so often that Mark referred to her as the Smart Bike: she obviously knows more than I do!

Back through the creek crossing and we ended up with wet feet, then up a climb and finally back to the field and then out to the road. Diana had 35 miles on her bike computer. I thought we had 11 more miles to go (the four miles we skipped would have put us a 39 miles) and my inner child came out and said things to me that no three year old should know. It was pouring buckets, I was cold as the temps were dropping, my left hand was completely numb and my toes felt frozen after the creek crossing. I looked at Mark and Diana and said, "Kids, thank you for the journey. I will regret this later, I know, but I do not have another 11 miles in me, not in this weather." With that, I turned right and trudged back to the camp ground while they headed across the highway to more double and single track.

And that's where I was when it was lightning and thundering as I pedaled slowly back along the side of the highway in pouring rain. It was about a mile and a half to two miles back and I made it back, checked in, accepted the congratulations from other riders who did not know of my shame of short cutting and then went back to the campers.

I got to the Coleman pop up that John and I were sharing with Carrie and Dave and there was John's bike propped up against the side. I'd asked about him when I checked in and the woman looked and said that he was still out on trail, so I was surprised to find him back. Carrie and Dave said that he was in the shower and that like me, he just stood for a few before heading off to the camp showers. I peeled off my two, outer layers and realized that I had no dry coat to wear back from the shower as I had worn my rain shell as my outermost layer and it was soaked and the rain was still coming down in sheets. John solved my dilemma by returning and gave me his rain coat. I trudged over to the shower and peeled off my wind shell (not waterproof and the second layer while riding, under the rain shell), my jersey, a long sleeve technical tee, my buff that had been around my neck, my rain pants, my riding tights (no chamois), my riding shorts (chamois), and my jogbra. Oh, the first things to come off were my riding shoes and my shoe covers (waterproof and windproof) and my wool socks, which were all drenched. The camp bathrooms weren't heated, but warmer than outside and with an admirable amount of water pressure and plenty of hot water. I probably stayed under there for ten minutes and the hot water did not bring back the feeling in my left hand, although I could feel my toes thawing.

LLBean flannel lined jeans are wonderful and they are on sale. Hie the over there and buy a pair. After toweling off and getting chilled again (there was a big, screened vent at floor level in the dressing area of the shower stall that sucked all the heat right out), it felt like heaven to put on my flannel jeans and fresh socks and a warm shirt and polarfleece and my Goretex low cut hikers and then blow dry my hair and head back in the pouring rain to our camp. I was amazed to find Diana and Mark already there. It seems that the Suwanee Bike Club engaged in false advertising as they only had seven more miles, not eleven! Grrr! Arrgh! Had I known that, would I have still bailed? I'd like to say no, but I'm really not sure.

They showered and changed and then we headed back to the race start to the camp lodge where there was a great dinner of baked chicken (still moist after all those hours), green beans, new potatoes, salad, and banana pudding awaiting us. J got his t-shirt and officially checked in so they'd know that he, Shane, and Jesse weren't still out on trail and go looking for them. It turns out that the woman doing the checking in was on bathroom break when they first got there. Looking at the piles of unclaimed IDIDARIDE t-shirts, it seems that lots of people didn't start at all after seeing the weather, so I felt a little less wussy.

We chowed down and by then it was almost dark. Still raining, so we sat inside Shane and Diana's lovely, huge camper and talked and played UNO and then it quit raining. The guys immediately were drawn to making a fire in the fire pit because it's what men do. The temps kept dropping, as they should at night, and we stood around the fire and rehashed it all and at 9:30 we were all tucked in our beds, happy as clams.

I expected to sleep the night clear through, but at 12:45 a.m. I woke up and had to go to the bathroom. The pop up does not have a toilet and even though Shane and Diana's has a full bathroom with toilet and shower, they opted not to hook up to the water so they wouldn't have to empty the dirty "grey" water afterwards, which meant that we all used the campground facilities, which were not that far away.

So, I lay there for a few minutes and decided that my bladder was not going to let me sleep, got up, felt around for my jeans and shoes and then grabbed not John's rain jacket, but the heavy, USAF winter parka that they issued him to take to Iraq, for use at night I suppose when the temps fell to the mid80's. It's very heavy and a great jacket, but I rarely ever wear it cause it's almost too much jacket. I left the camper, slipped my hands in the pockets and what should I find? THE MISSING SONY POINT AND SHOOT DIGITAL CAMERA!!! I guess I wore it to feed the horses two weeks ago and used it to take pics of Babe and Asia in their winter blankets and then dropped it in the pocket while I tossed hay and filled up the water trough. When I couldn't find the camera later, I looked in my coat pockets, but not that one because I forgot that I wore it. :::slaps forehead::::

The new SLR Canon will be here tomorrow. I don't regret buying it at all, but now you understand how I lost the keys to the Miata in its ignition.

I feel fine now, but late at night after visiting the bathroom I wished that I'd taken some ibuprofen as my right shoulder, left hand, both thighs and my left ankle all took turns telling me what an idiot I was and that they didn't appreciate the abuse and all were creaky and achy. I listened to my iPod for about an hour and finally fell asleep again, but when we all started stirring at first light, we pushed our planned leave time up an hour. No one is used to 10 hours of sleep.

So, will I do it again? Yeah, probably. I would like to do it and do the entire ride, be it 50 miles as advertised and it was that last year, or 42 miles like this year. I just need to ride more in the weeks leading up to it. Had it not been raining and so cold, I think I would have finished. I would have been wearing different gloves, gloves with padding, and my left hand wouldn't have become so numb. It's only within the last few hours that it's begun to feel normal again. Who knows, maybe I would have let my inner three year old rule in sunny weather, too. Guess I'll have to go back next year and find out.