Tour De Shunk

Mike and I are officially finishers of a century bike ride! We actually finished 101.3 miles today, complete with heavy winds, rain in the late miles, and a total of 8500 feet of climbing. Oh yes...no taking the gravy train on our first century out. We chose the Tour de Shunk, voted "Most Challenging Century Ride" by League of American Cyclists. Infamy right here in our own little corner of bfe America.

The greatest part of the whole thing (second, actually, to the obscene amount of mini candy bars at each 25 mile aid station...that was unbeatable), was that we only decided to ride Tour de Shunk officially at 11:15pm last night, and when we headed out on the route at 9am this morning, only planned to ride 50 miles.

Tour de Shunk is a century that offers 25 and 50 mile options. The 25 miler has its own course, while the 50 is the first 25 of the century and then you turn around and come back. Miles 18 to 23 involve 1250 feet of climbing. When we got to the 25 mile aid station I was adamant about the rest of our day and I told Mike "I'll take 75 miles of unknown over what I know about that 25 miles, thanks". It was that bad. And veteran riders all assured us that the first 25 miles were the worst, and the rest of the ride much easier. Turns out they are liars.

Liars, liars, pants on fire.

Mike stopped speaking to me around mile 35 and I don't blame him. We'd been climbing steep and steady for about five miles and the top of the hill was no where in sight. His last words to me before the long silent pause, were "what you've done today is the equivalent of signing up for a trail marathon because you completed a half marathon a month before and haven't run a step since. This is a huge HUGE mistake." It was a really good analogy. He was completely right. It was so ugly out there, and we were only 1/3 of the way home. But I had already had my spirit broken once this week (I wore all black on Wednesday as an homage to that incident) and I refused to be negative. I just pedaled and smiled and tried my best through my huffing and puffing and intense saddle pain, to enjoy the gorgeous scenery.

The lunch stop came somewhere just after the 40 mile mark. Even after a banana, nutrigrain bar, and two mini candy bars at mile 25, I was famished. One and a half pb&j's, another banana, a small bag of chips, and two more mini candy bars later, we moved on out to: more uphill. "This is the last bad one pink socks, I promise you!" shouts one of the three friendliest, most wonderful liar pants I've ever met. And then we got to mile 55ish. The spray painted signs on the road told us to turn right, but that couldn't be right?! Because the right hand turn was onto a chipped road that went straight uphill as far as the eye could see. It would be a cruel joke if this road were a part of the course. Liar pants #1 says to Liar pants #2 "this wasn't a part of the course last year was it? I don't remember this?!" It was somewhere on that hill I stopped smiling and my internal dialogue went from "well, at least its not raining, oh it's so pretty out here. I don't feel that bad"...to a string of negative thoughts laden with profanity. I hoped with everything in me that a course support vehicle would come along and I could catch a ride back.

But we made it to the top of that little booger without seeing an aid vehicle. And the next, and the next. And then we were at the "75" mile aid station, which is really at mile 67. Mike, feeling fine and seeing the light at the end of the dark tunnel I threw him in today, loved me outwardly again. Of course he loved me the whole time, he just likes to play snarly once in a while. Just one of the many things that make him perfect:) More mini candy bars. Some gatorade. And we left to....what?!?!...flat roads!!! A beautiful 8 mile, pancake flat stretch of road. It was heaven. There was drafting. There was aero position. (Oh yes, add to Mike analogy - "and you're doing that trail marathon in racing flats!"...yep...last minute decision to go and our pedals on our tri bikes meant the cervelo and trek were christened today in a way only the roads of Sullivan County Pa could offer). There was smiling again.

Liar pants 1 and I stuck together to the finish w/ liar pants 2, and 3 making numerous appearances, waiting up for us to make sure we made all of the turns. The last 25 miles were rolling. I use the term rolling in the sense that you went straight downhill and then straight back up and down and up and down and up. For whatever reason, I didn't feel that bad at all anymore. I just kept pedaling, talking, smiling, and getting out of my saddle as much as humanly possible because my hiney was oober uncomfortable.

And then it was over. And there were massages, and spaghetti, and story telling, and more mini candy bars, and coffee. I am SO thrilled to have made such a terrible decision at mile 25 this morning, because the outcome was terrific! We've ridden our bicycles 101 miles! 101 really cruel miles! It hurt, and it was so hard, but we did it! The bad news: we now have to ride 11 more miles...and swim 2.4 miles...and then run a marathon...in 9 months. Holy crap, those of you who have completed an ironman, I bow to you, and I'm wet my pants terrified of what that day will be like next July. But just like the sign said at the bottom of "pip squeak mountain" (a really cute little 5 mile climb this morning that was undoubtedly FAR easier to get up thanks to its cutesy name...gag me), "take it like a baby...one little step at a time!" So I'm going to appreciate the baby step we made today, and try hard not to dwell on how small 101 miles of cycling really is in the big picture of July 22nd, 2012.