As a member of Randonneurs USA (RUSA) I've completed a RUSA event of at least 200 km or more for 44 consecutive months through August. Probably not a big deal compared to some other RUSA members but it is the longest current streak among Georgia members. More importantly to me I had never accomplished cycling a 100 mile ride in 12 straight months before joining RUSA, and that had been a life goal for at least 10 years.
For September I targeted a 400 km event riding from Dublin GA to Clarks Hill SC and back. Again not too big a deal since others were doing either a 600 or 1000 km ride during this event, but 400 km would be my longest ride so far in 2013. I drove to Dublin very early Friday morning arriving in time to eat breakfast and prepare for a 5:00 am start. Why not drive down the day before and get a decent night sleep at some motel? Mainly because I never sleep very well the first night on the road. I figured 5 hours of sleep in my own bed would be better than a restless night on the road.
8 cyclists started promptly; I wasn't sure who was doing 400 or who was doing 1000. Those doing 600 would join the 1000 k riders Saturday morning. It didn't matter though because pretty soon I was all by myself. Except for a few sightings on the portion of the course that was out and back I never saw another cyclist. For several reasons the 400 km distance can be hard, especially from a mental perspective. First it's too short a distance for a drop bag or motel room on the course so I ride with no sleep. On longer rides there's a chance to stop somewhere, shower, sleep a little, put on fresh clothes and continue riding. Second since I am use to riding lots of 200 km events, that moment when you reach 125 miles (or so) you realize you have to do the same distance again, most likely a lot of it at night.
I was comfortable in the clothes I had on at the start, and once daylight and warmth arrived I could easily adjust my wordrobe. The first 50 miles were flat and easy but later the wind picked up (headwind) and the rolling hills showed up. Nothing steep, but they were enough along with the wind to take some energy, not so much physically but mentally. My mind starting wandering as it usually does on rides like this where I am alone. I thought about two birthday cards I'd just mailed, one to my ex-fiancee, the other to my stepson. I reflected on the ups and downs about both relationships--won't bore anyone with the specifics except to say those reflections filled up a lot of miles.
As I reached the 100 mile mark I saw 2 cyclists already heading back from the turn around in South Carolina. A few miles later I came across 2 more riders and saw Kevin Kaiser who is the RUSA brevet administrator and organized the event. I asked him if there was any place to get a decent meal further out on the course and he told me the only places were 2 restaurants across the street. I decided to catch one of them on the way back. That happened to be at mile 125 and a sit down vegetable plate with time to take off my shoes was most welcome. I have gotten use to eating very little on 200 km rides, but I knew this ride would require more solid fuel. I'm grateful for Kevins' advice because there wasn't another place to get a decent meal until mile 225.
Refreshed and slightly rested I pushed on for a while until sunset around 7:15. I put warm clothes back on, turned on lights and kept pedaling reflecting on passing the half way point. Darkness brought a chill and it seemed colder than it had been when we started that morning in the dark. Unfortunately I didn't bring anything warmer so I resigned myself to being cold at times. Those times mainly happened on down hills where I could make up time by going fast. I began wondering whether I'd rather have up hills which became slower as the night progressed, downhills where I felt cold and sometimes could not see much of the road in front of me, or the flats where I felt like falling asleep on the bike.
Although it was incredibly dark I had plenty of lights on my bike and helmet to guide and keep me visible. The nice thing about night riding on rural roads is the absence of any vehicle traffic; the disadvantage is that sometimes there are rural dogs you can't always see until they appear out of nowhere. I got several chances to practice how fast I could sprint after a long time in the saddle. The other unnerving thing can be where you hear dogs barking ahead of you and don't know if they're loose or restricted. At one point riding through a small community the dogs started barking in what became a chorus line as I cycled. At least this time none were loose, but you never know.
As the night wore on I became less meditative and more focused on my aches and pains. Earlier in the day I had thought about doing the 400, taking a nap and then heading out with the 600 so I could claim a full super randonneur series (200, 300, 400, 600 during 2013). Now I just wanted to be off the bike and asleep. I was really tired, but potential road hazards, dogs, and fear of going off course kept me alert. At 4:00 am I stopped at the last control (Waffle House) for a grilled cheese sandwich and coke. I hardly remember the last 40 miles, except that upon turning onto the road back to the start/finish I encountered the worst road conditions of the entire ride. That coupled with Saturday morning Dublin traffic and my own weariness made the final 3 miles pretty dicey.
I reached the hotel at 7:00 am, loaded my bike in the car, and headed for Kevin's hotel room for a shower and nap. When I first laid down the aches and pains made it hard to sleep, but fatigue prevailed and I got 3 hours of sleep. Over breakfast with Kevin I discovered that 3 of the 8 starters did not finish the 400. One of the major skills in rando riding is being able to follow a cue sheet and they had gotten lost and couldn't find their way back on course. Kevin ended up picking them up. So of the 5 cyclists who finished, one like me had only planned on doing 400, and the other 3 had left just before I arrived to do another 600 km ride along with a few more who started the 600 on Saturday. All 3 of the 1000 k riders finished along with the 3 who did the 600.
There is a RUSA mantra that says "it's not about the destination, it's about the journey." On this journey I made it 45 consecutive months completing a RUSA event of 200 km (or more). I learned that completing a lot of 200 km rides without more 300 km rides did not prepare me for a 400 km effort--at least not without some pain and suffering. But I also learned that mental fortitude and stubbornness can overcome potential physical limitations.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Monday, September 09, 2013
Bike Accidents--50 + Years
Last Saturday August 30th, I was involved in a minor mishap on my bike. Another cyclist drifted into me, our handlebars and front wheels collided, he bounced off and hit the road, another rider hit his bike, and in the meantime I was forced off-road onto a grassy down hill. Despite best efforts my wheels slide out and I hit the ground. Stunned but fully conscious I laid there several minutes trying to determine if I was injured. The other two cyclists were taken to the closet ER. They both road rash, and one of them ended up with fractured scapula and rib although not confirmed until he followed up with ortho doc. I wound up somewhat sore and my helmet was toast which put on end to my ride that day. Spent the rest of the morning and afternoon helping the cyclists who went to ER and drove one of them home.
I found out that two days before a cycling buddy had been water skiing and sustained a very serious head injury. He's currently in an intensive care unit and even though early signs are good, he's probably facing a long physical therapy road. These events got me thinking about how lucky I've been over my long cycling career. I've had a few accidents--it's said that if you cycle enough it's not a question of whether you'll crash, it's simply a question of when. Besides last Saturday I've had a few whens. Including last week I've had a total of 11 bike accidents going all the way back to 1960. Four of them required trips to an ER, the other seven I manged to finish my ride. I won't bore anyone with details as a few of them are already mentioned in previous posts. The very first one though in 1960 deserves a mention since that event is closest I have ever come to facing death--and escaping. It was September 1960, I was in 8th grade and riding my bike home from school. I was trying to catch my brother who was ahead of me. I was going as fast as I could down Grove Street when I approached a car going in the same direction at an incredibly slow speed. I decided to pass on the right at the same time the driver decided to pull over in order to park. I glanced off the car, hit a curb, and tried to grab a tree near the sidewalk in order to stop my momentum. My bike went out from under me, I was spun around the tree, and thrown completely underneath the car. The only thing I remember was seeing the right rear wheel resting just off my right shoulder. Fortunately the most serious injury was severe road rash--actually tree rash--from my wrist all the way up my arm to my sleeve. Obviously I've been fortunate to have cycled as long as I have with only 11 mishaps.
Here are some observations I've learned over the years from my own crashes and having helped some other cyclists. These are not in any priority:
Don't be in a hurry to move. When you hit the pavement or road hard some level of shock sets in. While the tendency is to immediately move to a "safe place" you may have an injury where movement is not a good idea. Even in urban areas when a cyclist goes down and stays there others spring into action quickly. They should be able to keep you safe from other vehicles. Let the shock settle down before you try moving potentially injured limbs or body. If you suspect a serious injury or fracture let others assess the situation. During my crash last week, even though I was fully conscious I experienced some shock. I remained still until I was sure I could move and even then I was very careful to assess things beforehand.
Experience is huge. I've ridden a lot of miles, in cities, traffic, on rural roads, at night, and in all kinds of weather. I've avoided countless crashes because I ride defensively, assume I'm virtually invisible, and anticipate actions of others on the road--dogs include. I don't keep great records of my annual mileage--no one really cares except me and then only when I'm trying to make a point. Probably over 250,000 during my life so far. So for me cycling on a street is no more dangerous than crossing it on foot, driving a car (no matter what car you're in there is always something bigger). We all do some things with confidence because we have gained experience, but we also know deep down inside that something serious can go wrong in any of life's activities.
Wear a helmet. This is an obvious no brainer now but I never wore one until 1984 when I did an organized ride. Back then the only people wearing helmet were football players--and no, they weren't leather. On some accidents my head never hit anything, but whenever it has the helmet saved me from potentially serious injury. Not only should a cyclist always wear a helmet they need to make sure it's the right size and fits properly.
Enough writing about riding--time to ride.
I found out that two days before a cycling buddy had been water skiing and sustained a very serious head injury. He's currently in an intensive care unit and even though early signs are good, he's probably facing a long physical therapy road. These events got me thinking about how lucky I've been over my long cycling career. I've had a few accidents--it's said that if you cycle enough it's not a question of whether you'll crash, it's simply a question of when. Besides last Saturday I've had a few whens. Including last week I've had a total of 11 bike accidents going all the way back to 1960. Four of them required trips to an ER, the other seven I manged to finish my ride. I won't bore anyone with details as a few of them are already mentioned in previous posts. The very first one though in 1960 deserves a mention since that event is closest I have ever come to facing death--and escaping. It was September 1960, I was in 8th grade and riding my bike home from school. I was trying to catch my brother who was ahead of me. I was going as fast as I could down Grove Street when I approached a car going in the same direction at an incredibly slow speed. I decided to pass on the right at the same time the driver decided to pull over in order to park. I glanced off the car, hit a curb, and tried to grab a tree near the sidewalk in order to stop my momentum. My bike went out from under me, I was spun around the tree, and thrown completely underneath the car. The only thing I remember was seeing the right rear wheel resting just off my right shoulder. Fortunately the most serious injury was severe road rash--actually tree rash--from my wrist all the way up my arm to my sleeve. Obviously I've been fortunate to have cycled as long as I have with only 11 mishaps.
Here are some observations I've learned over the years from my own crashes and having helped some other cyclists. These are not in any priority:
Don't be in a hurry to move. When you hit the pavement or road hard some level of shock sets in. While the tendency is to immediately move to a "safe place" you may have an injury where movement is not a good idea. Even in urban areas when a cyclist goes down and stays there others spring into action quickly. They should be able to keep you safe from other vehicles. Let the shock settle down before you try moving potentially injured limbs or body. If you suspect a serious injury or fracture let others assess the situation. During my crash last week, even though I was fully conscious I experienced some shock. I remained still until I was sure I could move and even then I was very careful to assess things beforehand.
Experience is huge. I've ridden a lot of miles, in cities, traffic, on rural roads, at night, and in all kinds of weather. I've avoided countless crashes because I ride defensively, assume I'm virtually invisible, and anticipate actions of others on the road--dogs include. I don't keep great records of my annual mileage--no one really cares except me and then only when I'm trying to make a point. Probably over 250,000 during my life so far. So for me cycling on a street is no more dangerous than crossing it on foot, driving a car (no matter what car you're in there is always something bigger). We all do some things with confidence because we have gained experience, but we also know deep down inside that something serious can go wrong in any of life's activities.
Wear a helmet. This is an obvious no brainer now but I never wore one until 1984 when I did an organized ride. Back then the only people wearing helmet were football players--and no, they weren't leather. On some accidents my head never hit anything, but whenever it has the helmet saved me from potentially serious injury. Not only should a cyclist always wear a helmet they need to make sure it's the right size and fits properly.
Enough writing about riding--time to ride.
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