You don’t know until you know

The photos don't match the story.  Deal with it.

My friend Todd says the secret to happiness is to continually lower the bar. I can’t really argue with that, but I do want to know exactly where the bar is at any given time.

Late last year I reviewed my training history and realized it had been years since I had ridden a hundred miles.  I had logged more than ninety five a couple times, but even after adopting the, “all metric all the time,” cycling lifestyle- the lack of an imperial century was haunting me.

In 2017 one of my goals was a metric century every month and I did it but frankly I struggled getting in a hundred k some months.  I set a goal and a carrot in January and circumstances seemed to conspire against me.  It didn’t look like it was going to happen.

With two heart surgeries in the past thirteen months I had some even more basic questions about my ability to backpack, climb mountains or ride my bike all day long.  I know it sounds selfish or foolish to cherish the ability to flog oneself, but I never professed to be logical.  

I had been logging some good miles and had a pile of four and five hour rides.  What I didn’t have were any long, six to nine hour rides. The other, and most important thing, was that I wanted to know that I could still do an all-day physical adventure.  I had been steady in my build up and had felt strong of late, but still I wasn’t sure.  I wanted to prove to myself that the second surgery was a success and that I had reinstated my warranty to do epic, stupid things.

At the last minute the events lined up for the chance to go long.  It would be hot and that would also tick the box of a hot ride before our adventure in a couple weeks.

I have come to believe that hydration is more important to me than most people and my attempt would require that I be able to drink enough to keep me running smooth. This required a change in route to allow access to water.  Even so I expected I would be carrying more than just my two bottles.

Tux made sure we were up early and after a bowl of rolled oats and kissing Hottie goodbye I was out riding in the mountain air at six thirty in the morning.  I wore arm warmers as it was below 10C (50F).  Most of the first twenty kms were in the shadows on the eastern side of the valley as the sun was coming up.  I saw deer feeding on the abundant spring foliage. A yellow bellied marmot dashed across the road as I approached.  Cows looked at me as if they knew I had eaten beef last night.  I had the road to myself.

Soon the climb up to Loup Loup Pass was in the sun and the arm warmers came off.  Eagles circled overhead riding the thermals.  I kept the pace mellow because this was an all-day adventure.  I finished my second bottle just before the top. I was over the pass, zipped up and descending before nine.  I saw a dead fox but refused to treat it as an omen.  I spotted several snakes sunning themselves in the early morning light. “You won’t be cold for long,” I said out loud.

There was very little traffic on this sleepy Sunday morning.  Soon I was in the hamlet of Okanogan and found the only market and purchased some food and eighty four ounces of water. I filled my bottles, drank some and stuck a forty two ounce bottle in the back of my bib shorts.

With my jersey completely unzipped I retraced a bit and headed down the Columbia toward Pateros, fifty kilometers away.  It was still early but the sky didn’t have a cloud and the sun made it warm even though it was still before ten.

This was “Old 97” and there was virtually no traffic.  Early on I was close to the river and it was wide and slow moving.  Before long I spotted a big ring climb that snaked above the river short-cutting a peninsula.  I slowed on the climb and the sun beat on my back.  I drained and refilled both water bottles.

In Brewster I threw the empty 42 ounce bottle into the trash can at a gas station and rolled onward. By the time I reached Pateros my bottles were empty again and I was hungry.  I had one hundred and twenty kilometers done and I guessed I had at least sixty to go.  I would be getting a lot more than a hundred miles if I managed to live.

I found a bakery and had a sandwich and a coke and refilled my bottles.  I set off up the canyon toward the cabin. 

As I passed the mile parkers I tried not to count them, but I could not help myself.  Twenty two mile markers later I reached Carlton and stopped at the general store and put a buck in the tip jar as the kid filled my empty bottles with water.  As I pulled out I had 160km behind me and still had close to thirty km to go.  This would be a full day.

I was on familiar ground now that I was back on the Twisp-Carlton road.  It seemed like forever ago that I was riding this road wearing thick tights, a heavy jacket and hamburger helper mitts just after the snow was off the road.  Back then the loop from the cabin to this point was a solid ride.  Now it is the frosting on my cake.

I was feeling tired (like I’d ridden a hundred miles or something), but when I got out of the saddle, there was some strength in my legs.  Nice.  I rolled though Twisp and before long I was on the climb up toward our cabin.  I rolled up and stepped off the bike.

I had 188.5km and had climbed over 2,300 meters.  That is 117 miles and 7,800’ of climbing in old money as Phil says.  I calculated that I had drank 240 ounces of liquids. I ate everything I brought and bought more.  I knew I had done something but I wasn’t shattered.   Very nice.

In the end it was a test.  I passed.