The MSRide and I have some history. We have an on-again/off-again relationship that is tenuous at best. I rode my first MS150 in 2004. That year, it was a fairly last minute decision and my team was made up of Klucker and me. I remember struggling through the hills on the second day, not knowing if I could make it. I rode again in 2005, in better shape, but seven weeks pregnant with my angel baby. On day two that year, I puked at the first three rest stops and cried at one as well. I persevered and made it. 2006 saw me seven months pregnant and making PBJ sandwiches at a rest stop. I definitely preferred riding. I returned to riding it in 2007, with little training. I wrenched my knee 40 miles in and sagged back to the start. Since 2007, I scoffed at any suggestion I attempt such foolishness. First, I hate asking people for money. Oh, I typically donate to everyone who asks, but I'm not asking. And second, I really never got into the whole party on a bike atmosphere with thousands of people I don't know.
This biking season arrived and so did the talk of the MSRides. My compadre Steph was leading a group of women to the Memphis edition of the ride. Liz was recruiting for the Gateway MS. I wondered if they had lost their minds. I was racing PICX and E'ville that weekend. To heck with their silliness.
Then July stretched into August and the state crit was a disappointment to me. Racing was wearing me ragged. I need something fun to do. And we ordered a few too many pitchers of gatorade at TQs one night. Never say never because I registered for the Gateway MSRide and sent requests for money out to folks. The salted glass gets me every time. At least I didn't agree to camp.
I won't give a blow by blow of the weekend and the riding like I do in most of my race reports, but I will share my insights about my riding.
I am a group ride snob. There are certain pieces of etiquette one must follow when riding with more than one other person. Communication being the most important one. Let me know where you're going if you're not going to ride in a straight line parallel to the side of the road. And don't ride more than two abreast...that doesn't mean one at the white and one at the yellow. Oh, and if you're stopping suddenly, please tell me. The other one is take your turn at the front. The wind is a b!+ch, don't make me fight it the whole day. I love my Saturday Big Shark and Hub rides, these are never issues there. It's organized, everyone knows what to expect and what to do. It's full of peace, harmony, and hand signals.
As a new cyclist, I hated hills. I would see one looming before me and feel the panic attack start. I had an innate fear of not being able to turn over the pedals. I thought I would get part way up, freeze, and fall over. I've learned how to appreciate hills. I have the skills to attack them and the outlook that I will conquer them. My next loathing became the wind. At least with the hills, there was an end in sight and a respite on the descent. The wind is a relentless adversary. But the more I've ridden in windy conditions, the more I've resigned myself not to fight. I don't like the wind, but I can't do anything about it. I just hunker down and spin. This weekend I elevated something else to the top of my demon list--bad pavement. Those quaint Amish or Mennonite horse and buggies have chewed the pavement like a mouse chews old newspaper. Chip and seal sucks, but Boone County needs to invest in something. I swore the welds on my frame were going to come undone on some of those stretches.
This summer has given me a lot of insight into group dynamics, and the MS ride provided more action research material for me. I have learned a lot about the way one or two changes in a group of people can really make a difference in the way a group behaves, whether those are additions or subtractions. I like to watch the different ways people conduct themselves in the presence or absence of others. I know I fall victim to this, and was a lot more subdued on Saturday night than I have been in other situations. It intrigues me to see the different sides that people have. It was fascinating to watch the interactions between people the longer we were together. It definitely led me to new hypotheses. My predictions are getting better with time, and as I become a more skillful observer (and learn to be silent, like the ever watchful sphinx, at the right moment).
In that same spirit of being a lifelong learner, I learned a new word a few weeks ago, pathlete. Someone had thrown it out on stlbiking, and I had to Google it. Over the weekend, I was exposed to quite a few of these folks--goes back to me being a group ride snob. One of the most impressive ones who zoomed past us in his capped-sleeve, baggy t-shirt, with arm warmers that sagging. I wouldn't have given much thought to him, except for we all stopped at a rest stop. Our group didn't stay long and was regrouping to hit the road when I heard him say, "If I hurry, I'll catch you again." I'm not sure what the payout was for the MS, but it must have been sweet because this guy chased us down and crossed the yellow to make sure he was ahead. Really, if you have that much of a need to show your stuff, TNWs are only $10/week. You can do the whole series for you fundraised for this weekend...and you may learn to hold a line to boot.
My first MS rides were filled with the mantra, "Only 10 miles between rest stops. You can ride for 10 more miles." The longest stretch I would do was from the start to rest stop 2 because I quickly learned that stopping at the first one was a clear sign of a love of chaos. I go out on my long rides, 3.5 or 4 hours, and only stop if I need water. Very rarely do I get off, walk around and spend time socializing with the riders I'm with until after we're all finished. But those rest stops are inviting: orange wedges, peanut butter/ jelly grahams, homemade ice cream and pies. I found myself having to practice restraint to not veer to the right, their tawdry draw. I say this, because I know the longer I spend off the bike, the harder it is to get going again. My legs tighten, my resolve waivers. They are so appealing, yet so, so bad. When I got home and looked up the calories (290) on one of those amazing peanut butter/jelly grahams and that bolstered my view on the maliciousness of those sinful oases.
All playing aside, the weekend was good for me. I began the weekend with some guilt about not racing Saturday and Sunday, because after all I am a wanna-be bike racer. That was juxtapositioned with a tiredness and sullen nature about racing in general. Sunday morning as I got ready, I had a momentary thought about texting Ryan and telling him to ride on his own because I was going to E'ville. (I did have a racing kit with me just in case.) I'm glad I didn't. It was relaxing and undemanding. It gave me a chance to ride how I wanted, not how I needed to in order to prepare for the next event on my schedule. More than anything, it was as much a mental training ride as a physical endeavor: well-needed, well-executed, valuable.
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