Saddle Sore

Wow does my butt hurt!

Last Saturday I got together with my buddies John and Spencer for a 100 mile bike ride in Palm Springs. Yup, you read it correctly. Go ahead, go back and read it again just to be sure. That's right: Palm Springs.

Here's a quick play by play:

6:55am - 0 miles. Waiting at the starting line with 9,000 other idiots, the three of us grapple with tough questions like "how do I get back to the car if I collapse at mile 85?" and "does this lycra make my butt look fat?"

7:00am - 0.1 miles. The ride begins. We are seen off by the local high school marching band playing the Darth Vader Theme. There are cheerleaders, homecoming royalty, and those girls with the big flags. John makes a joke about band-nerds. Typical.

7:35am - Mile 8. It's warming up. John decides to take off his windbreaker without stopping. He crashes, slightly tweaking his wrist. What's amazing about this is not that John crashed. That should have been obvious. The incredible thing is that it was all captured on video.



9:20am - Mile 42. I trip the roadside camera, which captures this first class image of yours truly.



9:35am - Mile 48. Spencer bumps a guy trying to pass him. The guy exclaims, "You are not a very safe rider!" Spencer, known far and wide for his temper, yells something back about the other guy's intelligence. The situation escalates quickly, culminating in the altercation below:



11:00am - Mile 55. After a short break, I hook up with this incredible group of about 10 riders. We form a great paceline, and hold 20 to 23 mph for over an hour. I lay down several solid pulls, earning the thanks and praise of the guys in the group. Thing are looking good.

12:25pm - Mile 80. I find myself unable to hang with the group. I skip a turn at the front. Some of the guys start glaring at me. I get dropped... without a word or a even a nod. As I slip out of the draft, I slow to about 13 mph. I can hardly move. I look down at my computer: 80.1 miles. Two old ladies on a tandem pass me. I pedal for what seems like forever. I look down again: 80.2 miles.

12:45pm - Mile 85. Things I have never thought start entering my mind. I wonder what my boss would think if I didn't show up on Monday. I think about the house Martha could buy with my life insurance proceeds. I try to remember the last time I had any feeling in my crotch.

1:00pm - Mile 90. A rest stop! I hadn't seen it on the map! I roll to a stop. Somebody hands me a turkey sandwich. I guzzle a quart sized bottle of gatorade without stopping to breathe. I sit down on the pavement next to a water cooler. I stare at the ground for about 10 minutes, my mind is completely blank. Nothing. So tired. Can't move.

1:10pm - Still at Mile 90. Finally I feel my strength returning. I hop back in the saddle and take off. I feel like a new man again. Something about that turkey sandwich. I hold 19 to 20 mph for the last 10 miles.

1:45pm - Mile 100. I see the finish line! I'm right back where it all started 6 hours and 45 minutes earlier. The announcer is yelling for every person as they cross the line, like we're all sprinting to beat the peloton. In my mind Phil Liggitt is yelling: "These are DESPARATE times!" I cross the line. Someone hands me a t-shirt and a bottle of water. I look around for the ladies with the yellow dresses. They're not there. The marching band is gone too.