Rain and Taters
Having recently purchased a road bike, I have dedicated many hours to improving my physical condition. Although not remotely as fit as my wife, who recently embarked upon and completed a 100-mile ride in the Arky 100, I did manage to reach a point where I could participate in the same event. However, I would only partake in the 50-mile ride, which was more than enough to prove a challenge.
Having ascended both North and West mountains back to back several times throughout the past three weeks, I felt prepared for the 1,700 feet of elevation gain awaiting along the designated route.
I had also experienced three 50-mile rides since purchasing my bike. Judging from my performances, there should have been no issues ahead, but this was the first time I had ever participated in an organized ride consisting of a group of people I didn’t know. They would obviously be far more experienced, and I certainly did not want to make any greenhorn mistakes that might upset or slow my fellow riders. So the anticipation of what might unfold was somewhat unnerving.
My nerves grew even more intense upon seeing the forecast. Ideally, the morning would start off sunny, and the sky would remain clear for the remainder of the day. But it was not so. We were looking at high percentages of rain for the first couple of hours of the event.
Sure enough, the weatherman managed to get this one right. Arriving at the starting point, we were greeted with a light drizzle that would continue almost till noon. But there was no changing the weather. So I donned my quick-drying duds and prepared for the journey.
It seemed most obvious that I should gravitate toward the back of the crowd as everyone lined up for the start. In turn, I could ride at my own pace without obstructing the faster riders as they found their positions.
Everything worked as planned. Several of the riders shot to the front within seconds, and I eventually fell in behind a group that appeared to be more comparable to my riding abilities.
I hung with the crowd for a few miles, but it grew evident that my time on the afore-mentioned mountains had paid off. Approaching a string of hills, I reached down a little deeper, eased to the left-hand side of my fellow riders and began my ascent up the first incline. Of course, there were others who also moved forward during every climb. In fact, each of these guys eventually passed me and disappeared in the distance.
Well, one of my greatest worries took care of itself. It appeared that not many rode at my pace. Those who rode faster, obviously rode a great deal faster. And I gained distance on those who were slower.
Looking ahead, I saw no one, and peering behind I saw few. This was the perfect scenario. I was clicking on at about 15 mph, and it seemed as if I had the entire road to myself, except for occasional cars roaring down the highway. In turn, I could cause no issues nor would I be an obstacle to those who were much more serious and experienced than myself.
And the light rain? Well, I had heard horror stories about such conditions prior to the ride, but I thought it was wonderful. The light precipitation kept my body at a comfortable temperature during strenuous activity. What else could a fella ask for?
Rolling to a stop at the first designated rest area, I was elated to know that I had already tackled the first half of the ride. And I was most excited to know that the most physically testing climb was behind me.
I hit the road with a little different attitude after eating a banana and the portion of an energy bar. This was not remotely as nerve-wracking as the picture I had painted in my mind. The experienced riders were extremely supportive upon learning that this was my initial organized ride. And I was actually maintaining a steady pace.
The light rain eventually let up, and I enjoyed a pleasant journey through a beautiful and level rural area prior to reaching the next and final rest stop, located just over 10 miles from the route’s
end. Although I could practically “smell the barn” as a good friend said with a chuckle, I opted to stop one more time to replenish prior to tackling the final leg.
Walking over to the table, I was greeted by a kind fella with words that I never expected. “You ready for a hot tater? Everybody stops here for a tater,” he continued. “Try one.” That sounded good to me, as these tubers are loaded with carbohydrates. And that was just what I needed for that extra bump of energy that would get me to the finish line.
Well, let me tell you. That one “tater” was the ticket. I don’t know where the time went, but that was the quickest and most enjoyable 10 miles of the entire ride.
Arriving back at the point where the race began, I didn’t tarry before heading home, as I was scheduled to attend a meeting a little later that day. And although I missed all of the festivities following the ride, I carried with me a sense of accomplishment and great memories of rain and taters at the Arky 100.