Back Out on the Road -- FINALLY

So, after the longest, most annoying winter I can remember, a two-week-long chest cold, and a series of cold and/or rainy weekends, I finally managed to get back out on the bike this past weekend. Since the mornings are still chilly (and Dave works most Saturday mornings these days), I waited until the afternoon to head out. It was gorgeously sunny and in the mid 60's, so I was anticipating a very nice ride. As usual, I decided to do the Slippery Elm Trail, from the Montessori school in Bowling Green to North Baltimore and back (around 26 miles total).

The ride started off beautifully. It was a bit breezy, but it was blowing from the west, so it wasn't really helping or hindering (the trail is a north-south route). I was comfortably hitting 15 mph and with the slightest extra effort closing in on 17 mph regularly. My legs felt great and I was feeling better emotionally than I had in a while (work is excessively stressful lately). I pulled into North Baltimore in just under an hour and was all ready to head back to BG just as speedily. And then...

Headwind.

Not just any headwind, but a full blown, Northwest Ohio style, blow across farm fields that haven't been planted yet, gusting to 25 mph mess that made it feel like I was trying to bike through a brick wall. The wind must have changed directions at some point because instead of pointing to the east, the bright orange wind socks that dot the trail were now pointing directly at my face. Here's what happened to my thought process during this time:

First Couple of Miles, North Baltimore to about Oil Center Road
Well, this sucks a little. Oh well, it'll be good training for the hills outside of Columbus during Pelotonia.

Between Oil Center Road and Cygnet
At this point, my average speed dropped to about 10 mph. My legs were starting to burn. I can always tell when things aren't going well because I start checking my bike computer to count down the miles every few seconds.

Between Cygnet and Rudolph
I had never experienced the "hitting the wall" feeling I have heard runners describe until this time. Not even when I rode 50 miles last summer. My legs felt like lead and there were times that the wind was blowing so hard that I couldn't even get over 7 mph. I started trying to think of ways that Dave could come collect me off the side of the trail, but since I had taken the Subaru (which has the girls' car seats) to the trail, it wasn't really possible. I was close to panic a few times.

When I finally got to Rudolph, which has benches and a water station, I could barely feel my legs. When I dismounted, I almost fell because my legs buckled when I tried to stand on them (fortunately, there was no one around to see that bit of gracelessness). Making matters worse, I only had half of a protein bar left. I took about a fifteen minute break, sent Dave a particularly profane text message to check in, and then pushed on.

Rudolph to Bowling Green
Usually, I can do the Rudolph to BG homestretch (about 5 miles) in my sleep. It's not even exercise most of the time. This time, it was the longest five miles I've ever done. The wind was even worse and I could barely hit 10 mph (remember, I ride a ROAD BIKE). Most of my thoughts during this stretch were too profane to print here, but were along the lines of thinking what the wind could do to itself. When I finally got back to BG, I almost cried. It took me close to two hours (including breaks) to get from North Baltimore to BG (basically double what it took to get to NB). But, I did it.

My heart rate monitor clocked me in at burning 2,317 calories. So, I think I was justified in ordering pizza and breadsticks for dinner.

Overall, it was a demoralizing ride for that second half. However, I finished and I got some good resistance training for the hills I'll encounter during Pelotonia. In the meantime, I'm hoping for less wind and stronger legs as I keep training for 100!

Check out my Pelotonia profile and please consider donating: Emily's Rider Profile

Why I'm Riding 100 Miles

Anyone who has known me for more than a few years would probably have never guessed that I would sign up to ride 100 miles on a bicycle. My history with exercise and exercise-like activities is inconsistent at best. I HATE running. Hate it. I decided to try training for a 5k a few years ago, against my better judgment, and ended up with such severe bursitis in my knee that I could barely walk for three weeks. Screw that. Treadmills and stationary bikes and other gym equipment bore me to tears, even with audio books, TV, or reading material. I actually enjoy yoga, but classes are expensive and after having two kids, it's pretty intimidating to bend myself into pretzelly shapes around a bunch of thin, flexible twenty-year-olds. I'm not exactly graceful (my less generous friends and family would call me clumsy even) and I've spent most of my life feeling decidedly un-athletic. And yet, here I am signed up to ride 100 miles on a bike this August.

My road to 100 miles has been a journey of self-discovery and physical and emotional change. I've enjoyed riding a bike as long as I can remember, but I never did it in any kind of sustained way. When I was in undergrad, my husband (well, he was my boyfriend then), David, got me hooked on watching the Tour de France each summer. Watching these elite athletes zoom across the French countryside and power up the sides of mountains gave me a sense that cycling was beautiful, fascinating, and best undertaken by men with zero percent body fat and a crew of supporters behind them. But then, in the spring of 2010, David came home from work with information about Pelotonia, a grassroots cycling event in Columbus, OH that raises money for cancer research at Ohio State University. His company was sponsoring the event and offering incentives for their employees to participate. After some deliberation, he signed up to ride 50 miles. I was only a few months postpartum with my first baby, so I didn't even consider riding. I did, however, help Dave fundraise and supported his training efforts. That August, my nine-month-old daughter and I watched him set off on his first Pelotonia. I surprised myself by feeling a little bit jealous as he rode away surrounded by hundreds of like-minded cyclists, all with the goal of ending cancer through research. By August 2011, when David did his second 50 mile ride in Pelotonia, I'd had another baby. That would be my last time standing on the sidelines watching him ride away.

So, being inspired by my husband was the first step. The second step was, and stick with me here, breastfeeding (I know that those of you who know me are rolling your eyes and groaning, "She's talking about breastfeeding again. Why won't she just shut up about it already?" Too bad. Don't read a blog by a breastfeeding scholar and activist if you don't like it). I struggled with breastfeeding my first daughter. I experienced just about every one of the "booby traps" defined by Best for Babes. I stuck with it as long as I could, but when I got pregnant with my second baby, my milk supply dropped drastically and that was that. I was sad and disappointed, but determined to succeed on my second try. When my second daughter was born in the spring of 2011, I was ready. Armed with information, experience, support, and awareness of what went wrong the first time, I succeeded. I breastfed my youngest for eighteen months: six months exclusively, until she was one with complimentary foods, and then through the six month process of baby-led weaning. It wasn't always easy (I work full-time and was only able to take one week of maternity leave, for example), but I did it. And as the months went on, my perception of my own body started to change. I started to feel like my body was capable of much more than I believed. I was keeping an entire person alive, healthy, chubby, and thriving using just my body (with some food when she was ready, of course). I realized I didn't need to be graceful to be powerful...I just needed to try.

My final source of inspiration was Pelotonia's mission. Getting to know the organization in Dave's first two years of participation, I was deeply moved and motivated by their mission to end cancer through research. I am an academic, so I value research and know the power it holds when it's well-done and well-funded. I've known far too many people in my life who have suffered through cancer, some surviving and some not. My heart breaks when I think about what people with cancer endure and what their families go through to support them and care for them. Pelotonia is different from other cancer charities. It does not exist to "raise awareness" (I think we're all aware of cancer, thankyouverymuch). It does not exist to "find a cure" (which implies that it's ok if people get cancer in the first place as long as it can be cured). Instead, Pelotonia's motto is "One Goal: End Cancer." THAT I can get on board with. Pelotonia seeks to achieve this goal by funding cancer research at The Ohio State University Comprehensive Cancer Center - Arthur G. James Cancer Hospital and Richard J. Solove Research Institute. Please, for the love of all that is good in this world, check out the Pelotonia website. If you aren't fired up and motivated after reading their About Us section, you aren't paying attention. I had to be a part of this.

I started with the goal of 25 miles (the shortest Pelotonia route) in 2012. I got myself a new bike, a Trek Pure Lowstep in Candy Orange: a big old cruiser that made up in style what it lacked in speed. I spent the spring and summer going on rides up and down our local bike trail with Dave (toting the girls in a trailer behind his bike). In August, I completed 25 miles with pride and joy. I told Dave that I'd do the 25 mile ride again the next year because I just didn't see the need to go farther since 25 miles was hard enough. That feeling lasted about two weeks. I started noticing that I felt a little guilty and lazy about only doing 25 miles. I could go farther than that. And doing so would raise even more money for cancer research. So, I decided to do 50 in 2013. I spent the summer of 2013 training and fundraising. In August, I completed the 50 mile ride. It was incredibly emotional and fulfilling. Again, I told Dave that I thought 50 miles was my limit. That feeling lasted about two weeks. Can you see where this is going? In September 2013, I upgraded to a road bike (a Trek Lexa...light and fast and euphoria-inducing). In January 2014, I officially registered to ride 100 miles in Pelotonia '14. And here we are.

I plan to use this space to write about my training and fundraising because writing about things helps me hold myself accountable and because I enjoy writing about things that make me happy. I hope you'll join me in this journey and check in with the blog sometimes.

tl;dr: Emily's going to ride her bike a long way and hit people up for money.

Check out my Pelotonia Profile.