Tri-State Trek: Day Three

Morning again and another day of pedaling.
Shower, pack the gear, say a prayer because today, especially, I'll need all the help I can get.

I did awaken once at 12:45, it's strange how time warps when you're at the brink of exhaustion, I was sure it was near 5am. Awake again at 3:30 am, hungry because at dinner last night, I couldn't swallow more than a splat of steamed mushy 'vegetablahs', a bit of salad and half a dry chicken breast with fake BBQ flavor at the dinner, then one Sam Adams and most of a guilty pleasure mocha mousse thingy... wait, Guilty? No, at that point I needed every calorie I could force down.

So, I'm hungry now and I know the drill, there will be no breakfast for me and no more sleep if I can't quiet the grumblings. I make a double strength protein shake in water in my bottle, drink half and go back to sleep. 4:45 alarm. Finish the shake, clean and refill both bottles with fresh water and an envelope of Emergen-C Lite with MSM, my answer to sports drinks.

I hoist my gear and walk my bike out, turn in my key, hand off my packs at the truck and carouse the breakfast table. The usual milk, cereal, bagels, muffins, PBJ, bananas, apples, plums, not for me, then success... cantaloupe, yum, solids! Eating is such a challenge for me on rides. It's almost amazing how far you can go on little to no fuel and baffling how well my body still conserves it's more than ample reserves. Sometimes I wonder how much stronger I would or be if I could eat the typical fare. Or, would it drag me down even more? It certainly has an effect on me when, like with the pickles and gatorade, it's trying to climb up my throat.

I roll at 5:55am alone. It starts with a bunch of climbing, not my strong point, but this is supposed to be the real challenge of a day. The thought crosses my mind that I can walk the hills, and the voices start discussing the point at which I'll bail until I remind myself that I haven't walked a hill yet and I shut the voices out like a slamming door. You let those voices and doubts creep in and they can worm their way into your muscles and suck out every bit of energy.

The whole ride is a strange beast, a bit like a dance. This dance is like that of streetlights on the windshield seen as a child in the back seat of the car. There's the constant soft whoosh of the road and the wind punctuated with the touch of the approaching street light on the glass. It reaches out and softly connects. While the light is with you, it is a comrade, a friend with a heartfelt connection on this lonely road. As it steps off the back of the car it wishes you well and even gives you a little push.

Similarly, there are times when you ride with someone and chat and make friends on such a deep level because you're in this awesome fight together. You talk about your reason for being here, about the people you're carrying all these miles, about those names that are in your heart and written on your back. Then, there are so many long roads alone. But that's not a bad thing, it gives time to think and reflect, to overcome self limitations, to plan for tomorrow and it makes meeting with the next cyclist and hearing their story even more of a pleasure.

I rode through such beautiful forested roads with inviting streams and cool canopies overhead that made me wish I had my mountain bike to explore them. I appreciated the view from the road though, because I could take in the entire picture rather than being focused on the small things like making the next turn and avoiding slamming into trees. Then, a whoosh overhead as a huge spotted hawk chased by a small blackbird crossed the road almost close enough to touch. Breathtaking. It also reminded me of a similar route the day before when a small crow played with me for most of a mile as he rode just ahead of me along the thin line of sky where the canopy almost touched as it reached across the road. I smiled to think it held the spirit of another soul visiting to encourage me on.

Today, I am surprised. I have ridden over 200 miles and I still have energy. I haven't felt overburdened by the climbs or the lack of rest stop fuel. My homemade goo is certainly doing it's job through this entire weekend since I haven't touched the Hammer gels I bought for emergencies. And I haven't hit that syrupy point today when it's all a slow, sticky effort.

I'm not saying it was easy. I battled knee pain most of the day that I was really scared would knock me out of it. The butt balm was never enough, my hands were numb, my feet edged on cramping, there was a pull in my right achillie's... but somehow, I was still stronger. We did 6500 feet of climbing on the day we were most apt to fall apart and I did better than ever. I kept waiting for the Berkshires and the hill the described as a 'walker'. I found some tough ones, but not the big one. It was hot and I was slimy and sweaty like a slug. I'd long since gotten over the idea of feeling fresh and clean and searched out sprinklers to stand in and poured ice water through my helmet and down my back every chance I got. I was filling up with water at rest stops and sag vehicles in between. I was slathering on the butt balm thick whenever I could find it but it was never enough. Once you start to bleed, healing doesn't come overnight. And I was on the endless search for salt. I ate most of a snack bag of plain chips since it was the only source(no that wasn't good at staying down either) at the next stop I ate just the salt from a bag of pretzels and threw out the rest.

Refill, rinse, repeat.


I see fewer and fewer cyclists on the roads and smaller groups at the rest stops. SAG vehicles slow and ring cowbells as they pass and watch for the thumbs up before riding off. More SAG cars are passing carrying two and three bikes on each. Each bike means a rider who couldn't continue for one reason or another. And I'm still in it. At 250 miles, I saw a green sign... Welcome to New York... the tears burned in my eyes.

It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I made it to new York. I made it to New York!!! Dear God, I may actually finish this thing. I took a picture with my cell phone and tried to keep from crying as I thought of Eric and how he'd give anything to have the chance to ride a bike again, to experience the thrill of sailing downhill and the struggle and accomplishment of climbing up a hill. I thought of the people who have lost their battle to this disease and the people who are still fighting. I thanked God that I had been fortunate enough to meet Eric and for his support when I was crazy enough to start cycling and to start it with a 100 mile fundraiser for MS.

I most appreciated Eric because I took strength from his battle with ALS to wage war with my MS and stop it from holding me down. Though I did this ride for Eric to, in a small way, thank him for the simple thing he did that changed my life. His unfailing good cheer and encouraging words helped me stop worrying when I would be debilitated and just learn to love and appreciate the life and gifts I had. I did this ride for ALS, but I am certainly the lucky one and the one who has taken the most benefit from all this. Since beginning cycling, I have never been healthier. I have more strength and stamina and fewer MS symptoms than anytime since my diagnosis 21 years ago. And... I've had more fun than I can shake a stick at.

Thanks to all of you who have donated to this great cause(contact me if you still want to donate) and many thanks to my family again for allowing me to do this crazy stunt, to accomplish the impossible.

Last year, I said I would start leading rides to encourage more people to get out there with me and now, I have three scheduled rides every week for people of differing abilities. We're out there all the time and would love to have you join us. This year consider joining Sandie's Chain Gang and let's ride for MS in September. Just ask, I'll get you the details. Remember, I was a couch potato and trained for it in 3 1/2 weeks, I know I can get you ready too!

I almost forgot!!
The hill that everyone was telling me was a walker, the climb that had up to a 22.2% grade was lined with cheering crowds that screamed so loud it hurt my ears, they wrote in the road with different colored chalk, section by section all the way up the hill, "You can do it", "You are almost there", "Keep pushing", "You've got it now", "You did it!!" and "You're Badass!"....
I climbed the entire thing.

That's right, I am BADASS!!!!


for the geeks: http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/6309966