Neil Learns his Lesson

Notice the different color font, that's because I (Neil) have decided to add a post to this blog. Since Zoe updates people about running, I guess I will about biking. If you've read earlier postings you know that I am a cyclist. Yesterday I participated in a charity ride that raises funds for the Orleans County Citizen Advocacy Council (which just so happens to be the one and only remaining CAC left in this fine and beautiful state).  The ride is called the Kingdom Lakes Century Ride. A century ride is called such because it meanders a route that covers 100 miles. This particular ride passes 8 or 9 beautiful lakes throughout the three counties that comprise the Northeast Kingdom. I have ridden numerous century rides in the past and done numerous other solo trips of 100 miles and slightly over so this was to be no big deal, especially as my friend Fritz was riding with me and time and distance always seem to pass quicker with a person to draft behind when necessary and to talk with as I ride. The day dawned crystal clear with a forecast high of 70 degrees and no clouds, perfect.

All went well for about 40 miles and then something happened to me that's never happened before. My legs just decided that they weren't going to be a cooperative part of this folly any longer. My stomach decided to reject the idea of putting things in it, things like carbohydrate goo and blue gatorade and uber-dense cliff bars, oh yeah, and water. Climbing hills, my forte, at least I like to think it is, became nightmarishly difficult. At 40 miles you still have 60 to go, remember. I continued on into very stiff crosswinds and even stiffer head winds for another 35 miles. The last part of the ride with tailwind was gradually uphill and just awful.

Here are some of the highlights of the day: riding too fast over a violent railroad crossing that was so bumpy it broke things on both my and Fritz's bike (49.5 miles),  spending 15 minutes in the crapper at Island Pond at the state park (50 m), listening to "CHKCHKCHKCHKCHKCHK" for, like, ever (that's the sound a strong wind makes in your ears while your legs burn and ass hurts a lot (mile 30-75), responding to Fritz when asked how I was doing, "I'm not in a good place." (62 m), yelling "what the f**k! I'm going downhill and I still have to Pedal!" (80 m), yelling "f**k you, f**king wind! (numerous times through out the day), yelling "F**K" to no one in particular (81, 82, 83, 84..... m), watching Fritz ride away from me into the distance (95 m), stopping and throwing bike to the ground (101 m).

I think what happened is that I "bonked." That's when your muscles and liver become depleted of glycogen stores that are necessary to continue exercising at a high level for a long period of time. Supposedly bonk comes from the term to "hit," as in hitting the wall.

Today my legs are still quite tired and I look real funny when I walk. You should've seen me try to run quickly across the road this morning.