Let's go for a bike ride, with the sequel, let's go for a swim to follow in my next blog.

Brad usually rides on Sunday with a group that he really likes. They ride like they're in the Tour, fast, in a pace line, in their funky cycling clothes. This Sunday Brad had a bunch of work he was trying to get done before he went. You could see the stress bunching in his neck as he was rushing to get said work done and go riding. When I piped up with, I'll go riding with you *GASP*, he seemed to relax. He was going to get his training in, although it was with me, and get his work done. My only request is that we not do fifty miles, or 40 for that matter. I have never ridden more then 26 or longer then 2 hours on my trainer. Oh, and we keep it at a pace that I can maintain. He happily said yes, got the work done and spadexedly suited up and got the stress out not stressed out.

It was cold on Sunday so we had our layers on, got our water bottles and hopped on the bikes. Bonni misses being on the open road. She loves it out there and wishes I was a more willing rider, I keep promising her someday, Bonni Blu my beautiful bike, someday I will be. Yes, my bike has a name, doesn't yours, my wetsuit is named Delilah! Anyway, Brad is in the lead, of course and we warm up a bit through our subdivision. Great so far, we get to Hull Street, which of course makes my heart race like a maniac because it's so busy and it's four lanes of sheer hell, unclip at the light, and wait until it's red in both directions and we cross. Phew! We made it. Now we're in Foxcroft. Foxcroft has some nice little inclines, I started shifting just to make sure my gears were working. Out to Woolridge Road. Thankfully, it isn't busy. That is a killer road when it is. We turned onto Otterdale which eventually turns into Duval. Duval has nice rolling hills. Then on to Skinquarter. These are all fairly rural, and we got even more rural to the point where I have no idea where we are.

Brad takes us on this one road where he says "by mile 13 or so there is a mile long climb, it gets pretty steep at the end. IT'S GREAT!" Have I told you I think my husband is a little "pazzo"??? He's scary when he gets that enthusiastic about something that non-enthusing. You'd think he's discovered a way to turn water to wine. So we start on this road, and sure enough the climb starts, and I am doing okay. The hill is getting steeper, I am working through the gears on my middle ring. Wow, I am through all of those gears, there must be something wrong with my bike, they went too quickly....I am going to have to switch to my little ring soon. Okay, now this hill just plain sucks. Holy smokes, I am in my little ring and working the gears until it happens, I have no more gears left. When I hit the last one, I panic a bit. Now, this is when the little man in my head starts starts yammering away at me. Starts making fun of me, calling me an old lady for having to use my Granny gear, "and you're not even at the top of the hill yet. What chu gonna do now, hahahaha, weak, you are weak, you are a Granny, I know Grannies that ride better then you, to say that you are a granny insults Grannies!" Didn't I tell you he's mean? Yes, I did want to get off of the bike and start walking the damn thing, but you see, I hate giving in to that mean little guy, so I stick it out. I start focusing on my technique, making sure I am pedaling a full stroke, not just mashing my down stroke. I am making progress. I tell myself I could always get out of my saddle and ride standing up if I had to, but I would rather not. I want to sit and get through this hill, hmmmm maybe that little man is making me masochistic. I see Brad waiting for me at the top, I think I have some maniacal smile on my face, and I probably would have bugs stuck in my teeth if it were summer. Which would probably be a good thing to have that source of protein. I had no intention of riding so long that I would need to bring some sort of nurtrition on my bike, but guess what, we were!

When I finally got to the stop sign and met up with Brad, he starts giving me options, none of which I like. Nope not at all. "well we can turn right and go this way, blah, blah, blah, or if we go left and then right we can go that way, blah, blah, blah, and if we go right, then right again, blah, blah, blah. I think he thought I was listening and carefully weighing my options. But he never said, You wait here, I will finish the ride, get my truck, pick you up and have a cup of coffee and a sandwich in the car for you. (I was going to say one of those angry Whoppers they have out now, but what kind of an athlete would I be if I admitted I ate things like that, or wished I could at least, it's a good thing I don't like Burger Kings French Fries) So I snap out of my dream sequence, look at him and say, I don't think I can do more then 25 or so miles" His incredulous stare, I so wished I had taken a picture of it because he rarely looks at me like I am mentally challenged, but this time he did, said it all. When he slapped his, Better be careful with your words Bud, she looks like she's liable to snap if you say the wrong thing, look on his face, he cheerfully replied with "Oops, well it's a little late to keep us in that range" I feebly responded, "Could we keep it around 30?, The Whopper dream bubble popping above my head, raining down all over me in sad little droplets. To which he smiled and said sure.

Did I mention after that point in the ride he stopped updating our mileage to me? Before I'd get mile markers, not so anymore, which lead me to believe that the little cuss was lying about keeping it at thirty. Anyway, onward we ride, like Knights into the Crusade. I am drafting on Brad, and he's sputtering away about how I should be on his tire. I laugh, beat you to that idea hahaha! I am on your wheel, thankfully he doesn't see me almost take him out by almost clipping his back tire. I think we were going past the llamas on the farm. Fascinated I was, fascinated. It's not like you see llamas on your average, everyday farm, so of course I had to stare. But then I thought, well if I lived on Robious Road, I would see llamas everday if I had to drive on it because there is that farm that has sheep and llamas on it, so that idea doesn't really hold water. As I am debating with this idea, I look down for some reason and HOLY COW (or llama depending on the farm you're passing) I hit my brakes and steer to the right without going in the ditch that is considered the shoulder on this road. Amazing, I didn't kill Brad or me. Better not tell him that just happened.

We finally make a turn that brings me back to a road I recognize, and my heart does a little dance because I know we're getting closer to home. We keep riding, and get back to Duval. This is when Brad proudly announces, "We're in the home stretch baby, we have only 10 or so miles left to go" Yay for ten miles, excuse the sarcasm dripping from each word. Whopper dream bubble, whopper dream bubble, where for are thou??? Why did I just imagine that?? I am hallucinating, medic, medic. But hey, I realize snapping out of my stupor this is sort of down hill, I am feeling kind of okay on this part. We are plowing up and down these rolling hills, I am trying to keep pace with Brad and do for parts of it. We get to Magnolia Green, my husband smiles at me and tells me we can make it, we are almost there. We are riding Woolridge at this point, I tell him to go on ahead, I am riding at like 14mph now, gone is the 20 and better MPH, gone is the okay, I'll just keep it at 18 mph, gone is the I refuse to drop past 16 MPH, I will settle for fourteen, unless I am on a hill. I caught up to Brad, who I know was slowing down for my benefit, and draft a bit up that long, slow incline out of Foxcroft to our subdivision. We get to Hull Street, cross again, and now I know I am home. My legs are screaming, I have cramping like I did during the NYC triathlon. By the time we round the corner to the last little hill to our house, I am wondering if I will even have the strength to unclip my shoes in the drive way. But I zip up the hill, hit the brakes, and pop off of my pedals. Getting off of my bike, my legs feel like rubber bands, I am shaky, I need food, nutrition.

Brad glibly announces we went for 38.5 miles, see, around thirty miles! So close, I kept my word. Then he sees that look I give him, that I save for announcements such as those. If any of you saw me finish at Bear Creek you know the look I mean. I must have scared him into servitude, because after that he made me a Sesame Chicken Lean Cuisine and brought me a huge glass of ice water.

Did it erase the look, well sort of, did it erase the 38.5 miles, I hope not, Brad said we burned over 3500 calories on the ride, did it erase the memory of the ride, nope, my rear still was sore. Will I go again if he asks me to next weekend if he doesn't make his usual ride, well of course, now you're getting the look I save for just such an occasion, I still have 17.5 miles more to add!

Dogma to help the two hours pass

No not religious Dogma, but Dogma definitely helped me through my first two hour plus ride. I don't know if you are a fan of Kevin Smith the director, but he is definitely one of my favorites and his movies, though rough around the edges language wise, are some of my all time favorites as well. Where Mel Brooks (another of my favorite directors)subtly insinuates in his movies, Kevin Smith, and his characters state, particularly when it comes to sex. Anyway, Dogma is my absolute favorite Kevin Smith film because of how cleverly he weaves the bible and commonly held dogma into a contemporary story. So I grabbed my husband's Christmas gift from me, his I-touch, that has Dogma downloaded on it, a water bottle and me and headed out to the trainer in the garage. I would like to train on the road for two hours, but right now I need to get my confidence on the bike, plus I have one hellaciously sick child in my house presently too, so to the trainer it was. My husband swears plenty of people use their trainers successfully to train for the bike portion of their triathlons, but I think he is just trying to make me feel better.

I started in an easy gear, and every fifteen or so minutes increased the gears to make it harder and harder while trying to keep the same cadence. By the time the movie was over, I was a sweaty, rubbery legged mess. But somehow it made the time pass faster, or so it seemed.

The other reason I am training on my bike so hard is because my husband got me involved in another one of his hair brained schemes. I swear he is the Lucy Ricardo of racing in my life. I must be his Ethel. But his new Vitameatavegimin moment is we need to do the MS 150 bike ride. Of all the crazy, what the heck are you thinking things to do....He formed a team even, Team Domestique, and now I have to do it. Two absolutely amazing friends I have made through racing have actually signed on to ride. Signed on to ride for two days, 75 miles each day. What the hell are we thinking here? There will be a really great group of people involved, some nice lodging, supposedly fabulous food, and a neat end destination in beautiful, colonial Williamsburg which I love to visit, but 150 miles???

Brad swears it will be fun, but like I said to him, he has a pretty unusual concept of what might be fun. Riding a bike for 150 miles is not fun! Fun is hanging out with people you like, fun is going on vacation, fun is staying in a nice hotel, fun is eating great food celebrating life with good friends surrounding you and being thankful for the health you have. Maybe like an MS 150 Bike ride with Team Domestique....