A Major Milestone (Rather, 100 Of Them)

Today, I rode my first century. (For all our non-cyclist readers, a century equals 100 miles.)

I rode and I rode and I rode. For about six hours. With Tim. Around the Back Bay, up Santiago Canyon, around the Back Bay again, over to Laguna Canyon, against seriously massive headwinds, up PCH, up Newport Coast and back home. I stopped to use the restroom three times in the first hour and 14 minutes of riding. I don't think Tim was amused.

After about 90 miles of riding, I was no longer amused. I wanted off the bike. I wanted my legs to stop hurting. And I wanted a hamburger.

I'm finding that once I cross a certain time limit on the run or on the bike, I turn aggressive (read: b*tchy).

Take today, for instance. Tim coached me along the ride, helping me with my pedal stroke and encouraging me to ride faster and stronger. For a while, I joked with him. We laughed when we saw a cyclist riding with a cup of coffee in Irvine. And then, 90 miles in, I turned on him.

"Don't you dare ask me to power it up this hill!" I commanded while riding up Newport Coast. "Ride in front of me or behind me - don't ride beside me!" "Don't tell me what time it is! I need positive reinforcement!"

The poor guy. Here he is, helping me through my first 100 miler of Ironman training, and I go ape on him.

Once we hit 97 miles, I was back to my normal self. Dr. Jekyll had returned; Mr. Hyde had gone. The finish line was in sight.

I was elated to get home and off my bike today. We followed up the bike with a four mile run. My legs were shredded by the time I got back home for good. I can't imagine riding an additional 12 miles and then running 22.2 more miles... Tim says that's why we'll be doing several more 100+ mile rides and post-ride runs.

Next century ride, I'll work on keeping my inner ape in check. That, or I'll bring earplugs for my training partner...