Denying My Mortality

Originally published on August 20, 2007

Yesterday I rode in the Corporate Cycling Challenge. This is a one-day event in which riders choose either a 10-, 25-, or 42-mile course, in an attempt to rack up miles so that their company can win a meaningless trophy. This is completely different from the Commuter Cycling Challenge, in which riders take the bicycle from home to work in an attempt to rack up miles so that their company can win a meaningless trophy.

Desk jockeys have to do something like this once a year or so just to prove that they're not total couch potatoes.

I did this last year, too. Signed up for the 10-mile course, ended up riding 25, and other than some saddle-sore muscles it was okay. I'm not a fast rider and I don't have a nifty fast bike, but I do get where I'm going most of the time.

This year, I signed up for the 25-mile course. And that's all I intended to do. But when I got to the corner where I had to turn left for 25 miles, or right for 42 miles, something in my brain went haywire. I thought, hey, I'm doing pretty good. And turned right.

Now, the first clue I got that this might not be a good idea came about a half-block before this turn, when I saw a few other people turning left. Since I started at 8:00 and most of the 25-milers started at 8:30, that's a pretty good indicator that I'm going just a bit too slow for the pro crowd. But I ignored that.

The second clue that I'd made a bad choice was having to stop three times before getting to the half-way point, in Fort Calhoun. I was getting a bit hot and poured water on my head, and went on, all undaunted and oblivious.

The next clue came at the half-way point. I arrived just as they were taking down the water tables. I did get there before the station was completely dismantled, so I got signed in and the company got credit for my efforts. But there were no snacks left, and the water was nearly gone. I chose to refill my bottle with Power-Ade instead - another mistake, it was watered down and really yucky. And then I set out again.

I might have, at this point, ignored the route arrows and just taken the same way back that I had come. It wouldn't have been 42 miles, and that didn't sit right with me - having taken credit for the ride, I felt some misguided sense of honor to actually do the work for it. So I turned up the biggest damn hill that I have ever tried to ride up. Time for the next big clue - I had to get off and walk.

After making the hill and back on relatively flat ground, a volunteer pulled up in his truck and offered me a ride. I turned him down - after all, the big hill was behind me, how hard could it be?

A couple of hills later I was winded and saw a rest point that some kind neighbor had set up. I prevailed myself upon his lawn chair and relaxed all muscles. Ahhh. This was when another volunteer offered a ride. I looked back down the trail and asked whether there was anyone behind me. "No," they said. I was the last one on the trail. And again I said that I would rather try to finish.

When I got up out of the chair, I felt a little dizzy, so I sat back down until that passed. The second time up, my head was clearer, and off I went.

But the next hill, though mild, started my legs and arms shaking. Suddenly I thought of the punchline to a joke...

And God said, "I sent you a bus, a boat, and a helicopter! What more did you want?"

...and resolved that I would take the next hint.

Presumably, the bus sank.

Sure enough, along came another volunteer - I think it was the same one who stopped the first time - and said, "Are you SURE you don't want a ride?" This was said in the same forceful manner that Judith Martin might use to offer a breath mint when what she really means is that you smell like you just scarfed down skunk roadkill. Like the one I nearly ran over on this ride.

So I had a nice air-conditioned ride home, where my wife didn't even berate me for taking such stupid chances. Indeed, she made me feel like a hero for making the attempt. We had fried chicken and I downed a porter and then slept a short but righteous sleep.

I may try this again, in two or three years, if I can keep up my exercise and build up endurance. But I will damn sure have a granny gear before that day.