My First Hundred Mile Bicycle Ride

For a bicyclist, a century ride is a big accomplishment. It means that you have conditioned your body to the extent that you can ride the six to eight hours necessary to complete a ride of that distance. This conditioning will most likely include hours of training, dieting to lower weight and mental hardening to endure fatigue brought on by the activity.

I started bicycle riding 8 years ago while still pursuing the sport of competitive weightlifting.

It was obvious that a new sport was needed. The left shoulder was stiff and no longer snapped overhead, the right hamstring caused pain when I rose on my toes and both hips were severely arthritic.

I liked the idea of bicycle riding. My weight had gone to 220 lbs for the weightlifting meet at the New Mexico State Games in 1999 when I turned 50. I lifted well at that weight but I could no longer run for any distance and the blood pressure and cholesterol were at marginally serious levels. Bicycling might change those problems.

So I became a cyclist. I lost weight and my aerobic fitness improved. As I was forced to end both my weightlifting and scuba diving careers, the bicycling played an increasingly important role in my life.

Last year in 2009, the college where I worked, closed its doors and I found myself out of work and at loose ends. Fortunately I had sold my house and my Corvette and had invested the money in CDs. The interest from those investments was enough to eke out an ascetic existence. At a friend's suggestion, I joined the New Mexico Touring Society.

At first, I rode 25 miles, half of the club ride average distance. After a few weeks, I was able to complete entire rides.

In October, again at a friend's insistence, I signed up for a ride that was purely climbing for 36 miles. I say "purely climbing"; of course, there are downhills for every uphill climb but 70 percent of your time is spent climbing the hill so it seems as if you are only climbing.

I was a poor climber. My weight, though it had decreased to 205, was still at least 30 lbs more than that of the fellows of my height who could climb well. Weight is the biggest detriment to cyclists in general and to climbers in particular.

The ride was more disastrous than I anticipated. During the climbs, my lungs were exploding and I felt nauseous. Later, fatigue set in and the leg muscles became like spaghetti. At the steepest spots I got off my bicycle and walked the ascent.

I lost sight of fellow club members. By the time I reached the parking lot at the end of the ride, my car was the only one left. For a lifelong athlete such as myself, this was humiliating and infuriating.

I vowed to lose weight and improve aerobic conditioning. On the dieting side, I decided to stop eating at 7 pm at night. I indulge myself in the evening hours snacking. That had to stop. For the aerobic conditioning, I decided to try running again. I thought with my bike riding, I should be able to run a mile.

Neither thing went well. It was very uncomfortable to deprive myself of food at night. And the running did not even get off the ground as my arthritic hips pained me the minute I started running.

To keep focused on dieting and conditioning goals, I signed up for the most physically difficult activity sponsored by the club. It is four days of climbing mountains in central Colorado whose peaks are from 11,000 to 12, 200 feet altitude. The ride took place in July 2010, nine months away.

By Christmas it was obvious to me that both the dieting and the running were failures. I quit them and went to visit my brother and sister in Phoenix and think about how to proceed.

My next conditioning attempt happened by chance. I was riding every day in Phoenix and putting up good distances, longest being 57 miles. Long distance riding every day might get me in shape for the Colorado event.

This proved a mistake. My right knee bothered me to the point that I was unable to ride.

I took up swimming laps. Initially I could not swim more that 100 yards before having to stop and catch my breath but, after awhile, things improved and I got to swimming non-stop for 30 minutes. My speed improved as well and I was covering 1000 meters in the 30 minute time period.

Meanwhile, I used the city library to research diet books. The best, by Weight Watchers, said that one should restrict calories to an amount less than current intake. Restricting eating in the evening had no effect on weight loss. It was not about when you eat but simply how much you eat.

That sounded good to me. I started recording everything I ate in the course of a day. I found Internet sites that listed calorie counts for food. I established how much I was eating.

Then I tried to reduce calories. I left myself enough calories at the end of the day that I could "graze" in the evenings. Even so, I found that I was hungry much of the time.

What came of this was the need to find foods that had a lot of bulk but few calories. Bulk was necessary to give a feeling of satiation. For example, oatmeal is gives one the feeling of fullness for a small calorie expenditure.

Other foods like oatmeal, bulk without calories, were hot air popcorn, vegetables and fruits. Hot air popcorn does not have the taste of popcorn cooked in oil but you can eat a lot with little calorie cost. Same for vegetables.

I seldom enjoy a salad; lettuce has no calories but no food satiation either. Adding cucumber slices and broccoli to a salad give it bulk. A carrot with the all requisite chewing causes a full feeling too.

You need calorie dense food. I ate peanut butter sandwiches using high quality bread and peanut butter. I kept meat in my diet. Lean ham has fewer calories than turkey and so I included ham sandwiches lathered with Dijon mustard.

Burritos, made with tomato, whole pinto beans, onions, whole wheat tortillas and, of course, our New Mexico hot green chile, are low in calories but very filling.

My weight dropped to 185. The weight loss produced a second effect. My hips did not hurt so much with the lower weight. I started running again, moving my distance to 3 miles. I started bike riding again.

The change was remarkable. I stay with other cyclists in the hills. Mine would not be the last car in the parking lot!

That brings me to May 1st, 2010. I had planned for a century ride for awhile. In New Mexico we have two major century rides, the Albuquerque Century and the Santa Fe century. Both of those occur at inopportune times for me. So, when Chris Marsh posted his "Jemez Jundred" on the club web site, I knew this would be the initiation.

To ride 100 miles in Albquerque is difficult. The altitude is over 5000 feet. We are surrounded by the Rocky mountains. Even riding west toward the volcanoes is an elevation gain of 1000 feet. The Rocky mountains is my region of choice. My most memorable events of my youth were of vacations in the mountains. Most of that has to do with our father's love of trout fishing. We spent vacations in Red River, Monument Lake in Colorado and El Porvenir. It was obvious that I would choose New Mexico as my home.

One's first century ride should take place on a flat area. I had no such choice. But a trip to the Jemez mountains was good. The ride that Chris suggested would stop at Jemez Springs which is where the cottonwood trees and scrub brush changed to Ponderosa pines and alpine greenery. It is also where the grade changes from about 4 percent to the 8, 12 and 20 percent grades of the high mountains.

I like the Jemez. I have fished there more than anywhere else. Our ride would start at Bernalillo New Mexico. Bernalillo is about 12 miles north of my home. We would ride from there to San Isidro, a smaller village consisting of maybe a dozen homes. We would then ride into Jemez pueblo. The pueblo Indians have the largest population of all New Mexico tribes just edging out the Navajo.

The Jemez pueblo is on the main road. We would go by the fire station, the high school and the tourist center. Just past this, we would turn east and ride 6 miles to Ponderosa winery. New Mexico wines are good and have grown in prestige to the point that ours rank favorably with California and even French wines.

From the winery, we would then go to the conjunction of the Jemez and Guadalupe rivers and go up the road that parallels the Guadalupe river for a distance of around 8 miles to the Gilman tunnels.

The Guadalupe river has carved a canyon between the mountains there. The narrow road that goes along one side of the canyon has two short tunnels cut through the rock. The view from the area between Gilman tunnels is stunning and worth the climb.

From Gilman tunnels we would proceed to Jemez Springs. Jemez Springs is a small town with several buildings that have a typical Western facade. The most famous of these is the Los Ojos saloon. I have seen several colorful types at the bar there.

From Jemez Springs we would ride back to Bernalillo.

So I found myself on May day, the first of May, at 7:30 am in a parking lot in Bernalillo. The weather had not cooperated. The wind had blown unmercifully for two days and dropped our mid seventies temperatures to the mid forties. December in May!

I was wearing a long sleeve jersey with a wind breaker. I had on my biking shorts with leg warmers which I did not plan to take off the entire day. I had winter gloves on.

I had had the obligatory spaghetti meal the night before and my standard breakfast which consisted of an apple, an orange and a banana with 2 large biscuits that I make every day from scratch consisting of white whole wheat flour, baking powder, teaspoon of oil and water. I

had weighted my bike with 2 pounds of trail mix, dried fruit, granola bars and power bars. My bodyweight was 185 lbs. I had had adequate rest.

There were eight of us who were going to ride one hundred miles. Two others were going to ride to San Isidro and turn around.

The wind had subsided and the clouds were gone. Even the veteran riders began at a cautious pace. That changed as we felt a headwind. There was a need to cover as much distance as possible before the wind became nasty.

At ten miles, the group that I was with, stopped for food. A man of my size burns more than 600 calories an hour at a moderately fast speed. The only way to avoid "bonking," the cyclist's term for "hitting the wall", that is, running to the end of your glycogen stores, is to eat through the day.

Unfortunately, my appetite deserts me during physical training and eating for me during those times is unpleasant. However, I forced down a banana during this 30 second stop.

Burying the banana peel in the soil along side the road, I was late to start and had to catch the group. This brief high energy stint made me aware of the grade of the climb we were doing and the wind blowing into our faces. Up to that point, the adrenaline flow I was experiencing kept me from noticing.

I got behind a veteran A-level rider, Richard who was by himself. In bicycling, drafting is very important. While tail-gating is wrong when driving a car, it is imperative that you take advantage of the windbreak that a fellow rider gives you when you ride.

Let me mention about the term A-level. In our club, any rider who can maintain over 20 mph is considered A-level. A rider that maintains 15 to 20 mph is a B-level, 12-15 is C level.

I stayed behind Richard too long and should have volunteered to take over the lead sooner but I was fearful of wearing myself down so I hesitated. Richard sensed my anxiety because when I offered to "pull" awhile, he said he was fine. So I stayed behind him for more than 10 miles. When I took the lead, I was blasted by wind. What a jerk I was letting this guy endure the lead for so long. I had ridden in the lead for just over a mile when Richard moved back in front of me. I was grateful.

Richard led us the last two miles to San Isidro. We were 24 miles into the ride. The first quarter was behind us.

My windbreaker had been acting as a sail in the wind so I took it off. Better endure the cold rather than fight the wind. At San Isidro eight other riders joined while two turned around. We were 16. There was another larger group of riders in San Isidro who were training for a century in Tucson. They would ride for donations to leukemia research. They had a SAG wagon accompanying them. A SAG wagon carries food, clothing, and bike paraphenalia for the group. This van even had 3 backup bikes on a bike rack. I initially thought this SAG wagon was intended for us and had to be politely pointed toward our group.

The eight riders who joined us in San Isidro would ride 52 miles or a half century. As we started again after a 15 minute break, I felt pain in the back of the right knee, the recurrent weightlifting injury. This was of concern as there were 76 miles of riding left.

The village of Jemez pueblo was just a few miles past San Isidro. It is a colorful place with adobe homes made of the red brown adobe of the Jemez. This red brown adobe color serves as a precursor to the much brighter red found in the area.

A few miles past the pueblo, we turned east toward the Ponderosa winery. The moderate grade became steeper and my knee protested.

This vineyard, in the lower Jemez mountains, has some reputation as I have seen the wine displayed in stores. I have never sampled it but plan to do so in future. The owner was happy to see us in spite of the fact that we would not be making any purchases. She invited us to sample the wines letting us know that we could spit out the wine after sampling but no one accepted her offer. If the others felt as I did, food and drink was completely unappealing.

When our ride leader, Chris bought a coke, I impulsively followed suit. This was the first soft drink I had had in months. Because we were in a hurry, so I guzzled it down. Something happened. The coke ameliorated the pain in the knee.

We rode back to the main road to Jemez Springs. The wind in the mountains was not as strong as we experienced riding to San Isidro but the clouds had increased and the sun, which made the high forties temperature seem balmy, disappeared now and again.

Another 6 miles and we reached the Jemez - Guadalupe rivers conjunction. My brothers and I consider fly fishing a necessity much as food clothing and shelter. When I told my younger brother Tim that I was riding the Jemez, he immediately asked if I was bringing a fly rod. As silly as it sounds, I considered it.

But the water on this day precluded any thought of fly fishing. It was coffee colored and roiling. We crossed the bridge over the Jemez and proceeded to the Gilman tunnels.

The Guadalupe has carved a canyon through that part of the Santa Fe National forest. It is a dazzling sight less than 60 miles from Albuquerque. The Gilman tunnels are carved through rock for a road that lies on one side of the canyon walls.

The canyon there reminds me of Lee's Ferry at the east end of the Grand Canyon.

We stopped there at an outlook to sightsee, take pictures and have a bite to eat. I had a granola bar which normally is a treat but tasted today like cardboard. We were at 46 miles and had completed the second quarter.

We rolled back to the Jemez highway. Downhill stretches are wonderful. I was able to celebrate the halfway mark without having to pedal.

We turned back onto Jemez road and started climbing again. As we turned, we saw the dark heavy cumulus clouds to the north. The temperature was by then in the lower fifties. A shower at that point was something all preferred not to think about.

Though the best fishing on the Jemez is above Jemez Springs, I have caught fish in the lower parts of the river in winter. At that time, the browns move from their high mountain locales seeking the warmth of the water in lower elevations.

The ride to Jemez Springs was 7 miles but felt like more. I had not been drinking enough and the dehydration was telling. I kept telling myself that I would drink at lunch there at the Springs.

Jemez Springs is known for a church in ruins that is several hundred years old (erected by the Indians under the guidance of Spanish priests), the Los Ojos saloon, a spa and seminary for Catholic priests who need rehabilitation (guess you know what that means).

At the restaurant across the street from the saloon, we had lunch. We had ridden 58 miles. My lower back, neck and legs were very sore. I had no desire to eat although it was two o'clock in the afternoon.

I ordered a hamburger with potato salad. This was the first hamburger I had eaten in months. During the meal, I began to relax, first letdown in the adrenaline rush all day. I drank a couple of glasses of water. I entertained the thought of going over to the spa and getting a massage.

Sitting in a chair for a half hour was a mixed blessing. Standing, I found that my joints were stiff. I had 42 miles yet to ride.

I had a power bar after the hamburger and the sugar gave me enough of a rush that I was able to resume.

The wind had picked up in the interval. We were looking forward to a tail wind but the mountains whipped the wind around so that at times it was at your back and then suddenly in your face.

Back to San Isidro was 18 miles. Though it was mostly downhill, the occasional uphill sections were difficult.

On the road back, I was passed by a car that caught me daydreaming. They honked in what was meant to be a friendly greeting but the noise caught me by surprise and I went off the shoulder in the soft sand. I nearly toppled. The exertion, caused by the incident, drained me and my speed decreased. San Isidro couldn't come soon enough.

At San Isidro we dropped off the 8 riders doing the half century. I used the break to gulp down a liter of water and apple juice mixture hoping to get a glycogen kick from it.

We had 23.5 miles to ride. Most of it was downhill and with a tail wind. But I did not realize how weakened I was physically. The road ahead was to be one of misery.

We started the last quarter of our trip. Though we were not pedaling as hard as before, I was unable to find a position of comfort. Every body part hurt and no position spared all of them. I was constantly fidgeting from the discomfort.

I kept looking at my odometer. I decided to stop looking so often because it was making me so impatient. I would look away for what I thought was a long time, only to glance down and find that I had only traveled a mile!

And then the pain in the toes started. At first I thought I had stubbed my right big toe. When I pushed the toe against my shoe, it felt like the toenail had broken in two. As I kept probing, I decided that the toenail had come off! This was going to be a nasty sight when I removed my shoe and sock.

It was hard to hold my head up and frequently I dropped my head to rest on my chest. My neck was in pain. When I lowered my head I could no longer see where I was going and would veer. On the shoulder of the road there is a section of road that is covered with rows of bumps. These bumps serve to alert a driver when he or she has run off the road. The vibration wakes them up.

More than once I veered toward the right lane of the highway. The vibration from running on the bumps caused pain in my joints.

I became annoyed at myself for having brought 2 lbs of trail mix. I had not touched the stuff and it was weighing me down. I was angry over this triviality.

At mile 91 of 100 came the first of the hills. Having to climb again after the downhill was a major jolt. It hurt my toes. These hills come before the south turnoff for the town of Rio Rancho.

For some reason I thought there were only two major hills before the town of Bernalillo. I was somewhat mentally prepared to attack these two. When I encountered a third, I groaned. My pedaling slowed and I felt very weak.

I stopped at a light and a couple fellows in the group caught me. Their companionship cheered me. Misery loves company.

I arrived at the parking lot having clocked exactly 100.15 miles. The rain, which had threatened, never materialized.

I took some pictures and asked Donna to take pictures of me. Then I waited for Kathy. Kathy Ortiaga was the other rider who was doing a first century ride. She and I felt a certain kinship because of this and talked about our first hundred miler during the trip.

She arrived and I am sure she was as tired as I was. Before the ride, she was bubbly. Now she looked spent. Still, she managed a smile and showed remarkably bright teeth. We had our picture taken together.

The others went to the cafe but I declined; I still had no appetite. I wanted to get home and shower and see how badly I had injured my foot.

Before I talk about that, I wanted to mention some other figures. Our ride started at 8:00 am and ended right at 5:00 pm. Time spent traveling on the bike was 6 hours and 35 minutes. We took 2 hours and 25 minutes sightseeing, eating and recuperating.

My average speed was 15.2 mph. That makes me a B-level rider although on a longer ride such as this one, over 15 mph is a good result. On a downhill somewhere, I reached a maximum speed of 38.5 mph. My caloric intake was low. Though I theoretically burned more than 5000 calories, my intake for the entire day was 3, 306.

And finally what happened to that toe? Well, I got home, took my shoe off and the toe was perfectly normal. The lost toenail was a phantom injury. The pain in every muscle and joint was not phantom. So I sit in my easy chair today, the day after, and do the only thing I can - I write about the adventure.

I continue to prepare for Colorado, planning to lose weight and improve aerobic capacity. That's another story.

May day was a special day for my mother. She made small baskets of flowers for the neighbors and had us kids ring the neighbor's doorbell, leave the basket and hide. She should have had many May Days in her lifetime but it was not to be. Because of her suffering in her last years and because so much of her life was taken away from her, I dedicate this ride to her.