Aftermath of the Century

The hardest part of the century was the next day.

Yesterday started off well enough. I rode with a fast group in the morning, and before we knew it we were stopped at mile 35 for lunch. For lunch I had some strawberries for quick energy, a PB&J for some longer lasting energy, and a Builder Bar for protein, so I had all my bases covered. After lunch I headed out with Jane and Sophie, and those girls can move!

Between mile 35 where we had first lunch and mile 70 where we had second was long, mostly flat road. Big open fields stretched all the way to the mountains in the distance. Farms and silos dotted the landscape. Sophie pointed out a sign while we were moving: a silhouette of a horse pulling a carriage and the words "NEXT 10 MILES." We were entering Amish country.

I saw their houses first. They actually looked pretty beaten up. But they do everything for themselves, right? Like if we need to reshingle our houses, we call a professional to do it, and he's got professional skills and professional tools, but if an Amish man wants to reshingle his roof, he does it himself with tools he made. This is just an example, because most of their houses had metal roofs anyway.

I saw two Amish men outside working on something, and they looked exactly like one would expect: short-sleeved button up shirts, black pants, suspenders, beards, and funny hats. I waved, and one of them waved back.

This modern town popped up all of a sudden while we were still in the Amish country, and that's where we had second lunch. I saw an Amish woman go cruising by on a scooter. She was in a dress that covered her from neck to ankle. It was at least 80 degrees out.

As an engineer, one of the things that I have learned is that, when you are bulding something, you can do all the research, solve all the equations, and run computer simulations till you're blue in the face, but when you get out into the field to test your creation, something completely unexpected will go wrong. Yesterday I was counting on my muscles giving out or my joints hurting or my bike breaking or the chafing becoming unbearable, but I did not imagine that my eyes would start bothering me. And around second lunch, that's exactly what they did. It's happened before. Sweat gets in them, they get irritated, and my contacts only make it worse. By the time we were leaving second lunch, I could barely open my eyes.

Now the smart thing to do would have been to stop and say, "I can't see, somebody call the van." But I wanted my century, and so I long as I could still crack one eye open I was determined to get it. It was a miserable 30 miles, but I did it. We were actually only at 96 miles when we arrived at the host location, so we decided to ride around a little more. By the time Sophie, Jane, and I got back to the host location, my calves were shaking.

All things considered, I'd say the day went well. No equipment failure, body was mostly intact, and eyes were feeling better by dinner. But I, and indeed everyone on the trip, would not feel the full weight of the century until the next day, today.

It was 76 hilly miles from State College to Johnstown. There were some challenges before lunch, but things went smoothly. Muscles were weak, joints hurt, saddles chafed, but spirits stayed high. After lunch, though, there were some real heartbreakers. At mile 45 a 1700 foot climb started. I was with Lyndsay, Charlotte, and Katie, and normally they have plenty to say during a ride, but going up that hill, they were silent. Our pace slowed to a crawl. The pain and fatigue were really starting to set in. We stopped part way up the hill for a break, and I said what everyone already knew: "This group has zero energy right now." We were dying. Things were looking pretty dismal.

We did make it up that hill eventually, and a few miles later, we found an ice cream stand. After explaining what we were doing to the proprietor, the girls all got free ice cream. (I wasn't hungry.) I finished out the day with another group. There was still more climbing to do, most notably a 700 foot climb at mile 68. It was tough, but I took it one stroke at a time and eventually made it to the top. The final stretch before Johnstown was a 1.5 mile descent with a grade of 18%, making it easily the steepest descent we have encountered. It kind of took me by surprise and before I knew what was what, I hit 45 mph. On a huge, flat, country road I might have kept going, but those not being the conditions I started using my brakes.

We are now at the YWCA in Johnstown, PA. Our kind hosts prepared for us a feast of such magnitude that we will likely be enjoying it for days to come. We are tired. Aches and pains are setting in, saddle sore is getting worse. The smell of Icy Hot fills the air. But these are just challanges to be overcome, and we will take them on as challenges must be taken on: headfirst.