What goes up...

Climbing is an integral part of the cycling experience. No matter where you live, you seek out the hills, no matter how small they may be. Elevation gain/loss factors into a ride the way a coefficient figures into a math problem. 2+2 may equal only 4, but 2+2squared all of a sudden equals 6. In the immortal words of Spinal Tap, climbing takes it up to eleven.

On par with the hurts-so-goodness of the way up is the thrilling ease of the way down. Descending is the ultimate reward for a good climb. Watching the speedometer zoom up as you hit mphs that would be adequate even for a car, crouching down to create a precious, aerodynamic shape, carrying that momentum straight into the inevitable next hill. If climbing is the cake, descending is the icing. Sweet, sugary, and proportionally much less time to enjoy it.

Yesterday, I attempted my first real "climbing" ride. Hanging Rock. The normal advanced cyclists tick this ride off their list as an everyday training thing, no biggie, all in a days work. For me, a beginner cyclist who happens to have muscles that kick her up into riding with people much more cycling savvy, this is the type of ride I need to get very comfortable with very quickly if I want to keep improving. The ride not only has The Climb, but also many ups and downs to get there. If you don't ride smart, your legs may have the power to get up HR, but perhaps not the oomph to get back home.

I was lucky enough to gather together a wonderful, strong, supportive group of cycling friends who were all game for a leisurely adventure. I rode there with a light heart, anticipating testing my mettle and seeing what my legs were really made of.

When we arrived, during the climb before the climb (yes, you need to go up in order to get to the place where you have the privilege of going up even more), I started to get butterflies. Here it was! The ascent! The first of the local Triple Crown that I endeavored to conquer!

I settled into a rhythm in my easiest gear. I didn't allow myself to look any further than 5 feet in front of my wheel. I let my vision get soft. I chanted 1-2-1-2 in time to my pedal stroke, and payed close attention to my breathing. Deep, steady, slow breaths. Listening to my body to see how fast or slow it wanted to go.

Suddenly, I was at the top. I had done it. I had climbed Hanging Rock. And it wasn't nearly as difficult as I imagined it would be.

At the top, we ate, we laughed, we got water and regrouped.

Then, we had to go back down.

I was told that I could go as slow as I needed to, that my brakes were built to handle it, and not to be afraid to use them. I took all of this in stride, knowing that even though I was a bit nervous, as soon as I got going, I would be having so much fun that finding a descending speed would be second nature.

Or not.

The descent, ladies and gentleman, was not fun. Not in the least. I braked to the point where I was going slower than I normally go on the flats. About halfway down, my hands started to cramp up, making the experience even more fantastically non fantastic. Everyone else had zoomed out of sight, relishing the experience and freedom of whooshing down a mountain. Me? I was just a wuss.

Eventually, I made it to the main gate, in one piece of course, but still in a bit of a panic. This was supposed to be the ICING of cycling. And for me, an unabashed sugar addict, one who regularly eats Dessert Dinners and can't go a day without some sort of chocolate something, not liking icing was an antithesis of my core.

I pulled into the parking lot of the regroup point a little down on myself. Climbing for me was not going to be a problem. Getting back down will most likely be a problem. I know it's something I can learn to become more comfortable with over time, of course, and eventually I will trust my bike and my bike handling skills. But most people do hill repeats with the intention of focusing their attention on the up. I need to focus on the down.

The ride home was no problem, either. My maximum speed for the ride was 44.2, hit on a long winding road heading into a river basin. I have no problem with this type of zoomy. It's just something about the narrow, steep, MOUNTAIN zoomy that brings up images of doom to my mind.

Who knew that icing would turn out to be an acquired taste?

The Official Century

After my unofficial century last weekend, I was looking forward to a for real century ride. One with SAG stands and a large group of people and a well marked route. And no need for a cell phone.

I picked one that my friend Stan suggested and was also riding in, three hours away in Asheville. It was advertised as a "flat, fast course," one of the fastest centuries this side of the States. I went with no expectations, and Stan said he was going to shoot for a nice, 17mph average.

Quoth Stan: It's too pretty to go any faster than that.

Or not...

The night before I had a lovely pasta dinner with Monte, a GSO A rider, and Stan, a GSO strong B rider, and carbo loaded like a champ with some Greek Meatballs on the side.

Btw, have you ever had greek meatballs? Because they are probably the best meatballs I've ever had in my entire life.

Come morning, I awoke at 5:00 unable to get back to sleep, ate breakfast (Apple Cinnamon Cheerios), snagged a banana or two, and went over to the start location. I wasn't nervous, but I also had no idea what to expect. Riding a century, non stop for 100 miles, is definitely a milestone event.

I had pockets full of Gu and Shot Blocks, and water bottles full of Nuun. I was so ready for this.

Scarfed down the banana right before the start. And off we went!

The start? Not good. I think I'm learning more about my body when it rides, and my body when it rides needs a good amount of time to warm up. Too much too fast sends the heartrate too high too quickly.

And we were going pretty fast. Faster than 17mph, that much I knew for sure.

Eventually, I settle down into a pace and get myself under control. We're still moving along at a good clip, with no sign of slowing down. I don't even look at the computer. Sometimes I get dropped, sometimes I surge ahead, sometimes I pull, sometimes I draft. I'm feeling awesome.

The first rest stop comes up at around mile 48. Only then do I allow myself to glance down at the average speed.

20.1mph.

Holy Moly!

I fill my bottles, shove half a brownie, a banana, and 2 fig newtons into my mouth, and continue onwards.

The pace never slacked. Two more rest stops of face cramming action. After the final stop of three at mile 84, I lost track of my friends. One surged ahead, the other dropped back unbeknownst to me up a steep hill.

I kept waiting for my energy to lag, or my pace to drop, or my legs to give out. But guess what? They didn't. Not only that, I felt stronger the more I rode along. Several times, I pulled people up to the group ahead of us. I was clocking 24mph drafting at times. I conquered the long uphill section at the very end without maxing out my reserves. And honestly, I wasn't expecting to ride so well.

That being said, at mile 98, my left calf said, "I think I'm done now thank you very much" and proceeded to turn itself inside out. Had I any real mileage left, it would have been slow going.

But as it was, I had no mileage left. And it was fast going.

19.6mph average fast. For 100 miles.

Lunch? Lovely. Of me and my male companions, I was the only one to clean my plate completely. Chicken salad with cranberries and celery, black bean hummus with pita bread, pasta salad, and a peanut butter cookie.

I also got a post century massage, which took the edge off my calf immediately, along with my ice pack and compression socks. Can we say Sophie was actually prepared for once in her life?

So, here are some things I learned along the course of my first century:

1) My saddle is amazing. My butt didn't hurt once, not ONCE.

2) Eating on the bike is so so so important for long hard rides, because your body can only absorb about 30% of the calories you eat.

3) You can overeat on the bike if you're not careful, because you don't process all of the food, which can lead to bad things if you take in too much fat.

4) When coming up to a hill, downshift to an easier gear than you think you will need. That way, you can hit your stride halfway up without spiking the heart rate, and then have power to upshift and climb OVER the hill at the top. I know, I know, so they say, and guess what, it works.

5) Turning fast is hard but necessary to learn how to do if you want to ride with fast groups.

6) Golf courses mean hills. If you ever come across a golf course on your ride and don't want to climb, turn around.

7) Watch out for dropped water bottles/cliff bars/gu squeegees during century rides.

So now that my first official century has been properly slain, what's next for me?

Mountains.

As in Climb Every.

Not as in The Sound of Music.