The Other Big Day!! 10/17

40mi of 100mi ride completed, Foxy's Fall Century in Davis

For the past few days, I've known I was in trouble. Doing my own diagnosing via online research, I can't decide whether I have bronchitis or side effects of gastroesophageal reflux disease. Or maybe both. At any rate, I have a dry cough, a lump in my throat, and an all-around unhappy immune system. I start dosing myself with acid reducers, snort up my prescription allergy meds, and cross my fingers.

It's just getting light when we drive into the Veteran's Memorial Theater parking lot in Davis. The weather is mild and looks to be a nice day. The parking lot is already about 3/4 full and it's not even 7:30am. The checkin process is ridiculously easy and I walk in, get my bracelet (yellow) and map and then I'm apparently on my own. The rest stops are a little over every 20 miles, and I already know the hills are going to kill me. I set off at a fairly brisk pace, but I start fading as we pass County Rd 97. I send T ahead and tell him I'll meet him at the first rest stop. I get passed by what feels like the entire 1300 registered riders, but amazingly a small group finally passes that is going about my speed. I manage to latch on for several miles and we cruise along at about 15-16mph. There is a mild headwind, but it saps me whenever I'm unprotected.

At some point, I fall behind a little too far, and I can't catch up again. I try to put one of my headphones in, and end up sending my route map sailing into the road. After getting set up with music in my right ear, map back in my pocket, and my will to live fading, I climb back on the bike and putter along at 13-14mph. My heartrate is too high and my speed keeps dropping like it did at the end of the Condor Classic. The first rest stop is apparently a sick joke that doesn't exist because I should have made it there by now. About a mile from the stop, T comes back to check on me. I fuel up at the rest stop and fill one of my water bottles with Cytomax, which still tastes awful but less so than Gatorade.

I know by now that I will not be able to finish the ride. My plan is to limp along until the lunch rest stop at the 60 mile mark, just before the nasty hills, and then drop out. I try to send T ahead, but he doesn't go far ahead of me. About halfway to the second rest stop, we hit very gently rolling hills. My heartrate is in the 180s, my legs won't work. At the top of one of the tiniest hills, I'm in my smallest gear, going about 6mph and I can't pull any more effort from my legs. I keep pushing, and I'm suddenly hyperventilating. I try to stop, but I can't get my right foot out of the pedal, so I fall over. I still can't catch my breath, I'm trapped under my bike, and the fresh scar tissue on my poor, abused right knee is torn open. Other riders quickly surround me. One calls for a SAG car. One cleans and bandages my knee and then hands me a vitamin C supplement. I get loaded up into the SAG car and tell T I'll meet him at the lunch stop. My bike ride is over for the day.

I spend a good part of the afternoon at the Lake Solano (or Sonoma) park, watching riders come in. I see the fabled bride and groom come to the stop, but don't get to witness the ceremony. When another SAG car stops in for lunch, I don't dare pass up a ride back to Davis. I run some errands in Davis, checking in a few times on T's progress. Just before he makes it to the finish, another rider comes in who is so wasted that he can't dismount his bicycle and it has to be pulled out from underneath him. His wife runs to get him electrolytes while a volunteer walks him over to a bench and works on getting the rider's legs to unlock. T is at least mobile when he arrives. The post-ride dinner is fantastic and includes sodas.