A fierce and unrelenting headwind resisted every pedal stroke as we attempted eighty miles of flats, climbs and rollers enroute from Ririe, Idaho to Hoback Junction, Wyoming. After fifty miles I was fatigued and famished. At sixty I struggled to recall why I started biking. At seventy I was beginning to think that “sagging” (jumping into the Support And Gear vehicle) was the only way out. At eighty I crossed the finish line, made a bee line for the chocolate milk dispenser and plunked myself into a lawn chair to inhale a sandwich. Michael pitched the tent without an ounce of help from me. I had only “Thank you” to give. The ride went down as one of the toughest I have ever done.
But here is a paradigm shifter I overheard at the chocolate milk station: “The worst bikes rides make the best memories”. The wisdom came from the oldest rider on our bike tour, an eighty-something year old man. His rationale: you never forget them and they give you the best stories to tell your friends.
The only story I care to tell is best shared by the photos that captured the beauty along the route. This rugged loveliness propelled me forward when all I wanted to do was stop and sell my bike.
What was your worst ride – or perhaps, your best memory?
August 11, 2015 at 5:21 PM
You did it! My rock star! It’s amazing what our bodies can do even when the brain protests.
I had a tough ride this year … last 40 miles from Goldendale to Lyle …. and no one to draft because Eric went back to town to get a rider. But that was only 40
August 11, 2015 at 11:35 PM
One of my worst rides/best stories was the first day of Cycle Oregon Weekend in 2006. It was the hottest weekend of the year, and back then, the ride was point to point, not a choice of lengths. It was about 70 miles, and I’d only been cycling for three or four months (but training religiously). Plus, I was riding my 30-pound Terry hybrid. The route was hilly going south from Eugene, and I got so hot, I had to dump water on my head as often as I could. I finally rolled into the destination mid-afternoon, and while I was looking for something cold to drink before heading to the campground, I heard a snooty person say, “I can’t believe there are still people coming in [this late in the day]!”
August 17, 2015 at 8:35 PM
That goes to show how perception can be so wrong. I had a similar episode when riding a golf cart on a 9-hole course. A snooty bystander remarked that it is crazy anyone would need a cart on such a small course. What she failed to comprehend was that I had biked 85 miles the day before and was exhausted. I had to bite my tongue!