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.
We slithered along the Snake River
Palisades Dam is located 55 miles east of Idaho Falls, Idaho
East side of the dam is Palisades Reservoir
At the fifty-mile rest stop, fellow riders are also contemplating the reason for biking.
Across the border: The Snake River, Wyoming!
The Snake River tempts us to find the closest swimming hole …
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!