"Just get out and ride!

I was considering doing Cycle Oregon as a nice goal for getting back into shape at 60. It had, been over 20 years and I hadn't ridden much more than an hour or two at a time since that time. It was perhaps a reasonable goal, as I still did get some exercise and after all I had done it before. That gave me a little confidence as well as the fact that I had met other over 60 riders on that same ride. Then, while studying Italian in Lucca, Italy a friend suggested I ride with a group of teachers who vacation on two wheels each summer.

I had heard about their ride from Italy to Portugal and back a few summers before and it did look fun, but a bit extreme for me. Some of these riders had been racers, marathoners and/or triathletes, so I really didn't think about it seriously at first. Just thinking about it was intimidating, yet I was intrigued by the prospect, the slight possibility that I could perhaps do it. The thought kept it's hold on me and I really don't know at what point I made the decision to say yes, but in a few months I accepted the invitation. I was afraid to tell my friends and family at first as by telling someone it represented more of a commitment. Yet, what a great way to celebrate my 60th and improve my Italian at the same time. Little did I know that I would hit my first major challenge in the first two weeks of training.

I had been riding a mountain bike due to previous neck and low back problems. I pulled out my black and yellow Nishiki Tri-A bike that had gotten me through Cycle Oregon and a few grueling centuries. I filled the flat tires that hadn't seen air for at least a few years and made it 9 blocks to the closest bike shop to see what upgrades I might get and to make any improvements in fit. The front tire was going flat by the time I got there. Tim fixed the tire and after a bit of spinning on the trainer, a few adjustments and some helpful tips, the numbers just didn't add up.

It would cost three times the value of the bike for what I considered the most basic needs and I started thinking, it's time I retired "Baby Bird," and got a bike that would be more comfortable and more responsive, something that would see me through several thousand miles of training and 1500 or so miles in one month next summer. "Baby Bird" had been a huge step up from "Big Bird," the huge yellow Schwinn that I did my first 60 mile ride on and turning my legs into rubber bands that would hardly hold me up. "Big Bird" had cost me $50 while as a poor grad student "Baby Bird" was a whopping $850, but she was the most delightful ride I had ever experienced and just had to take her home. If I could do that as a poor grad student, I should certainly be able to figure out how to manage a bit more of an upgrade now.

My friend Reenie had taught me how to spin and how to draft back at the University of Oregon. She coached me through my first century. Thinking I needed some support like that again, I emailed my friend Orlando who had been on Cycle Oregon Two and who I had just reconnected with through Facebook. He was doing triathlons. I asked for his advice and he said "just get out and ride!" So, I set up a basic starter plan to ride three moderately challenging rides per week and one longer ride. Challenging at this point would be one hour, but after all, I had 8 months to work my way up.

I had just finished tackling a long 6 week bout of bronchitis, so was thrilled that not only could I ride for an hour, but that I felt that wonderfully good tired of fresh air and exercise. Week 2 I bumped it up to 1 1/2 hours. The intent was to do 1 1/2 hour then go back to 1 hour, then back to 1 1/2 hours. The warm sunny fall weather was too nice to return after just 1/2 hour out and I couldn't resist doing the 1 1/2 hour ride total the very next day. Oops, it was just a bit much. I was so exhausted I took two days off to rest. Good lesson that. Rest is important. I needed to look for more consistancy, but to alternate hard days with easy days with a rest day in between.

Riding alone is time for a great deal of contemplation and the doubts started seeping in. What if I can't keep up with them? How can I possibly do this? Maybe I'm too old. What about the arthritis in my neck and my back? I try to tell myself that it's no shame to push the bike up the hill, or even to get into the sag wagon, but just the thought is declaring defeat. I don't like giving up. No matter what I try to tell myself it screams WUSS. What about all the crazy drivers over there? How will I pay for this trip and the new bike? Can I possibly be ready in time? How can I find the time to train? Maybe this is crazy! What can I possibly be thinking? Why can't I be like other grandmothers and sit in a rocking chair and watch the sunset? Haven't I worked hard enough already? What am I trying to prove? OK, the last one I can answer.

I want to prove that getting old doesn't mean being decrepit or weak, but my crackling knees beg to differ. What if these are people who only need a few hours of sleep while I need at least 9 or 10? We are talking about what amounts to multiple centuries! What am I thinking?? These are early morning people and I'm a night owl. How can I possibly adjust to that? I could even be a hazard to them with my lack of experience riding with a group! Tim was right about the challenge being more mental than physical and I was wondering if had "gone mental." The questions whiz by me faster than the landscape and I realize I'm not even enjoying the beautiful fall scenery, so breath a bit deeper and smell the blackberry bushes and the creek as I pass over it. A white butterfly flitters as I whiz by and I remember why I am riding, that pure joy of the wind in my face, the sun on my skin,the fresh air, the feeling of freedom and the pleasure of feeling strong.

That feeling was to be short lived. Shortly after beginning my next one hour ride, a truck began to turn right into the bike lane and with the 4 o'clock traffic I reacted evasively. I was able to avoid the collision with the truck, but due to the other traffic and the terrain I ended up planting the right side of my head into the pavement and my ribs into the bike. I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I was in a very different and not so free space, I was locked in pain and shock. I was surrounded by people trying to talk to me, telling me not to move while I gasped just a minute, I just need a minute, I can get up, but I couldn't.