I hate hills
5am came early Saturday morning, and even though I’m not usually a happy camper in the morning, I’m at a minimum able to put a fake smile on my face and go about the things that have to be done. Saturday morning wasn’t that way however. I woke up with a gnarly stomach ache that I was pretty sure was going to lead to a hospital visit if I had to visit the porcelain god at any time. I was determined though to get out there and ride the metric century in the Las Vegas Tour de Cure. I had come all the way from NM to do so. So, I set my basal rates to 60% of their usual rates and hopped in the shower wishing away my stomach ache. When I was done with my shower, I put my pjs back on and crawled back into bed. I knew that I wasn’t going to make it 60.2 miles and so I’d better get a little more sleep and hope that my belly ache went away because I was going to ride the 35 mile route whether I felt better or not.
6:30 comes around, my stomach is still hurting but I get dressed, go load the car, and I head towards the Henderson Events Plaza. Check in begins at 7:15, I’m checked in at approximately 7:45 because I was moving slow. I had gone in my pants and a long sleeve shirt under my jersey, but it turned out to be nicer than what I thought it appeared, so I had to change into my shorts and loose the long sleeve shirt. The temperature was pretty perfect for the ride, there was one point where I thought it warmed up way too much, but it didn’t kill me. The wind was perfect too. Not too much, and just enough during the hot times of the ride to feel like a nice breeze.
I go and get checked, in, there was a pretty decent assembly line going:
I first had to do form completion because I didn’t register in time to get my packet before I left the state (it was waiting for me when I got home).
After form completion I went and handed in my form and my collection envelope
The last stop for check in was to get my number
I was number 183, I had the usual bib, and a new one to me, I had a sticker on my helmet, I’m not exactly sure what the purpose of it was, but best I can figure out it was supposed to be for finding our photos.
By the time I got checked in, I knew that I was going to have to eat, I hadn’t eaten breakfast because I knew that if I did eat I was going to be sick. But at this point, I knew that if I didn’t eat, I wasn’t going to make it through the first leg of the ride. I downed two Luna bars. Assumed my position at the starting point, put a great big smile on my face and took a picture.
As usual there was the pre-ride mumbo jumbo, most of which I couldn’t hear. I did catch that I was supposed to follow the blue arrows (which is always important to me because if there’s no arrows, I’m lost.)
(And just moments before being told what arrows to follow, I had asked the guy next to me if he knew, he had no clue and said we should follow the maps we were given).
I myself, didn’t use my map during the ride, I didn’t think it was necessary as I’m capable of following signs. I did however follow the map after the ride when I drove the route to film it, and the directions seemed right enough. I didn’t get lost. I also try to stay with the pack when I’m riding because I don’t like to ride by myself for fear that I will get lost (it’s scary riding your bike in an unfamiliar place).
While the signs were visible, and the route was marked, and there was NHP (Nevada Highway Patrol) at every major turn, I’ll have to say that the Phoenix, AZ Tour de Cure has every other ride I’ve ever ridden beat as far as signage and markings go (gotta love those arrows on the road). I didn’t manage to get lost and there was only one turn that should’ve been marked far before the turn itself was to be made because of construction and traffic it was near impossible for us to make the turn at the time we arrived and so we used the crosswalks.
So the ride began and I was feeling decent about it. The weather was fine, there was a small breeze that wasn’t even a pain, it was usually welcomed or it went unnoticed. I went up a slight hill and down a hill, I was a happy camper, I was with the front of the pack, and my thoughts got ahead of me “this won’t be too bad”. And then I turned onto Boulder HWY and I wasn’t so happy anymore, the hill went on for ages, ok, maybe not ages, but it felt like ages. And it wasn’t a steep hill, it was a low grade, goes on forever hill. So these hills went on and on and on. I’d get small reliefs every now and then, like the steep down hill from the overpass from Boulder HWY to HWY 93 (yes, I actually was riding on the highway).
I had fallen from the pack at this point, getting onto HWY 93. That overpass just killed me, I’m a hill slug, no doubts about it. I’ve hated hills since I started riding again, but it’s strange because as a child, I don’t remember having any problems with hills. I remember I could fly up them on my little 1 speed bike, with the brakes in the pedals. Ah, those were the days.
A guy goes flying up HWY 93 and comments that I have a cute bike. I was all like “thanks” *rolls eyes* and then I was cruising along all by myself keep the speedy peeps insight because I didn’t want to not be able to follow anyone. About half way up HWY 93 I met TJ. He was one of several to pull up to me and say hello and ask how I was doing. He was the only one to stay by my side and ride along with me. I appreciated that. It was TJs first ride worth mentioning (so he tells me). I believe he had gotten involved in this ride because his boss’ husband has diabetes. His boss was riding in the 100k ride.
Him and I rode together all the way to the 1st checkpoint. Both of us every now and then would comment on how we hate hills. Probably me more than him. I told him how at one point I had to chant in my head “hills are my friend” not that I fully believed that at all. I really do HATE hills. Much to the relief of both of us, there was this sweet down hill that we got to go speeding down, it was on this one particular hill that I achieved my fastest speed ever on a bike, 36 mph.
I was so excited to be going so fast, I was crouched down and my knees and elbows were tucked in. I tried to pedal in my hardest gear (which I think is 18, but I can’t remember how many gears are on my bike) but there was no resistance whatsoever. I was so bummed that I couldn’t pedal to go faster. I was equally as heart brokened that there were people in front of me and I had to brake because I didn’t have the guts to pass them because we were on the busy hwy. But i’m fairly sure that if there hadn’t been anyone in front of me, I could’ve breached the 40 miles per hour mark. (When i was telling a friend she told me “you gotta leave something for next time, courtney”)
The first rest stop was at approximately 14 miles. I was halfway excited because the restrooms weren’t port-a-potties. Of all the rides, these were probably the least impressive rest stops of all the rides that I’ve done. I don’t know what it was, perhaps I’ve been spoiled by the rides this year and the peanut butter & banana sammiches. I didn’t stick around long. Long enough to be happy that my blood sugar had dropped from the 241 it started at to 94. It was still a little lower than I would’ve preferred, but that was running at 60% of my regular insulin intake. (In phoenix, I was running at 70% of my regular intake, perhaps the next ride I’ll try dropping it to 50% of my regular intake, I’d really like to run in the 120s, that would be my ideal blood sugars).
I rode through the second leg by myself, TJ had gone ahead with his buddies which was cool because I wasn’t ready to leave when they were. I could see all of 2 people in front of me while I was riding, I passed exactly 1. This leg was seriously all up hill. I had an average speed of 6 mph on this leg.
When I got to the next stop, at about 20 miles, I was happy to just not be going up hill. The peeps at this rest stop said, “Oh, it’s all down hill from here” HA! Down hill my butt. It was more uphill. At least the view from this rest stop was pleasant, you could see the lake. I kindof wished that somehow we had ended up down at the lake (but now I’m grateful that we didn’t because that would’ve meant I would’ve had to go down a hill and thus back up a hill).
(ok, it was a little smoggy and the lake was low but that’s more of a view than I get in NM)
At the second rest stop I met Francisco (or was it Fernando, I can’t remember) and he told me that I’d at least live to be 89 because that’s how long his dad, who had diabetes, lived to be. That made me smile 
I did the usual blood check thing, I was still hovering in the 90s. I downed a gel, a bottle of water, and some shot bloks. I also met with TJ again, he was at the second rest stop so we got to ride the third leg together. There was 15 miles to go and boy were they grueling. They were, of course, mostly uphill (or so it felt). There was this one hill where they put the photographer, I was like, oh my gosh, is that the photographer, it’s hard to smile when you’re exhausted and you’re going up the hill and you’ve got no energy, but I managed to smile, and they got a good picture of me (ZaZoosh was responsible for the pictures, they did a good job and I was ecstatic that there was a photographer there to take pictures so that I could have a good one of me in action)
TJ and I declined the semi-official third rest stop, it wasn’t a complete one, in that it didn’t have restrooms or shade, it was kindof in the middle of the road, where we could turn if we wanted to go to a full service rest stop, but that was going to add miles to the ride, and we would’ve had to go downhill to get there. Neither TJ nor I were interested in going downhill. Then there was a couple impromptu stops where cars were pulled off the side of the road and they had water and gatorade and stuff but we went past them too (in retrospect, we should’ve stopped at one of them).
At one point TJ fell behind so I kept checking to make sure he was still there. I hollered “TJ you still back there” and he yelled back “I’ve got your back all the way.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited to get back to the finish line. It was a rough ride, it probably had everything to do with the fact that I wasn’t feeling well when I started. I did, however, finish the ride and if I had been feeling well I know that I could’ve done better.
The ride ended up being 34.55 miles and I completed it in 2 hrs 49 min 43 sec with an average speed of 12.2 mph and a max speed of 36 mph.
I got the best post meal ever as Outback Steakhouse was there serving lunch. They were very friendly people too.
We had the choice of chicken or steak, since I had had chicken the night before (at Outback, interestingly enough), I chose steak, and it was delicious!
The Las Vegas Tour de Cure did something I’d never seen before (and that could be because I’ve never hung out long after a ride, this one is probably the first that I hung out at for a great deal of time after the ride). They had drawings. People that had raised over $500 were entered to win bicycles. People were inducted into the hall of fame. There were raffle ticket drawings with various prizes (I missed the part where you had to visit the tables to get the tickets, I didn’t get to the vendors in time to get the tickets, but still, it was pretty cool that they were doing that).
Overall I’d say that this ride was pretty intense for a 50k. But it’s only my 6th ride. I’d say that it was more challenging overall that the Phoenix, AZ Tour de Cure 100k. It really had me questioning why I do these rides, at one point I was so frustrated with the hills and not feeling well that I thought to myself “why am I doing this, I hate this”. Now that I’m feeling a little better, I realize that I really don’t hate riding as much as I hate hills, and that I just need to train to learn how to deal with hills better.
It was an experience, an overall good one, I wouldn’t mind giving the Las Vegas Tour de Cure another chance.
The Little Cyclist That Could
You’re probably familiar with the story, “The Little Engine That Could”, there were some freight cars that needed to go over a hill and all the big engines declined because they said it was too much for them to pull. Then, the train that was pulling the cars asked the little switch engine (the engine that existed just to pull cars, a few cars, on and off the switches) if it could pull the big train that was pulling the freight cars. The little engine said “I think I can” and got in front of the big engine and connected himself and off they went. Whey they got to the impossibly large hill, the little engine kept saying “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can” — That little engine made it over the hill that had discouraged the larger engines from even trying.
I was kindof the little engine that could in the Phoenix Tour de Cure. But I wouldn’t have even thought about that story if it hadn’t been for a Henry Ford quote on one of the signs:
“Whether you think you can or think you can’t, you’re right.”
Between Henry Ford’s quote and the thought of the Little Engine That Could, I was propelled through my ride. But I really didn’t have to think about either until the 4th leg of the ride.
Let me start from the beginning. It was about 7:15 when I moseyed over to where we were to take off (the starting line).
We were out of the gate at 7:48 (18 minutes later than we were supposed to take off, but people talk, and talk and talk and talk, and you really can’t hear all that they’re saying, but you figure if there’s anything important that you’ll find out along the way). So off we went. I was in approximately the third quarters group and I started out with some members of Team WHAT? I had started talking to them because their question mark:
made me think of the question mark that is on our Colorado Tour de Cure training shirts:
So for a while I was next to Jerry and Kathy (I think was her name). But then I they went ahead, because they were going to ride at 15mph up hill with no hands (so on the flats that means that they were going to go at about 20mph, that’s my deduction anyways). Ken (I’m so bad with names, I think it was Ken) and I chatted a little bit and he passed me but I caught up with him at each of the rest stops and we exchanged words. He was a really nice guy.
At 8 miles into the ride I decided that I needed the bathroom and I needed it bad, I had to pee so badly that I was contemplating going to hide behind a cactus (because there were no bushes). When I saw the rest stop in sight I was so excited. I’ve never been so excited at the sight of port-a-potties in my life (and if you know me, you know that port-a-potties are a huge no-no for me, I just don’t do them, I barely do public restrooms, but I digress)
I rolled into the first rest stop at just under an hour. I wasn’t sure what to expect with my blood sugars because I had started high (218) and I was riding with a reduced basal rate (70% of what I usually take and this was new for me but I needed to attempt it to see what would happen. Ideally the change probably would’ve been better made on a training ride, but I wanted to get out there and ride the metric century, plus, the knowledge of what I needed to drop it to came from someone whom I hold in high regards). At the first rest stop, I was 83. I downed half a peanut butter and banana sandwich (approx 20 carbs) and a GU gel (I hate that stuff) which is another 25 carbs and refilled my water bottle and dumped a package of electrolyte splash drink mix into it (for another 20 carbs throughout the ride, this is a new thing to me as well, but I figure that the extra carbs during the ride can’t kill me, last year I was doing the Nuun electrolyte tabs which I thought were perfect because they were sugar free, but now I’m all about not having the sugar free ones.)
I went another 13 miles with Debbie. She was on this ride because she needed the miles as she’s riding in a race next week that’s 112 miles or something like that. She was saying that it’s easier to train long distances when there’s SAG stops along the way (I agree with her). Because we rode together (not only for this leg of the ride but the next one) I got to spend some time talking to her. It was really interesting to listen to some of the misconceptions that still surround diabetes. The conversation of diabetes was brought up because I was wearing a red bib signifying that I was RED Rider (RED Riders are the riders that have diabetes, the RED Rider team celebrates us, it celebrates the courage it takes to live every day with diabetes, in my humble opinion it’s probably the best thing that could’ve ever happened for the Tour de Cure. It draws people together and gives us something to talk about, it brings strangers that have nothing in common to a common ground.)
So she asked if I had to raise a lot of money to get the Bib and I told how all the riders that have diabetes are wearing the bibs and I told her about the RED Riders and what it signified and all that good stuff that I mentioned above. And she asked if I had type 2 and I said no, I have type 1 and she asked if I was born with it and I told her no that I had gotten it when I was 11. She asked if it ran in my family and I told her that many people in my family had Type 2 diabetes, but I was the only one with Type 1. I couldn’t explain why I had it but I agreed that it had to be something in my genetics. She told me how her mom was always on her because of the weight around her middle and how her mom was concerned about her getting diabetes and I told her that if she was eating healthy and exercising she had a better chance of not getting it than if she was an unhealthy eater and non-exerciser. I explained my need for insulin because she asked if I had to take shots and whatnot, and I believe that our conversation with diabetes ended with this, if you had to get one or the other type of diabetes it would be better to get Type 2 because you could mostly fix it with diet and exercise, that you didn’t need to let it go so far that you were medicated (with pills or with insulin), that at the crossroads of non-diabetes and type 2 diabetes you had a choice and you could choose to take action and be healthy and ward off the pain in the neck that diabetes could be. That as a Type 2 diabetic one didn’t have to resort to meds (in most cases). And so therefore, because of that reasoning, if you had to have one or the other Type 2 would be the way to go (not that we get to choose). The bad part about all of it was that I couldn’t fully explain Type 1. The pancreas is dead, my body attacked it’s own insulin producing cells, that’s really all I knew.
We made decent time to the second rest stop, I caught up with Ken again, and it was good to talk to him, he told me, only 3 more legs of this ride and I said, “yup, I’m getting close to this being my longest ride ever, every portion of a mile after 35 becomes the longest I’ve ever ridden.”
I checked my blood, I was 97. That was a slight improvement over the last rest stop, a little bit higher, a little bit more comfort, but not enough, I wanted to be around 120. This rest stop I added another 48 carbs to all the other foods I was eating. The additional 48 carbs came in the form of Shot Bloks. I had never had them before but all the other cyclists were enjoying them and so I tried them out and was impressed with them, they’re like over sized gummy bears in the shape of a cube that are easier to chew and just as tasty.
Having now over 100 carbs of stuff in me, Debbie and I got back out on the road and headed towards the 3rd rest stop, just 10 miles away. This leg of the ride skeered the living dickens out of me, we were riding on some busy road (that could’ve been a hwy for all I know) and the little side of the road that we were riding on couldn’t have been much more than 2 feet wide and the cars (most of them anyways) were letting us know that they owned the road, at one point, an RV was speeding past me (as was his right) and if I had even untucked my elbow away from my side, I would’ve been a goner (he could’ve driven closer to the right line in the road and not as close to the left line as would’ve been respectful for the riders). That was the only scary part. It was on this leg of the ride that Debbie pulled ahead which was fine, I was behind her for a while, but then I couldn’t keep up and I fell way behind. But I caught up to her at the third rest stop.
totally got my mouth full of Shot Bloks here
I did some chatting at this rest stop and wasn’t ready to go when Debbie was ready because I hadn’t completed my rest stop ritual of sandwhich, gu, shot blocks, water; so I didn’t ride out with her. When I checked my blood, I was 128 and happy to be in that range. Despite the higher blood sugar, I kept to the same foods that I did at the second rest stop, it wasn’t going to kill me if I ended up with a blood sugar of 150 (but something told me that that was not to be). There were a couple women at this rest stop (who’s names I can completely not remember) and they were in a bright orange and bright yellow florescent jackets. They were talking about the distance to the next rest stop and if I knew nothing else on this ride I knew that the rest stop was 10 miles away. I asked them about hills and whatnot and they said that we had ridden the worst one at some road, I can’t remember the road (I’m not from Phoenix I told them, and I told them what I was up to and shared my cards with them, yes, I remembered my cards this time). They took off, but it was not the last time I would see them, they were very nice women too, it was nice to talk to them, I love friendly people.
There isn’t much to report on the 4th leg of the ride other than the idiot driver that was yelling at me, and I was completely with in my right to be on the road. I needed to make a left hand turn, I knew that the other cyclists were a bit of a way behind me so I looked over my should to check for cars. There was a truck but he looked way far away. So I stuck out my left arm, I stuck it out straight because that’s the signal saying “I’m making a left hand turn” and I started to merge into the left hand lane. The dude in the truck came up on me quickly, and yelled “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Really not wanting to die at the hands, or front bumper, of an angry driver, I mumbled to myself, “making a left hand turn what are you doing?” There were no other cars coming so I made my way back over to the right lane and waited for the couple of women who I had followed out of the 3rd rest stop to make their way up the hill so that I could follow them on the left hand turn.
The lady in the Arizona jersey I learned, knew all the bicycle safety and signals and whatnot so I felt safe following her lead. I followed them the remainder of the way to the 4th and final rest stop. There was a little bit of complaining on this stretch, my knees had had it, I was exhausted, and my butt was hurting. Not to mention the 5 mile hill that seemed to go on and on forever (even if it was just a slight grade). This is where I really got to thinking about what Henry Ford said “Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right” I kept thinking to myself, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can”. That’s where I became the little cyclist that could.
At the final rest stop I found out what was causing a large part of my exhaustion, I had dipped below 80. My blood sugar was 75 (I blame it on the hill, it took a lot out of me). Knowing that I still had 13 more miles to go to get to the finish, I slammed 2 Gu’s, a bag of Shot Bloks, and a Gatorade. This would carry me through to the finish.
It was at this rest stop where I met up with Ken again, he was talking about eating protein, and all I could think was “where did he get protein?” I knew with my low blood sugar I probably needed some myself but when I saw that it came in the form of a CLIF Builder bar I wasn’t so inclined to think that I needed protein anymore (CLIF bars sit in my stomach like a brick). I also met my ladies in their florescent jackets. I was asking them about hills again, they said it was all downhill and sarcastically I said “except for the uphill parts” We all laughed.
I made it back out of the gate before they did but they would later become my saviors. When I saw them again I was at a stop light, it had turned red and I stopped and turned around to see who was behind me, the ladies were. I greeted them, and then the light turned green, and I took off, up a hill. I didn’t get too far up the hill before I was exhausted, the wind was pounding at my face and I just couldn’t ride any longer, I pulled to the left to let whomever was behind me pass me, they did, and Yellow Jacket (I shall call her because I can’t remember her name) told me I could draft off of them. When I got behind them I was so relieved, I couldn’t fill much of the wind and I shouted something to that effect. At one point I wasn’t paying attention but they pulled ahead and I couldn’t catch up with them…but then there was a stop light and I did catch up to them. The officers directed us to make a left hand turn and we were in the home stretch. But we had to go up a hill first, I shouted out to them “What is this, could this be, a, HILL?” We all laughed, they said it wasn’t a hill, and I commented, you’re right, it’s just a small sand dune that Arizona road makers didn’t want to smooth out before they paved over it.
We rolled into the finish, I had gone my 62.5 miles, I had completed a metric century without any training and that was something to be excited about. My ride time was 4 hours 30 minutes and 27 seconds (I have nothing to base that number on, but I think I did well). When you factor in 10 minutes at each of the rest stops I was in and out of the gate in just over 5 hours. At the finish line, I was completely exhausted, so beat I could barely walk and I was so ready to go to bed. My blood sugar was 160 (which was a good number considering how much sugar I had dumped into me just 13 miles prior to the finish).
I got something that I had never gotten before at the finish line, not only did we get the usual goody bags, but we also got a certificate of completion, that was way cool.
That was my journey in the 2008 Phoenix Tour de Cure. And I have to say (because I’m easily excitable) that of all the rides I’ve ridden in, there’s never been a more better marked route than this one, and it’s all because of some fluorescent arrows on the road.
The route arrows matched the ribbons that we all had on our seat posts so that we could properly be directed and be heading the right way at all times.
The other thing that was really cool was that in the beginning and I would say for a couple miles, we had a whole car lane to us, us being the cyclists. Cars couldn’t drive in that lane, and that was awesome, that’s never happened before in any of the other 4 rides I’ve ridden in. Also, I’m fairly sure that every where we had to make a left hand turn, we had officers there directing traffic. That’ll make a person feel more safe in an instance. (Ok, now that I think of it, every left hand turn except that one where the ding bat idiot truck driver decided to yell at me. Ok and maybe a few others, but there seemed to be more officers directing traffic than in any of the other rides I’ve ridden in, ok, that could’ve been because I doubled my distance, but still…)
The Phoenix Tour de Cure sits well with me, it gets two thumbs up (except for one part, when I got back to the start they had already torn most everything down, that was a bit of a bummer, the food was there but the masseuse was gone, and I really wanted a massage this ride. Most everyone had cleared out, all the other riders that had already come in were gone. This was something that I had not ever had to experience before because I always rode in the 30-35 mile rides and everything was still going strong when I returned. But for the longer distance cyclists, I think everything should stay set up, if we set out at 7:30 I think that tear down could’ve appropriately started at 2:30 and still have given us riders some things to enjoy upon our return. That was the only downside I think.)
Struggle to the Finish
As I sit here, I’m struggling to write about the Fort Worth, TX Tour de Cure that I rode in on October 20, 2007. Why, I don’t know, but maybe it’s because it was a struggle for me to finish this ride. It was during this ride that I decided it’s no fun to ride by myself, it’s no fun to not know anybody, it’s no fun to not have someone to talk to, and it’s no fun to be riding with people that aren’t so friendly and are very untalkative (maybe they were serious about riding, but they were no fun).
But at the same time I was bummed out, I was also greatful, I was greatful to have gotten the names of various people to ride for, because if I hadn’t had them, I probably wouldn’t have finished. And so as I’m riding along, trying to keep my mind off the fact that I was on a route, mostly alone, and the roads weren’t well marked and I was as good as lost if the spots in the distance disappeared, I was going through names…Al, Amy, Ben, Chanelle, Charles, Clara, Choa Har, Colleen, Dezi, Diego, Donna, Dot, George, Harold, Holly, Jenna, Jimmy, Joann, Kay, LaRay, Laurie, Lawrence, Lura, Marjorie, Mary Mac, Michelle, Mikayla, Nancy, Pat, Sarah, Shirley, Suzanne, Tracy, Troy, William. It was these people that got me through my ride, if I hadn’t known all these diabetics I would have turned around (at mile 7ish) and gone back to grandma who was waiting for me at the end and said “I’m done, let’s go home”. That’s how not happy I was with this ride. (Of course, I say I would’ve gone back, but truthfully, I probably wouldn’t have, even though I wanted to I would’ve kept going because otherwise it would’ve been a waste of 20 hrs on the road and a very so not worth it expensive hotel room.)
I suppose I should start at the beginning. My journey began at the Doral Tesoro with me venturing out to check in for the ride at about 7:30.
This was the first time I had to check in normally (normally being with all the other riders). In CA I had express check-in for being in the Elite Riders Club and in CO there was Pre-Check-In the night prior to the event. There weren’t many of us, so checking in wasn’t that bad, I only had to wait for about 7 minutes in line before I could get my number and my t-shirt (of which they didn’t have my size). Check-In was fairly uneventful.
The lucky number this ride was 263.
After checking in, I decided that since I was taking my road bike out for it’s first serious ride (as training rides don’t count as serious) that it needed a once over. First mistake, I asked for a once over, I omitted the fact that it was my bike that needed the once over not me. The guy was funny though, when I said “I think I’m pretty good to go but if you could give me a once over that’d be great” I got looked up and down and he said “yup, you look pretty good to me” Talk about blushing.
He tuned up my bike after I made it clear what it was that needed a once over. It wasn’t quite right (it being my bike because I was looking pretty good). And then he pumped up my tires for me because I didn’t know that I was to check them before each ride (that and I didn’t know how to pump up the tires on my road bike to begin with). Apparently on road bikes, the pressure can go from 130 psi to 80 psi overnight. After he pumped up my tires, threw out the caps (added weight I didn’t need he said), told me I should have a much smoother ride, he sent me on my way.
I had my number on, my bike was properly tuned and the tires were pumped and it was time to assume my position in line. I wedged myself into a spot near the front so that when I slowed down it would be ok because I didn’t start at the back of the pack.
We had to listen to some announcements (which we really couldn’t hear anyways) and then we were off. The beginning was cool, a cop led us, I guess the cop was our pace car, technically speaking that is, he let us out of the start and I don’t know for how long because I lost him at approximately 3 miles. But for 3 good miles I was riding along at 20 mph. Which in my book is like totally impressive. It was during this time that I also passed the first rest stop. I didn’t need to rest at the 1.7 mile mark. Coincidentally, I didn’t have to rest at the 8.7 mile mark either. (Which could’ve been very stupid, here’s the story, I usually stop at every 8-10 miles to check my blood. I was scared to stop because I didn’t want to be left behind because I was semi-close to a pack of riders and I couldn’t see anyone behind me, so in the name of knowing where I was going I kept going, this would kill me on the way back it turns out.)
At 12.3 miles, I got to stop for the coolest thing I’ve ever had to stop for: A TRAIN!!! And as I was riding towards it, I took at my camera (while I was still riding) and took this picture (the meaning behind me taking it while I was still riding and not when I had stopped is because when I had to stop, the train was just about across the street.)
At 15.5 miles there was another rest stop and this time I stopped. I would’ve been stupid to have not stopped. I parked my carbike in the visitor’s parking spot (I was a visitor, in true form, I came from another state.)
Thanks to the jersey I was wearing (the official 2007 Tour de Cure Jersey) some conversations where started while I was eating and getting water at the rest stop.
I had a nice little conversation with Ms. Baumer about me wanting to ride in every state. At which point Gina got called over and Gina is the Communications Director for that area and she knew who I was. As soon as Ms. Baumer started talking about me wanting to ride in every state, Gina was like “I know you, you’re C…Courtney, Courtney Benefiel” (I of course was all impressed, she not only remembered my name, she said it right) and then I got to talk to their VP. The rest stop was a good rest stop. I was there about 15 minutes. And my blood sugar was ok (which was good because not only did I not stop at the prior rest stops, I didn’t check my blood before riding and I didn’t have my usual snickers marathon bar because I had just eaten breakfast)
When I was done chatting I hopped back on the trail, I was of course back on the trail with no one in front of me, but I knew in general the direction I needed to head because I had just come from this direction. I rode hard because I needed to be able to see people in front of me because as I said earlier the roads weren’t well marked and if there weren’t people in front of me I was as good as lost. In fact, I did get lost, kindof, not really. I had to stop and wait for people to catch up so I would know which way to go. What happened was that for the first 20 miles or so there were two women in front of me. I take that back, they passed me just before the second rest stop, well, somewhere around the 6-8 mile mark.
So, these women, Sonya and Denise. I was ahead of them, they pulled ahead of me, I caught up with them. I had a nice little conversation with Denise about how she had to have slowed down. It was funny. She said “yeah I’m slowing down, these hills, the wind, the roads, they’re going to jiggle my tire off” I talked with her for a ways, and pulled ahead, I caught up with Sonya, who’s a beast when it comes to hills, she loves them, and she told me I could pull ahead and so I did just that, and I didn’t get very far, because then I had to stop, because I didn’t know which way to turn. From them on I stayed behind them, or between them, but never ahead of them.
I was within 2 miles of the finish and I could feel that my blood sugar was dropping so I ate some glucose tabs and went on my way. About a mile from the finish I called grandma’s cell so she could be at the finish to take pictures of me, and that was the coolest thing because they didn’t have a photographer on the route like they did in CA and CO.
So, this ride was a little bit of a struggle. It was partly probably due to irresponsibility on my part (not making 3 stops, not checking my blood more, not eating more), and partly the routes fault, not being clearly marked like it should’ve been. But I did finish.
The ride ended up being 34.95 miles. I didn’t do it in what I had hoped would be record breaking time, but 2 hrs 59 minutes and 36 seconds is ok (I guess). I was very thrilled when I was going through the stats on my speedometer and saw that my max speed was 30.1 miles. I know where I got to that speed to, I think, it was on a down hill (obviously), it was before the 2nd rest stop on Tim McDonald Road. I laid out flat over my handlebars and pedaled as fast as I could and I resisted the wanting to look at the speedometer, it didn’t feel like 30, but the speedometer says so, and thus I’m thrilled. My average wasn’t impressive, 12.2 mph. I was doing better than that on my “training” rides back in NM, but they were also flat, whereas Texas, it’s not so flat (and I mentioned that and the Texans just looked at me and sped past…)
I struggled with this ride, but you know what, now that I’ve written this, the struggle is worth it, especially when a cure found.
Whoop! For the RED Riders
While I much expected the Longmont, CO Tour de Cure to follow suit of the SoCal Tour de Cure that I did in May, I was much surprised to see that this one was better organized from the moment I walked onto the fairgrounds, actually, let’s back up, to the moment I drove onto the fairgrounds. There were people directing the traffic instead of making us fend for ourselves in the parking lot (which is what we did in CA, we parked wherever we wanted because there was nobody out there directing us in any kind of civilized matter, of course I didn’t blog about the parking in CA because it wasn’t important at that time, but now that I have something to compare it to and CO’s parking situation was much better. I feel the need to mention it. But I digress.)
When we got out of the car and got my bike put together I noticed that my front tire needed some air. It had been a long time (several years) since I had to use the hand held pump and I couldn’t remember how attach the pump nozzle onto the valve. I had it backwards. When I was a kid the pump we had the lever had to be up and when you put it on the valve you pushed the lever down. That’s the thinking I had when I tried to attach the nozzle of the hand held pump to my tire valve. It wasn’t happening and I knew that they would have bike technicians to help me out. Sure enough, as soon as we entered the fair grounds there was a young man servicing bikes at the Schwab Cycles Tent. I told him that I needed air in my front tire, he lifted the bike to his work stand, added air to the front tire and then proceeded to check the air in the back tire and check and adjust the brakes on both tires as well as check that the gears were changing properly.
When I had my act together, we walked through the entrance of the Tour de Cure official entrance place (*shrugs* I don’t know what it’s officially called)
And into a world of friendliness. People had no problems talking to you. People I didn’t know. I knew my grandmother she was with me. And I had met like 3-4 others that I actually remembered their names the night before at early check in. I’m going to say that this friendliness spawned from two things: first, it was CO and not CA so people weren’t as full of themselves; and second, I was a RED Rider and I had the jersey, so people knew I was riding with diabetes (I blame that on Mari Ruddy).
Since I had gone through the registration process the night before the ride (preregistration is a great thing) there was no need for me to visit the registration table on the day of the ride. Which was great, because the lines, well, there were lines and who wants to stand in line 
Although, I do have to say this, their registration process was very organized compared to CA’s registration process. Here they had all the stuff we needed in envelopes, our numbers, our maps, etc. We just told them what team we were on (because that’s how they had us organized) They asked us for our emergency form and our fundraising envelope and they gave me my envelope and I was on my way. (And this was the way it was on ride day too, anyone who had registered online they had an envelope for.)
Since I had previously checked in (previously being the night before) all I had to do was get my goody bag and t-shirt. What was cool about this is that before they would give me either, they wanted to know that I had, 1) checked in and 2) that my bib was properly attached to me. They marked it off and gave me my goodies and sent me on my way
Grams and I walked around for a bit after checking my bike into the valet parking lot (something only available in CA to those of us that had raised $1k or more) But it was cool to be able to put my bike somewhere and not have to watch after it while I’m waiting for start time.
After having parked my bike we went and checked out the RED Rider tent to see if there was anything that Grams could help with (I mean, it was going to be at least 2.5-3 hrs before I returned back to her and she didn’t have much to do except read a book and crochet)
The RED Riders tent was right next to the start line so of course I had to go stand there and have a picture taken.
10am was start time and at about 9:45 we all started to congregate and line up. I was able to start a conversation with a nice man named Ross, actually, he started a conversation with me. The whole nubs on the mountain bike that I shouldn’t be riding in the first place on the road…yeah, that starts conversations (note to all: if your riding on the road with your mountain bike, get slicks)…
When it was all said and done, and we were allowed to go, it was about 10:15. The coolest thing about them taking their time to get us started (they had a lot to say) was that they told us to recognize the RED Riders. If there was someone in the special jersey (see me in my jersey above) we were supposed to “Whoop! For the RED Riders” I think this really drew us all together. It was cool to be riding along and as I was being passed I’d hear that. It was like each of us had our own cheerleaders riding along with us and cheering for us.
Ross and I rode together and talked for about 4 or 5 miles, which was where I met with my first hill of the ride and couldn’t any longer keep up with him (of course, had I been able to keep up with him at that hill, I would’ve fell behind later on because he didn’t stop at any of the rest stops.)
The first rest stop was at approximately 9 miles into the ride. I didn’t waste any time, I got off my bike, took a picture, checked my blood, ate a hammer gel, drank some water and went on my way.
What sucked about this stop was that immediately after this stop I had to go uphill. What was great about going uphill is that I got to go downhill (and I would’ve tried for my 30mph except that there was a curve in the downhill). The bad about that downhill was that I then had to go back up a hill. That hill, I checked, I was going up at 3mph, it sucked, but not as bad as this other hill, that I’ll discuss in a bit.
At 14.5 miles I got to stop again (at the top of a hill of course). I did the routine rest stop stuff: took a picture, checked my blood, ate a hammer gel, drank some water and went on my way. And actually, it was at this rest stop that I picked up a new group of cheerleaders. They took my picture and whenever they would pass me they would encourage me by saying, “come on Albuquerque, you gotta make it to the end so we can say that you rode the entire way”. They were cool, I’d pass them at stops but they’d quickly pass me (as was the case with all stops and people that passed me and I likewise passed)
This leg of the ride between the 2nd and 3rd rest stops was the roughest for me. The hills were brutal. There was this one hill, it was awful, I couldn’t have been in a lower gear (cause there was no lower gear to go into). I was pedaling so hard and I was barely moving, but I was moving. There was this one lady, another diabetic. I didn’t ever get her name, but she encouraged me all the way up that hill, she was awesome. What was cool about this hill was the down hill that preceded it. I almost got to 30mph, I got to 29.9 mph, and had I not arched my back to look down at my speedometer, I probably could have made it to 30 mph, I was so close.
The 3rd rest stop was at approximately 22 miles. I didn’t get a photo here. I was exhausted. I did my stuff, had to get more water because I had gone through my entire camelbak, and my water bottle. I wanted to get back to the start as quick as possible, this was probably my shortest rest stop at less than 2 minutes (where the other stops I maybe was there 2-2.5 minutes)
The last stretch wasn’t too bad, it was about as good as the first stretch. It was cool to see skydivers on the way back, of course at about the time I yelled out “oooh skydivers”, my cheerleaders rode past me and yelled “focus Albuquerque, you’re on a bike, you don’t have time to stop and watch”
I finished the ride in 2 hrs 44 minutes (and 24 seconds if you must know) actually, that was my ride time, so if you factor in my 2 minute stops and what not I think I was at 2 hrs 50 minutes. The total distance was 32.01 miles. My avg speed was 11.6 mph my fastest speed (as I previously mentioned) was 29.9 mph. It was a very good ride. Much more enjoyable than my CA ride. And I think that was totally due to the the “Whoop! For the RED Rider”
SoCal Tour de Cure May 2007
At 7 am on the 19th of May 2007 Robbie and I (Team Goober and Runt) set out for El Dorado Park in Long Beach, CA to check in for the 35 mi Tour de Cure ride. It was overcast as can be expected for this time of year in Southern California, and to my New Mexico skin the temperature was a little colder than I would’ve liked. The moment the sky opened up and a slight rain fell I was bummed. But rain or shine I was going to ride. When we pulled into the parking area at the park I had on my shorts and a long sleeve shirt. When it was time to get in line for the ride I was in a tank top. “Cowboy up” I had said to myself, “When you start riding you’ll warm up.” Turns out that the infrequent opening of the sky was nice as it cooled me down. But let me back track slightly to before the ride began.
It was about 7:15 when we arrived at the park, perfect timing as that was when check-in for the 35 mi ride began. Being me, I had to show up at the start of check in time as opposed to closer to ride time (8:30), not knowing what I was to expect was my reasoning behind that. (In actuality though, I expected lines of people and having to wait to get checked in, and I really didn’t desire to have to wait in line.) Luckily for me though, having raised more than $1k, I got to skip the lines (although I can barely say any lines existed) and check-in at the Elite Riders Club, while all the other riders had to step from stations 1 to 2 to 3 etc, I got to bypass all that non-sense, hand in all my previous filled out paperwork and donation envelope, get my t-shirt, my wristbands, my bib/bike number. It was a painless process, quick and easy. (For me anways, Robbie had to fill out all his paperwork and stand in line to get checked in and get all his stuff).
After check-in, we unloaded our bikes, pulled our acts together, took some pictures, and waited until start time. We were supposed to start at 8:30, but we actually didn’t get to begin our trek until 8:45. Regardless, we were in our starting positions, which I chose, at 8:15 because I wanted to be near the front of the pack because I knew I would fall behind but I didn’t want to fall to the end of the pack, just to the middle. And that’s exactly what happened, so my plan worked out great.
The ride went well, the only thing that killed me were the overpasses which were hills, of course. They took my speed from about 12-14 mph down to about 7 mph and it also took me from being in bliss to whining and complaining about how I wasn’t going to make it, I of course made it and never did stop during my hill climbs. Boy did they wear me out though. We stopped at both rest stops. Robbie (a.k.a. Goober) was kind enough to inform me that if I didn’t stop at the rest stops that he’d chew me out and not be happy. I wasn’t happy about having to stop at the first rest stop. I thought it was unnecessary as I was doing just fine. (Of course, I assumed that I was doing just fine because I felt just fine, the stop was necessary to stop and test my blood and eat something so that my blood sugar didn’t go low before the next rest stop.) There were restrooms (gotta love those port-a-potties) and orange slices and water and Bear Naked Granola. If there were any other goodies, I didn’t notice, at the first rest stop I didn’t get anything (I was doing just fine, remember) and at the second rest stop my blood sugar was beginning to slope down so I had some orange slices and granola.
At about 30 miles I was worn out and couldn’t wait for the ride to be over with. At about 33 miles I began the “are we there yet?” questioning. At 35 miles I was rejoicing because I could see the finish and I knew I was there and I was more than happy.
Because I had made other plans for lunch we didn’t stick around for the post ride activities (I will tell you now that that was a dumb move on my part, but hindsight is also 20/20). But as I was loading my bike onto the car and I was cooling down and feeling much better, I couldn’t help but think, “Wouldn’t it be cool to ride in every state.”
My very first Tour de Cure ride went very well and as such, it’s far from being my last ride in the Tour de Cure.