The youth of old age

On less than a day's notice Rick, Christine, and Janice responded to my email by agreeing to join me on a 100K ride that visits locations used as stops on the underground railroad in south Jersey. 

Rick later sent an email that reminded us all that, 10 years ago, to the day, the four of us rode together on a 200K south Jersey route and he sent us a link to this blogpost about that ride. He called it our 10th anniversary. 

A few thoughts on the 2019 NJ Pinelands 300K

Finish the Damn Ride

Finish the Damn Ride is an "unwritten" ethos of Randonneurring. Sure there are caveats, safety comes first but, if you can safely continue, that ethos  can lead to some inspirational results. 

Bridging the gap

Winter

In the winter of 2017, I stepped away from long bike rides to get stronger. Following a consistent routine of ever heavier squats, deadlifts, overhead presses, bench pressing, and chin-ups required time to recover. So I set aside long rides in the cold for shorter, intense sessions under the unforgiving steel bar. Each session was a simple pass/fail test of will and growing strength: either I lifted or I failed.

February

By February 2018, the sessions had paid off. I found myself stronger than I had been in decades. Truth be told, physically, I am far more suited to strength training than Randonneuring. This kind of training may be the polar opposite of the endurance needed for Randonneuring, but I knew that when I took the step back to rebuild and rebalance. Yet, in the process, I had let months pass without my riding a 200K or even a 100K,

But as the days grew longer, I found myself questioning the wisdom of taking that much time off the bike. Before this break, for eight years I had maintained a streak of monthly 200K rides in part because the prospect of starting over to regain that necessary endurance intimidated me. The first go around to build it, to put it mildly, challenged me. Now, I found myself older, stronger, more experienced, but basically having to start again. 

{"I found myself" - what a strange expression. When you think about it, it becomes complex, hard to explain. Who is the  "I"? What is the "myself" that was found?  How did "I" lose "myself" and what is it about that moment of the discovery that leads to the expression "finding yourself? But I digress, let's return to Spring 2018 ...}

Spirited rides (or revisting the hierarchy of needs)

"Abraham Maslow (1943) stated that people are motivated to achieve certain needs. 

When one need is fulfilled a person seeks to fulfill the next one, and so on." Link

Maybe Maslow was wrong. If you're so inclined, hear me out on this one.

At this point in my life, at the tail-end of middle age (almost halfway to a century), I am acutely aware that I am fortunate. No. That's not right. I am acutely aware that I am blessed. I am blessed  to be able to satisfy the first four psychological needs that Maslow identified. My biological and physiological needs, for air, food, drink, shelter, warmth, sleep are pretty much a given.  A nice house in a nice neighborhood give me protection from the elements, security, order, law, stability, freedom from fear.  I enjoy love and belongingness in the form of friendship, intimacy, affection and love. My career provides some of the esteem needs such as achievement, mastery, independence, status, dominance, prestige, self-respect, respect from others. So according to the theory, I should be working on Self-Actualization - realizing personal potential, self-fulfillment, seeking personal growth and peak experiences.

But this past weekend, I find myself once again returning to this sport and once again randonneurring takes me back to the basic needs. It is a place where breath (air), food, drink, shelter, warmth and sleep are no longer a given. Where I face the elements, vulnerability, and, yes, even fear.

I do keep the sense of love and belongingness. These are tools that I carry that as surely as I carry the things I need to survive. 

Maybe I jumped into the deep end of this discussion too soon. There's a back story. Forgive me. You weren't there. Let me fill you in on that before we come back to this. 

East Creek 600K - a simmering melange of desires

Close to 40 Randonneurs stream out from the Days Inn located off Exit 8 of the New Jersey Turnpike. Our red bicycle taillights stretch out along the roads that lead away from the north south Interstate  highway, away from the destination driven journey that the highway represents, away from that thoroughfare where every mile is made fungible, forgettable, less than a passing thought, less than a minute's consideration. On the small roads we ride, the miles grow large, significant, they take on their full meaning. This morning we set out to ride 600 Kilometers, 377 miles. The travel, the distance that we take on with our legs and our machines, is the destination. Over the course of this brevet, we will test ourselves where the only outcome that matters is pass or fail. For me, completing this ride will qualify me to ride Paris-Brest-Paris. I have been waiting five years for this. I have 40 hours to finish.

 seeking upekkha

In the darkness of 4:00 am, the cool air sits heavy with dew. As I ride through, tiny drops  collect on the tips of the individual hairs on my arm. I begin the ride searching for balance, equanimity, a place between extremes to accomplish the extreme, looking for that pace that will carry me through the uncertain miles before me. In my randonneuring, I have failed enough to know that success is not certain, but I have succeeded enough to know that perseverance and patience, especially now, in the first few hours of a major ride, can overcome almost any distance. I ride on, working on patience and building perseverance, as the world turns beneath my wheels toward the rising sun. 

NJ 300K - Cognitive concordance (alternate title: in the zone)

4:00 am. 

OVERSLEPT!

Gonna be late. Out of bed. Jump in clothes. Get in minivan. So glad I packed the bike and the van the night before. Oops! Get out and get cue sheets from computer. Get back in. Drive. The ride starts at 5:00 and it's an hour's drive away. Drive faster. A little faster.

I arrived at 5:15. Most of the 40 something riders were on their way and the last one or two were setting out. 

At the start, Chris N. (from NJ) Ron A., Paul S. and Joe K., checked me in. We tossed around greetings and a few jokes as I did the paperwork. To my surprise, despite the delay and the early hour, I was awake, alert, ready to ride, with none of the typical early start grogginess. Maybe waking up "naturally" helped, even if it made me late.

This ride I planned to go back to basics: even pacing, consistent fueling, minimal times at controles. I even went back to using a heart rate monitor as a method to control pacing. I haven't used one in years. But this is the year I plan to ride PBP. This is a year to do the training that works. So far, I've been working on components of fitness, but the long ride, the thing that is this sport, that has not been the focus. The time has come to focus. 

The pre-riders reported the course to be flat and capable of fast times. They had finished the 187 miles before sunset. Maybe, with a good plan, I could too - despite the late start.

The season starts anew.

March 28, 2015. 

Photo from PARando.org

Spending four hours riding uphill into a freezing headwind gives you lots of time to question your decisions. Especially when riding solo. I pressed on, pushing through the harsh chill, even while relearning hard won lessons.