Bike MS: Finally Finished!

I've been doing Bike MS events for 6 years now, and the 150-mile Bike MS for 5. I've never finished a two-day event under my own power before today.

Bike MS in Iowa works like this: The Des Moines and Cedar Rapids chapters of the National MS Society start off in their respective cities, ride to Marshalltown, stay overnight, and ride home the next day. Oh, and there are rest stops, energy drinks, energy bars, and lots and lots of home-made cookies in between. Oh, and bananas. LOTS of bananas. And the money goes to researching a nasty, debilitating bastard of a disease.

Well, the first year I did the two-day event (they were known as MS 150 events back then), I made it 132 miles out of 150 and quit. My legs wouldn't pedal anymore. That was back on my recently-departed Trek 2100 (I hope the new owner is getting good use out of it).

This year, I had the Invincible. I cannot adequately describe how much energy that bike saved me. Pedaling that bike is a joy--the bearings in the bottom bracked (cranks) and wheel hubs are so smooth you feel like you've got an extra mile per hour at your disposal.

And I needed it. The roads into Marshalltown are hilly, by Iowa standards. And that's saying something, because we are a rolling prairie kind of state. There isn't much here that's truly flat. So once I had 60 miles in my legs yesterday, THEN the road started getting interesting. I made it, but I walked one hill that looked and felt like it should double as a rock-climbing wall. And what was worse...at the very base of that hill was a set of railroad tracks with plenty of loose gravel. So the hill that would have been the most fun to barrel down with the brakes open was the one that was utterly unsafe to do so. Bummer.

I did cheat just a bit in one other aspect. There was a section coming out of the lunch stop in Maxwell (much love to Brenda Colvin and crew--you guys rock that rest stop) which went North, then West, then South out of Cambridge. I just went straight across and cut roughly 10 miles out of my way.

(We interrupt this regularly scheduled blog post so I can pet my cat).

Anyway...there was a very tiny wind out of the North, but it was enough to boost my legs to going 18-22 miles per hour going south on flat stretches, including NW State Street in Ankeny itself in the closing stretch. And I did a no-hands victory salute when I hit the parking lot at the finish line.

Official stats, according to my Polar computer:
135.2 miles total
10 hours 50 minutes total ride time.
Average speed, 12.4 mph
Maximum speed: 34 mph
Average heart rate: 155 bpm
Total kilocalories burned: 9,400.
Status of my legs: Don't ask...

Serious note: the number of riders doubled from last year. We're looking to keep that trend going. If you would like to participate in Bike MS, please contact your local chapter of the National MS Society.

I love you, Mom.

I can haz Starbukz?!

So it's the day you're supposed to wear your MS Bike Ride jersey to work, in which case you get a $10 Starbucks card. Cycling and coffee, what more IS there to life?...


As you can see, my face is made for wear, not for show. Sigh...

Cycling log: Bikes, Pain, and Poetry

An odd title, and maybe not as catchy as "Chocolate, Waffles, and 'Cross," but permit me to explain.

My friend, Jen, is a fine arts major finishing up her Master's dissertation, and has undertaken a project to blog about poetry on a daily basis (full details here). She said she was inspired to write about one of my own blog posts on MySpace last year after my mother broke her arm. I was touched, so I figured I'd re-post the original blog that led to her own piece.

Here's the message Jen sent me on MySpace:

"Heya Mr. CycleNinja,

Yesterday, my magic poem bowl put forth a line from a poem I wrote about you and your mother some time ago. I'm not sure why I never shared the poem with you before. I suppose I was/am hesitant to reflect back any more grief about her and her health than you've already got on your plate. But, that is the job of the poet, no?

In any case, the poem was in response to one of your first blogs/posts about her. I was touched by what you were going through, and I'm just hoping that I'm not adding insult to injury by having you read this.

So when you get a minute and are in the right space, check out the artblog from Day Five.

http://jenmcclung.blogspot.com/

And know that you are cared about. By all of us.

Hugs,
~Jen"

And for the record, I'm again humbled that people like Jen think I'm worthy of being their friend. I don't deserve them.

My original post:

It's amazing how the term "suffering" is so relative.

For those of us who are relative newcomers to the world of cycling, we hear the term all the time to describe the exploits of the great riders who have come before. It's a word thrown out almost casually in cycling circles. Lance Armstrong made a point of how the capacity to suffer on the bike is one of the most important criteria for a professional cyclist. And there are a lot of cycling-as-zen pieces written about cleansing yourself on the bike through "suffering."

They're all bullshit. Here's what REAL suffering looks like.

I called my mother before I went riding tonight. To recap, she's 78 years old and has had MS for 20 years. She fell and broke her shoulder this past Saturday, and had it replaced yesterday. When I called her, she was really out of it from the painkillers, and was still VERY uncomfortable with that metal grafted to the bone. I was standing there, straddling the bike for 5 minutes, listening to her talk about how difficult it is to eat soup left-handed when you're flat on your back, and how the medical staff said tomorrow would probably be even worse for her. I hung up feeling completely helpless. So I did what I could...I pounded out a training ride for the MS Bike Ride this coming summer. And I mean pounded. 12.5 miles in 45 minutes. That's a 16.5 mph pace for those of you keeping score.

Did I mention I weigh north of 325 pounds?

This is why we ride.

Spin easy, friends.

Jen's piece:

fold & break
-for Paul

your mother in a nursing home
your mother wiped blank, clean
your mother broken

will is
a strange blue flower
folding delicate
folding in on itself
in the end
the will is being drawn

you will break
over this soon,
fold and
break

Mom's doing lots better now. She's in a nursing home in Johnston, I see her quite a lot, and she's still coherent. She is now confined to a wheelchair because of her MS, though. And I ride all the harder in that knowledge. I still have two functional legs. I won't waste them.

And I won't be broken, either.

Spin easy friends. And kiss someone you love.

Sheldon Brown, RIP

There are various types of cyclists. Some are competitive, some are solitary, some do it out of financial necessity, some do it from sheer love. Most of them, at some point or another, have been directed to the wisdom that is the web site of Sheldon Brown, a real character of a guy who was famous for his cycling helmet with the bald eagle statuette glued to the top.

Sheldon Brown died Sunday, and the world is poorer for his loss.

Brown's death is especially poignant to me for another reason. Brown wrote later in his life of having to give up his beloved bicycles because of Multiple Sclerosis (MS for short). We had to move my mother to a nursing home last year because her MS had progressed to the point where she could no longer live at home. And this has quietly reminded me why I serve on the committee for our annual Bike MS event in central Iowa.

This is why we ride...to create a world free of MS.