100km Medio Fondo (Second Ever Metric Century)

Joy here...Last August I signed up for and completed my very first metric century ride (100kms).  I rode with a group of people out on a cold and windy day as part of the "Share the Road" initiative.

The long line of keen cyclists waiting outside the
registration tent.

This July I signed up for my very second metric century ride (100kms), as part of the 1st annual Ottawa Gran Fondo...a three-distance event organized in the spirit of gran fondo rides in other parts of the world.  There's a SuprFondo (220kms), a GranFondo (170kms), and a MedioFondo (100kms).

We signed in on Friday, and as this is just the first year of the event, there are a few wrinkles still to be ironed out in the execution of the event...I don't want to complain, because I'm super happy that this event exists, but the line ups to register were INSANE.  After our looooooong wait to register and get our kit, we went for a much-needed drink, followed by dinner at the hotel, where one, by one, we texted our other friends who were riding and lured them from the line up to the dinner table.

Post-Registration, Pre-
Ride libation.

Why wait in line when you can
hang out with friends??

Then we got up bright and early on Saturday morning, and my new fast friend, Turbo Tricia, (who I met on Thursday and then rode with on Friday) told us that she opted to ride the 100km distance with me and The Man.  We met up under the blue sky and hot sun for our 9am start time and got right up to the front of the starters.

We thought we'd average around 30km/hr, taking it easy as we rode over the rolling terrain through the countryside to the west of Ottawa, but as soon as the announcer said "Go!" that front group (with us in it) was off like a shot!  We were racing out of there at speeds around 40km/hr.  Soon a tight, but fast group arranged itself around us, with that little Turbo up on the front, and me working in the group, staying on the wheel of the person in front of me.  It was faster than I thought we would be going, but I felt good and strong.  The group was working well together, with some strong riders up front, and the rest of us along for a fast, hard ride through the countryside.

My average speed...just under 33km/hr.

At around the 30km mark, we wheeled into the first water/toilet station.  As is usual for me, I was in the portapotty before the wheels on my bike stopped turning.  When I got back on my bike and headed out with the rest of the group, we were still on our hell-for-leather pace.  I was sweating under the ever warming summer sun, but I was able to hold the wheels of the strong rider in the group; I was able to take my turn on the front pulling the group; I was able to stay strong over the rollers; and I was feeling great...like there was nothing my legs couldn't do.

At around the 60km mark, we had to take a detour for the next water/toilet station.  By that point I was all out of water.  My two 750ml bottles were utterly dry, as I had been sucking on them for the previous hour and a half.  I filled them up with stale (but icy cold) water from the coolers at the feed station, and then our group rolled out.  Unfortunately, a few of us got caught behind traffic trying to pull out of the feed station.  While the stronger riders up front peeled away from us, some of us were stuck watching traffic go by.  Then when our opportunity presented itself, I pulled out and put my head down and just time trialled away on my own to catch up with everyone (including The Man who had made the split).  I was riding at over 40km/hr, and the rest of the group who had been caught behind with me couldn't hold my wheel.  I was on my own, when I saw the group up ahead.  They were just rolling away from a stop light and were slow enough for me to catch them.  I slowed down to the 35km/hr pace that the group was holding, but my legs were tired.  Our group was a lot smaller than it had been before the split at the last feed station.

So with two strong guys up front, Turbo, me, The Man, and a couple of others, we rolled onwards, over a rough gravel section of road and onwards to the last 1/3 of the metric century.

And then my back pain showed up.

Not again!!!!

That back pain first appeared at my first ever bunch fondo ride back in May, and then it showed up with a vengeance when The Man and I rode two loops of the park before the bike race, but it was a real pain in the back during my first ever bike race last Sunday, and now it was here again, at kilometre 79 of this 100km ride.  And with the arrival of the lower back pain, I experienced the departure of any power in my legs.

The group was riding, and my legs were turning, but those riders were getting farther and farther away from me.  I watched my speed go from 38km/hr, to 35km/hr, down to 32km/hr in a matter of seconds, all the while the group was riding away from me into the blue skies and rolling green hills.  The Man soft pedalled back to me, but I couldn't even catch up to him or shout to him to carry on.  I was just in my own, small world filled with pain.  I told him to go on, and he began his own time trial to catch up to the rest of the group.

I looked down to see that I was at kilometre 81, and I had less than 20 kilometres of pure suffering ahead of me.  Well, I figured I could do that.  So I just put my head down and went to a dark, dark hurty place.  I was sure that my back pain was actually renal failure from something in the mystery water I drank.  I saw a long life ahead of me with dialysis; I've seen Steel Magnolias...I know how bad that ends.

So I just put my head down and suffered my own, personal kidney damage, pedalling all by myself and just wallowing in self pity.

But then, at around kilometre 85, suddenly my legs were turning more quickly even through the back pain.  I caught up to another rider and clung to his heel for a while.  He had a sign on his back "I'm riding for Martine" with a link to the Princess Margaret Cancer care centre, ibelieveit.ca, on his back.  I don't know who Martine is, or what that person's battle is or why this guy was out there under a hot sun  by himself suffering through the final leg of a 100km ride, but it sure put my own little back pain into perspective.  After recovering on this guy's wheel for a while, I was feeling better, and I pulled in front of him; "hey, thanks for the tow, I'll take my turn on the front for a while," I said.  So we took turns pulling on the front, and we were joined by another girl who was out there suffering by herself.  The three of us rode together, each taking turns on the front, each making small talk, and each counting down the final kilometres.

And then we hit kilometre 100.

But we were in the middle of the country side.  There was no finish line.  There was no hotel.  There were only trees and rural country roads.

Kilometre 103:  Still nothing familiar.

My well deserved post ride meal & beer.

Kilometre 105:  Finally, we turned into a subdivision that looked familiar from Friday's "loosen the legs" ride.  I put my head down, pedalled, and my speed was back up to 40km/hr before I knew it.  The group of us all gathered together at the red light, and with nearly no time at all, we were turning down the road towards the finish line where The Man was waiting, people were cheering, and there was cold beer waiting for me at the conclusion of my second ever 100km ride.

Ride Stats:
Distance:  108km
Time:  3:17
Average Speed:  33km/hr

Over and out,
Joy