Take a Free Ride (Holy Hills & Serendipitous Soda)

We ride, constantly training for...something.

And we want progress. Faster, stronger, longer. (Riding a bike and "male enhancement" have a lot in common!)

We measure. We are surrounded by data. We infuse ourselves with information. We track our progress.

Time, distance, speed, elevation, temperature, humidity, heart rate, wattage, YIKES! →

And it is good.

But, what happens when it all goes wrong?

Free Ride!

Data, Done and Dusted

My computer was dead, probably a low battery.

No mileage. No speed. No cadence.

My heart rate monitor? In the bedroom, and it is always better to let sleeping brides lie...

So I went out with a simple goal: ride hills. Do repeats. And don't give a damn about the data. I committed to a four hour ride, picked a general direction, and let the spirit move me.

I headed for Ellicott City, with ambitions to do hill repeats on Ilchester. That's it. Simple.

You can cut a log with that sawtooth! →

The morning was hung over from Saturday's heat and humidity. When it's 80+ degrees at 0600, you know you're living a verse from Gimme Swelter...

Distance: 64.88 miles
Time: ~4:00
Ascent: 3684 feet
Average Speed: ~16.2 mph

It's a one-hour ride from my house to the top of Bonnie Branch Road, at the center of the hilly excitement in Ellicott City. When I started down its steady descent, I planned to ride Ilchester three times and then move over to the center of town, riding Oella and Westchester before...whatever.

Ilchester

Ilchester is our Manayunk Wall. It's our Muur.

For my Lawn-Guy-Lander friends, it's my local East Broadway (a la Port Jefferson).

She's .8 mile long. She's got an 18% grade. The annual Highway to Heaven Hill Climb Time Trial rolls up her. She's a touchstone, a reference point, a challenge, and an ambition.

So why not ride her thrice?

Sensations

I have no idea what my cadence was. I don't know my speed. All I know is that it hurt. I tried while sitting. Meh. So the second time I tried to ride her while standing (even though I knew there was absolutely no chance to make the entire length out of the saddle). The third time I intentionally rode a mix, but I wasn't completely happy with my "sensations". I lacked Contador's tranquilo, so as I came down Bonnie Branch the third time, I decided to give her one more go.

The fourth time was a charm. It may not have been the fastest, but it felt the best—a fair balance between achievement and suffering.

Satisfied, I rolled down River Road to the old part of Ellicott City to try my legs on Oella and Westchester. Three more serious climbs and I headed home.

One Hour in Hell

I started back at the three hour mark. I hadn't eaten—I did bring an almond butter sandwich, but my stomach wasn't interested. I had already consumed three bottles, and I knew that I needed more water. Trusting in serendipity, I headed home, hoping for some refreshment along the way.

This is See-wious! →

I've had better plans.

Each time I thought I might be able to stop, something prevented me. The store was closed, the toothful dog was barking...something kept happening.

I was bonking.

Race Road was a blur as I struggled onward. Then, like a hallucination from an Abbott and Costello movie, a Coca-Cola machine appeared.

I've had this brain for [42] years. It hasn't done me any good! →

Never—and I mean never—has a vending machine offered so much hope. Serendipitously, I had singles, dollar bills, greenbacks in my jersey. I was going to survive!

I rolled up to the machine. It was humming and vibrating with the satisfaction of a job well done. It was cooling the precious liquids within its bosom . I would survive!

I unzipped my kit and peeled away two of the moist bills. Would the machine scan wet dollars? I inserted the first bill...but I couldn't! My hand was shaking so, and the dollar was so wet, that it limped from my fingers like overcooked pasta. I tried to straighten and flatten the bill, and with two hands (one bracing the other) I tried again to slot it into the machine.

A cheerful whirr sounded like the music from angel's wings. I slotted in the second dollar. With another whirr and a click, I could make my selection.

What to do, what to get, what to drink? Water? Nah, I wanted value for my $1.25. Soda? Hmmm. I've seen the pros quaff Cokes mid-stage, but how would my tummy tolerate the bubbles? Nestea Iced Tea. Yes! Take the damned plunge! Icy-s sweet high-fructose corn syrup satisfaction in a caramel-colored elixir! Do it! Press the button!

I pressed the Nestea Iced Tea button.

whirr, click

whirr, click

whirr, click

whirr, click

Nothing.

Uh oh.

I pressed again.

whirr, click

whirr, click

whirr, click

whirr, click


Nothing.

A thought echoed in my mind:

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
~ Albert Einstein

Oh. My. God.

Heat reflected off the road and the building, baking me as I stood, forlornly staring at the foul machine's red-and-white face. Its satisfying hum mocked me as I suffered. I thought thoughtful thoughts, pondering and puzzling. "Why didn't it work? I made the whirr, click noises! What's happening...oh, maybe it's empty! Maybe...no more iced tea?"

I closed my eyes and visualized. I pictured a frosty bottle of soda. I envisioned my drinking that soda, and I felt the sting of the bubbles as they washed down my throat. I tasted the cloying caramel candy aftertaste as the syrupy residue lingered on my tongue.

I opened my eyes.

I pressed the Coca Cola button.

I was doe-eyed for a Coke like an anime heroine! →

whirr, click

Please...

whirr, click

Oh, please please, please...

whirr, click, ka-THUNK,

Oh. My. Mercy.

Never—and I mean never—has a soda bottle engendered such joy! I opened it. I drank. I snarfed bubbles through my nose. I was going to survive!

Crisis Averted

I emptied the remainder into one of my water bottles. I could feel the sugar (almost) immediately, and I was able to get rolling home. The soda didn't last but ten minutes, but its effect was incalculable!

The remaining hills felt...good. Vollmerhausen was steady and Murray Hill Road was a manageable bump. Now I get it. The pros drink Coke because...it works!

I rolled up the driveway a little richer and a little wiser. Unplugging occasionally is good, it lets you experience the sport for the sport's sake. And for God's sake, when it's that hot outside, MANAGE YOUR FLUIDS!