Harden the Fuck Up

OK so the wrist band to the left is pretty crude--I only had a pen to write on it, not a magic marker like I had at Dairyland Dare.

Sometimes HTFU works, and sometimes it doesn't, but it's always a welcome phrase to me now.

At IMLP during the run, when Nick (aka Colossal Quads) yelled it at me while pointing at me, it woke me up out of my lackluster performance.

During Dairyland Dare, it reminded me that sometimes I make stupid training errors (like thinking I could ride 300K 3 weeks after an Ironman, for example, without really resting properly first).

Yesterday, I didn't know what it would do for me. After a solid week of rain (including Saturday, which saw me on a fucking stationary bike at the Y for 2:10 because I couldn't even use the trainer at home because the basement was still drying and too damp for my liking), it was going to clear up and be beautiful yesterday. My plan was to ride the Bike Psychos 200K, which is a gorgeous ride that takes you around and through several Illinois State Parks, including Illini, Starved Rock and Mathiessen. Each of these parks are on or around the Illinois River, which is pretty big as rivers go, so you know what that means--up and down in and out of river valleys. Somehow, I didn't remember it as very challenging when I did it last year.

Bitchie got the Ergomo and compact cranks installed last week, so I was excited to see how that would work out. I got to the ride start by 6:15AM, and wanted to start at 6:30, but it appeared that the bike club didn't want to start registering us until 6:30AM, so whatever. I stretched a bit while standing in line. My legs were a bit stiff from spending time on a stationary bike (they don't fit me quite right), but I had got plenty of sleep, and have started many a ride with slightly sore legs, so I wasn't worried.

I registered and got my wrist band and wouldn't let them put it on me--I told them I needed to write something on it. So I went over to the table and did my thing and put it on, knowing I might have a tough day, knowing I might not make 200K (there were several shorter options), but feeling good. I ran into a guy I know who said he had the black rubber wrist bands made for his swimmers, and he said he'd give me a real one! He's doing IMWI, and I'll be there, so I'm going to hold him to that.

The day started a bit cool, but I didn't put on arm warmers. It was supposed to get into the upper 70's, so I figured I'd be quite comfortable with what little I was wearing. I had my hot pink IMLP bottles loaded with 6 hours worth of Infinit, and I was off. Right away I noticed that the Ergomo didn't seem to be reading correct watts--either that or I really sucked. But it did look like the speed and cadence were OK, so I was just going to need to ride powerlessly.

The first 3 hours were pretty good, and I rode with a few guys. It was then (after about 60 miles) that the ride split off--you either decided on 100 or you went out and added the special loop that was just for the 200K. I wavered slightly but thought I'd head out on the extra loop. I had forgotten my cell phone and ID like a dumbass, but didn't notice until I was about 10 miles into the ride, and no way was I going back for them, so I just needed to hope nothing happened.

The loop was in wide open country that took us away from the river valleys, and the wind had kicked up. I tried to hang with this guy (Jim, I think) and girl (never got her name), but after hearing how fast they'd covered 58 miles (2:40), I knew I wasn't that fast today (hell, that's my 1/2 IM pace!), and let them go ahead, but they were never too far ahead of me. We all got lost, but then we all found our way. Someone had removed one of the road markings. When we finally found the next one, I asked the guy what it said. He had seen my wrist band, and so he said it said HARDEN THE FUCK UP! We all cracked up over that, because being out there seemingly the only ones riding the loop, we knew that's what we needed to do.

I kept wondering whether the Ergomo was reading the correct mileage, but I compared to my buddy Jim and we were the same, so I'm saying it was right. That loop seemed endless, and there was one climb in there that totally sucked--a la Horribly Hilly or Dairyland Dare. We went down a short, steep hill, and there's the Vermillion River, and then you look up and what the fuck! About a 1/4 mile steep fucker. At that moment, I was really wondering if I could make it up, and I could hear the cars' gears grinding as they passed me. All I could think is how much I suck and what have I done to myself, but I looked at my wrist and thought I will make it up this thing one way or the other. Sweet relief!

We finished the loop about 8 miles after that (I think), and everyone who was back at the park that had done that climb remarked at how truly bad it was. I told several riders how happy I was to hear that because I thought at the time that either a) I sucked really bad or that b) it was very steep. (b), thank you!

So now I'm at about 80 miles, and seriously wondering if I'm going to finish this bad boy, but I figure I have no choice but to keep riding. Every time I would think I sucked horribly, I would pass someone else who must have sucked even more than me. And now it was headwind all the way back (why is that there's always a headwind on the way back?), and I couldn't tell what my power was or how bad I sucked except by my speed.

What kept me going at this point was the prospect of a turkey sandwich. At the rest station (we had already been there on the way out) we'd hit next, they have sandwiches. And I really wanted one! Even though I didn't feel like I was nutritionally bonking, sometimes on these really long rides (and considering I haven't been eating enough carbs lately--that's another story for another day), I figured extra food couldn't hurt. Well I got there and they were out of meat! I was crushed! Well, not really, but still...I had a slice of bread with some peanut butter. I took my sweet time there, but then realized I needed to get going. I was at 101 miles, so a good ride already, but 20-something to go, only I heard people talking there was 35 more miles??? WHAT THE FUCK!!! It was another of those days where I wasn't really up for 130 miles, you know? And there were other riders there who had done Horribly Hilly 200K which had turned into 130+ miles depending on whether or not you got lost. Oh well, how long could another 35 take?

So I head out of there, and thank you, fuck me up the ass, there's another climb right out of there. Because, you know, we were in another fucking valley. It wasn't like the Vermillion River, though, so not so bad, but it was at least 1/2 mile long. Oh well, grind up and hope it flattens out. It sort of did.

I passed a bunch of people who were only riding 100 miles as suck-ass as I was riding. We got to Ottawa and were right above the Illinois River, and you could see a bunch of stop signs in the water! It really showed just how much rain we had received, and it was definitely a sight. I wished I had my camera with me, but considering how much not fun I was having, I was glad to not be carrying anything extra. Right by the river, I came up on a guy on an MTB, and I asked how far he was riding. He said he was trying for 100. I was impressed! I also thought how much I sucked because for awhile I couldn't even stay with him, but then I got some semblance of legs back and passed him.

Somewhere after Ottawa, I came up on a group of 4 riders and again, couldn't believe I was catching anybody, as poorly as I thought I was riding. I socialized a bit, and one woman rode up to me and said, "Are you Sheila?" I said yes, and she said she reads my blog all the time, and she's doing IMWI, and has found a lot of good tips here! Nice! So I thought I'd be a Good Samaritan and chat with her awhile and spill anything she wanted to know since it will be her first Ironman. I enjoyed talking to her, as it took my mind off my sorry ass legs.

We got to the last rest station and I was at 121 miles. OK, how much further to go? They said 12 miles. Yippeekayay. I told the girls to come with me, and they said they didn't want me to hold them back, but I said I sucked not to worry. We got about 5 miles out and for some reason I got a bit of a second wind and I just took off. Apparently I didn't suck as much as I thought.

Well, the speedo gave me just about 12 miles more, so then I knew it was accurate, and I ended up at 133.5 miles. As tired as I felt (and I didn't even stay to shower there, and it was a 50-mile drive back home), for some reason I felt good that I had done it. 133.5 in 7:40. How??? Why???

HARDEN THE FUCK UP