I had a rare chance to get out for a weekday long ride with my friend, Laura. We were inspired to ride a bit further than our typical distance after seeing the gals in our age groups at Hincapie Gran Fondo finish their 80+ mile rides looking strong and happy. What does it take, we wondered, to ride a challenging course like that, and finish strong?
The context of every one of my rides - and my blog posts, for that matter - is that of an "older" athlete. Although I'm still clinging to the waning months of my 50th decade, and Laura is in the Social Security range, we're still doing all the things we would do as if we were decades younger. We honestly don't think about our age at all (except for when we sign up for races that have age categories). Nowhere do we bring age into our race or event planning, just our ability and aptitude.
And, sometimes, our curiosity. Because it's been a while since either of us has committed to a long and challenging ride, this was also a ride of discovery: how we would feel being on the bike for this long, were we prepared for all the hills on this route, would we put long rides back into our training rotation or would we do them only when necessary, or never again?
And just when did a 60-mile* ride become a "long ride", in my reality? I used to get out at least once a week to ride longer distances, most of them solo miles, all of them hours-long endeavors through the ups and downs of the Cuyahoga Valley. Long ride days were something I looked forward to, and they probably played a huge role in the fitness I enjoyed when they were part of my training habit.
At some point, I fell off that wagon. Life brings constant changes, and almost imperceptibly I change with it. Job situations, new commitments, dynamic social environments all evolve, and our days evolve with them. The cycling-focused mindset that drove my lifestyle in the past has given way to a routine that is more inclusive of things not bike related. This is both good and bad. Good in that I have more things to talk about with more people than just my athlete friends. Bad because I don't remember how I was able to fit in all those group rides, solo excursions, and hard training days - and so I forgot how hard I used to work to maintain that lifestyle.
One day, you're enjoying the ease of a strong body and the joy of movement as you breeze through the miles, the next day you're slogging up a familiar hill and wondering when the road will end. The tragedy of life, I'm finding, is the impermanence of the things we love the most.
The long ride with Laura wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. To be honest, I didn't actually think I'd be able to effortlessly slip back into long rides without training for them, but I kind of hoped I would. Anymore it feels like all I'm doing is desperately clawing my way back to where I was. Sometimes I wonder if trying to reclaim 'the way things were' is even worth the pursuit. It's a lot harder now than it was back then.
As we ticked off the miles and hours of our ride, I knew that 60 miles was enough for me that day. The last mildly uphill mile felt like a small mountain, and I was happy to roll into the parking lot to finish. High fives and smiles and a few selfies, and our long ride was successfully completed.
Later that day, after I had a chance to recover (coffee, short nap) and replenish (eat everything in the house) I was eager to schedule my next long ride day. I was also 100% committed to doing what I needed to do to be the rider who could, once again, pick up and go, feeling strong and confident and capable on the long road.
Clearly, the "long ride" aspect of my athletic journey isn't over yet. There are still long (and longer!) rides ahead, and I'm willing to rise to their challenges. After today, I know what I have to do to bring my "A" game, and I'm determined to do just that.
*60, not the 80 that we first considered after the Gran Fondo. 60 felt like a good place to start.
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