I have survived another year of the MS 150.  Advil truly is advanced medicine for pain.  I chalk up this year's tremendous amount of soreness more to lack of preparation than old age.  There was a 50 year old guy that did the century ride, so old age obviously isn't a factor.  I can give you lots of excuses why I only rode once in the two weeks before the ride, but I won't.

The weather for the ride was great.  A Santa Ana wind blew in from the desert so it was warm and clear.  The views along the coast were spectacular.  The road dipped really close to the ocean in a few places and what looked like patchy fog turned out to be salt spray mist from the big surf.  The weatherman on the news was talking about the great surf conditions and we got to see it.  So instead of a cool refreshing mist, it smelled and tasted like the sea and even made my eyes burn.  I was glad I hadn't shaved, although it probably wasn't strong enough to sting.  That was within the first 15 miles, so my eyes burned all day and made it impossible to read the textbooks I had brought for the overnight stay.

After about 20 miles I was warmed up and feeling good.  The miles clicked by.  I was at the lunch stop before I knew it.  You had to make it to the halfway point before 1PM to get the map for the last 50 miles, that keeps the slow pokes from attempting the century.  I was there at 11 o'clock.  Half an hour off the bike, some Yahoo's fish tacos, and 5 miles uphill near the Palomar airport made me wonder why I was even doing this.  My legs were burning, but they hurt even worse if I tried to stop pedaling.  I was going so slow that a butterfly passed me.  I kept checking to see that my cyclo-computer was turned on, the second decimal place on the distance readout seemed as if it wasn't moving.  I was paying for the clear skies and great views the Santa Ana brought with the furnace-like heat.  The short lived downhills were cool and refreshing, but always at the bottom another hill and the pain it brought my legs.

At 70 miles I felt like I would make it.  They had promised the last 10 miles were flat along the coast, so I had done 20 miles of hills and had 20 left.  Half way through the last half.  That kept me going.  I stopped at 80 miles to use the facilities (I was trying to stay well hydrated with the heat and all) and took a moment to look over my bike.  I had put new tires and inner tubes on the night before (finishing at 10) and the back one now had a two inch rip along the sidewall.  At the last rest stop, with 12 miles to go, some of the other riders said I would be OK for today, but should change it for the next day.  This rest stop, of course, was the only one that didn't have a bike shop mechanic standing by with tools and spare parts.

When I finally reached the finish, over nine hours after I started, the massage tables were being folded up and put away.  I should have riden faster, or stopped less.  The overnight was lots of fun.  Some good speakers.   A great band.  Great food.  This year I had the closest room to all the activities.  So with my burning eyes that I couldn't study with, I lay awake listening to the band through the wall until they gave up around 10.  I had thought ahead enough to bring Visine (which wasn't working) but not enough to bring some Tylenol, Advil or even aspirin.  If it wasn't for the hot tub in the fourth and furthest hotel down the road (the one I stayed in last year), my knotted legs wouldn't have let me sleep at all.

The second day was easy, riding on a used tire one of the mechanics gave me.  It took almost 15 miles before the soreness was out of my thighs and knees.  I always see more people on the second day.  There were over 1,000 riders, but I didn't see them the first day because the 100 or so century riders start early.  Going up Torrey Pines wasn't hard at all, compared to the day before.  Lots of people walking and resting as the rest of us inch our way to the top.  Bike clubs with 20 and more riders drafting each other going down the other side of the road sound like a swarm of bees, reminding me of the one that flew under my glasses the first day near an orange grove in Carlsbad.  The ride finally ends, 70's rock music blaring, free Arbys and 15 minutes on the massage table.  I make it home by 1:30, down some Advil and take a nap on the couch.

So why do it?  To raise money and awareness for Multiple Sclerosis.  Every pedal stroke I make is one Meredith can't.  The pain in my legs is the pain that our friend Cheryl gets in hers for no reason.  Many times I wanted to quit and wait for the SAG wagon to pick me up and drive me to the finish.  Meredith doesn't have that option.  She can't just get out of the wheelchair.  My weekend of pain pales in comparison to the lifetime of pain others feel.  I'm just glad I could do it.

I really need to ride more before the next one of these, but not for at least a month!

Thank you for your continued support.

Back to Starby's