The MS150 was one week away and I hadn't logged over 40 miles on a single outing. So I decided to get in 60 to 70 miles. Got a partner to ride with me, Mike Kampwirth a young man on the Sigh Yoga MS150 team. Inspired by Sarah Neumeier's epic ride on Friday from South Minneapolis to Stillwater,
MN and back, I suggested to Mike we duplicate the effort.
Come Sunday the weather was a perfect 75 degrees, overcast, light wind day. Mike and I set out from my house enjoying the day and looking forward to a nice long ride. Unknown to Mike, I was entertaining visions of a nice lunch in Stillwater before turning for home. Unknown to me, Mike wasn't. The young don't need to eat or hydrate: they're jerks. There is scientific evidence to prove they're jerks. So I rode on, oblivious to my pending starvation. I'm not going to apologize for my desire for food--it takes 3,500 to 4,000 calories a day to maintain my weight.
Back to the ride. Little did we know that I was riding into "a world of pain"(movie reference). A world of hunger pain. But the next thing to happen had nothing to do with eating
At Mile 6 I heard a loud ping. Startled by the sudden noise, I checked around but couldn't see anything. It actually sounded like a rock hit my spokes. So I road on for two miles before things started to get get difficult. Going up a hill I watched Mike pull away from me while I struggled. At the stop light Mike noticed my wheel was rubbing on my brake. It was so warped I was surprised I could ride it and not notice. The noise I heard two miles before was a spoke popping. Well, there was good news and bad news. Bad news was we could not ride any further. The good news was we broke down in front of Kopplin's coffee.
It would have been easy to be done for the day, but the MS150 was a week away and I had to get in a long ride. So we called the SAG wagon with instructions to bring another bike.
The coffee flowed while we waited for the Cynthia to bring another bike and some tools. Kopplin's was brewing a Brazillian from local roaster Moonshine. The coffee had a low acidity while the caramel and chocolate notes were perfectly balanced. As soon as Cynthia arrived, peddles came off the busted and went on the good bike. Big shout out to my beautiful wife for the logistic and mechanical support. We were back in business and only lost an hour. It was off to Stillwater.
Now, I didn't actually know how to get there. Two days earlier I asked Karen Swoverland the route they took. After Summit Avenue to the Basilica all I heard was "wah wah wah wah and you're on the Gateway Trail." I guess I should have tried to listen. Upon arriving at the Capitol I realized three things. One, there was a criterium being held around the Capitol so the streets were closed. Two, I had no idea where we were supposed to go. And three, I was getting pretty hungry. So we stopped there on the high ground overlooking the Capitol and tried to figure out which way to go. After a while of guessing we set off to go around the Capitol building looking for a specific street. Between the bike race and construction, we ended up lost and rode into a residential area, where I'm sure they don't see many fancy bikes and spandex-clad riders. We decided that we had to get across the highway if we were going to find the Gateway Trail.
So let the ride begin... Again... For the third time. Man I was getting hungry. I brought these energy gummy chews, which I ate. I didn't feel like I needed energy, but I was starving. After woofing down the bag I felt it wasn't going to help my hunger pain. It did however jack my heart up over 200 BPM. I scared the shit out of Mike when I told him what had happened and I'll have to stop and get off the bike. A trick I do to get the heart back in sequence is act like I'm straining on a BM. (Learned that trick thanks to my wife's internet research skills.) Oh yeah, I'll do that in public.
Got the old ticker back in order and we were off again... For the fourth time. This long ride had turned into an adventure. Did I mention I was hungry? I didn't know where to turn off the trail to get to Stillwater, so we just rode the trail to where it ended at some park.
At the turning point I told Mike about my thought of a nice lunch before riding home. Mike let me know that he's not the type that eats during a ride. (Sounds like my wife.) Also, we spent so much time on mechanicals and getting lost, any time we had for eating was gone. But being the selfless man that he is, he offered stopping at St. Paul Grand Old Days. Visions of hotdogs drove me through the hunger to Grand Old Days. I was starving but excited about fair food--wonderfully greasy and over-priced topped off by long lines in the hot sun. That was just what I needed. Now that we knew how to get back, it would go much faster. Not necessarily, as I found out: I was spent. The donger need food! I slowed down to the point I thought the bike might fall over. Every crank was brutal. I just wanted to eat. How does that young prick do it? He hadn't eaten breakfast or filled his water bottle. I was beginning to hate this guy. Mike nursed me to the festival, waiting for me at lights, coaxing me up hills. We made it. The food vendors were out in force. I walked up to the first hotdog cart and got two beautiful all-beef dogs. They were down in seconds. After washing them down with a Coke, I was fueled up and ready to ride. A little food had changed my whole attitude. I could have rode back to Stillwater.
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