Saturday: Sturbridge to Bourne

After the massive storms we had on Friday night (and the resulting mere 2 hours of sleep that I got because of said storms), we were running a teeny bit late on Saturday morning. We missed the national anthem. By the time we got over to the assembly area, people were lined up all over the place, and ducking under the ropes that were set up to separate the different paced groups. So we did what we did last year: just kind of waited until the almost the very end before we left. It wasn't a race - what was the point of fighting through throngs of people? The grouping had become irrelevant anyway. I'd guess maybe 100 people started after us.

The much-feared hills in the beginning of the PMC were no where near as bad as I thought they would be, or remembered them being last year. In fact, I kept waiting for the bad hills to start, and they never actually arrived. The hills were basically a non-event. We had been concerned that we didn't include enough hills during our training rides, but apparently that was not an issue for us, and in the future, I don't think we'll bother worrying about it. My max heart rate did get up to 196, which is 92% of my max. But there was never a point where I thought "I can't do this."

It was a hot day. A very hot day. There seemed to be a lot fewer supporters on the side of the road throughout the ride, and I overheard a few discussions saying exactly the same thing. Who can blame them, though? It was such a hot day out - and to stand there for hours and hours must be awful. There were a lot of signs & posters up though, so I get the impression that it was just too hot for people to stay out for very long.

Most of the ride I spent managing some shoulder pain - I learned early on that if I ride without my right arm, my right shoulder doesn't hurt. [For those of you who missed my whining over the past few weeks, we thought that I had torn through some scar tissue & then that was revised the Thursday before the ride to 'I had torn a muscle' in my shoulder - both opinions was that of my chiropractor. My assessment was that regardless of what you want to call it, I had been riding in that condition for a while, so what was one more weekend?] I also learned that the medical tents at each water stop have a ready supply of ice packs, advil, and some really good muscle rub (think: super "icy hot"). So by alternating all of these solutions every 20 miles or so, I hopscotched my way through the entire 192-miles. I spent a lot of time riding with my right arm tucked up near my waist, with my elbow close to my ribs. I'm sure I looked like a complete idiot. Some concerned people asked me if I was OK, and of course I said yes. I felt like a complete moron.

The good news, though, was that the shoulder issue was the limiting factor (instead of something else, like being lazy, or being out of shape). We both had the legs to go & go & go. We could have ridden much faster if I wasn't sitting up stretch and riding one handed all the time. I wouldn't say we over trained, but we had trained adequately.

At the Franklin Water stop (43 miles into the ride), we met up with my folks, who were kind enough to come & cheer us on. My mom even made a sign!

After that we peddled and peddled... In fact, Ken calculated that over the 2-day ride, I completed 1,482 pedal strokes more than he did. Apparently, I pedal at a higher cadence than he does.

Other than one minor incident (read the Berkley, MA post), it was a great ride. It was hot, and it was long. But it was great. It was really inspiring to read the back of everyone's jersey. There were names on ribbons cascading down from helmets, there were names written on jerseys, names every where. There were pictures everywhere as well. It was both heartbreaking and heart warming. Here are all these individual stories of suffering - and all these people willingly giving up so much of their time & effort to try and stop more of these tragic stories from becoming tragic. And then there is the thought that each one of these people has their own list of sponsors cheering them on, just like all of you guys, and the imaginary web that links all these people to cancer & the PMC becomes mind boggling large and intertwined. There were riders who rode up from Florida. I saw name labels from London. Apparently, there were riders from 7 different countries. I'm trying to imagine where, across the world, all the funding comes from, and I would really like to see that mapped out. And it's all done for the Jimmy Fund & Dana-Farber. And it all started because of one man who wanted to make a difference. It just amazes me.

For the record, we burned 4,520 calories on the 110-miles (approx.) from Sturbridge to Bourne. Our average heart rates were around 161 beats per minute, even with all those hills (pretty good for me). It took us 7 hours and 4 minutes to complete that portion of the ride (actual ride time, not including icing, massages, eating & waiting in line for the port-o-potty). Our average speed was 15.4 MPH - not fast by cycling standards, but seeing how that was the furthest I've ever ridden, I'll take it. Maybe next year we can go faster. Maybe not. We'll see. Luckily it isn't a race. Although it is kind of fun to see how much you can take...