06.8.2012 | 12:00 pm
A few months ago, I decided to register for the 2012 100 Miles of Nowhere because it is good to occasionally do tough things, which may not make a whole lot of sense, just to test one’s mettle. It was also great that the proceeds would be going to a good cause. As I started putting a plan together, I came up with some criteria that I wanted to try to stick with:
- No sharp corners (so I would not have to slow down on the turns)
- No stop signs (so I would not have to run them)
- No elevation gain (so I would not have to suffer more than necessary)
- Good places for spectators to hang out (so family cheer squad would not be bored)
- Smooth pavement (just because)
After a bit of searching on Google Maps, I found a route in Daybreak (a master-planned community in the southwest corner of the Salt Lake valley) that seemed to meet all of the criteria. The route was a 1.15 mile banana-shaped loop on one-way, bike-friendly streets with roundabouts located on each end.
The route was also about as flat as one can possibly find in the great state of Utah and has fantastically smooth pavement. Perfect.
Now I just needed to find someone to do the ride with me. Luckily for me, I have a cycling buddy that is always up for an adventure. We shall call him Biker Ben, because his name is Ben…and, you guessed it, he has been known to ride bikes.
In fact, if you want to have fun on a bike ride, all you need to do is invite Biker Ben. Regardless of the route, weather conditions, or circumstances you may find yourself in, you will have more fun during the ride and better stories to tell afterwards if Biker Ben is there. Also, he will tell the stories much more enthusiastically than you would ever be able to, so that is an added bonus.
Biker Ben and I have spent a good chunk of the past decade riding mountain bikes together.
And when I say “together” I really mean that we usually stick together on the climbing portion of the rides. Then we get to the top of said climbs and Biker Ben disappears, in part, because he has more downhill biking ability than I do, but primarily because he lacks that rational, little voice in his head which tells him to slow down in an attempt to avoid certain death.
A few years ago, I got the itch to buy a fancy new road bike. Biker Ben also found a nice used touring bike online. The bike is too small for him and weighs about two tons, but it seems to “fit” him perfectly.
Due to scheduling conflicts, we decided the best time to do our 100 Miles of Nowhere would be on Memorial Day, May 28th. Since Biker Ben had never actually ridden a century ride, we decided to sign up for the Salt Lake Century on May 19th just to see how things would go.
May 19th happened to be the best weather conditions for a century ride in the history of Salt Lake City, with mild temps and no wind. We rode hard with a good group and hit the 100-mile mark in 4:47. Things seemed to be looking good for our 100 Miles of Nowhere on the 28th.
We decided to start our 100 MoN in Daybreak prior to dawn, ensuring us a victory in the 100 MoN Daybreak pre-daybreak Division. We rolled out onto the streetlight- and headlamp-lit course at 4:24 am.
There was no traffic or wind, so we breezed through the first 20 miles in just under an hour. A flat tire at mile 25 was no problem since we were never more than approximately .2875 miles from our car which was parked in the middle of our 1.15 mile loop. It also meant that we never had to carry any extra food or drink because the car was close by whenever we needed it. We started to think that riding a century ride like this was the best idea ever.
Miles 21-40 came and went just as easily as the first 20. Our lap times stayed remarkably consistent at 3 minutes, 22 seconds (plus or minus a few seconds). We remarked that someone needed to organize a crit race on this very route because it was absolutely perfect.
The wind started to kick up a little around mile 52, but we were still able to finish up the first 60 miles in just under 3 hours of riding time. Which was precisely when our awesome group of spouses, kids, sisters, brother-in-law, nieces and nephews started to show up.
Then wind shifted and started to get stronger. I would like to say the sky darkened and the earth opened up in an attempt to swallow us whole, but that wouldn’t be entirely accurate since it was only chilly and annoyingly windy. We rode each lap from that point on being cheered by our families. They rang cow bells, clapped, and hollered words of encouragement each time we rode by for the last 40 miles of the ride. They even seemed to be enjoying themselves while they watched us ride around, and around, and around.
They cheered and rang bells for other people who happened to ride by, which probably made each of their respective rides a little more awesome too. We have good peeps in our families; they do good things to make random passersby feel happy.
Miles 61-90ish were a bit rough. Our pace was slowed by the wind and our lap times sometimes stretched to just under 4 minutes. Biker Ben started to realize that maybe he had not fully recovered from his first century ride just 9 days earlier.
My sister pulled out a giant 800mg ibuprofen tablet while we were stopped at mile 72, which he impressively swallowed without the assistance of liquid. We pressed on.
Around mile 80, we were passed by a rider on a Specialized S-Works Tarmac. He had fancy schmancy carbon aero wheels and was decked out in full team kit, cycling cap included. We reeled him in a lap or two later and asked what he was doing. He said he was on a “recon ride” for the crit race on Friday, June 1 st. We then told him we were about 83 miles into a 100 Miles of Nowhere ride and we had been riding laps on the crit race course since about 4:30 am. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his Oakley Jawbone sunglasses, but he appeared to look at us like we were crazy. Then he replied, “Wow…seriously?! Let me give you a pull for a few laps then.” It is odd how a complete stranger, who seems to think you are nuts, can totally make your day. He kindly gave us a pull until we stopped for our last rest stop at mile 85.
Miles 85-100 continued to be a bit of a sufferfest, but at least we could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I took turns pulling double laps as Ben waited for the 800mg of ibuprofen to kick in.
Finally, at 99.9 miles, we both got out of the saddle and sprinted to the imaginary finish line, to the roaring cheers of our loyal family members.
I stopped the GPS at 100.17 miles and 5:13 of riding time.
We finished strong, but were so mentally and physically drained that the idea for a victory lap on cruiser bikes was immediately abandoned.
Instead, we climbed into our cars and headed directly to my sister’s house less than a mile away to celebrate our podium finish in the 100 MoN Daybreak pre-daybreak pre-crit Division.
It was an awesome ride. We had a fabulous cheer squad supporting us. And Biker Ben and I made a great team. Biker Ben and I now know what it must feel like to be a racecar driver who knows every inch of his favorite racetrack…and we may just show up a little early to the crit race on June 1st to offer some helpful tips to the other racers.
Comments (14)
06.8.2012 | 8:00 am
Originally there were big plans for a peleton of cyclists on trainers at Portland Head Light, but as the day loomed near, fewer and fewer people shared my deranged enthusiasm for riding a 100 miles to Nowhere. The coming monsoon was the coup de grâce. I was suddenly alone and looking at 100 miles in the pouring rain. My friend is the proprietor of a favorite coffee shop of mine, and graciously offered a spot under his roof and the promise of free caffienation. Not quite as picturesque, but certainly drier with quick access to a paninni and gelato, if needed.
The public space gave me an opportunity to while away the miles talking to people about Camp Kesem, Livestrong, TwinSix and Fatcyclist.com.
I found myself wishing I could have a small table when riding on the road. Far more convenient than stuffing everything in my jersey pockets.
Coming in for the 75-mile rest stop.
I take my division by half a wheel. Epic.
The final tally, plus cool-down.
Well that’s it from here. Thanks for the inspired lunacy!
Comments (7)
06.8.2012 | 7:58 am
Originally there were big plans for a peleton of cyclists on trainers at Portland Head Light, but as the day loomed near, fewer and fewer people shared my deranged enthusiasm for riding a 100 miles to Nowhere. The coming monsoon was the coup de grâce. I was suddenly alone and looking at 100 miles in the pouring rain. My friend is the proprietor of a favorite coffee shop of mine, and graciously offered a spot under his roof and the promise of free caffienation. Not quite as picturesque, but certainly drier with quick access to a paninni and gelato, if needed.
The public space gave me an opportunity to while away the miles talking to people about Camp Kesem, Livestrong, TwinSix and Fatcyclist.com.
I found myself wishing I could have a small table when riding on the road. Far more convenient than stuffing everything in my jersey pockets.
Coming in for the 75-mile rest stop.
I take my division by half a wheel. Epic.
The final tally, plus cool-down.
Well that’s it from here. Thanks for the inspired lunacy!
Comments (2)
06.7.2012 | 5:39 pm
I changed “The 100 Miles of Nowhere” up a little bit and aimed at 100K to somewhere. Specifically, I aimed to walk, here in Spain, from Olot to the sea, to St Feliu de Guixols. I was doing it with my dog Chuck too, cause he loves to walk, and it’s a whole lot more fun to walk with him.
Then I looked at the train schedules and bus schedules and planned a secondary possible ending wherein we would hit the sea at Tossa de Mar and head further down the coast to Blanes where we could pick up the train. This would increase the walk to 130K or so.
You’re going to need a map to get an idea of what the heck I’m talking about! Thank goodness for google maps! I did this route on the Vies Verdes, which is an excellent bicycling route if you’re thinking of a vacation in Catalonia one day!
Chuck and I trained for this in the hills and trails around where we live and on the big day, we set off……
Chuck immediately found the only cow pat in the area to roll in, so a good time was had by all. 
Indeed, we passed the start of a local bike race, excuse the blurry image, they shot off the warning gun just as I pushed the button, and then Chuck thought it would be best to get out of the way. Chuck on leash when they’re shooting off guns is something of an irresistable force, and I am not an immovable object.
In many ways, the bulk of the trip was rather similar, we walked and walked and continued walking along through almost exclusively rural scenery. The big advantage of this route is that it only occasionally goes near the road.
Further along we saw this in the path, which told what I found to be a funny story:
The trail took us on and on and on under bridges and through tunnels:
Below, you can see Chuck using his patented technique for cooling off, lying down in the puddle or ditch while drinking out of it at the same time. I actually did this walk nearly a month ago now to avoid the worst of the heat and we had a splendid forecast for it, being overcast the entire day. Chuck in the puddle, however, was not a good sign, though I didn’t recognize it at the time.
On we walked….
In one of the villages we passed they were celebrating a local festival and so had brought out the gegants, which most villages have a much beloved set of and who come out to dance to music played by the local group.
We trundled onwards. It started to rain, which was actually good as the day had warmed up some. However, it wasn’t enough. By about kilometer 48 Chuck requested that we take a break. As there was nowhere nearby for us to sit, we simply sat down in the wet dirt and hung out for a while. I called my husband to tell him what was going on, and we agreed that Chuck was probably simply too hot.
After about 20 minutes, we got up and walked on, but by the time I made it to the 50K mark, of the day’s planned 70, Chuck was trailing behind me on leash and I was pretty much towing him. We called it a day, grabbed a taxi to the hotel we were planning on staying in that night and I was glad we did because once we got in the cab it started to POUR! Tropical pour, and it did so for the next 5 hours. We would have been fairly miserable.
I also knew it was a good decision because as we were waiting for the cab outside a kind baker’s shop, Chuck fell solidly asleep. Most unlike him.
See?
No problem, I thought, we’ll do 50 tomorrow to, going all the way to Blanes and it’ll be great.
So, the next morning we set off with the dawn Chuck once again filled with eagerness for the day ahead.
and a beautiful day it was:
Eventually we passed the town of Llagostera a medieval hill town, now somewhat expanded,
and got off the vies verdes onto something more adventurous.
Indeed we climbed up this ‘mountain’ Puig de les Cadires at 519m or about 1700 ft. The view was lovely and we were having a fabulous day, though you will notice how sunny it is. This is foreshadowing.
From there we could also see Tossa on the Med, our next immediate goal.
We also passed countless cork trees that had been harvested, for now, till they grow some more and they do it again. I’ve seen trees that have been harvested many many times over the years.
We were having fun, at times having to run down hill as the descent was so steep it was easier than walking. We had to hunt around to find the roads we wanted to work our way down and scramble through the brush sometimes.
There was also a sanctuary that we went by,
and then Chuck wanted to lay down in the shade for a bit. It is hot here, and it was a pretty warm day. What Chuck does, and I imagine many dogs do, is dig down through the sand till they reach cooler earth, then he lies down in the coolness soaking it up through his relatively hairless belly. Rinse and repeat as needed.
Then he went to sleep.
for 40 minutes.
At which point I decided that we would make it to Tossa and catch a taxi to Blanes and onwards home.
Here’s Chuck on his first ever train ride:
We managed about 25K that day, which still left me quite short of the 100K I was aiming at, so later that week, when I was getting my hair cut, my hairdresser mentioned that he and a fellow hairdresser were going to be going up a mountain on Wednesday morning, I asked if I could go to.
They said yes! So we went up Puig Mal in the Vall de Núria in the Pyrenees.
Here’s the
GPS track of that walk. We left at 5:30 am and went up like a train. Puig Mal is at 2910m or 9550 feet. We got up it in and hour and a half, and down a little later. Chuck didn’t come for this trip, though my hairdresser brought his dog.
Here’s the view from a bit of the way up, and below the peak.
We had nice views on the rather more scenic route down
We even saw this horse and her baby on the way out
You will notice that this route was only 14.6 kilometers, still bringing me up short of the full 100K, but as this was done at altitude and involved 1440 m or 4725 feet of elevation ascent and descent, I’m counting it done.
It was great fun I have to say. We also registered with Camp Kelsem as an independent fundraising team and raised nearly $600! So a great success all around. Now we’re just waiting for Chuck to shed, so we can embark on some more adventures together.
Comments (15)
06.7.2012 | 11:59 am
My third 100 MoN started badly.
The sky looked awfully grey. My hydration pack felt really, really heavy. My legs seemed flat and unresponsive. I had none of the extra zingyness that usually accompanies a fun, long ride. I felt tired.
Things got worse. My friends were not at the designated location for their round-and-round version of the 100 MoN. Though I did meet another Friend of Fatty (hi, Eric!) who was riding there. I rode with him for awhile and we had a nice chat.
As soon as I left Eric to go ride my planned big loop, it started to rain. It rained hard. Soon my shoes were full of water, my clothes were soaked and my glasses were totally fogged up. I rode over some of the slipperiest tar snakes and manhole covers I have ever encountered.
Many people on tri bikes passed me without saying hi or even acknowledging that I was there. I was miserable and unhappy and I was embarrassed to be riding as slowly as I was, especially with my 100 MoN “number plate” zip-tied to my bike.
At 35 miles, I literally came to a crossroads: Left, I could go home. Right, I could continue on. To make the right-hand turn I would have to pass a very large highway sign that read “WRONG WAY.”
It seemed like a bad omen.
I realized that I was feeling very sorry for myself. I thought about all my friends who can’t ride, for various reasons. I thought about all the riders and other people I’ve known who have passed on. I thought about how any one of them probably would have done anything for just one more chance to ride, or to be with their loved ones, or to be in good health and capable of doing whatever it was that they most loved to do.
I knew right then that I had to keep riding until there was nothing left in my legs.
I turned right.
I abandoned my plan to ride a bunch of humongous hills. Instead, I took the longer, flatter roads around them. I rode pretty slowly. I saw horses and shaggy red Angus cattle in the fields. I encountered many groups of cyclists going the other direction. Many of them waved and smiled when I waved at them.
The rain eased up. Before too long I was at 50 miles and starting on the homeward leg. I noticed that my average speed was creeping up. I smelled wet grass and damp pine trees. The air felt nice and clean.
I saw eagles soaring on thermals overhead. An osprey flew alongside me, close enough that I could hear its feathers rustling. Then I followed a bumblebee that was zigzagging along the road, until the bee lifted its pace to something like 20 mph (!) and I could not follow. It seemed so funny to get dropped by a bee that I laughed out loud.
At 75 miles I stripped off my still-soggy vest and arm warmers. It cheered me up. A lot.
At 91 miles I realized I could make the full 100 if I made a little extra loop on the way home.
On that loop I rode through a beautiful snowstorm of cottonwood fluff in full sunshine.
At 101 miles, and 2 blocks from home, I drained the last of the water from my hydration pack. I felt happy that I’d filled it with exactly enough water for the day. I was grateful that I was home safe, with no crashes or flats or mechanical problems. I felt humbled to have had the privilege to ride my bike for the better part of six and half hours. I was grateful that I did not bail out.
It was not my fastest century. It was not particularly “epic.” But it was a very, very good ride indeed.
Comments (11)
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