75 Miles of Elbow Room

I like beer.

Very much, actually.

I'm not talking about pounding miller-lites or shit like that. I like GOOD beer. And, if I can help it w/o looking like a pretentious asshole, I choose to drink my beer out of a glass. Do I consider myself a beer snob? No, I don't think so.  Beer snobs have rules, heavy prejudices and aren't what I consider to be "experimental" people (in terms of trying new brews, whether they be high or low (löwe?) brow (bräu?) (harrrrrrrr!).

 Duvel and Sierra Nevada 30th Anniversary

I don't have rules. I have preferences (beer in glass)... but not rules. I consider myself more of a beer journeyman. An up-and-comer who is drinking up every new/different bottle of everything  looking to expose myself to as many different flavors as possible. I want to try it. I want to learn all about it. What does that taste like? I wonder how it compares to this.

I love beer.

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75 miles... what does that taste like?

Let me tell you.

Last July, or something, I completed the longest ride of my life - 55 miles. I did it in rock-creak park on a Sunday when all of the roads were closed down. An out-and-back in rock-creak is somewhere in the neighborhood of 10.4 miles (right?.. I'm pretty sure). Anyway, it was DC-summer hot out, I was alone, and it was a lot of seeing the same thing over and over... and over... and over again. It was long, it was hard, but it was worth it.

I've been feeling great on the bike lately. Each week showed a progression in form, distance and confidence. Long gone are the days where I would sit on the trainer for only 30 minutes hoping... hoping so hard... that my knee would cooperate. I'm back, baby.

Patrick and I had been planning a BIG ride for a couple of weeks now. We hit 50 miles the weekend before and that lit a fire under us - it was time for something BIG. Patrick knew my current benchmark (55), as well as my ever-narrowing window of opportunity (1-month until DC departure). With this as my last free weekend, the exception being the one where I actually move, it was now or never.

Lift-off was scheduled for 7:00am on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. However, halfway there (and at the bottom of the f-ing hill that leads away from my house) I realized that I had forgotten BOTH of my water-bottles. Crap. So I wheeled back around and climbed the first of many hills that day. Never-the-less, I eventually got to the meet-up point and it was a hell of a view to start the day.

That's me on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. 

Beautiful day so far, huh?

Here's Patrick hanging out and enjoying some great 

peace and quiet before the day's journey.

We got rolling and started to journey our way out of the city. Traffic was aiiiiiight and the weather was a brisk 50 degrees. Today would have been the perfect morning for arm-warmers, knee-warmers, toe-warmers and full-fingered gloves.... but sadly I own none of these things. INSTEAD, I layered-up a long-sleeved dri-fit shirt under my jersey, threw a pair of regular gloves over my cycling gloves and wore compression socks to act as make-shift leg-warmers. Nice, huh? Oh, and how could I forget my new (coughFIRSTcough) pair of cycling socks! No, they're not those goofy looking ones with pictures all over them. These are simple, black, low-cut pearl izumi socks. And yes, they were underneath my compression socks.

The ride was to take us out to Poolesville, MD via MacArthur Blvd and a plethora of other roads, and then return back to DC via River Road. It all started out well enough. We didn't print off any queue sheets b/c we felt we had a good enough handle on our turns. Plus, we had dual iphone assistance so we could always fall back on map navigation. Before long though, we had reached our first impasse. Out with the phones!

PC with the iphone

It was a short pause and we launched out for another ways before stumbling onto this gem.

I guess Jed isn't open this early in the morning.

After a while, we were well out of the city and really on our way. Boy, and what a change in scenery. We were surrounded by dairy farms, horses, cattle.... and HILLS. Jesus, there were f-ing hills EVERYWHERE. I thought I knew what a "roller" was, but the joke was definitely on me today. It was KILLER and I experienced a whole new dimension of suffering on the bike. It was about this time that Patrick and I looked at each other and realized the 1 1/2 hours of tennis the morning before wasn't the best idea. Our legs were absent of that fresh feeling you know you've got when sprinting with ease up those first few hills. Hincapie would call it "bad legs." But that's OK because we were in it together. All it really means is that our jaws would be hanging a little lower and our chests heaving a bit harder, right?

Look at that seemingly small hill out there in the distance. 

Don't let it fool you for a second! It surely wraps up 

and around and then up some more. At least we had something 

nice to look at while sputtering along at <10mph.

After conquering a few of those nasty rollers we came upon what would have been the PERFECT stretch of Belgian pavé. It was about 8' wide and surrounded by the old country-side you see in all of the youtube highlight reels for the Belgian Spring Classics.

Stop laughing at my socks!

Shortly thereafter we stumbled onto a beautiful wheat field stretching off as far as the eye could see. How could we not jump off our bikes for a quick photo-op?

Cool field, huh?

Well, we eventually made it out to Poolesville, albeit through a very backwards and winding route. We filled up the bottles, at some GU and wheeled back around for the trek home. Our route back was significantly more direct and well-committed to memory on roads we both were quite familiar with. We picked up the pace and put our heads down in preparation for what surely would be a difficult mental and physical exercise.

I won't bore you with too many details about the new hills we found and then the GIANT hill we paper-boy'd it all the way up at the end, but just know we made it and we felt f-ing proud to do so. We were tired, but not overly so, which surprised me a bit. The legs were tired, but never really gave-out on me which I can only guess is a testament on some level to the training that has gone in up to this point. I gotta feel good about that right?

Back at home, post-ride!

My post-ride celebration wasn't what I thought it would be at all. I just wasn't in the mood for one of those two bottles of beer. Nor was I yearning for the tub of ice cream that was waiting for me (again, thank you Hannah Teter!). Instead, I opted for a mammoth sized plate of chicken fajitas and a single margarita at the local, cheap Mexican joint down the street from me. It turns out that was just what I needed. I came home all ready to take a nap but settled for an extremely relaxed state of mind while I handled planning for the upcoming Man-Bath!... but more on THAT in the future!