All I Know

Day 6: Lumberton to White Lake, optional century


Today there was an option to go 100 miles, which is a milestone for a cyclist. As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, it made logical sense to me take the option, so I did. The day was fine, beautiful even, and it would have been a tremendous waste to use it for just 61 miles when 100 are available.

A lot of nice moms and children waved and greeted as we went by.  I expect they were waiting on the school bus. After that, a lot of hammering away. There were minor variations in elevation, but it was pretty much like riding an exercise bicycle, and if you’re going 100 miles, you can bet you’ll be on it for at least 5 hours.

My plan for the day was to keep my cadence above 85 rpm, to put my hands on the drops when I got to 20 mph or more, and to be happy with whatever the result turned out to be.

I rode solo up to and after the first rest stop. I saw Jeff there; he was again riding with Les Jeunes, which are two males and two females from the Sandhills Cycle Club (I alone call them Les Jeunes.  And only here.). I left the rest stop; not long after I was smoked by a single, then a group of three or four, then came another group of two women and two men. They were running a pace line. Though I hadn’t really addressed hopping onto a line in my plan, I thought about it for a second, and did. I never know whether to join into someone’s pace line , the rotation part I mean, or not (which is sort of mooching on the back), and I don’t know what the etiquette is. After the guy who looked like he might have been the leader pulled off to the back, where I was, I offered to take a turn at the front (the hard part), or not, his call. He said “sure”. So the other guy was ahead of me in the pace line. I made note of how long he pulled, and about how fast, and emulated it when it was my turn.

This rotation went on for an hour, with speeds averaging 21 mph. I know one time when I peeled off to the back, someone said, “good pull,” and I was happy about that. We pulled into the second rest stop; they were much more into stopping than I was, so when I got my needs addressed, I shoved off, thinking I would just catch them back out on the road again, like in a few minutes. I didn’t see them again for a very long time.

All that time I was hammering alone, over some roads I know well (at least by car) around my beloved Bladen Lakes. The bad news is that some of those roads, while paved, are like washboards, so the average speed suffered on these.

I saw one of the group that I had been riding with earlier at the last rest stop, they were pulling in as I was getting ready to leave. Turns out they are from Raleigh as well. I asked about who they ride with, and she said she was officially with the Gyros (the North Raleigh team.   I live in North Raleigh.)  but she really enjoys a group that rides out of the Finley YMCA. Putting it the way she did, she was distancing herself from the Gyros. I said to her  that most of the Gyros I had met were not very friendly. She acknowledged that they have that reputation. So it’s not just me. Anyway three of the four were wearing Team Cheetah kit, and she added, “and we have this little team…” and something about maybe catching a ride sometime. I said I would keep a look-out for them. So that is promising.

John (different one, obviously), taken Day 5

More solo work, I stuck with my plan. Never saw a soul. About 7 miles from the finish, the Team Cheetah crew came up on me again, and on of them said, “Did we scare you off?” Also they had big John in the line. John and I rode together out of Rockingham for at least a half-hour, maybe more. So I caught on with them and rode to the finish at a pace line speed, which was more than I could muster alone, after 93 or so miles. We must have finished in the first few of the century riders.

For the 100 miles I was rolling 5 hours 25 minutes, which comes to 18.2 mph average. 80+ percent was solo work. So I am pretty proud of that.

The course ended at the Future Farmers of America camp at White Lake. Cabins at the camp were made available, so people were pretty decentralized there, and I really couldn’t find anyone to celebrate with.  I did run into Jeff, he said that he and Les Jeunes had done the 61 miler (again, what a waste). He said his knee was bothering him– he has been icing it– and he did seem a little out of it. He has been taking Advil by the handful.

There was a fair amount of grumbling that the logistics in Matthews were bad; that they weren’t ready. Well Matthews has nothing on my beloved White Lake. Everything at the FFA camp was a disaster or missing altogether, including most notably food and drink. So there was no reason to stay.

I was anxious to not sleep on the floor, so I made arrangements to stay at our greater family’s lake cottage for Friday night. I could have slept on a camp bed with mattress at the FFA, but the cottage has your own shower, potty, fridge, and all that.  So, easy decision.   All I have is my bike to get around, so I pitched the tent at the FFA, tossed the duffles into the tent, grabbed some essentials, and headed for the lake house.

I passed by Ski Burger on the way. So much stuff here is closed with the season, but the dozen or so bikes in front of Ski Burger told me what I wanted to know. It’s an institution down here, dating back to the 70s at least. And you want it to be a hip and cool burger joint with really good food. But it just isn’t. I got two hot dogs an they were terrible.

Over the years we have accumulated stacks of pictures like this from the lake. Here is another.

On to the lake house, where I am now, one of my favorite places in the world, at the end of our pier here. I suppose I will have to do something about dinner soon.

An Additional Word About Rest Stops

I meant to add this yesterday in the Ride the Course section, but forgot.
Rest stops have the following:

  • Nice volunteers who come out to help hand things out, because they are nice. Remember, Bob from day 0 is such a volunteer, but there is another class of volunteer, the ones from the local Rotary, or church, or cycling club or whatever. Bob had horror stories of cyclists interacting with volunteers. I was sure to thank them every time.
  • Cut-up apples
  • Halved bananas. I always ask for a whole one, no problem there.
  • Quaker chewy granola bars
  • Fig newtons packaged as a single serving
  • packaged trail mix, usually
  • peanut butter and jelly sandwich halves, sometimes
  • football-sideline coolers of water (for your bottles)
  • football-sideline coolers of sports drink (likewise)
  • bottled water
  • little cans of coke, diet coke, and sometimes sprite
  • bathrooms
  • a mechanic
  • specials, like bojangles, subway (which I missed), krispy kreme, one stop total.

There are typically four stops on a 70 mile course. There is not any of this stuff at the finish, except the water jugs, presumably so you will patronize the food vendors.

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