As promised, I will tell my RAIN tale, which truly has its beginnings in July, 1995. I was a newcomer to the BBC last summer, after being off my bike for the better part of twelve years. I had done some riding with the BBC back in the early 1980s and decided to see if the club still existed. The Bicycle Garage was kind enough to steer me in the right direction and one fine Sunday I met up with the one-and-only Dave Gerbig.
I began riding the Nice'n Easy regularly and Dave and I usually chatted most of the way. Dave always encouraged me even though I did not (and still don't) ride a bike that begins with a "C". My bike at the time was a red, 19-year old, 37 pound Schwinn Varsity 10-speed with suicide brake levers, the original platform pedals (complete with gripper teeth!), and hardware for a removable baby seat.
During our Sunday rides, Dave educated me on the new-fangled trappings of modern-day bicycling. I knew about bike shorts, but had no idea they had those great pads inside! I had never heard of clipless pedals and cleats (I thought cleats were for running-- in-the-grass sports?). I didn't know there was such a thing as a triple-crank (no hill insurmountable!), and that those jerseys everyone wore actually served a greater purpose than mere fashion. Even though I considered most of the new equipment to be revolutionary, I just couldn't imagine the discomfort that must come from leaning over those awful things called aero-bars....who in their right mind would want those?
One Sunday, the Nice'n Easy group rode only as far as the old Sherwood Oaks Christian Church when we encountered a toad - strangling-torweezer kind of storm. We sought shelter at the front door of the church, where we talked for hours about bikes and bike rides. We talked about Hoosier Hills, HUMOR, Crane Strain, Hilly Hundred, and a most unbelievable ride called RAIN. Dave told us about this ride from Illinois to Ohio, elaborating on the heat, humidity, rain, lightning, thunder, head-winds, and hail, and that all of this could transpire in a single day as it did during the 1995 RAIN. He even said that a considerable number of people, including himself, had actually finished this ride, and that some were such gluttons for punishment that they had done it every year! I shuddered at the thought of such a grueling ordeal and said that those who participated must be insane or just plain stupid.
By this point in my riding, I had set my sights on Hilly Hundred.
My goal was to ride every inch of both routes, even if it took me
until midnight each day. I started both mornings at about 8:30
and finished by 1:30 each afternoon (including the lunch stop
and one rest stop each day), proving to myself that I really was a
stronger rider than I had thought or even imagined. I was truly
inspired when after riding past masses of people including
"jocks" as they walked their bikes up Tabor Hill, I was literally
cheered on by a group of people who had stopped at the top to
catch their breath. I knew then that I would have to participate in
other club-supported rides, partly because I enjoyed the
camaraderie, and partly because I enjoyed the challenge.
The weekend after Hilly, I bought a new bike, but I wasn't at all thrilled with it because I was used to the old clunker; the new one just didn't seem to fit right no matter what I adjusted, and I was certain I would kill myself using toe-clips. My husband took the thing to the Bicycle Doctor and explained to him what I didn't like about it and why. The Bicycle Doctor took measurements from my old bike, calculated angles, etc., and after replacing my stem with a much longer one, created the most perfect bike fit that I could have imagined. (Yeah, it looks funny, but it works for me!)
Over the winter, I had begun reading Bicycling magazine (cover to cover--except for some of the mountain-bike stuff). I kept seeing interesting articles on how to go aero, how to train for centuries, and suggestions for staying hydrated when riding in the heat. I kept thinking about the possibility of doing a century, but most of all about doing that crazy July ride called RAIN.
I began my "training" for RAIN in April, riding 2-3 times per week, weather permitting. I rode some with the BBC, but mostly on my own. I purchased a cell phone for safety and began riding early mornings before work 3-4 times per week. I found this to be a most enjoyable, as well as beneficial experience, not only because of the extra miles I was getting, but because I felt great all day when I started with a great workout. I continued to ride 50-70 miles on Saturdays as well as the Nice 'n Easy on Sundays. In mid-May I began keeping a mileage log and found that I was averaging over 150 miles per week and by the end of June had logged almost 1,000 miles on my new bike alone. (I also still ride the old red clunker because it has the baby seat for Amy.)
I took some of the suggestions given in Bicycling for being more aero, and even broke down and bought an AirStrike aero-bar. I found that the aero-bar helped me in several ways. First, it cut down on the air drag caused by sitting more upright with my tall stem; second, it helped my hands and wrists by taking the pressure and jarring away from my hands; and third, I discovered it put me in a better power position--I could add two miles per hour or more to my speed just by getting into the bars! I also discovered that the uncomfortable-looking aero position was in fact quite comfortable with my new stem.
Two weeks before RAIN, I bought clipless pedals and shoes
which would accommodate recessed SPD cleats. (Being able to
walk normally when off the bike was very important for my lower
back.) By this time I was riding six days per week and felt that
these were the last major components that I needed to take on
the RAIN challenge.
In order to get as much rest as possible before RAIN, I opted to spend the previous night in Terre Haute. My husband, Tim, and I loaded our two-year-old daughter, Amy, and every piece of gear we could imagine ever needing into the van which was to double as my SAG wagon, and we headed to Terre Haute. My plan was simple: arrive early Friday afternoon, complete my final night of carbo-loading at The Cracker Barrel, buy a few last-minute items at Wal-Mart and get to bed early. Well, so much for plans.....
My chicken dumplings and mashed potatoes were delicious and our trip to Wal-Mart was fun, but when it came time for bed, guess who couldn't sleep? Over the course of the night I probably only slept 2-3 hours. I tried everything from getting into a bed by myself, to turning the air-conditioning fan on high, to watching TV, but I continued to toss and turn. In the back of my mind I had so many doubts: Would I be able to finish before 8:00 p.m. (the official end of RAIN)? Was I even capable of pushing pedals for an entire day? Could I tolerate the constant muscle spasms I had been having in my shoulders? Could I keep from becoming dehydrated on such a long ride? Could I (a hypoglycemic) manage to keep my blood sugar level from crashing? Was it just plain foolishness to even consider such an attempt? The questions ran through my mind all night and all morning.
My alarm clock went off just as the hotel desk presented me with my wake-up call (as if I needed either of them!). I rushed about, getting myself ready, slathering on sunscreen, and packing up night shirts and baby stuff. I tried in vain to eat the steak biscuit, grits, and orange juice I had purchased the previous evening at Cracker Barrel, but I could barely swallow any of it. I became totally stressed when I realized how little I had slept, how little I was able to eat, and how it was becoming apparent that I was not going to make it to the starting line by the 6:00 a.m. start time.
I was nervous as we travelled the distance from our hotel to the
starting line across the Illinois State border. However, I became
a complete basket-case when, as we were heading west on I70,
I saw the pack of riders approaching on Illiana Road, meaning
the ride had already started. We approached the starting area
and I ran around to get my bike. I was just certain I was the last
one and that I would either finish last or not at all. Tim assured
me that he saw several others who had not yet started, but I
reminded him that they were surely all better riders than me and
that they would all pass me anyway.
I left at about 6:20 a.m., taking with me only a bottle of Cytomax, a bottle of water, a protein bar, a Clif Bar, a packet of Gu, and my cell phone. Since the SAG crews were not allowed to follow riders along U.S. 40 for the first miles, and since I knew I had enough of everything to make it without any support for the first 40 miles, I told Tim to give me about three hours or so to get to the first rest stop at U.S. 40 and S.R. 231. Tim also had a borrowed cell phone so that I could call him if I had trouble or needed anything, so I felt secure.
I found that I was really strong despite my lack of food and sleep and the early morning fog burned off to display a beautiful day with temperatures in the mid 80s. I travelled along well, occasionally being passed by, but more often passing other riders. I saw an elderly woman on a recumbent, a honeymooning couple on a tandem, and ran across a fellow from Indianapolis, who was only planning to do a century, go home for a shower and then drive to Richmond to pick up his friends who were going the full distance. He wasn't riding at my pace, so I eventually had to drop him since it was important to me to try my best to finish the entire distance.
I set my watch alarm for 15 minute intervals to remind myself to drink since I tend to forget, and I arrived at the 40-mile rest stop out of water as well as Cytomax. I searched for my SAG, but it wasn't there. As I waited in line for the Port-o-Let, I called Tim to see how far away he was. When he answered, I asked, "Where are you?" To which he responded, "We're in Terre Haute, we just checked out of the hotel. Where are you?" I replied, "I'm at the rest stop. I have no water and no Cytomax. Is there a reason you aren't here?" He told me he was just taking his time because he didn't think I would be riding so fast. I told him that I was leaving the rest stop, and that he should continue past it and keep an eye out for me. I filled up my water bottle and accepted some Gatorade (yuk!) for the other and continued on my way.
Tim caught up with me out on U.S. 40 and I restocked my
Cytomax and water. I told him I would be OK until the lunch stop
at mile 80 and since the SAG wagons weren't allowed to go
down the country roads from Plainfield to the lunch stop, that he
should follow the directions on the map and meet me there.
Some miles before I got to Plainfield, I was approached by a pack of riders, several guys and a girl, all in their mid-20s, most of them wearing bike jerseys depicting various bananas and banana peels. The "Bananaramas" approached me slowly and eventually passed, but once in front of me, they slowed their pace. Since they had a very erratic riding style and were very vocal about everything, I decided to pass them. This somehow challenged them and they HAD to stay with me. They surrounded me and eventually passed me again and as before, slowed once in front of me. We performed this dance several times before they decided to stay ahead of me and I was relieved to ride in peace once again.
Just after the Plainfield turn-off, at about mile 60, was a rest stop. Since I had good supplies, I did not stop, but as I rode by, I asked a worker if I was on the right road since I wasn't sure which road I should take. This attracted the attention of the Bananaramas, most of whom were off their bikes and leisurely sipping from their water bottles. One of them was riding down the sidewalk when he saw me and he sent up a battle cry to his crew, "There she is!" To which one of them replied, "I see!" I laughed out loud as I continued down the road. I knew that soon they would again approach me and pass me as if it were some kind of challenge. I decided I would come back with a most appropriate response to put it all into perspective for them. As I pedalled on, I waited excitedly for my opportunity to say: "If the only challenge you can find is an overweight, 37-year-old, hypoglycemic, mother of three, then you are really pathetic!" Sadly, that opportunity never came.
At this point, I met up with John Gelnick, a fellow from Burlington, Iowa, who had overshot a left turn and was heading toward me as I was about to make the turn he had missed. We rode together, and I warned him about the approaching Bananaramas. He got a kick out of the whole thing and we continued on together until we arrived at the lunch stop, without ever seeing the Bananaramas.
At the lunch stop, I again looked for my SAG. As before, I was out of water and Cytomax so, like deja vu, I called Tim and asked, "Where are you?" He told me he was at County Line Road, which was at the 100 mile point! Needless to say, I was a little distressed since this was the second time he had missed me at a rest stop, and the second time I had completely run out of fluids. I told him not to move, that I would eat lunch and meet him there.
I then looked for John and sat with him to eat. As I sat down, the
Bananaramas caught my attention. They were finishing lunch!
(Remember, I had passed them as they sat at the previous rest
stop and they never passed me on the route!) I silently hoped
they were proud of themselves and tried to eat the stuff that had
been put on my plate--all carbohydrates with loads of garlic and
some half-cooked baby carrots (yuk again!). I opted to eat my
protein bar instead and after refilling my water bottle and again
taking some Gatorade, I set out for the second half of the journey
with John from Iowa.
My knees were stiff, but after a few miles I was back in my groove. The Bananaramas caught up with us and after running a few red lights and causing some disturbances with local traffic, they finally sped up and rode out of sight. I never saw them again, thank goodness!
When we turned north onto County Line Road, we had stiff head winds. The best we could do was 17 mph and that was with great effort. When we reached the 100 mile rest stop, I rode past, looking for my SAG. I found them up on U.S. 40 and replenished my supplies. I also changed my shorts since I figured that riding in wet shorts had to be about the most uncomfortable thing about riding all day.
John, who had stopped at the rest stop, caught up with me and we rode together for some distance, averaging 22 mph. At one point he told me that he couldn't keep up the pace and we slowed. However, 21-23 mph was my groove and I kept pushing back up to that speed. He finally turned off, saying "You can go ahead and set the land-speed record if I want to, but I'm going to go sit under a tree somewhere!" I had mixed feelings about this: I didn't want to push someone who wasn't willing, and I didn't want to ride alone, but I was really making good time and I felt great. I had an excellent tail-wind and the sun was no longer in my eyes. I had no intention of slowing down or stopping to rest I was a woman with a mission!
I started getting a bit fatigued around the 140 mile mark, but I didn't stop at the rest stop. I would send my SAG ahead a few miles, stop when I needed to and wave him on down the road when I didn't. I proceeded like this until Richmond. The SAGs weren't allowed to follow riders through Richmond either so Tim went around to the finish line to wait for me.
Riding through Richmond was the hardest part of the entire day for me. I knew I was only a few miles from the finish line, but the route weaved this way and that in order to keep riders on roads with less traffic. There were several hills to climb in Richmond and I unknowingly picked up a bunch of glass. I discovered, with two miles remaining, that I had a slow leak! I picked up my pace again and dropped the group with whom I had been riding. (They told me my tire was not low! Maybe they just couldn't tell?) I arrived at the finish line at approximately 5:30 p.m. and by the time I parked my bike at the van, the tire was completely flat! It was nothing short of miraculous that I made it in on that tire!
I was congratulated at the finish by Phil and Ruthanne Cooper,
as well as Karan Keith. I think they were all amazed that I had
done it. But no one was as amazed about it as I! That evening,
as we were driving back to Bloomington, I wondered if I would try
it again. By Sunday morning (yes, I could walk and climb stairs!)
I had come to the conclusion that I will be in RAIN 1997 and I
hope to see you all there!
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