Civil War (Metric) Century

It was a beautiful day for cycling--until it wasn't.

Yesterday Jason and I rode the Civil War Century, which wound through rural farmlands of northern Maryland and a smidgen of southern Pennsylvania.  The annual ride gets its name from the Civil War battlefields that are included in the route--bits of both Antietam and Gettysburg.  This was meant to be the first century ride for both of us.  Since I haven't done as much riding this summer as originally planned (see previous post heh heh), I opted to ride the metric century while Jason forged ahead with the full 100-mile course.

Getting ready to set out

The weather was perfect for cycling: low to mid-70s, slightly humid but bearable, a mostly-overcast sky.  Rain was in the forecast but the chance of it was small and the menacing clouds stayed at bay.

Covered bridges were on the route. So were pastures, cows, huge grain silos and red barns, mile after rural mile. I met some nice people whose significant others were both riding the century.  I missed a turn going through a little town and ended up adding a mile to my total distance to get back on track.  And the oddest detail:  I've never seen so many fuzzy caterpillars on the road in my life!  At one point, I counted five caterpillars in a mile span.  Every few minutes, I'd see another furry orange caterpillar making its way across the road.  I hope I didn't hit any of them.

The route was gently hilly, with short mountains, like the one in this photo, in the distance.  I'd heard repeatedly how hilly the route was, what a bad idea it was to make this your first century ride, how challenging the course was, etc., but honestly, I didn't think it was bad at all.  It was nothing compared to the killer routes of the LiveStrong Challenge outside Philadelphia, PA, nor the hills I rode in County Donegal, Ireland, last summer.  (To be fair, I think the century route that Jason rode involved much more climbing than mine.)

At the second rest stop, feeling groovy

Eight miles from the finish, the wind started blowing.  Hard.  The sky turned darker, one big cloud looming across the span.  I took off my sunglasses and struggled to make progress against the wind.  I was riding on a long flat stretch between two fields.  I passed a woman with a heart made of bike chain links tattooed on her calf.  In front of me was her friend in a bright pink jersey, and an older man ahead of us all.  

Suddenly, it started to rain.  Then it started to pour.  The wind was horizontal, the rain pelted us laterally, sharply.  I unclipped from my pedals and got off the bike, afraid I would fall over in the wind. I turned off my iPod and stuffed it in the little bike bag hooked on under my seat, figuring that was drier than my jersey pocket.  We all struggled ahead on foot to a small barn, where a few other cyclists had already taken refuge under the barn's narrow overhang.  A minute later, the nice woman whose barn it was came out of her house and invited us to stand under her covered porch.  Her power had just gone out, she said.  She gave us Ziploc bags to protect our phones.

After a few minutes, the rain let up, marginally.  The others headed back out to their bikes and, not wanting to be the wimpy one, I followed suit.  Eight long miles later, with the rain now settled into an off-and-on drizzle, I crossed the finish line (read: I turned into the grassy field that served as staging area and after-party zone).  The good news:  I was no longer sweaty and smelly.  The bad news:  I was soaking wet and my feet were squishing in my shoes.  I made a sandwich and headed to the car to change.

Odometer and soaked cue sheet

The other good news:  I rode 65 miles!!!  And I did it well!  I stayed hydrated so my legs didn't cramp and ate enough at every rest stop that I had energy throughout.  Hooray!

Unfortunately, Jason had to curtail his ride due to the rain.  He did 77 miles and had to be picked up by Holly at the penultimate rest stop.  An excellent distance and nothing to sneeze at, but that century ride remains elusive for both of us.

All told, a terrific ride and I'd do it again.  

Stay tuned for more posts about cycling, Labor Day weekend at the beach, and the new boy.