C.: Well, d.c. is otherwise occupied, so I’ll just continue with chapter twenty of  d.c. scot’s autobiographical manuscript about training for and participating in an Ironman distance triathlon. He juxtaposes this brutal training against events in his day-to-day life. Although this chapter isn't about an event that raises money for cancer research, it is about an event to raise money to study M.S., so I thought that it would be appropriate to continue to read chapters about things that benefit those suffering from physical maladies. You can read along if you wish. The title of the manuscript is BEYOND THE THIRTEENTH MILE: THE IRON MAN CHRONICLES
    CHAPTER 20: A BLUE LEMOND
1945: Run course; mile 19:Â
Man, I’m really tired! This run course isn’t easy. It’s not as brutal as the bike course, though. I never would have finished this bike leg with any of my old bikes. It’s a good thing I found this Blue Lemond on sale at a really good discount. The salesman couldn’t believe the price, but it was the previous year’s model. Much like buying a car, buying a bicycle is cheaper when the new models are being put on the shelf. Fortunately, that made the price one I could afford. It certainly helped me conserve a small amount of energy for the run…
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"You're born alone, you live alone, and you die alone. If, in your life, you make three real friends along the way, you can consider yourself truly blessed."
I awoke one horrible morning with these words on my mind. They were from a television interview with actor Yul Brynner that I had just happened to see about three months before he died. Letting a migraine headache, fatigue, and frustration in general get the better of me, I looked at my prize possession, my blue Lemond bicycle, and started to cry.
That bike, I said to myself, “represents everything that’s wrong with my life."
With many, many apologies to Lance Armstrong, life isn’t about the bike. After having been coached for two years, I'm a decent swimmer and an okay runner by nature, but my first training priority has always been about the bike. When I first started swimming in a masters' program, my coach looked at me and said, "You know, Jed, all you want to do is get out of the water and get on that bike." That’s no accident.
When I first started competing in triathlons, I was told that to be really good, I needed to have a strong bicycling base. I took those words to heart. The bike leg of a triathlon is where competitors either gain or lose the most time and distance. It’s also the best place to eat and hydrate in the longer races. My bike is fairly nice, with a racing cassette and racing wheels on it; it’s built for speed. I do have some friends who are almost as obsessive about their Treks or Giants but, other than a bicycle mechanic or a volunteer at a particularly long race, only two people touch my bike—Nicole and me.
For someone who isn't very vocal, I've never had much trouble making friends, all the way from grade school through college. It seemed that now, however, all my friendships were built around that bike. There is a reason for that. I enjoy cycling more than most people do and, when I get on my blue Lemond, people notice me. I usually get to be the lead rider on all my training rides with my friends (at least, on the ones that Luke doesn't ride in), and being on that bike seems to bring instant respect. That is, unless I happen to be one of nine thousand riders in a faceless crowd.
Last weekend I did the Lone Star chapter's version of the MS 150. This is a two-day, 180-mile ride from Houston to Austin. This is the largest MS ride in the country out of several hundred. This year's was the largest ever.
On a pretty spring day in April, 8,999 of my "closest friends'' and I set off on our bikes for a Saturday morning ride. Eight thousand of these people, I thought one-half of the way through the second day, act as if they’ve never been on a bicycle before. This was after Adam and I had to fend off several riders to protect a rider who had fallen on day one until the ride marshal arrived. We stopped to help the fallen rider, even though we had to stop and run back to the rider who started behind us. No one else bothered to do so, even though the rider fell only a few hundred yards from the starting line.
I didn't enjoy this year's ride as much as I had the previous two years’ rides, mainly because of the overabundance of "yahoos," my borrowed term for overly aggressive riders who aren’t particularly concerned with safety. They make an appearance in almost every ride and, as a rule, I just try to avoid them as much as possible. However, when there are 9,000 people all trying to ride to the same place at the same time, it’s impossible to stay away from all of them.
Even the "yahoos," however, are riding for a worthy cause, to raise money for research to fight multiple sclerosis. Some riders even have the disease and still are able to complete the ride. One father pulled his 28-year-old daughter, an MS sufferer, in a cart behind his bicycle the whole way. This reminded me of Rick and Dick Hoyt at the 1999 Hawaiian Ironman. (The father, Dick, was an avid triathlete who competed in the Hawaiian Ironman distance triathlon every year. His son, Rick, suffered from cerebral palsy, but his father let him enjoy the race by pulling him in a cart behind his bicycle and pushing him in a cart during the run.) This Dad, however, unlike Dick Hoyt, had a little help from his new family. Each took a turn pulling the unfortunate family member in his cart.
Perhaps I didn’t enjoy this charity ride because there were more riders, period, attempting the ride, many of them severely undertrained. This added to my aggravation, because it makes for an uncomfortable situation for those of us trying to avoid injury. I was only a few months away from attempting my first Ironman distance triathlon, and I desperately wanted to avoid injury.
I emerged from the pack of riders relatively unscathed, save for my flat tire (which was easily fixable), and having to pull myself and another rider away from a panicked ride marshal. The ride marshal had, unfortunately, taken a bad spill while trying to help another downed rider. (Perhaps God had a reason for Adam and me participating in this ride?)
One of the people in my group had elected not to ride at all, having bumped into a car the week before while trying to complete a training ride. I did see one rider who elected to do the ride with a broken arm, having to prop up his wounded wing with a stick that extended from his cast to his leg. His leg supported the weight of his arm.
Adelina had decided to try the ride for the first time, but she succumbed to a sinus infection and fatigue after the first day. Even Millie, one of the most athletic females I have ever known, elected not to ride the second day, admitting that she hadn't trained sufficiently. I, however, was having none of it. Come sinus infection, flat, hell, or high water, I would finish the ride!
My original plan was to finish the ride in one day, reasoning that it would be a really good training ride for the Ironman distance triathlon I was planning to attempt at the end of the season. That would have been doable, if I could average around 18 mph (my normal average for this ride) and didn't stop more than three times. Many problems, though, prevented me from attempting that. Aside from feeling that I hadn’t sufficiently trained for doing this, I had no support crew beyond the campsite at the end of the first day's ride. Nicole joined the group that was supporting my church’s group, leaving me with no options for support. The temperature climbed into the mid-80s, making hydrating and keeping electrolytes in balance a tricky situation, even for a veteran rider.
I'm not sure if anyone decided to attempt doing that this particular year, given the less-than-ideal weather conditions, as well as the fact that some of the roads were under construction. However, I do know of people who have completed the entire ride in one day. Many people rollerblade the entire course, an impressive feat. The most impressive participants, however, are a few military personnel who elect to run the whole distance. My hat is off to these individuals.
There is a common misconception about a ride like this, that being "anyone can do it." Yes, anyone can do it if they have trained sufficiently, don't expect to go any faster than is realistic for him/her, and if they are well-versed enough in nutrition and hydration to keep them out of danger during adverse (hot) conditions. Anyone can do it, but it isn't easy. It isn't pleasant, either, if you’re not properly trained and prepared.
My personal belief is that cycling clubs shouldn’t only offer training rides for new riders, but should also offer classes in nutrition and how to hydrate properly during an endurance ride. I believe this would make these rides much more enjoyable for everyone involved, both the riders and the volunteers.