MS Ride, Day 2...where has my Iron gone?

Day 2 arrived much too early (this likely had something to do with watching "Keeping up with the Kardashians" until 11 pm). Alarm went off at 5, and we repeated the routine from the day before. Keurig coffee (those things are so cool!), eat breakfast, dress, roll IT band, pack car. We were even early! Left Crozet around 5:55 and headed back to UVa.

Unfortunately, at 6 am the temperature already read 72 degrees. Gonna be a hot one. After her harrowing heat experience yesterday, my mom had already decided it would be best to ride the 25 miler. I planned to do the 50, and we set out with that in mind.

Well. At mile four, I heard that awful "hissssssssssssss" which can only mean one thing. Flat tire! Now this was my first flat tire in four years - in fact, this particular tube has been in this tire since Ironman USA 2006. It's survived a cross-country trip from CA to NY, ridden an Ironman, been trucked back to CA, ridden a while (including Lake Tahoe Century), been boxed and moved from CA to NC, and then ridden another 1,000 miles in NC and VA. And so I'm SURPRISED I'm getting a flat? Hmm. Shocked is one thing I shouldn't be. But still, I am pissed. It's not even an actual flat, but a tear at the valve. Oh, and I should mention it's the rear tire.

I pulled over to the side of the road and attempted to remember what I learned in TNT in 2003: how to change a tire. I flipped the bike over, changed the gears to the outermost ring, and took the wheel off. At this point everyone who'd started after our group started to pass, and 2 out of every 10 people asked "are you ok?" This was lovely, but with 500 people riding, got a little tiresome. One guy yelled "looks like she's done THIS before" so I was happy I at least looked like I knew what I was doing.

I had no problem getting the tire off and replacing the tube. Getting the tire back on was another story. I finally gave in and said "yes" to someone's question of whether I needed help. This very nice Scottish guy stopped just as I popped the rest of the tire on. We then went through THREE CO2 cartridges trying to inflate the damn thing (apparently I didn't remember how to do this part). By now 15 minutes have passed and there is NO ONE in sight. Finally the SAG guy arrived, at which point I thanked Scottish Guy profusely, and told him to go on. He did. The SAG guy didn't seem to know what he was doing, but did know how to pump my tire (thankfully, since the CO2 only managed to get it to 80 psi and I need 120!). He finished, I thanked him, and set off, grumbling that I was now entirely alone.

And the next thing I did? Get lost. The MS Society paints the turn signals on the road, which is great. They even go repaint over them after the ride. But they missed one. So I took a turn from Old Lynchburg Road onto Old Lynchburg Road (WTH, Charlottesville? Ran out of names???), rode for a bit, and then realized I shouldn't have done that. Now I was really, really pissed, which meant I rode fast.

I rode forever on Old Lynchburg Road (the first one), and finally started catching the back of the pack, saying hi as I went by. That was nice. But my mood was soured, and it was hot. Finally, I got to the first aid station, which was the turnaround for the 25-miler. It was well in the 80s (and now 8 am) and I decided to turn around and hightail it back to UVa. I did, and was back and finished by 9 am.

Then I got really mad at myself. Oh, poor baby, it was HOT? I've never quit anything in my life - ever. (well, I did quit working for Bob Blendon at Harvard in 1997, but that's another story.) Never quit anything athletic. So I was really irritated and down on myself that I did this. At the same time, my knee/IT hurt with every revolution, so much that when I had to stop for red lights on the way back, it trembled when I pushed off to start riding again. When I finished at 9, it was 92 degrees, meaning it would be likely over 100 at noon. So while I know I made the "smart" decision and listened to my body (which I haven't always done), I still felt like I had let everyone down...and thus my delay in writing this up.

I was in a funk for the rest of the day, and my very patient mother tried to make me realize it was not the total miles that mattered, but what I'd done. While I intellectually know this, it was still hard to believe. Mucho thanks to Ilse and Minnie who immediately reassured me I'd still done a good thing (thanks ladies), and done the smart thing by readjusting my mileage.

So. THANK YOU nice donors, who helped me raise almost $1,000! Thank you, memory of my grandma, Bim, who lived with MS for 50 years and complained a heck of a lot less in 50 years total than I did in one day. Just being out there was a gift, heat and all, and I'm glad I was able to try.