I'm a teacher. From now until the end of July, when I will get ten days off, it's quite a long haul. Before then we have report cards to complete, graduation, summer school and cleaning out my now-cluttered cubicle. My Felix Unger days left me after I had my third child. I gave up. Over the course of the school year the "I'll get to that eventually" pile has grown to be 8 inches tall. This summer, I'll clear it out once more and come back after a week and a half off to begin again in the fall.
But a week ago, it was SPRING BREAK (!)
I was really looking forward to it this year. My youngest daughter would get her wisdom teeth pulled and though that procedure is never pleasant, I was looking forward to a little one-on-one time with her. Then half-way into the week I would depart for a bike tour along the Big Sur Coast of California, joining a group of friends. My daughter would be visiting her narrowed-down college choices with her dad for some special daddy/daughter time. She'd be in good hands. Her brother would be at San Diego State studying away and her older sister would be assisting in the the delivery of more babies in her newly minted career.
All was right in the world. The stars were aligned. There was that one glitch that the weather forecast called for rain, rain and more rain. Still, it would be an adventure this mom was ready to embark upon. Have Gortex? Will bike anyway, was my motto.
That is...until my youngest's extractions led to an infection and daily visits to the oral surgeon. Again. And again. And yet again. Morning and (sometimes) night. My poor daughter. Not only was she in excruciating pain, she did not get to visit her schools and many of her friends were on family vacations together. I'm going to spare you any more details, but let me say this: my daughter is one tough cookie.
Let's suffice it to say it was not fun.
*Sigh*
She got through it, and so did I.
For the last weekend she ended up going to her dad's house to finish recuperating.
I decided to go ahead and join my biking posse of three.
Our plan went loosely like this: I would drive to Peiffer Big Sur State Park and park my car at a campsite I secured online. I'd then hop on my bike and head down the coast's Cabrillo Hwy. Eventually I'd run into them and head back to camp. They would be coming over from the other side of Nacimiento-Ferguson Rd. We guessed I'd ride about twenty miles to catch them, if not earlier.
Altogether I figured I'd be riding about 40 miles which is not a long ride for me. I had ridden to the Junction on Mt. Diablo the night before but it was at a leisurely pace. Plus, I'd relaxed at home all weekend with my daughter with a few early morning runs. I was physically refreshed and ready to ride.
I was SO excited. There was a break in the weather and it looked GLORIOUS that day. I parked my car and quickly changed into my biking attire. Deciding what to wear was tricky because it was cool and brisk outside with the tease of sunny skies sprinkled with a splattering of gray clouds. It was also a little windy. I settled upon biking shorts, leg sleeves, a long sleeved shirt, a windbreaker vest and a fleece light-weight jacket over it. Normally I get very hot while bike riding but the air was still quite nippy. I pumped air in my tires. I made sure I had two water bottles, grabbed some Cliff Shot Blocks, a protein bar, my phone, car keys and sunglasses and I was good to go. I opted to not drink energy drink this once, I had other calories on board so it wasn't a big deal, right?
I headed up the hill and out of the campground. As I passed a bakery at the beginning, the thought crossed my mind that my bento box, or little carrier, had no money in it. I ALWAYS carry money for emergencies but because my bike was on the back of my Jeep Liberty on the way down, I had emptied its contents.
No matter, it was not that difficult of a ride and not that far of a distance. I had an extra tube in case of a flat and I had plenty of water and fuel. Or so I thought.
The ride down the Coast was very beautiful. In fact, I stopped to take a few photographs. I was thinking how great it would be to take my son camping, borrow a bike, and go this exact route this summer. What wasn't to love about it? Easy pease-y.
I had worn my Garmin, which keeps track of mileage, how far and how fast, as well as approximately how many calories are being burned.
For breakfast, I have a confession to make. I stopped and ate something that was fattening, loaded in carbs but since I had planned to be riding, and this was my "big" vacation day, decided why not? I ate a sausage and egg biscuit. From (are you ready for this?) McDonald's (don't judge). I knew I would burn it off. No problem. Even if this wasn't a speed race, because my friends were traveling with all of their gear: clothes, food, cameras, tent, etc. I knew biking this distance would still burn calories. This carbo-laden breakfast would propel me forward.
I rode and I rode. No sign of the boys; Rick, Eric or Gary. No worries. I continued along the beautiful ocean's coast. I pedaled for 28 miles. I stopped at the Kirk Creek Campground, just at the base of the Nacimiento-Ferguson Rd, yet there was still no sign of the guys.
I decided to go to the restroom. I added more water in my bottles. I relaxed in the grass alongside the freeway, keeping my oh-so-goofy-looking helmet on, to keep me warm. And my bike gloves. I zipped my vest and fleece jacket up to my chin and lay back, looking up at the cumulous clouds floating by. One by one. It was so relaxing. I felt at peace. My mind was calm. I was on vacation. All was right in the world.
Time was ticking away. 15 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes. Now it was getting quite late. I was relaxed but began to think maybe something had happened to the guys and it would begin to get dark. I didn't bring my headlamp or bike light. I had no money. I'd polished off the rest of my energy bar and Shot Blocks and realized I only had one small sample bag of Sports Beans. I started adding the calories I'd eaten or brought on my bike and it only totaled about 400. Uh oh. I was beginning to realize I might need to turn back and could not count on the guys to throw me an extra snack or bar. I was really on my own now. I needed to think.
What to do?
I had no choice. There was no cell phone reception and even if something had happened to them my only hope of hearing it would be back at the camp, 28 miles away. With at most, 100 calories to carry me forward. And now nearly four hours had passed because I'd been lying in the grass and stopped to take photos on the way down.
I got on my bike and headed back.
THIS time there was a strong headwind. I was pedaling, pedaling and pedaling and not moving very quickly. I was beginning to feel like a fish swimming upstream. Or like I was slogging through Jell-o while cars whizzed by me. There was not much wiggle room riding UP the coast, no shoulder, just sandy hillsides.
I began to play the mind games you learn when you train to run a marathon. It goes something like this: I'm already half-way home. I have already biked 28 miles, I only have 28 to go. Soon I will have less than half-way. In time, I will only have 20 miles to go. There are only 16 miles left. 10 miles is not so far, that's a short ride to downtown and back, if I were at home.
Meanwhile, my body had already consumed every calorie I've carried. I'd gone beyond the shaky hungry feeling. But my mind was intact enough to know I only had about 8 miles to go. I started to watch the time, and was very aware that staying to the side of the road was getting more challenging.
I was starting to lose it. I had six miles to go, I'd ridden only 50 miles but because of the headwind I had travelled very slowly. I had been outside in the cold, the sun and the wind for over six hours. I felt wobbly. I was not in good shape riding along the highway.
My brain was fuzzy. I started thinking about death. My thinking went like this: I've lived a good life. I just had a week with my youngest daughter. This fall I had time with both my son and oldest daughter. They all know I love them. My mom does too. So do my siblings, nephews and nieces. My friends. I'm okay with dying.
My bike? Normally my bike is one of my most prized possessions. I love it. Other than my kids, I would save it if a fire threatened my home. But not now. It took every ounce of my internal fortitude not to shuck the damn thing to the side of the road.
Camping and biking this summer with my son? Forget about it. I now would have loathed the idea, if I had the energy.
Biking? I was thinking that I hated it. I was SO over it.
With only four miles left to go, I got off my bike. My reasoning was that I have a route near my house that I run a few times each week with a friend, exactly 4.4 miles. If I can do that, or if I can complete a marathon, than surely I can walk up the friggin' big hill in front of me. Heck, I can crawl back to camp if I have to. If I die, I die trying. I do not care. I am so fuzzy-brained I feel like I'm nearly delirious.
I walk maybe 1/2 mile up a big steep hill. Barely. It and I are both ugly.
With about 3-1/2 miles to go I somehow convince myself to get back on my bike. I slowly pedal up and down the remaining hills headed to the campground.
I see it at last. I do not even feel relief. I am numb. I still have about 3/4 of a mile to get to my car.
I pedal down and around to the lot where I'd left it. I cannot even cry with relief. I am only thinking of survival right now. It is no easy task to get off my bike and locate the key and open my car. I can barely function. I open up the back of my Liberty and I consume:
an entire package of Cliff Shot blocks, maybe two, I was so fuzzy I can't recall
two Cliff bars
an apple
a giant bottle of water
And then I begin to shake. I'm now cold but it's more in sync with the reaction I had after just given birth to a child. I know, I've done that three times nearly a lifetime ago.
I continue to shake.
My brain's functioning slowly returns. I realize my three friends are still out there riding. I need to make my way into my car and go try to find them.
I feel safe enough to drive and about 13 miles out I see the first rider. He is relieved to see me as he too, has begun to bonk. As have the others. I give them some fuel, load up all their pannier bags in my car and take one of them back to a store to purchase a few dinner supplies and then back to camp with me.
That night we ate grilled salmon, pasta and vegetables followed by a giant slice of berry pie and a few Red Vines too. I got to hear all about their previous four days of biking. We laughed, drank wine and we had a roaring fire that burned past midnight. It was a perfect ending to an imperfect day.
I slept soundly in my one-woman tent, despite the uneven surface underneath.
The next day I chose NOT to ride. I packed up my gear and headed home to make it back in time for a friend's baby shower. And a nice relaxing movie.
However, as I was driving home alone, I recounted all the lessons I had learned this past weekend related to bike riding:
1. Carry more calories than needed. Always. Without exception.
2. Bring money. Always. Without exception.
3. Drink water before. During. And after. Without exception.
4. Wear layers, bring more than you think you'll need so you can peel off layers, as needed. Always.
Without exception.
5. Bring lights in case it gets dark.
6. Carry extra tubes if your tire goes flat and at least have a general knowledge of how to change it
when, not if, the time comes.
7. Wear sunscreen. Bring a little extra to reapply. Don't forget your glasses to protect your eyes.
If I were to "score" myself I would receive only 4 out of 7 points. For me? I only fail if I make this mistake again. I was very lucky. Others have not been and made these very same mistakes while hiking, biking or running and it has cost them their lives.
To bonk or not to bonk, that is the question?
I now have the answer.
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