2014 100 Miles of Nowhere: Jumping the Gun at Stony Creek Metropark Edition

10.22.2014 | 8:53 am

A Note from Fatty: Today’s 100 Miles of Nowhere Report comes from John Oliver (no, not that one).

Another Note from Fatty: I’ve got several good writeups in the hopper…but fewer than I have expected to receive. If you’ve been thinking about sending me your 100 Miles of Nowhere writeup but have thought there was no way it would see the light of day in my blog, you’re probably wrong. And in fact, this year I’d love to have lots of writeups, because I’m hard at work on another project right now, which I will reveal here very soon. See this post for details on how to send in your writeups. 

I have a confession to make: although I’ve signed up for a few iterations of the 100 Miles of Nowhere in years past, I’ve never actually done the ride. I rationalized it by telling myself that I had made a donation to a worthy cause, and I’ve certainly made good use of some of the swag I’ve received (water bottles, Banjo Brothers bags, an iPod, etc.), but I never really felt like I deserved to wear the t-shirts. This year, I hoped to change that.

I’ve been riding “seriously” since about 1987, with a few years in which I exceeded 2000 miles, but most have been in the 1k – 2k range, with some very lean years when my son was little. I did an organized metric century in the early ’90s, and I rode 65 miles on July 4th of this year, but that had been my longest ride to date. Most of my rides are in the 20 – 40-mile range, with a 50-miler or two thrown in each summer. I’ve dabbled in mountain biking to greater and lesser degrees over the last 10 years, but I’m a roadie at heart. Through mid-September of this year, I was up to about 1300 miles for the year and in the best shape I’ve been in for years, so I thought this should be the year to give the 100 MoN a shot.

My original plan was to go to nearby Willow Metropark, which has a 2.2-mile loop road that can be ridden with no stops if you go clockwise. But 45 laps of that seemed like insanity, and it’s dead flat, so there would be no natural opportunities to stand up and give my posterior a break. So I opted for Stony Creek Metropark — a little farther away, but with a 6-mile loop road, and with enough small elevation changes that I’d be changing position fairly often.

The weather the last week of September was typical fantastic Michigan early fall, sunny and in the 70’s every day. The days have been getting shorter, and as a result, I’ve been riding less frequently since Labor Day, so I decided that it was now or never, before I lost too much fitness. I took Friday 9/26 off of work, packed just about every piece of riding gear I own, 8 water bottles, and a bunch of food, and headed out to Stony to attempt the ride.

Starting off at around 9:30 am, it was sunny and in the high 50s, so I put on a couple of layers and got rolling. At 6 miles per lap, 16 laps would get me to 96 miles, so I figured I would have to do 17.

The first couple of laps went OK, but my hips and thighs felt very stiff. I think I may have started out too fast in the cool temps. After a couple of laps, I started to feel a little better, but I was having serious doubts as to whether this whole thing was a good idea.

Given the length of my usual rides, I generally don’t worry about what to eat or drink. Water is enough for me for anything up to about 40 miles, and for longer rides, I usually just stop at a convenience store and buy something if needed. I knew that wouldn’t work for the 100 MoN, so I brought a few Clif bars and packed a couple of lunches’ worth of real food.

After about 20 miles, I figured I better start eating, and half a Clif bar every 10 miles seemed like a good guess (i.e. total shot in the dark). I had pre-opened the wrapper and ate about half of the first bar, then stuffed the remainder back in my jersey pocket under my jacket.

Almost exactly 1 lap later, I saw a wrapper blowing down the road and thought, “Oh look, someone dropped a Clif bar wrapper.” As I got closer, I realized it was a Chocolate Brownie wrapper, the same flavor I had been eating. I checked my pocket — empty. About 100 yards up the road, there was half of a Clif bar in the road.

D’oh!

So another bad omen, as my highly experimental nutrition strategy was already off to a bad start. (Incidentally, as an indication of how nearly perfectly calm the wind was for the entire day, once the errant wrapper made it into the short grass at the side of the road, it stayed in exactly the same spot for the rest of the day.)

After 30 miles (5 laps), I stopped to put my jacket in the car and swap my full-fingered gloves for a short-fingered pair, got another Clif bar and a full water bottle, then got back on the road. The next 3 laps were fairly uneventful, other than seeing some herons on the golf course, turkeys on the roadside, and suicidal squirrels.

Around 11:00, the number of other cyclists increased noticeably, and I started getting passed by riders who were fresher than I was and no doubt not planning to ride as far (at least that was the excuse I gave myself).

At 12:30, I pulled up to my car for a break and lunch. I had covered 49.5 miles at this point (the two trips down into and back out of the parking lot had added the 1.5 extra miles). My original plan was to go beyond halfway before lunch, but there was no way I was riding another 6 miles without a break.

I ditched my arm warmers and traded my wool socks for some lighter ones, because it was up to about 65 or 70 degrees by now. I actually felt pretty good, until I got off the bike and sat down on a curb, at which point I realized how stiff I was. One turkey sandwich (not freshly caught), a bag of pretzels, a Coke, and 30 minutes later, I geared back up and moved on.

Again, I was pretty stiff for a couple of laps, but I gradually loosened up in the sun. I figured I would take one more break at 80 miles — 5 more laps — and then have 20 miles left, which I thought would really need to be 24 miles, due to the 6-mile length of the lap. But as I rolled by the entrance to the parking area to complete 10 laps, I noticed that my Garmin read 61.8 miles, because of the extra distance I covered riding down to my car and back out.

Some quick mental calculations (yes, I am able to do those while riding) resulted in the realization that after 16 laps and one more stop, I should be somewhere between 98 and 99 miles. No way was I going to do a complete extra lap when all I needed was an extra mile or so! I decided I’d do the 16 laps, start the 17th, and then find a convenient place to turn around that would get me to 100 miles as I arrived back at the car.

The next 20 miles were pretty painful, with my shoulders, sit bones, and the soles of my feet all ready to call it a day. Hitting 66.67 miles was significant, because at that point not only had I just eclipsed my longest ride ever, but I figured that I only had to repeat half of what I’d already done to complete the ride. 75 miles was another motivating checkpoint.

Did you know that if you ride 100 miles, each mile is one more percentage point closer to completion? (Duh. The deep thoughts I have while riding.)

[A Note from Fatty: I had that exact same thought during my 100 Miles of Nowhere this year.]

When I stopped at 80 miles, I was hurting, but knowing that I had only 20 miles to go — just a short ride, I told myself, as if I hadn’t just done four such rides in a row already — meant that I wasn’t going to give up. I choked down another bag of pretzels and a root beer, and got going again. The last three laps actually went pretty well, although I couldn’t bring myself to eat any more Clif bars while riding.

As I passed all the same landmarks on lap 16, I mentally checked them off and told myself that it was the last time I would have to see each of them. One of the final landmarks was my Clif bar wrapper from about 5 hours previous, which I stopped and picked up as I passed it for the last time at about mile 96.

After 7-1/2 hours total time (6-1/2 hours of actual riding time), I pulled up at my car for the last time and stopped my Garmin at 100.12 miles. When I uploaded the ride to Garmin Connect that evening, the distance somehow got extended to 100.36 miles, but either way, it was in the books. 100 miles, 2700 feet of elevation gain (and an equal amount of descending), and a very roughly estimated 30,000 pedal strokes.

I had done it.

Given how tired and sore I was that evening, I’m not sure what this ride portends for my pipe dreams of doing a Gran Fondo or the Michigan Mountain Mayhem or L’Etape du Tour or something someday (nothing good, that’s for sure). If I ever do a ride like this again, I know I need to plan out my food strategy a little better beforehand (more sugar!). And as much respect as I had before for anyone who does an Ironman or Leadville or anything like that, I’m even more in awe of them now, especially those who fit in their training around a family and a full-time job.

Fatty, Hammer, and all the rest of you — chapeau! (I’m pretty sure that translates to “Mad props!”)

And thanks, Fatty, for inventing the 100 MoN — a great excuse to do something fun, and more than a little crazy, for a good cause! I wore last year’s event t-shirt today, and I’ll continue to wear it — and this year’s jersey — with pride!