Yesterday, while Lance arrived in Paris, I rode my bike in The Good Sam Ice Cream Ride, a fundraiser for a nearby hospital. I intended to ride the thirty-five mile route, but the weather was cool, the wind was low, and course wasn't too hilly, so I upgraded to fifty miles. I'm happily tooting my own horn here, because this surpassed my longest ride ever by nineteen miles, and doubled the distance of my training rides.
By the forty mile mark the sun had come out, the hills had gotten steeper, and my bottom bracket was starting to creak and tick. I had this nasty idea that when I hit the steep final climb and stood up in the pedals my drivetrain would explode in a shower of metal. Fortunately this did not come to pass, perhaps because I cautiously stayed in the saddle as I climbed past the painted marker advising me to "begin puking here."
Completing my first half century was my goal for this season, so now I need a new goal. If I can find the right ride I think I'll try for a metric century (100km).