Two Wheel Blogs

[Riding Tunes: The Beatles, THE BEATLES (aka The White Album), from "Back in the U.S.S.R." to "Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey"]

Time: 57:10
Miles: 18.3

By nature, I'm not "Mr. Competitive." I don't race, and I have no intention of racing. But I do believe in goals, and I need to meet them. The first time I rode my Belk Park loop, I concluded, "Well, that's a pretty good hour-long ride." And no sooner had I ended that thought than it was immediately followed by its only logical companion: "I've got to break the 60-minute mark." Having formulated the thought, it instantly became my goal.

I've not ridden the Belk Park loop that often. I've ridden parts of the route, but usually on my way to or back from somewhere else. In fact, I can only think of two times when I set out trying to ride the loop in less than an hour. One was last month when I was trying to pound out a hard ride during my lunch hour. The other was on Wednesday, the "nightcap of my doubleheader." If you read my previous post, you'll know my attempt to break the 60-minute mark was notable for two things:

• My iPod quit working, temporarily thwarting my efforts to listen to the collected works of The Beatles in order.
• My time: 1 hour, 1 minute. ("Missed it by THAT MUCH" ~ Maxwell Smart)

But I was okay with that. I came close and, besides, I'd done a 90-minute ride a mere four hours earlier. "If I'd been riding with fresh legs," I consoled myself, "I would have made it." I resolved to rest up, do more training rides to build my speed and edurance, and try again next week.

That resolution lasted about as long as it just took me to type it.

The forecast for Thursday called for thunderstorms, but they did not materialize during the morning. As the noon hour approached and the skies remained clear, I said, "That's it. I'm going for it." I had reloaded my iPod, so I suited it up and got ready to roll. At 11:30 a.m., I reset my Cat's Eye and clipped into my pedals, the jet engine noise and guitar chunks of "Back in the U.S.S.R." accompanying my takeoff. I was a man with a mission: :59 or bust.

I tried to set a good pace as I rode from my house to the Watershed Trail. Once on it, I picked it up and, with the push of a little tail wind, I was able to do about 20 mph to the South Roxana trailhead. Then I turned right and began the first climb up Moreland. I knew this stretch was critical to making my goal. I pushed myself to keep the pace up, and it paid off. When I reached the intersection with IL-143, approximately a third of the distance, the Cat's Eye read 19:00. A good start.

I pushed myself as I continued the climb up Moreland. The nice thing about Moreland is that, after the first climb, you're rewarded with a little downhill that gives you time to recover before mounting another, longer climb. Once you summit that, Moreland flattens out nicely and you're in for a nice run to Buchta Road. I kept pushing. Whatever pace I seemed to settle into, I challenged myself to increase it by 1 mph and maintain it as long as I could. Pushing. This ride was all about pushing. And The Beatles were helping -- especially John's songs. I was nearing the 30-minute mark, the half-way point, and I knew I needed to mount a surge to get me to Belk Pork. As I stood up in the pedals and started pumping, I did so to the opening notes of ... "Blackbird." Damn! Don't get we wrong. It's a lovely song, but perhaps not the best tune for getting the blood pumping and the nerves straining. (Andif "Blackbird" is the song that does that for you, I suggest you seek professional help.)

As I entered Belk Park, the tempo picked up thanks to George's "Piggies," and while "Rocky Racoon" doesn't exactly rock, Paul immediately made up for it with "Why Don't We Do It In The Road?". And just in time. At the 35-minute mark, I had exited Belk and made the left turn onto Rock Hill. I had 25 minutes left and an unknown distance to cover in that amount of time. Now was no time to let down. And Rock Hill is a road that rewards effort. Coming out of Belk, a sharp right leads to a short climb, then an even sharper left pays you back with a downhill that leads into a couple rollers. If you do your part and keep your pace up, Rock Hill will help you keep it there.

At the 40-minute mark, I was ready to cross back over Moreland and begin the final push to home. By now, my focus was exclusively on three things: the clock, counting up against me; my pace, seemingly always dropping; and every inch of the road home I had left to cover. I was breathing hard, in and out with each rotation of the crank. My hands gripped the handlebards, pulling the bike with me, urging it forward. I passed the familiar farm houses, sprinted down into the dips, pumped it up the other side, cornered hard, and bled the straightaways with all I had. I'd never ridden so hard by myself before.

Rock Hill becomes Smith Road, and Smith ends with a steep downhill, which is good. But it's a downhill that ends at IL-143, which is bad. You build up all this great speed that you have to give right back to avoid rolling out into the middle of traffic. Fortunately, traffic was light, so I turned left onto it and headed back into town. I was up in the pedals again, ready to give it my all, then Paul starts into ... "Mother Nature's Son." Double damn! Again, it's a lovely song, one of my favorites of Pauls's, but it's not what you need when you're trying to beat the clock. But it doesn't matter, because then John launches into "Me and My Monkey" -- just what the spirit needs -- as I race down M Street and make the turn on 2nd. Still pumping, still rocking, I turn right onto Lincoln and right again onto Eberhart. "You're inside is out, and you're outside is in" sings John. My insides are about to come out as I roll up my drive and stop. Finally. Stop.

I had deliberately not looked at my Cat's Eye for a long time. While I was riding, I didn't want to know how close I was -- either to making it or to falling short. Now, I couldn't wait. I looked down and saw four of the prettiest digits I''ever seen...

57:10

The day before, without The Beatles, I'd gone over by a minute. Today, I'd broken my goal by almost 3 minutes. I owe it all to the lads.

Now, it's after the 55-minute mark.