Never Underestimate Ben-Gay

This weekend, my beloved and I left the little angel in my parents' loving care to ride the MS-150 charity bike ride. I planned to only try for 50-60 miles, because prior to the bike ride, I had not ridden more than 23, and I had not ridden up one "major" hill since before I got pregnant last summer. In other words - I was NOT in shape for this ride.

However, the weather was beautiful - it was actually cold for the first 30 miles or so. We had made it 50 by the time we stopped for "lunch" - bologna and cheese - they ran out of bread - and peanut butter crackers. My thoughts on the dismal food they expected to fuel us for a long bike ride can't be printed publicly. Shame on you, organizers of long bike ride! Shame! Shame! Anyhoo, it didn't really get hot until around mile 65, which was where my husband and my friend B. decided to pack it in and call it a day. They apparently could hear the siren song of Applebee's and big-screen TVs after their bologna and cheese.

My friend S., who is new to biking and had never been on a long ride, wanted to keep going. I agreed to reframe my focus for 80 miles and go on to the next rest stop. At 80, I secretly knew that I had had it. Stick a fork in me, I was done. However, S. REALLY REALLY wanted to keep going. And I knew that by the time a sag wagon came along to pick my sorry ass up, I could probably already be at the end of the ride. So I agreed to keep going, what the hey, half a banana and two cookies could fuel more biking, right?

By the next rest stop - 89 miles - I was in PAIN. My left knee had little shooting pains running up and down it, my neck was aching and my rear hurt so bad I cried out using the port-a-john when the running shorts grazed my haunches the wrong way. However, 13 more miles. (The ride was actually more like 103 or something.) I really knew by this time if I didn't finish, I was kind of pathetic. I mean, after going 89, how bad can 13 more be?

Bad.

Very bad.

Hilly.

Painful.

Peanut butter doesn't taste so good when it starts to come up.

Anyway, I finished. I did whimper a little. Okay, I was crying by the end, everything hurt so bad. But once I saw the swine pavilion (the ride ended at the state fair grounds), I knew my own huge glass of wine and greasy freedom fries were waiting for me, right after my wonderful SHOWER. So I bucked up. I also knew there was NO WAY I was getting back on the bike the next day, so I went ahead and got sloshing drunk.

It took six hours yesterday to get home, though (a 100-mile trip, remember) because of the POOR ORGANIZATION of the Sedalia end of the MS-150. Kudos to Kansas City for their end of the organization - flawless. Sedalia, BOO ON YOU. Learn to make decisions. And for God's sake, eat before you come to work. We had to wait a sum total of 85 minutes for various bus drivers to chow down at various feeds (BBQ, pancake, you name it - depended on time o' the day) while we waited, sweating and tired, on a school bus for them to shovel down one last forkful and push away from the damn table. Boo.

Anyway, we finally made it home. Grandma and Grandpa were playing happily with the little angel, who smiled the world's best smile when she saw us.

Last night, my knee was really throbbing, as was my seat, so I decided to use the two-year-old Ben-Gay sitting in the bathroom. I forgot how little you need to use, so I plopped a palm-sized dollop on each leg and rubbed it in. About ten minutes later, I was dancing around my mint-scented bedroom. I thought my thighs would go up in flames, and not in a good way. Then I was cold. Very cold. Cuddling under four blankets cold. This lasted about twenty minutes, until I finally passed out from exhaustion. The good news is that this morning, I felt GREAT. Yeah for Ben-Gay, if you can stand the application process.

Glad this weekend is over. I'll not be taking the physical challenge again until early October, when we attempt to take the little angel on her first 5k. Yee-haw. God bless charity events.