The Salt Lake Half Century

Yesterday I biked 50 miles.

I have never in my life come close to that kind of mileage.

Although I know some people that ride their bikes 50 miles before breakfast, for me, it's kind of a big deal.

My step-dad, Mark, has been doing some bike rides (not races) with his company. It started a year ago when they did one in New York which was somewhere around 40 miles I think and went through all five boroughs. Which I think sounds so awesome. Then he did one in San Diego and my brother Ryan joined them. Then a couple months ago he invited all of his children to do half of the Salt Lake Century with him.

Yesterday was the big day. And even though I had some anxiety about it I'm so glad I did it.

I did a little bit of training but probably not enough. A couple months of riding the stationary bike at the gym and then riding an actual bike short distances 3 times a week for the past two weeks.

The race (ride) started at 7:30am. The full century went from the Utah State fairgrounds (west of downtown SLC) up to Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake and back. Are goal was to make it to the Island and be picked up from there.

The riders were myself, Mark, Ryan, Sarah, Sarah's friend Ali and Megan and Trent. And a handful of people from my dad's company.

We did the ride in three stages. Two 18 miles legs and the last was 14 miles. 

The First Stage: Wasn't too difficult and went by pretty quickly. Because we had all left the starting line together all the racers (riders) were together in big packs. Which was kind of intimidating as they whizzed past you. I started out ahead of the my group, but my brother passed me pretty quickly. Then a little late my sister and her friend and then my dad and I stayed pretty near each other the first 18 miles.

This is where I realized the bike I was on put me at a disadvantage. You see, (and all this info was new to me until very recently) I was on a mountain bike, not a road bike. Road bikes are very light and have super skinny tires (less touching the road = less friction = less effort to whizz past people on mountain bikes). Mountain bikes have heavier bodies (more to haul) and thicker tires (more friction). I didn't think it would make that big of a difference. But, I realized as I was pedaling as hard as everyone around me in my highest gear and they were flying past me on their spiffy road bikes, it definitely does make a difference when you're doing that kind of mileage.

Megan and Trent turned around at the first pit stop at 18 miles just south of Lagoon. The rest of us waited for my dad's co-workers to catch up. Both times we stopped we were stopped longer than we wanted to be waiting for people to catch up. 

The Second Stage: Was, by far, the toughest part of the ride mentally. I ended up all alone with Ryan and Sarah and friend in front of me (on their spiffy road bikes) and Mark & co. behind me. The thing that made it so tough was I had nothing to gauge distance or time and had no idea how far I had to go before the next stop. Every biker I passed I wanted to ask if he knew the mileage and every person I passed in their yard I wanted to ask what township I was in. Centerville? Kaysville? Farmington? Layton? Syracuse? I just had to keep going and going not knowing how far I had to go. Not to mention the growing physical discomfort from being on a bike that long. I don't care what anyone says. The female anatomy was not made for those saddles. People kept telling me I would get used to it. I don't WANT to get used to it. Even with my super padded bike shorts. Yeeouch. Not to mention the discomfort in your hands, wrists, and neck. And the burning of the legs.

After another 18 miles I finally rolled into the second pit stop.  

Now for some comic relief: Jill had left me a "good luck" treat  that morning, a Cliff bar and one of those packets of goo that they market as a miracle energy restorer but is really just straight sugar and some caffeine. I had opened the pouch of goo (chocolate flavored) early in the race and was taking little nips as I went on and putting it back in the pocket in the back of my jersey. Well, at the second pit stop we ended up waiting a long time and I naturally ended up laying on the grass. On my back. It took me a minute to I realized what I had in my back pocket. I sat up quick, reached behind me and my hand came away with a brown sticky mess. I asked Sarah to come and get the other things out of my other pockets now that my hands were a mess. She fell into grossed out fits. Smeared on the back of my jersey, right at my waist line was a brown, wet smear. I tried to fold my jersey on itself to get the sticky mess off my back but the way Sarah reacted I knew that the visual of it on my skin was much worse. Luckily my dad had an extra jersey he had taken off as the day had gotten warmer. I scooted to the bathroom hoping no one would notice that it looked like I had messed myself.


How embarrassing. And what a great laugh.


The last leg of the ride was 14 miles. Over the causeway on the Great Salt Lake to Antelope island. This was the toughest part of the ride physical. One because my legs were pretty beat, and two because I had moved on from discomfort and was somewhere near pain. Sarah staid with me the whole time across the causeway. Once we got to the island we thought we were through. But then we realized to go the full 50 miles we had to go around the island. It was about 4 miles. There were two small climbs and I was so worn down I had to walk my bike to the top of the second one. Right as I finished the loop my mom pulled up in the van.


Although I wouldn't have called what we did "fun" it is really fun to say I did it. And it made a great memory.


I might invest in a road bike in the future.


And, after everything, it still beats the hell out of running.