Hundey’s

(Century Rides)

It doesn’t matter what I do; I always have to turn it into some type of maniacal, high-octane nuthouse that would make great material for one of those Hey, watch these clowns abuse themselves for absolutely no reason reality shows that seem to be so popular right now.

Never been on a horse in my life? Buy a horse at age fifty-five, ride it around my farm for a few weeks, take a few scenic drives to the local emergency room, and just like that, I’m competing in a CMSA mounted-shooting group.

Not really a runner? Start running at age sixty-five and dive straight into half and full marathons.

Casual bike rider? Also at age sixty-five, start competing in duathlons and distance riding.

Apparently, I’m incapable of discovering a hobby without immediately asking, How can I make this expensive, painful, and medically questionable?

Consequently, it will come as no surprise to anyone still breathing that when I decided to start riding hundred-mile bike rides, I approached it with all the focus of a rabid monkey trying to peel a rubber banana. A lot of screaming and slapping the floor with one hand.

One day, after preparing for my first hundey ride by getting up late, eating one piece of toast for breakfast, and then spending an unreasonable amount of time deciding which bike kit made me look the coolest, I tossed my Checkpoint, Rockey, onto the back of my Mazda and ventured toward the beginning of the Tennessee Riverwalk in Chattanooga.

By the time I got there, the temperature was hovering just above the hubs of hell mark on the thermometer, and birds were bursting into flaming, squawking fireballs, and starting small grass fires wherever they hit the ground.

I was positive I had enough water in two full frame bottles.

I also made sure I had extra gum.

I always chew gum when I train or race because it keeps the saliva flowing in your mouth. An old trick I learned when I rode with the Seventh-by-God Cavalry during the Indian Wars.

Of course, it was just nasty-ass pebbles back then, but you worked with what you had.

Long story short—and I know, way too late for that—I made it about 104.

Okay, okay.

That’s 104 kilometers, because that sounds a hell of a lot better than the sixty-five miles I actually rode before the seizures started and I saw Jesus zipping down the bike path on a brand-new, bright-red-fading-to-gold Trek Madone SLR25 Project One.

I have to tell you, He was pretty majestic.

Beard and hair blowing back over His shoulders, crown of thorns serving as a helmet, blazing white robes billowing around Him like the sails of a privateer charging into Kingston Harbor to rape and plunder the locals.

The bike was gorgeous.

I remember thinking, Of course Jesus gets electronic shifting.

After several more “there I was” moments, and while continuing to suffer from a serious case of Slow Learner Syndrome, I actually began to learn some things.

I know.

No one on this planet was more surprised than I was.

Those things I will now impart upon you lucky few, so as to make your biking life far more enjoyable than I have made mine for to with.

Yes, for to with is used in common parlance, and I don’t care what anyone thinks—ever—about anything.

Okay, after all that, you still want to ride a hundey.

There is actually a logical and relatively painless way to go about it that will greatly improve your chances of succeeding without meeting any major religious figures along the route.

First question:

Could you ride a hundey yesterday?

Or last week?

Or at any time in your life?

No?

Well, then, what makes you think you can simply hop on a bicycle today and ride that far?

I’m waiting.

Arms crossed.

One foot tapping out Morse code that spells:

I-M-P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E.

Good.

That’s correct.

You can’t.

With that in mind, the very first thing you should do is find out just how far you can ride before the hallucinations start.

I’d suggest beginning with a twenty-five-mile loop.

With that type of course, you’ll never be more than about twelve miles from your car or home, and should something unpleasant happen, hopefully you can walk that far while pushing your bike.

Of course, you’ll be pissed off, but anger is an excellent source of renewable energy.

Those miles will just fly by.

For that first ride, take at least two frame bottles, preferably with some type of hydration supplement added.

Take energy gels.

Personally, I use Torq Gels because they’re much more fluid than GU and come in great flavors. There is nothing worse than trying to choke down a wad of thick energy gel while dehydrated.

Well, I suppose being eaten by an alligator at a garden party while your spouse watches would be worse.

But, you know.

Apples and oranges.

Even if you have tubeless tires, take an inner tube along with tire plugs and two tire levers. Sometimes you get a hole that is simply too large to plug.

It is perfectly acceptable to use an inner tube as a roadside repair.

As long as you don’t tell anybody.

Cyclists are haughty as hell.

Somewhere, another rider will sense that you put a tube inside a tubeless tire and quietly remove you from Strava.

Also carry a bicycle multitool.

Once you’ve mastered that twenty-five-mile loop, start adding distance.

Eventually, you’ll be riding that loop four times for your hundey while still never being more than twelve miles from your safe place.

Granted, by lap four you may hate every tree, mailbox, pothole, squirrel, and pedestrian along the route, but familiarity breeds contempt.

And mileage.

Once you’re ready to get off that carousel and venture out on a straight-line hundey—either point-to-point or fifty miles out and fifty back—you’ll already know what types of nutrition, hydration, and energy supplements work for you.

A quick side note: if you’re looking for a good road pack that also carries a water bladder, you can’t beat the Osprey Raptor Four.

I’ll finish this pot-o’-gold with a few thoughts about ergonomics and the famous:

I’ll just push through it.

This is an incredibly useful philosophy if you are escaping a burning building.

It is somewhat less useful when parts of your body are going numb.

I strongly suggest getting your bike professionally fitted.

Most saddle soreness experienced by new riders can actually be improved simply by riding more.

Yes, I know.

You’ve heard that before.

And I know your immediate response was some variation of:

Oh, horseshit.

But it’s true.

Other issues can sometimes be resolved with a different saddle, an adjustment to saddle height, anti-monkey-butt cream, talcum powder, or whatever pharmaceutical witchcraft is currently being marketed toward people who voluntarily rub their crotches against bicycle seats for six-plus hours.

Your twenty-five-mile training rides should help identify these problems before they become major ones.

Pay particular attention to hot spots around your cleats.

Trying to “push through” foot pain can cause actual damage and completely crap all over a planned multiday adventure.

Again, have your cleats professionally adjusted if necessary.

Personally, I always use MTB shoes for rides like this. They’re easier to walk in, and on a long trip you’re eventually going to want to walk into places like restaurants, convenience stores, or outhouses.

Nothing adds dignity to a century ride quite like trying to cross a convenience-store parking lot in road cleats with the locomotion of a newborn giraffe on an ice rink.

Slipping, face-planting, or crawling through the door tends to draw a crowd.

And it makes the rest of us look bad.

Frankly, we’re already doing a swimmingly good job of that ourselves.

Lastly:

Don’t wear underwear under there.

It will bunch up and chafe your crotchual region.

Crotchual is, of course, anaccepted medical term.

Look it up.

Actually, don’t.

You’ll only confuse Google.

Get used to riding in the horns, drops, lowest portion of the handlebars—whatever you want to call them. In a constant headwind, getting lower will be a lifesaver and may keep you from arriving at your destination three hours late, emotionally shattered, and questioning every major life decision since kindergarten.

Take some type of GPS device. There will always be surprises on a long ride.

Not good surprises like party hats, cake, and someone handing you a cold beer.

More like:

ROAD CLOSED

or

BRIDGE OUT

or

DETOUR — 17 MILES

which is highway-department language for:

We heard you were tired and thought this would be hilarious.

Don’t forget sunscreen because you are going to sweat off whatever you applied before you left.

And make sure you have ridden at least one hundred miles in the shoes, gloves, and kit you intend to wear.

Those miles don’t have to be consecutive. You simply need enough time in the equipment to know that nothing is going to cause unusual pain, blistering, chafing, numbness, bleeding, or public ridicule.

The first four are physical problems.

The last one is simply part of cycling.

RIDE ON!!