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DAY 6 VENTURA 10:10 pm
Stats: Distance – 88.38 miles (142.23 km) Time on bike – 5:09:05 Average speed – 17.15 mph (27.60 kph) Maximum – 42.81 mph (68.9 kph) [written after the ride, "Day 8," Sunday, June 11] You try to stay ahead in a journal. Well, not really ahead since that doesn’t make sense … but you try to stay caught up. I simply fell behind. That’s good – too much to say in the little time to say it. After Day 6’s ride, Scott, Ben and I walked over a small dune next to our campsite, sat on the beach, and hung out. It nice, relaxing – especially after a pretty bad day. Not every day on the bike can feel good, and day 6 was physically the lowest day on the ride. That poor physical feeling also affects you emotionally. As I was riding, I thought that if this was a stage of the Tour de France, I would probably abandon. On second thought, I’d probably consider abandoning but wait until the next day to decide. So what was up? From Oceano to Santa Barbara I felt great. I was riding big gears, riding fast, and feeling strong. Once we hit Santa Barbara, we started riding bike paths. For some reason those broke my momentum. Lunch was a peanut butter sandwich (?) and assorted other tasty treats. From lunch and beyond I was dead. Completely sluggish. My knees were really sore, my butt was battered, my neck was stiff, and my achilles tendon ached. I had no power, no acceleration, and no desire to be on my bike. I was riding as hard and as fast as I could ( which was not very hard or very fast) just to be able to finish. there was not a single moment of enjoyment the last hour and a half. Just selfish determination to get to camp so that I wouldn’t have to see or feel my bike. Was it a horrible day? Not at all. I think that, for some reason, I bonked…hit the wall, ran out of energy. 6 days of accumulated wear. The first half was great – fast, strong, and beautiful.
I also got some refreshing cheering from "Mylanta" and her friends outside of Santa Barbara. Trust me, they raised a few eyebrows as they went by. And what a treat for Scott, to have so many friends come from San Francisco to meet him along the route. And there was Pit 5. Ahhh, pit 5. If I could vote for my favorite pit, they would win, hands down. They always had a great theme, lots of enthusiasm, and they always remembered me, Ben, Scott, and almost everyone. All I had to do was take my sunglasses off and they would remember me. The last day, one said to the other, "See, we’ve got him trained to take his glasses off as soon as he gets into the pits." So pit 5, I salute you, thank you, and hope that if I do this again next year that you’ll be there.
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Trying to go to bed.
