90 Miles and Feeling a Little Old

I have things to say, and ask, about the latest American scare (the "Ground Zero Mosque"), but let me first report on last Saturday, when I did 90 challenging miles in the Ardennes as part of the "Geants des Ardennes". That's geant as in: giant. With four of my Eendracht friends I did the 143K route, which included 15 named climbs. It was my first day in the Eendracht kit (approved, upon my return, by the home front), as it was my first time with the new team in hilly terrain. The last time I had done this kind of distance was in 2007 (the year of my last century), when I'd often get rides over 70 miles long, do hard training rides on a weekly basis, and actually race. Most of that has gone by the wayside, and I think it showed last weekend. It was a warm day, weather I used to thrive in. But two-thirds of the way in cramps started bothering me. I was able to get rid of them by getting out of the saddle (hamstring) or staying seated (quadriceps), and considered myself lucky that front and back never acted up simultaneously. It wasn't horrible, far from it, but after the half-way mark I basically found myself just riding trying to finish this thing comfortably. In the old days, when I was much further from that dreaded milestone birthday than today, I'd get better as these kind of days went on and would only allow people to pass me (especially on the climbs) if they looked like semi-pros. On the last climb Saturday, there were several people riding away from me, and I was just fine with that. How bad was it? Not very, really. I held my own just fine against my new teammates, and then some, and was having a hard time on only three of the fifteen climbs, but there it was the same for just about everybody. We're talking here about the Cote de Somagne (new to me), the Wanneranval (I had been on this hill, but not from this side), and the Cote La Roche aux Faulcons, the very last one (these days also part of Liege-Bastogne-Liege). They were hard work, at least on the 39x26 they were, but at the same time I never wished I had brought a 28. On the other twelve, I just had a blast riding uphill again for a change. I should also mention this young Flemish woman, dressed all in white, who easily held her own with us on the Cote de la Redoute-Est. She actually rode away from me (passing everyone else around) when I had a cramp setting in. Not that no woman should be able to hang with me on a tough climb, it's just that I've rarely had the experience. I caught up with her at the top, and we rode into Sprimont together. It gave me time to realize that she was easily young enough to be my daughter. I told you this post was about me feeling a little old.