On Saturday I went on a ride with two other cyclists from my club and two from the Club vélo randonneurs de Montréal. The ride itself is 205km, but I think it's about 8.5km from my house to the starting point (and another 8.5 back home). 222km: that's an even nicer number than 205, don't you think?
It was a beautiful day, sunny, a bit cool in the morning (cold toes), but lovely as the day went on. The middle stretch, featuring a long climb from around 80km to 95km, was very hard as I hadn't eaten anything (just drank some water) since 40km, and the others had to wait for me at the top of Covey Hill (a stone's throw from the US border). Fortunately, then it was 5km of downhill to the bakery where we had lunch. Something disagreed with my usually-iron-clad-digestion, though - was it the sandwich, the pasta salad, the extra olives S. gave me from his salad, the two apple scones, the quarter-sliver of maple syrup pie, or as I suspect, the two cups of coffee? - and shortly after lunch, my lower digestive tract felt like, well, a meat-grinder was at work. I had a much-needed pit stop at the side of the road, followed by a lingering slightly-sore tummy for the rest of the ride. The other riders were kind enough to "pull" me and take the lead; I drafted off them for most of the ride home. As a result, I stayed comfortably in my recovery zone and felt almost as fresh as a feather when I finished. I felt a bit guilty when they admitted to being zonked. Oops.
I have rather a knack for getting funny tan lines; now I have a new one for my collection. I don't think I'd worn this particular jersey with my long tights before, and certainly not a full-day sunny ride. Afterward I realised that my tights rode down a little bit and my jersey rode up; consequently I have a two-inch strip of scarlet sunburned skin on my lower back, from hip to hip. That's right about the area where my backpack rests, which was not ideal for the hiking trip I went on the next day. I also feel a bit sore today in the leg muscles, but fortunately that's the kind of thing that goes away with a bit of time. The trip was well worth it.