I have tried to write a blog about 24 Hours of Booty several times..I have to much in my head to put into words.
Riding 275 miles on my fixie: at the beginning of the ride Jen, Jamie and I decided on 10 laps then we will take a break. I was riding my Fuji, Jen was riding a SS Gios and Jamie was riding Jen’s other Gios. By the 4th lap my saddle was already hurting..” Awesome…” I didn’t say anything- I didn’t want to be the light weight right off the bat..But, I caved…I announced “my crotch is killing me” ( I have never claimed to be ladylike when it comes to my bike) and then there was agreement across the board..we all were feeling no love from our saddles. There is only so many ways to describe what your pain feels like..But, I am pretty sure we covered them all.
During the ride people mentioned that they read the news paper article and they thought it was pretty cool I was going to ride for 24 hours..Wait that is not what I meant..I meant I could deal with the laps, saddle and fixie for 24 hours..a girl needs a break. But, as more people mentioned it I felt like a fibber if I didn’t do it.
I was separated from Jen and Jamie during the night and I ended up riding with all sorts of folks. We all pedaled and told our stories as to why we are riding and the whole crotch/saddle discussion. I rode with Weaver and we chatted about Vegan dishes and family. I sat in with Michael Gibbons (Buttons of Hope) and he said it was cool I was doing this for my Dad..with each passing chat my Dad was mentioned…with each passing chat I felt like he was riding next to me.
With each passing chat my crotch…for the love of God my crotch..frozen peas would be killer..a saddle of frozen peas.But there were no such saddles. As the night went on my legs grew heavy. I am talking lead heavy..I am talking if heard another person change gears or coast I would scream ( well, not out loud..an internal scream..kinda like when a person is talking repeating the same point over and over scream). As the sun began to rise and I ate a billion bagels and 10 loaves of bread-I met back up with Jen. As we rode I could feel a knot in my throat and then the waterworks started. There is something to be said about no sleep ad riding with a group of people who understand why you are crying (not the saddle..)I missed my Dad. As I thought about my Dad it made me think of Monks (my son). Monks is so much like my Dad..Monks was born after my Dad died. But, he told me.” I met Pop when I was in heaven”..(talk about a tear jerker). After a few more laps I heard,”Mummy” Monk’s Dad (his weekend) brought him by..I was no longer tired and ready to rock out the rest. I would be lying if I said I was all out at the end..each pedal stroke felt like I was going through peanut butter( not Jiff..the all natural kind with the oil on the top). When I decided I could not ride another lap…I said my good byes and headed home.
I did not ride 24 hours..I rode 20 hrs and 275 miles..next year..300.
Jenn was my partner in crime,tears,laughs and yes, crotch pain-without her I would not have made it..We are each others riding sidekicks…next year Team Sidekick will need different saddles and new duct tape skirts.
Thanks to everyone who donated and those who cheered me on..