What’s a long ride? That depends on the cyclist. For me, a 50-miler is starting to feel long, but it’s still eminently doable. Twice that—a “century,” or 100-miler—is definitely long. It is for me, at any rate. I’d like to be able to ride 100 miles as easily as I now do 25, and that day is coming. But it’s not here yet. Of course, when I ride for pleasure I’m not racing against the clock. I don’t try for the highest possible speed. I often stop to smell the flowers, give a wayward turtle a helping hand across a busy road, take photographs, or make a quick sketch. I also like the freedom to change my plans in mid-ride, exploring interesting-looking roads that weren’t on my original itinerary, even if those roads happen to be dirt.
I think of these trips as microtours, and they require a bit more planning than my everyday rides to haul groceries or keep appointments in town. But this planning isn’t particularly burdensome. I just set everything that I’ll need aside in one convenient place so I don’t have to conduct a last-minute search in the morning. Then I go over my bike to make sure that nothing is loose, that the tires are pumped up, and that all the moving parts are in working order. I also decide on a menu, since every long ride is necessarily a moveable feast. This generally means a combination of hundred-mile bars, fig cookies, fruit (both fresh and dried), and nuts, plus a good-sized baguette or a sandwich. Sometimes I’ll prepare an energy drink, tea, or coffee. And I always take water. Plenty of water.
The hard part lies ahead. Though I’m usually up before the sun, I’m not really a morning person. It takes me an hour or two to get the kinks out of my back and put something in my stomach. But by the time I’ve downed my second cup of coffee, I’m ready to go.
I begin easily, giving my body time to warm to the work ahead. This is easier said than done when nearly every road leading away from home heads uphill, but I do my best. I spin up those first hills in low gear, sip water every fifteen minutes or so, and have a bite to eat every half hour. It’s a simple recipe, but it works. Before I’ve eaten my second snack, I’ve settled into the pace I’ll hold for the rest of the day. From then on it’s just a matter of keeping the cranks turning, with occasional stops to stretch a tight muscle or “pump ship.”
And what happens when things don’t go according to plan, when it gets harder to turn the cranks, rather than easier? Simple. I bail. It’s not a race. The road will still be there tomorrow. But this doesn’t happen often. In fact, I usually finish the day with a few miles left in my tank, so to speak. Then, if I wake up the next morning without sore, tight legs, I know it was a good ride. The next one can be longer.
It’s a great to be able to travel 50 or 100 miles under your own power and still feel ready for more. And just about anyone can do it. Long rides don’t have to be tests of endurance. After all, who complains about too much of a good thing? Not me. I just keep the cranks spinning round. The miles take care of themselves