Bonk.

Recently we've been quickly upping mileage, in a last-ditch effort to "train" for the 65-mile Tour du Port ride October 9th.  65 miles (at my pace) is no big thing to Mr. Lady Roadie, but I've never done more than a flat 55 so I'm a bit anxious about it.  Two weeks ago, we did a 40 mile ride on some busy, wide-shouldered roads around here -- not my favorite type of ride, but we got the mileage in, although we were plagued with mechanical issues (Mr. Lady Roadie had a loose bottom bracket and got a flat, I had a loose bolt related to my back brake and by the time we were nearing home I had to keep manually widening the brake to prevent rubbing).  I didn't feel strong, possibly related to allergies, but it was fine.

This past weekend we drove out to Damascus to get in 50 miles in the countryside, a ride I would normally enjoy much more.  Unfortunately, the weather was just awful -- COLD for this time of year, alternately windy and rainy.  We also had to re-learn the hard way that Damascus has some serious hills.  About 6 miles in, we came upon a short steep hill.  I shifted up two gears to prepare for a standing climb, but it turned out that put me in way too high a gear for the steepness of the hill, and I basically gracefully dismounted instead of letting myself fall with the bike, and walked the rest of the way up.  That was more an issue of inexperience than a lack of strength/fitness, so I didn't beat myself up about it.

Then about another 2 miles down the road, we hit a hill that was just as steep but 4 times as long.  I knew I didn't have the fitness/strength to do a standing climb for as long as would've been necessary, so I did a seated climb until I couldn't turn the pedals anymore and gave up.  I wish I'd tried harder but I honestly think this is the first hill I've hit that I just physically could not make it up.  My emotions were raw after the effort so I cried a bit as I was walking up the hill to catch up with Mr. Lady Roadie, stopped to pull myself together, and continued walking towards him.  An oncoming car rounded the bend, slowing down as they pulled up next to me, and while I assumed they were going to ask if I was okay I didn't want to deal with it and avoided eye contact.  When the car stopped right next to me I couldn't help but look over, and this obese man, smoking a cigarette, had the nerve to roll down his window, point directly at me, and laugh "tee hee".

I'm not proud of the words that came out of my mouth, after that.

When that situation resolved (thankfully without him getting out of his car), we continued on our way, both of us secretly wondering if we were really going to finish this ride.  Luckily, that was the worst of the hills, although the weather kept getting worse and worse.  I ate what seemed like a lot early on, to try to make the experience less miserable, had a Pay Day at a gas station at mile 30 and then apparently made the decision that to eat any more would be to admit how many miles were still left to ride, so I didn't.  I started having coughing fits, from the cold air that my lungs are not yet used to, and just settled into my misery, pedaling and pedaling.  At mile 40 I still didn't think we would make it back to the car.  At mile 45, Mr. Lady Roadie said we were almost there and it didn't make me feel any happier.  At mile 47, I said it seemed like we'd been going uphill for the past 6 miles, and Mr. Lady Roadie responds with "we're going downhill now."  I promptly burst into tears, in utter despair -- 3 miles from the car!  I continued crying for another 2 miles, pedaling and pedaling, stopping when I finally recognized our last turn.  I didn't feel any better when I was off the bike, nor when we were in the warm car, nor when we ordered tacos at Cal Tor.  It took until I was finished shoving my 2nd taco in my face until I was ready to admit that life was worth living.

Ladies and gentleman, I think that was my first bonk!

And, the worst part is that of course I ate so much the rest of the day (and the following day) I'm sure I more than made up for the calorie deficit.  I don't bike to lose weight, but it would be a nice side effect, especially after dealing with 20 miserable miles because for whatever reason it didn't occur to me to eat.  By the time I suspected what was happening, I decided to hold out for the tacos anyway, which was possibly not the most logical decision but I guess that's part of the bonk in itself.

But hey, we did finish the ride, despite our doubts.  Thankfully, the weather forecast is looking much better for next weekend, and Tour du Port shouldn't be nearly so hilly.  I'm just going to make sure I eat a LOT of food on the bike.