Okay, let's get this out of the way, I don't want to be coy; I rode the Tour de Cure today, and I made it the entire 100K. How far is that? It's 100,000 meters.
Our team had six members. One didn't show up, and then there were five. One dropped out at the 20 mile mark and two dropped out at 44 miles. And then there were two, and I was one of them!
I think I'm done bragging now because a very obese diabetic man passed me, twice, and a man with no legs passed me as well. The other finisher on our team probably rode an extra five or ten miles because she would ride ahead, and then ride back to check on me and then sprint off again. I don't know if sprint is even the right word because during my worst period she could probably have walked ahead and then come back to check on me. After we reached Eagle River, the start and finish of the ride, there was an exhilarating plunge down a curvy hill. I felt refreshed, but of course we had missed a turn and the curvy hill led to the women's prison, not the park where we were supposed to be. I got off and walked my bike back to the top, and that seemed to be enough of a break for me to pedal the two or three miles up the hill to the end. There was a brass band and cheerleaders waiting for us. I say for us, because right after we got there they dropped their pom poms and packed up their instruments and left. In a twist that is unbelievable in fiction and just irritating in real life, the only member of our team that won a door prize was the one who dropped out first. The hot dogs were all gone, so we came home.
After I got home, I suggested to Karen that since I was off my eating plan (almost any excuse will get me off my eating plan, for instance a Fred Thompson announcement or a Public Service Announcement, whatever) we should go out to dinner and that if we went to Eagle River I could show her where we got lost. Instead, I missed the turn and she showed me where I got lost.