Jim: "You're in a world of hurt..."

That was what Gunnery Sergeant Hartman threatened Private Pyle with in Kubrick's epic war flick, Full Metal Jacket.* It also happens to be the planet I'm living on after my hot date with finest tarmac in Frederick last Saturday.

I've played a number of contact sports in my life, including a couple really really full contact sports - rugby, ice hockey and hapkido, the latter being a stellar but particularly vicious Korean martial art. But until I splattered on the road at 30 MPH, it never occurred to me that my whole body could get tenderized like a slab of cheap steak. It's a persistent low grade hurt all over, combined with a couple stabby sort of pains, including a bruised calf, a goofy shoulder, and an upper back spasm that only hurts when I climb hills. (Insert Joke Here).

As I struggled through the hill ride Wednesday, aches and pains compounding my usual crappy climbing performance, it struck me how physically tough mass start racing is. My crash was no big deal; other guys have done a whole lot worse. The racing itself is a bit brutal; you spend a lot of time in moderate discomfort, and a fair amount of time (especially in crits or on a hilly road course) in major discomfort. Combined with the fact that in any race there is only one winner, and 49, or 74, or 124 losers, this frickin' sport is nothing but one long kick in the teeth. Heck, Lance Armstrong won the TdF last year, by winning only one stage. Know what that means? It means he lost 19 times in three weeks. And if he isn't the best there ever was, he merits a spot somewhere in the Top 5. How much more beaten down are the rest of us lowly and unknowing schiavi della bicicletta?

Ahh, who am I kidding. That's what makes it worthwhile. It is hard. If it wasn't, it wouldn't be worth doing. So leave a note in comments, tell me about your hardest ride ever. I'd like to know what it was. I'll go first.

I actually have two. The first one was the day I bought my bike last July. It was about 95 out. I still haven't a clue why an obese bastid like me decided to sit on a roadbike again. It's just a weird universe we live in, I guess. So fat as a monk, two gallons over 300 pounds, I pulled on my Bellwethers (the fat shorts) and went for a ride around the neighborhood. I pedaled about a mile from the house, where I encountered a low rise which I struggled up, huffing like a steam engine (thank goodness for granny gears on touring triple cranksets). I took a right and went up a slight hill that most would describe as "a long kicker." Two thirds of the way to the top, I had to get off and push. Back on the bike at the top, down the next hill into cool shade under the trees... the comfort was too brief, then it was a right turn, laboring up a false flat, and then about 15 pedal strokes up a short, steep hill, before I had to get off and push. I seem to recall a woman on a hybrid pedaling up past me, but that may have been another day shortly thereafter. At the top, labor up another false flat. Come to a rise similar to the first, and struggle up it at about 7 MPH. It hit me at about this point how badly out of shape I had gotten, and the fact that my bench press had hit epic levels (a truly gnarly 4 sets of ten with a pair of 110 pound dumbbells) was irrelevant to overall fitness. I was a pathetic fat bastard, with no lungs. A couple years away from rugby and regular running and that kind of thing had wiped me out. I felt like dying, never mind the thick layer of flab I had packed on. When I got to the top of the rise, it was mercifully mostly downhill back to my house. The grand total: 11 miles, one hour. To put it in perspective - nowadays, I do both low rises without downshifting. The first hill I encountered, the long kicker, I hit at speed, drop one gear, and do as a big ring climb. The second hill... well, that's a minute's worth for me, but even though it's steep I hammer up it pretty quick. The whole loop now takes around 30 minutes, tops, and I ride it as a warmup. I can barely remember what it was like to ride it the first day unless I stop to really think about it.

My second toughest ride ever was the first crit I did, one of the Quicksilver series. I barfed, and got lapped. Oh my God did it hurt, and boy was I ever ignorant about how to conserve energy. But all of you would understand that, so I'm not going to go into details. The thing is, my definition of what my toughest ride ever was, has changed. Six months ago, it was this long climbing day that I had. After a couple months of racing, I now realize it was the first ride I took on the new bike after being away from road riding since around 1990. It took me 15 years to get out of the house and down the road on that ride...

So let's have it. What was the toughest ride you ever went on?


*There are several bicycling relevant quotes from FMJ that R. Lee Ermey's Gy.Sgt. Hartman spouts off. The first time Pyle can't get over a wooden tower on an obstacle course, Hartman says something I often think of when doing the hill ride: "I guess if God had wanted you to be up on top of that thing, he'd have miracled your @ss up there by now." Yes, I console myself with that thought. And I know what you're thinking: my inner monologue is absolutely vicious if my consoling voice is Gunny Sergeant Hartman. Indeed my mind is like one of the future scenes from the Terminator films. My inner monologue typically resembles the social dynamic in "Lord of the Flies," except with an R rating for strong language and adult situations.