We set out to ride an imperial century—100 miles, at the Huffman Classic in Brookville, Ohio. Last year, this event marked our first metric century, and now Alex and I were determined to go farther. But as I prepared that morning, I felt a hint of doubt. My longest ride this year hadn’t even reached 50 miles. I had experience (having ridden a century last September), and the route was relatively flat, but I still felt challenged by the distance. And so began Not Quite A Century: The Ride That Was and Wasn’t.
The morning was brisk as we arrived early to check in. By 7:15 AM, we were rolling, pacing ourselves to ensure we had the endurance to finish strong. Alex and I expected to be passed at some point by the faster riders from our cycling club, but for now, we focused on the miles ahead.
The first two rest stops came and went smoothly—we refueled and chatted briefly with fellow riders. At the second stop, we even crossed paths with the faster group.
Then came the wrong turn—a mistake that added three unexpected miles to our journey. It was frustrating, but manageable. We corrected our course and tried to stay focused. Despite the setback, we pressed on, though the challenging headwinds tested our pace and endurance throughout the ride.
A Ride Interrupted
Our goal was to finish in under 6 hours and 45 minutes—the moving time of our first century ride. Since I still hadn’t learned to drink while riding, I suggested that my husband pass me his bottle so we wouldn’t have to stop. I hoped this would keep me hydrated and help us stay on pace. The first few exchanges were smooth and safe, but on the fourth pass, around mile 53, something went wrong.
I got too close to Alex, and in a panic, I lost my balance. Before I knew it, I was falling. It happened in a blur yet felt like slow motion as I rolled onto the grass. With eyes closed, I felt my helmet tap the ground—not painful, but surreal. Frustration and embarrassment washed over me. I was shaken, but okay, wondering if I messed up my bike and if would I be able to finish the rest of the ride.
Alex rushed over to make sure I was alright. Thankfully, I had not taken him down with me. I took stock: my tights were torn above my right knee and my phone and headlight lay on the ground because my mount had broken off. I noticed my compact rear view mirror was also missing, but I didn’t bother to search for it.
A Century Cut Short
Still shaken and bruised, I got back on my bike, and quickly discovered it was not shifting properly. The chain even locked up once so we agreed to cut the ride short. Grateful to have avoided serious injury, I managed to ride 11 more miles, arriving safely at the next rest stop. Weighing my options, I wondered—could I handle the final hills with a bruised wrist and a bent derailleur?
In the end, I took the SAG ride back while Alex finished with the group from our cycling club. Not the way I envisioned completing the event, but it was for the best.
Reflecting on the Experience
Although the ride didn’t go as I had hoped, I can appreciate the experience. I still managed to complete slightly more than a metric century at 64 miles. The event volunteers were very supportive, providing ice for my bruises and making sure I returned safely to my car. And afterwards, Alex and I enjoyed the post-ride meal with other riders at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
The next day I brought my bike to a local bike shop. The service guy aligned the derailleur hanger and said it shifted fine on the stand. I also found out the battery on the right gear shifter needed to be replaced, likely contributing to the shifting issues. Relieved that I didn’t need an expensive Di2 derailleur replacement, I gladly paid for the minor repair and a new helmet.
Reflecting on the experience, I realize setbacks test resilience and challenges fuel growth. Cutting the ride short was disappointing, but it didn’t mean failure. It meant listening to my body, accepting the unexpected, adapting, and knowing there will always be another century ride.
