The twenty four hour ride

all outputs, few inputs and one big friggin' smile

Outputs and outcomes require inputs.

Right meow?

This fool is still pretty wasted from the May 2-4 twenty four hour ride.

I managed to keep going for twenty four hours.

There was a problem though?

The route was longer than estimated and took Zeke and Fred 26 hours and forty five minutes to complete the entire 345km.

Me?

I tapped out in Chester, set them free to go from riding with me at speed slower than an obese snail after a feeding frenzy.

I made it to East River. They made it back to Tantallon.

In total I managed 303km on the computer but likely around 305 -308. I turned my computer on late so it’s not entirely accurate.

My biggest take away?

I’m hungry.

I need inputs now. I’ve been eating all day.

I needed better inputs - food - on the ride.

Mashed potato burritos would have been perfect chased with a few pink pepto tablets to get rid of the heart burn.

Once my guts went, my brain wasn’t far behind.

Here are some crazy stats that relate to the inputs that I couldn’t maintain but am in the process of rectifying:

Estimated sweat loss: 14562 ml - that’s 14.5 litres - just under four frigging gallons of sweat. No wonder my arse had such a pong.

Estimated calories burned: 8,567 - that’s about fifteen and a half Big Macs. I’m ready to head to the cheeseburger picnic with Randy and the boys.

Elevation climbed: 2,417.0 meters - that’s about four and a half CN towers of climbing. Today, I’m walking dow stairs sideways, one step at a time. My thighs are liquid concentrated pain.

Top speed 61.4 kph - that’s a winning greyhound for those of you who like playing the puppies. That was descending into the Gaspereau Valley. I didn’t let go of the brakes fully the whole way down. I still feel giddy when I think about the speed.

All of these outputs require more inputs.

And what of the outcome?

We seemed obsessed with outcomes eh?

What do I get for all of my efforts - accolades, awards - maybe a cookie?

Naw. I get a blistered arse, a Zeke-made sticker for my bike and a big friggin’ smile.

Too bad business and life outcomes weren’t measured in the same way eh?

Not a winner.

Not a champ.

Just a fool who’s really proud of his failure to close the loop.

Next year?

Next year.

With gusto.

(here’s a video from the ride - mine will feature more peeing on the trail late at night)

(my left foot even when numb writing this post. I’d better listen to my body and get my arse to bed)