Feeding the Hungry Rock

On August 21st, Marcus and woke up at sunrise and set out for our first overnight bike camping trip of the year. The destination was Starved Rock State Park. This 100mi ride from Chicago would be my longest ride of 2020 so far. In fact, my last ride over 30mi was to the dunes and back, which took place back in October... yeah, a whole 10 months prior to this. (I suppose the pandemic really got the best of me.) Well, I'm not exactly sure of what happened to my bike, or my body, in those past 10 months, but this ride turned out to be a harsh lesson in bike fit.

The further south you ride through Illinois, the hillier it becomes, and we were met with our first real climb about 30mi in. Not long into the climb, I began to feel that familiar pinching sting behind my knees. I decided to ignore it as best I could and cranked on. We reached the hill's peak and began our descent. We don't get this opportunity often, so I shifted into the high gear and pedaled hard all the way down, maintaining a speed of 36mph for quite some time. Flying downward at this speed is a rare thrill, but that feeling was soon overshadowed by the excruciating pain behind my knees. Once we leveled out, I gave in and pulled over to make some adjustments. The pain behind my knee led me to believe my saddle must have been a bit too high, causing my legs to overextend, so I dropped it about an inch and carried on. This gave some temporary relief, but as the miles rolled by, the pain returned - gradually migrating from behind the knee to the front of the knee. As soon as we reached a shaded point in the trail, I pulled over to make another adjustment. At that point, I figured I must have dropped it a bit too much, as pain in the front of the knee is usually telling of a saddle that's too low. I raised it up about half an inch, hoping to have found a happy medium. Unfortunately, I came to realize that the damage couldn't be undone at that point. Both the front and back of my knees were now on fire, and there was just no way to relieve the pain.

At 50mi in, we stopped for a mid-ride lunch. Hoping to make a quick recovery, I did some stretching, drank about 5 pints of Sprite, and ate what seemed like the best veggie burger I've ever had. I then hoisted my post-meal belly back into the saddle and rolled onward into a headwind... only to realize that there was no hope left for these ravaged knees. At mile 80, I threw in the towel. I don't often do this. In fact, the only other ride I had abandoned was the 2011 Gravel Metric. It was the year that a monsoon hit DeKalb, and lightning was striking so close to the route that we couldn't safely continue without fearing for our lives. I knew I wasn't going to die this time, but I couldn't bear to grimace through 20 more miles into a headwind (and risk causing permanent damage). Fortunately, Samie and Lauren just arrived at the campsite by car. I made the call, and Samie rushed to my rescue. 20 mins later, I was hobbling around camp enjoying a cold beer while Marcus finished off the remaining 20mi. I couldn't help but feel disappointed for giving in to the pain though. I was really determined to get at least 100mi in that weekend, but I think I made the more intelligent decision, or at least that's what I'll keep reminding myself. But what the hell happened to my bike? or my knees? Was the saddle really so far out of adjustment? Is this just what it feels like to get old? The bike never did fit great, and part of me just wants to get rid of it and start from scratch, but just last year I rode to Milwaukee on this same bike without any issue. It's still a mystery. Dialing in a bike can be a long and painful process of trial and error though. If you don't get it right the first time, you may not know it until it starts to hurt, and at that point it might be too late.

Fortunately, the thing about pain is that it's easy to forget. It's already difficult for me to recall just how much this ride hurt. When I think back on the day I don't remember the pain, but rather the scenic trails, the perfect weather, the abundant wildlife we found along the river, and the great food we enjoyed around the campfire. All in all, it really was a great ride.

DUNE: The Double Metric

Arrakis... Dune... bike camping.

The midwestern summer was fading into fall, and we knew only a few weekends remained before the planet froze over again. It tends to do so abruptly, and always sooner than expected. Fall is by far the most pleasant season for both cycling and camping, yet it seems to be the shortest season of all... One of the midwest's many faults.

So, we set our sights on Dune... the Indiana Dunes State Park. From Chicago, it's a 60-something mile ride, which seemed like the perfect distance for an overnight trip - A metric century out, followed by a metric century home the next day. Being the Muad'Dib that he is, Marcus packed his bike with all of the camping equipment necessary for the weekend, while I dropped mine off with Dan the night before. He graciously agreed to drive my gear out to the dunes (along with some food and libations) and meet us at the campsite. I really need to invest in some packable camping gear... and perhaps a proper touring bike that can carry it all... but until then, this worked out perfectly.

The ride out was one of the windiest in recent memory. It never let up. I had hoped that this meant we would have a nice tailwind to carry us home the following day, but of course, that would not be the case. Otherwise, the ride was extremely pleasant. We took the lakefront path south, stooping for a quick snack on Promontory Point. We were treated to views of the water and wooded trails for a good portion of the ride. Eventually, we found ourselves lost on the property of what appeared to be an oil refinery, or something very industrial. Just beyond the Indiana border, the trail lead over Wolf lake. This portion of the trail is a favorite of mine. Riding across the elevated pathway surrounded by water feels like the scene from Spirited Away - you know, the train scene.

Well, we eventually made it to the dunes, and Dan arrived just as we did. We quickly set up camp, changed out of our gear, and set out for a sunset hike. We were met with an endless array of stairways leading up the dunes, and for a moment, I regretted the decision to ascend. After 60-something miles into a constant headwind, climbing multiple flights of stairs was less than ideal, but very much worth it for the views below the sherbet-colored sky. We carefully made our way down the other side of the dune, keeping watch for the Shai-Hulud, then walked along the lake before returning to camp.

The next morning started with coffee and breakfast before hauling our tired legs back to the sand. We partook in what is known as the "three dune challenge", which involves climbing to the top of the three tallest dunes in the park. Really quite a feat after the long day prior, but again, worth it for the views. After we had our fill of picturesque landscapes, we packed up our gear and headed homeward for another metric into the wind.