The clear skies told me the Willamette Valley wasn't affected by the massive fires in British Columbia, but by the time I rolled into Marion a gray haze blocked out the blue. I didn't know the route changed from last year, and thus didn't know I'd be riding through my old hometown of Marion. I hoped I would pass a road I recognized. I didn't. I did get to scream down some speeding descents- 40 mph! Riding along a flat road that paralleled railroad tracks, a deer crossed my path. Rather than run away, the deer bounded along the road in front of me. The deer and I maintained a similar pace for a while. I watched it go from a walk, to a run, to a bounding gallop. I realized I never get to follow animals in the wild for more than a few seconds, so this deer gave me a real treat. She kept me company longer than I imagined, and then finally veered off into the brush.
Temperatures climbed and still I rode alone. A goal materialized in my head. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to get to the Century stop, the spot where Century riders get a special patch, before any other women. A few men passed me already, so I knew I had a fighting chance at being the first woman. I also had a fighting chance at being the first "top fundraiser". Top fundraisers have differently colored bib numbers, and none of the guys who passed me had them. It was just after this new goal gave my feet more fire that pealing suddenly seemed impossible. Breath left me. I kept moving, but so slowly. What was wrong with me? I didn't feel particularly good all morning. My knees stung with pain, and my thighs felt like they were encased in lead sheaths. But this new level of slowness was of great concern. Was I having a medical problem? Could I be going up a hill? Was I riding into a head wind? I saw no hill and felt no wind. I sweated. Nothing could pick my speed into the double digits. I knew a woman would pass me any moment and all my effort would have been wasted! I pushed. I panted out loud. I grunted out loud. I started yell-grunting. I grunted as loud as I could. I passed a sign that a rest stop was near. Thank god, I thought to myself. But it seemed to never appear. I started counting at the top of my lungs, trying to distract myself. Finally, after what felt like 100 years and 100 deaths, I made it. It was the Century Stop! I was the first woman! I was the first top fundraiser! I learned that whole stretch was a hill, one that I couldn't see based on the landscape. Since I hadn't studied the route, not knowing it would be different, I didn't know where the hills would be. Sometimes just knowing is half the battle!
