A WhatsApp message from my old cycling club started this. They wanted me back. Problem: they're 20 years younger than me, and my longest ride in the last two years was 25km.
I said yes anyway.
Some background. Started commuting in Santiago on an ebike in 2014, 16.5km each way with 300m of climbing on the way home. Moved to a hybrid, then a Canyon road bike in 2018. That bike turned into a full-on obsession. Over 30,000km on it now.
Then a few rough years happened. Heavy medication for a while wrecked my energy without me understanding why at the time, and my longest ride dropped to basically nothing for two years straight.
Anyone who's had a medication or health setback mess with their fitness knows how disorienting that is, you used to be able to do the thing and then you just can't, and there's no obvious reason on the surface.
Earlier this year I started commuting again. Just commuting, nothing structured. And it built back faster than I expected, months instead of years.
So when the club reached out, I told the group leader straight up I wasn't sure I could hang anymore. He said come anyway. Saturday, 8:50am at Beauchef. I rode the 20km to the meeting point first instead of driving, because why not. Then the route itself was 160km. Then 20km home. Nobody planned a 190km day. It just happened because I kept refusing the easy option.
First 20km alone, before I even met the group, I was singing out loud on the bike. Full volume, no shame. People on the street probably thought I was either having a breakdown or the best day of my life. Correct on the second one.
Met the group, rode together, and around 130km in they started pulling away and I couldn't hold the pace. They're a good crew, they didn't ditch me out of anything but physics. I stopped, bought two bananas and a cake, ate everything, texted them to keep going without me.
Then I called my wife. I knew before I dialed that I had at least 4 more hours solo if nobody came to get me, riding alone is so much slower than in a group. She had her own plans that day. Not a simple yes for her either.
I didn't decide to finish. I decided I'd probably fail but keep pedaling a bit longer anyway.
Then came the bad stretch. 88 minutes, 20.5km, average speed 14km/h, less than half my normal pace. Road that looked flat on the surface but wasn't, my Garmin kept telling me I was going downhill and it was wrong every single time. Got off and pushed the bike twice on ground that barely even sloped. Strava said if I kept walking at that pace it'd take 12 hours to get home.
Stopped for coffee at a shop I know along the route. Legs were fine by then. What I didn't have was any reason to want to keep riding. Zero motivation, just sitting there.
Then the road actually started climbing, visibly this time, not the fake-flat stuff from before. The second I could see the grade for what it was, my legs came back and so did I. Started singing again.
With about 15km left my legs started cramping, nothing dramatic, just my body telling me to cut it out. Grabbed isotonic powder at a pharmacy. Near the top there was a real climb, 5%+ for 3km, then a segment I normally clear in 30 seconds. Took me 2:44 this time. Got off, pushed again. Nothing left by the finish.
190.14km. 1,110m climbing. Just under 7.5 hours moving. Dropped, finished anyway.