30 days by bike

My challenge didn't seem too daunting.

One hundred miles on a stationary bike in 30 days. The drive between my apartment in Baton Rouge and parents’ house in Houma is just over 87 miles. It flies by when I drive home on a Friday afternoon. The average Ironman triathlon athlete bikes 112 miles in six hours and 25 minutes. Surely, I thought, I can cover 100 miles in 720 hours.

Spoiler alert: I crushed it. I found help along the way from Netflix binges, National Margarita Day and my disdain for Mardi Gras.

My journey to nowhere began on the second floor of the LSU Athletics weight room with nearly 10 miles on the final two days of January. I envisioned my progress. In only 35 minutes and 40 seconds on the bike, I’d reached the exit I normally take onto Interstate 10 to drive home. In the car, I’d be surrounded by a sea of cars blaring their horns in a mad dash to get in the fast lane.

I love driving. The passing landscape is a particular source of joy during my rides. There is no passing scenery, however, to occupy my mind from my seat on the bike in the football building. I am forced to trade the open road and the lush interstate forests for a sea of benches and treadmills.

I found a source of mental stimulation in my beloved Netflix. I let my mind melt in a marathon of Parks and Recreation episodes. The stars of Pawnee, Indiana cheered me on as my legs completed countless rotations. The finale always makes me emotional. Did I mention that I had already watched the show more than a year ago?

Week one continued in earnest. By the first Friday, I had completed nearly 21 miles. At this rate, I thought, I could reach the century mark in two weeks less than originally planned. The added bonus of my challenge? I’d burned 515 calories in my first week. Driving doesn’t offer the same luxury.

My inner couch-potato’s 15 minutes of fame — and my first slip-up — came in the first weekend. I spent Saturday laying in bed, writing about burritos for a story on Chipotle. The writing left me lusting for an afternoon snack. I knew I wouldn’t be biking that afternoon; it didn’t take much motivation to drive to the mall for an Auntie Anne’s pretzel. No wonder people often fail when they commit to “getting into shape” as a New Year’s resolution.

Week two was a tour of hell in 33 miles. My lazy weekend put me behind the eight ball early as Mardi Gras break loomed on the horizon. I knew that I had to make up for lost time, so I devised a solution: Four straight days of no fewer than six-and-a-half miles per day. My legs churned. My calves burned. When Mardi Gras break began that Friday afternoon, I was only 46 miles away from triple digits.

I despise Mardi Gras. The time off from school is nice, sure, and it’s always a treat to see old friends. The parades and the partying, however, isn’t my cup of tea. Plus, I didn’t bike for three straight days. The guilt was crushing, so I drowned out my frustration with copious amounts of gumbo and the occasional strawberry daiquiri. Late Sunday night, I knew I needed to return to the task at hand. Monday morning, I returned to Baton Rouge with a renewed fire to get back to work.

I hated working out growing up. Multiple times, I vowed to get into a gym and “shape up,” and multiple times, I failed. I hit rock bottom in the summer before my senior year of high

school. I joined a 24/7 gym in Houma and worked out off-and-on, but once I returned to school, the gym fell away like a forgotten lover. I paid for another five months of a gym membership I didn’t use.

This time though, things felt different. My goal of 100 miles hung over my head daily like a flashing neon “OPEN” sign. I found myself with a renewed sense of urgency as the challenge reached its midpoint. At the end of week three, I had covered nearly 79 miles.

Week four was a week of milestones. I covered nearly 14 miles across the first two days of the week, putting me at 92.5 miles total. My secondary goal of covering the 87 miles between my apartment in Baton Rouge and my house in Houma on the bike was complete. There was one major difference between the bike ride and a typical car ride: The bike ride took over five hours to complete. Seeing as I can make the drive nearly three times in the same amount of time, I don’t ever think I’ll actually ride a bike from Baton Rouge to Houma. The next day was the big one: I officially crossed 100 miles in only 23 days. It was time to go even further.

My motivation to go further than a mere 100 miles came, of all places, from margaritas. National Margarita Day had arrived at the tail end of week four, and with it, $2 margaritas all day at Fuzzy’s Taco Shop. I made plans to celebrate with friends, but I was determined not to let my plans kill my enthusiasm for the bike. My pre-game festivities consisted of a seven-mile ride before work and a four-mile ride after work. Two strawberry margaritas, a mound of nachos and a short night of sleep later, I was awake at 4:30 Friday morning for an early day at work. Before 8 a.m., I had biked nearly three more miles to finish the week at nearly 115 total.

The challenge had me feeling better about myself. A near month of biking combined with months of working out gave me a renewed sense of confidence in my body, confidence validated by complements from family members on the final weekend of the 30-day challenge. My mom pointed out my coffee-fueled gut, long a source of personal shame, and said she’d noticed it shrinking. My dad complemented the definition that had begun to show in my arms and legs, positive consequences of the bench pressing and back squatting that accompanied my daily rides.

With only three days remaining, my final goal was simple: travel as far as my legs would carry me. My primary and secondary goals were complete, so the miles to come would be nothing more than sweet lagniappe.

The first day of week five came with a frustrating realization. After covering eight miles before work and nearly three more after work, I regretted not taking advantage of more opportunities to boost my totals with lunchtime rides. On the other hand, the nearly 11-mile day marked the third time I covered more than 10 miles in a single day, a huge personal accomplishment. Plus, I enjoyed the chance to be lazy and put off my rides until after work each day.

I finished strong. I covered more than 14 miles across the final two days of the 30-day challenge to finish with 140 miles total. By the end, my mental ride had gotten me back to Interstate 10 and the home stretch of my return trip to Baton Rouge from Houma, and for what it’s worth, the trip was a hell of a ride.

The average Ironman triathlon athlete bikes 112 miles in six hours and 25 minutes; I biked 140 miles in eight hours, 23 minutes and 48 seconds. I chose to ignore the other 712 hours of the month. Or the fact that in the same amount of time, I could’ve made nearly two-and-a-half round trips between Baton Rouge and Houma in the car. Or the fact that in those trips, I

would’ve covered 407 miles, a distance I would’ve had to spend more than 24 hours on the bike in order to reach.

Remember the spoiler alert from the beginning? I figured I could reach 100 miles, but even I didn’t expect to go so far beyond my original goal. I spent eight hours, 23 minutes and 48 seconds in total on the bike. Two months ago, if someone would’ve told me that I would be spending more than eight hours on a stationary bike in one month’s time, I would’ve laughed. I guess a lifelong enemy of exercise can be taught new tricks.