That century mark keeps slipping through my fingers.
I hear what people say about how to get there, but it hasn’t clicked for me yet. When I started this journey in February 2025, I couldn’t ride at all. By late April, I was doing the MS150 — roughly 160 miles across two days. That felt like a breakthrough. But my longest solo efforts have topped out around 84 miles last fall and 83 miles this spring. Most of my time in the saddle is spent alone.
Since late February 2025, I have logged somewhere around 5,000 miles. I built my base through spring, summer, and fall last year, and I have been building again steadily this season. These days, 20 or 30 miles barely registers — it is a quick spin. A 40-miler takes no real willpower anymore, as long as I stay on top of hydration and the wind cooperates. Fifty is firmly in my comfort zone. Even 60 feels manageable.
Then things start to unravel. Around 65 miles, the wheels come off. By 70, I am running on empty. By 80 and beyond, I am dancing with the bonk. On that 84-mile ride, I nearly collapsed at a gas station 20 miles from home — tunnel vision, the edges of the world going dark. I have gotten smarter about hydration since that day. I have learned to read my body’s warning signs: everything suddenly looks too bright, I catch myself coasting unprompted, and I have to consciously tell my legs to keep turning the pedals.
I try to stop every 20 miles at minimum — long enough to stretch, check my tires, maybe eat a banana. Less than 20 if my body sends the signal. Part of the problem is the relentless 90-plus-degree heat and those stretches where you go 30 miles or more with zero shade, an endless headwind, and nowhere to refill a water bottle if you run dry. I genuinely believe I could pull it off on an organized ride with support stops for water and snacks — assuming the terrain isn’t too punishing — or if a couple of my riding buddies came along and I could just grit my teeth behind their wheels. The reality is I can only carry so much, and those endless miles with no gas stations or stores grind you down.
I have noticed something else: adding 20 miles onto a 40-mile ride feels like nothing. Adding 20 miles onto an 80-mile ride feels like climbing a mountain.
I have been in this building phase for a little over a year now, and I keep seeing the same advice: “Eat 200 to 250 calories every hour.” But for someone who hasn’t been riding for years and years, I need more than a calorie target. What can I realistically carry and actually eat that will deliver 200 to 250 calories an hour on a six-plus-hour ride? I am not good at calorie counting and I don’t exactly have room to pack a pantry. My back pockets are already spoken for: one holds a spare water bottle, another a banana, and the third a sweat rag for wiping my eyes at rest stops. On a side note, should I be wearing a headband or skullcap under my helmet?
The Hotter’n Hell 100 isn’t on my radar anytime soon. But I still want that century this year. And one more thing: how on earth do people ride a century three or even four times in a single week? Eighty miles takes me over six hours with stops. That leaves Saturday and Sunday as the only days I can even attempt anything beyond 20 or 30 miles.
