LOU CITY
I got a call from a friend in Indianapolis, and everything changed.
My bike riding friend Logan asked me when I expected to be in the city and if I wanted company on my ride through Indy. I was planning to cut across the state before I would get there, but he offered me a place to stay if I made it to his house. At that point, it was 2:30 p. m. and 60 miles separated me from my destination. If I made it, I would cover 120 miles in all, eclipsing a“ Century,” the ultimate goal for many amateur cyclists.
The second half of that first day was quite taxing. My legs were getting heavy, my right Achilles was bothering me, the roads I found myself on were unrefined and coarse, but I was determined to get to Indy and have a roof over my head. I made it in by 7:30 p. m., blowing my own mind and shattering my expectations.
The next day, I woke up with sore legs. Logan rode with me to the coffee shop he works at and gave me coffee and breakfast before directing me onto the Monon Trail, a rails-to-trail project that led me out of the city and into plains of central Indiana.
On my way out of the city, I contemplated whether I would press the advantage I had made the previous day and try and make it to Chicago a day early or keep a conservative pace and stay at a campground that was recommended on the north side of Lafayette about 75 miles away. The wide open vistas that greeted me between the end of the Monon Trail and Lafayette were exactly what you would expect: mind-numbing expanses of corn fields with the odd soybean lot thrown in. The roads got a little bit better, most of it was asphalt with an odd bitumen road thrown in. I didn’ t know what was awaiting me on the second half of this leg, though.
The second half of Monday was the worst time I have ever had on a bike.
At my lunch stop in Frankfort, Indiana, a truck driver spotted me in my cycling jersey and noted he passed me on the way into town. He suggested a route into Lafayette that I had already considered, and I headed that way after I recharged my batteries. The route into Lafayette, IN-38, was a four-lane concrete highway on which the speed limit was 55. I was stuck on the shoulder for 20 odd miles, and it was both tedious and unnerving, magnified by the fact that I forgot my earbuds in Indianapolis. I got off as quickly as I could and made hasty my advance to the north. It was 4 p. m. when I came up on the campground I was advised on. If I stopped, I wouldn’ t be able to make it to Chicago by Tuesday, so I pressed on, unsure of where I would spend the night.
Indiana is generally flat, but the majority of roads still had small grades. The gently rolling hills wore on me, physically and mentally. I would come up on a slight hill, only to crest it and be faced with another batch of inclines. After I got off the nightmare in Lafayette and pressed on further north, I googled a hotel in Remington that was within my grasp, and was exactly 100 miles from Bridgeview, Illinois. I figured if I could make it to Remington, I deserved it.
The last 10 miles of that day were fueled solely by the promise of an ice bath and a bed once I reached the hotel. Having completed another century, it was every bit as rewarding as I envisioned.
July 16 was basically a victory lap. I had 40 miles to cover on the road before I made it to another rail-to-trail affair that would lead me into the city. These trails were a shelter from the incessant passage of traffic that would blow by me at varying distances and speeds, but each car that blew by me would chip away a small piece of sanity and sense of security. The majority of the day was mostly a blur, to be honest. I remember a challenging headwind between 10-14 miles an hour impeding my progress, but after I had decided that I wanted to make three centuries in three days, I told myself, repeatedly, that nothing was going to keep me from making it to my destination.
I made it into Bridgeview just before 7 with a celebratory bottle of prosecco in hand, a la Tour de France. A third century made it a hat trick, and that was very gratifying.
The journey was demanding. It was tough, but I never regretted the choice. Even when I watched LouCity lose the match to Chicago.
In the end, I’ m glad that I didn’ t seek out any advice beforehand because I probably would have been dissuaded. I was ultimately underprepared, but as I told myself, verbally, nothing was going to stop me. It wasn’ t easy, be anything worthwhile rarely is.
Kevin Kernen, who hitched a ride home from Chicago with the Louisville Coopers, the amazing LouCity supporters, has been covering the local soccer scene for Extol since January 2017. He is the current radio color commentator for Louisville City FC and co-hosts the Soccer City Radio show on Saturday from 9-10 a. m. on 790 KRD.