Kiribane Photography

121 Kilometers, One Battery, and a Betrayed Backside

There are only a few things in life that I approach with unwavering optimism. Apparently, a 121-kilometer bicycle ride is one of them.

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” I thought.

This is usually the kind of conclusion reached by someone with a remarkably selective memory when it comes to previous suffering.

The day began beautifully enough. Twenty degrees Celsius, a light breeze, birds singing. The sort of weather featured in tourism brochures before reality decides to file an objection.

My faithful Savanna and I rolled out confidently. The route immediately offered one of cycling’s greatest gifts: a long descent toward Koblenz.

Cyclists will tell you that descending is part of the sport.

This is technically true in much the same way that winning the lottery is part of financial planning.

For the first stretch, gravity did most of the work while I generously accepted all the credit. The battery barely had to contribute. The scenery drifted by, the kilometers disappeared effortlessly, and life was magnificent.

Then came Koblenz.

And with Koblenz came the small detail that the route profile had not hidden at all. I had simply chosen not to study it too closely. After all, I knew the route more or less and saw no reason to worry about unpleasant details in advance.

Then I saw the sign:

8% gradient.

A number that looks completely harmless on paper and deeply offensive when attached to a road.

Savanna and I entered serious negotiations with the hill.

The motor contributed.

I contributed.

Gravity refused to participate.

Somehow, we prevailed.

The climb was long enough to remind me that every downhill section in Germany is merely a loan that must eventually be repaid with interest.

Fortunately, once the hills were behind us, the route followed gentler terrain along the ravine and river valleys. Long stretches allowed me to roll freely without assistance, silently watching the battery percentage decline far more slowly than expected.

Around kilometer 75, I checked the display.

The battery was still doing surprisingly well.

A spare battery was safely packed and waiting, prepared for heroic deployment.

It never left the bag.

Like many emergency plans, its mere presence seemed sufficient.

Humanity has invented many useful things. Carrying a spare battery for an entire day only to discover you never needed it is one of the more entertaining examples of optimism meeting reality.

As the temperature climbed from a civilized 20°C to a rather enthusiastic 29°C, the sun apparently decided that the ride was becoming a little too comfortable and increased its efforts accordingly.

Eventually, the route leveled out. From there it was mostly gentle cruising, long rolling sections, and the occasional opportunity to let Savanna glide effortlessly through the Rhineland while I admired the scenery and congratulated myself on having underestimated neither the route nor the battery.

At kilometer 100, I felt strong.

At kilometer 110, I felt experienced.

At kilometer 120, I felt every individual bone in my backside.

Then Brühl appeared on the horizon.

Triumphant.

Victorious.

Slightly sun-roasted.

And 121 kilometers later.

The battery still had enough energy left to remind me that my worries had been entirely unnecessary.

My legs still seemed willing to discuss future adventures. My lungs filed no formal complaints.

My backside, however, had reached a unanimous decision.

The event was over.

As I dismounted, it became immediately clear that while the ride had officially ended in Brühl, recovery operations would continue in a sauna.

Still, there are far worse ways to spend a day than crossing the Rhineland under your own power, chasing roads, climbing hills, coasting through valleys, and making questionable decisions.

The following morning, I caught myself thinking:

“121 kilometers weren’t actually that bad.”

A statement almost guaranteed to create future problems.

Human beings remain remarkably committed to repeating experiences they specifically described as exhausting only a day earlier.