Were we having fun yet?

Last weekend I spent a healthy chunk of an otherwise lovely Sunday causing myself considerable discomfort.
I wasn't alone. By one estimate something like 5,000 people were out there with me, forsaking yard work and family time and other more productive activities like, I don't know, watching the NFL draft or cleaning the lint trap in their driers, to pedal their bicycles in big circles.
These people and I participated in the Ironman bike ride, which started and ended at Lakeville North High School. At least, it ended at LHS for people who didn't collapse somewhere along the way and require professional assistance just to relieve pressure from their super-stretchy shorts. I imagine there were more than a few of those.
Most of these people will tell you they enjoyed their ride Sunday. And they won't be lying. At least not entirely. So far as I can tell, there are three truly enjoyable periods in any long bike ride. The first is on the way to the ride, as you eat a banana and talk confidently about how fast you're going to go. The second is any stretch of road when you've got a strong wind at your back. There's something immensely enjoyable about speeding along at 25 miles an hour with hardly any effort. The third and most important period is long after the ride is done, as you convince yourself, you actually did have fun doing the activity to which you just dedicated five-plus hours.
This last period is vital, because it serves to convince people they should A) try the ride again next year and B) talk their friends into trying it with them. This is how rides like the Ironman, which more often than not takes place on cold, windy and otherwise miserable days, continue to grow year after year.
What I'm saying is a good distance bike ride is kind of like a really efficient virus. It causes discomfort in its host/rider but it never does enough damage that it can't sustain itself. And don't let anyone tell you riders in the Ironman don't suffer. Last year I rode 100 miles in 40-degree rain. A long bike ride doesn't typically cause as much coughing or vomiting as a nasty flu bug, but after 90 miles sitting on a seat roughly the size of that banana you ate earlier in the day, well, let's just say you're ready for a nice, cushy chair.
And no matter how much fun those with-the-wind segments are, you can never forget you're riding in a big circle. Eventually you'll have to turn around and go the other way. In the Ironman, this typically means around mile 85, as you hit Northfield and turn north up Cedar Avenue, you prepare yourself to spend the last 15 miles or so biking uphill and into a wind I estimate is typically just short of gale force. The next time someone tells you this is a good time I encourage you to laugh in that person's face. Or possibly to give them a solid smack.
Still, there's a lot to love about a ride like the Ironman. It gives a person a glimpse at just how diverse the bike community is. As I rode Sunday I saw bikes that probably cost as much as my car and bikes that probably cost as much as my shoes. One year I swear I saw a guy riding the 100-mile route on a bike he appeared to have built himself.
I saw riders Sunday who looked like they were fit and ready for any endurance test and others who made me start humming that High Hopes song about the ant and the rubber tree plant. These were riders who put the sag in sag wagon and, unfortunately, the big fat rear end in tight spandex shorts.
There were riders in full Lance Armstrong costume, with Discovery Channel jerseys and Trek bikes, and there was one guy whose outfit included way-too-short biking shorts, clip-in bike shoes and a Hawaiian shirt over a big gut.
Bikers are an eclectic group alright.
Sure the Ironman is a struggle. That last hill up to the high school is a killer every year. But there's also a whole lot to love about it. I suppose I'll go back next April.
Wanna come?