RIDE REPORT ON FRENCH LICK OVERNIGHT: STAGES 9 AND 10

"You have to motivate yourself with 

challenges. That's how you know you

are still alive."

Jerry Seinfeld

 

 

I have been keeping an eye on the weather because the motel for the Tour de Mad Dog overnight requires 72 hours cancellation.  I see it is not supposed to rain and we decide to hold the ride.  Or maybe it is more accurate to say nobody mentions canceling so we don't.  Then the weather prediction begins to worry me as the weather forecasters begin predicting heat in the 90's that will have a heat index of over one hundred.  Poor Thomas has to stoically endure  email after email from me as I worry about the upcoming ride.

 

The TMD always used to have an overnight, but somehow it got lost along the way.  When I sent out a survey earlier this year, surprisingly, at least to me, respondents wanted to revive it.  Personally, I always thought it was a shame that it was discontinued.   I have so many fond memories of past overnights.  Some were tour stages and some were not.  I guess a favorite memory was the year Jim "Grizzly" Moore brought his guitar and song sheets for a sing along and we sang "Mad Dogs in the Sky."  Not one time, but repeatedly;-) There was just enough alcohol involved that  people participated fully.  I can still hear Jim Tretter pounding the table and yelling, "One more time."  And there was the year when we arrived Mike "Sparky" Pitt had provided Halloween masks for everyone. Or the year Steve Royse arrived too late for the sag.  We stopped for clothes for him at a Goodwill near where we were staying.  For anyone who is interested, Larry has a video memory of some of these events on Youtube. Somehow overnight adventures seem to accentuate the group bonding of the Mad Dogs.  

 

 Thomas Nance was kind enough to volunteer to captain but requested a co-captain.  I waited hoping someone else would step up to the plate because each year I doubt my ability to do back to back centuries at this stage of my life plus I tend to be rather bossy and at 69 I am not going to change,  but when nobody does I bite the bullet.  Once we decide on a destination, I plan a route there and he plans the route home.

 

This was before knowing it would be scorching hot. Thus far I have always been successful on multi-day trips.  Hopefully this will not be the year that changes, but if it is there are lessons we learn from failure.  How little we would progress without the occasional failure.  It is good to challenge yourself occasionally, to try new things or hard things or different things, to, as Seinfeld notes, know you are alive. 

I think you miss a lot in life if you only do those things you are sure you can do successfully because it means limiting yourself and not really knowing for sure if you could or you could not.  Sometimes it is good to put yourself outside your comfort zone. I have thought that about Lance Armstrong and his drug use.  Could he have won once or even repeatedly without cheating?  Neither he nor anyone else will ever know.  Looking back, many of the things I regret are those things where I didn't accept a challenge or stretch myself a bit.  But that does not mean that making the decision to take the plunge is always an easy one.  I am, after all, a chronic worrier with an over active imagination. 

 

Because of the hot weather prediction and worrying about how people will do, I sleep only a couple hours at best the night before, restless to the point where even Tom, the cat that always sleeps at the head of my bed, arches his back, stretches,  and heads for the floor to sleep alone and undisturbed by the inconsiderate human who keeps tossing and turning.  Everything is laid out and waiting for morning to arrive.  Bottles half filled with water in the refrigerator waiting for last minute ice cubes.  Clothing that is lighter in color.  Sign in sheets and sign out sheets.   Wallet.  The preparation all made easier by knowing that there will be a sag vehicle and we will not be riding self-supported.

 

So at this point I want to give a few gigantic shout outs.  Bob Evancho, I hope you realize you won the lottery the day you asked Molly to marry you and she accepted.  Thank her again for being such a wonderful and dependable sag.  Not many people would be willing to devote two entire days to carrying luggage, ice, and water for a group of dirty, smelly, sweaty cyclists.  A huge shout out to Janet Bolen as well who also offered to provide some sag services if necessary.  It was a huge relief  knowing we had someone we could call if a rider needed assistance or a ride in.  Not everyone has a spouse who is supportive of their hobby.  These two ladies are and I hope their husbands appreciate it. Another shout out to Thomas Nance who was the first to agree to captain this throw back ride.  Without our TMD ride captains, the TMD would cease to exist.  And Thomas can always be counted on to captain rides as needed with the patience of Job himself.  

 

Morning comes and I am surprised as car after car rolls into the parking lot.  There are seventeen of us:  Larry Preble, Bryan Holden, Tom Askew, Keith Baldwin, Jon Wineland, Bob Evancho, Glenn Smith, Thomas Nance, Jason Willis, David King, Tim Getloffuge, Fritz Kopatz, Joe Bolan, Ed Scharfenberger, Jeremiah Westendorf,  Carilo Molina, and me.  Four are not LBC members.  I am surprised.  Even without the heat, I did not expect this kind of attendance. 

 

The parking lot fills with nervous anticipation as each of us nurses our hopes and fears for the coming days.  I know that Jeremiah is only riding with us part of the way and is planning on turning around.  Jon Wineland and Jason Willis are opting to go self supported:  Jason because he is planning on a solo self-supported trip later this year and Jon because he is weird;-)   (I can say that because Jon is a dear friend, because he IS rather off, because I have said it to his face many the time while also claiming the title as my own as well).  Perhaps we are all weird, getting ready to ride two hilly century rides over two days in extreme heat without being acclimated and when most people are planning to be inside under the air conditioner or outside in the swimming pool.  And then we have two who plan on riding there and back without staying all night.  Of those two, only one will be successful:  Bryan Holden.  

 

 

One rider, and I am not sure who, has trouble with his brakes in the parking lot.  I assume they get fixed because he rolls out with us into the already warm air at 7:00 a.m. heading for the Red Barn.  But maybe not.  I don't know Tim and never hear of or from him the rest of the ride.  So perhaps it was him. But when we finish, the parking lot is empty so he evidently is not dead and forgotten somewhere out on the side of the course. 

 

The route today is one that I planned.  I have driven  most, but not all of it.  What I did not drive, I "thought" I knew and had taken roads from other rides going in that direction.  But more on that later.  I called Amos a couple of weeks ago telling him I would be bringing a group of riders in and he has promised to have Gatorade.  I normally ride and don't drive my routes ahead of time as this tells you more about dogs and terrain, but this route is an exception as it would have involved an overnight stay. 

 

The group stays together  for longer than I expect.  As we head for the first hill, a hill I have warned them about and that is shortly before the first store stop, the chatter begins.  Everyone is in a good mood.  Fritz and I chat a bit about the TMD jersey and other things.  I speak with Bryan Holden for a bit recommending he consider PBP in the future since he apparently is comfortable with riding at night and with distance riding.  Keith and I find that we have something in common besides a love of cycling.  Both of us had siblings that were in accidents that caused them to be in a coma for a long period of time before awakening: his brother and my sister.  Keith, Larry, and I talk a bit about loss and how hard it can be at times.  In the end, you have no choice but to move it, but it is never easy if you have loved someone who is gone. 

 

As we talk,  groups begin to form and my group is the last to arrive at the Red Barn.  I had thought I would be at the back alone most of the ride as my strategy was to ride even more slowly than usual, and I can no longer keep up with many of the riders.  But this never materializes.  Nobody stays long at the Red Barn as we want to make use of the cooler air.  No, it is not cool, but we all know it is cooler than it will be in the afternoon.   I do warn them of the hill ahead, the one Larry remembers that Cathy Hill named "The Wall," and  I also warn them of the hills after the last store stop as we pass Paoli Peaks.  While I have not faced them on a bike, they appear to be quite punchy when in a car.  (I later find I am not incorrect). 

 

On the long descent following our departure from the Red Barn, I notice someone's bottles flying out of their cages and spinning out across the road.  It turns out to be Bob Evancho's bottles and Tom Askew, who was behind him, is dodging them.   Fortunately, for we are flying due to the steepness of the descent, Tom and I both miss them. Bob has to turn around to retrieve his bottles and I wait.  Today is not the day to not have water bottles full and ready.  Hydration will be key. It reminds me of Medora one year when it was hot.  Bernice lost her water bottles and did not stop because she did not think she could get them and catch the group or that the group would wait.  I retrieved them for her.  She would have definitely been in bad shape had I not done so.  But having aged and slowed, I better understand her reluctance. 

 

When we arrive at "the wall,"  I am with the group. By the time we finish the ascent, however,  I am not.  It was a huge decision for me whether to take the Lynskey with my triple or the Calfee.  I chose the Calfee.  I have climbed this hill numerous times on the Lynskey and it is one hard hill, but I have never done it on the Calfee.  I am amazed at how hard I am struggling when my wheel turns a bit bumping my toe.  And I am finished.  It is clip out or fall. No way am I descending to start again and no way can I restart.  So I walk cursing myself for hitting my toe, for being weak,  and for bringing the wrong bike for the job.  I also worry about the hills to come. At the top I notice that I was attempting to climb the hill in the big ring and relief washes over me.   Tom Askew has waited for me at the top and we take off toward lunch together.  

 

Shortly thereafter, what do we come to but......drum roll.......a gravel road.  This is not supposed to be on the route.  I have no idea how bad the gravel is or for how long.  I have Dieseled the other riders telling them there is no gravel on the route when there obviously is.  Fortunately the gravel is easily ridden and is only for only a short stretch, but as I am cracking up imagining the ribbing I will receive while  simultaneously I worry if there will be more.  Actually, as it turns out, there are very few comments about the gravel, maybe because it isn't bad, but I think how lucky I am that Diesel isn't there after the teasing we gave him.  Diesel is, when people ask, per Jon Wineland, adultering this week-end.  From what Jon told me, what he meant to say was adulting, but of course once adultering was mentioned it could not be dropped or let go of without a thorough teasing.  There isn't more gravel, but I don't recognize these roads.  The other routes that use these roads must use a different part of them.  I ride and enjoy them and the company.  

 

The orange day lilies are blooming as are the daisies and black-eyed Susan's.  Despite the heat, everything is still quite green and lush from the recent rains. And I adore being on roads I do not ride regularly.  Tom Askew tells me about different things throughout the ride as do others.  While I knew he was in the service, I did not know that he played tennis and represented them at times.   

 

We arrive at Orleans to find that the Dawg House is no more and the pizza place does not open until noon so everyone but Dave and Jon decide to eat at the Mexican Restaurant.  I don't think the overnight riders stopped either or Joe Bolen.  Tom and I arrive after the others and they originally want to seat us in another room but we end up sitting with Bob and  Molly.  The food is good and quicker than I expected.   When they bring the checks, however, she does not take my credit card and obviously doesn't understand English well enough to understand that she put my meal on Tom's bill.  Tom is fluent in German and knows some Spanish, indeed he ordered in Spanish, but decides not to press the issue.  I try to give him money for my meal, but he declines.   As we leave, I see Jeremiah on the street and he tells me he is turning around.  Since the restaurant in about 60 miles in, he will get a century in today, but not one that counts toward the TMD. I bid him safe travels and later text him to ensure that he arrived back safely.  

 

Seven of us basically ride together the rest of the ride.  When a few get ahead of us, they wait for us and we regroup.  It reminds me of the old days, no dog left behind.  I don't remember if it was the first or second day, but at one point while re-grouping, we ride up to find the group conversing with a young, overweight young man on a bicycle.  The boy is obviously flabbergasted that we have ridden our bikes there from Scottsburg. I wonder if he is trying to decide if we are lying.  He is also seeing a bunch of adults riding bicycles.  As a child, I never remember an adult on a bike:  only children.  I wonder if it will expand his perspective or give him ideas he might not otherwise ever have growing up in a rather small, rural, Indiana town. 

 

  A few streets later, this or another boy makes sure to show us up by riding in an area next to the road and passing us.  Of course, he has a motor on his bike, but he is obviously quite proud of himself.  Thomas and I talk a bit about bikes when we were kids.  Thomas said his group was fascinated with Evel Knievel and would build ramps to jump on their bikes.  To be young is to think  one is invincible to  harm, but what fun those exploits were.  Perhaps, by choosing to ride today and face these harsh conditions, a little of that remains alive in us even as we age.  I like to think so.  

 

The next store stop is only about ten miles from the motel, but with the heat and the upcoming hills I recommend that everyone stop and top everything off.  Fortunately, they listen because the heat is getting pretty intense.  Dave was  quite distraught at the previous store after finding they did not  have ice cream.  and  I was in the dog house;-)   This store, however, does not disappoint. I can feel the heat is beginning to tell on me. Earlier in the ride,when Keith has a flat, we begin to joke about others getting flats for a chance to stop and rest. ( At least I "think" it was day one. I find it hard to remain chronological on multi-day rides)  At one point, Keith helps me out loaning me a tool to fix my loose water bottle cage.  As lose as it turned out to be, I am lucky I noticed and stopped.  Frankly, I would have continued to the next store before tightening it not wanting to hold up or lose the group, but they all encourage me to fix it now.  Losing use of that cage due to a lose screw could have been disastrous.  I am thankful I listened to them and owe them big time.  

 

Luckily, there is also a fairly strong head wind that helps keep us cool enough the rest of the day.  Not cool enough for comfort though, just cooler than we might otherwise have been.  It is blazing hot and little of this part of the route is shaded.  Each of us is coated with a shiny layer of sweat no matter how much we try to hydrate.  I know there is no way we can adequately replace the sweat that is covering us.  Time to begin monitoring urination.  A weird topic, but one the is appropriate for distance riders who need to monitor color and frequency to best judge dehydration.  

 

I walk portions of a few hills on those last miles into the motel only to always find the others waiting and we finish as a group other than a few riders that went ahead riding at their own pace.  When we arrive we find that Camilo, who originally intended to ride back with Bryan, is done and trying to find a way home.  Eventually, he does.  Finishers for day 1 are as follows:

 

Jon Wineland:  3:23  Group of 1

 

Camilo Molina      4:00   Group of 2

Bryan Holden        4:00     Group of 2

 

Ed Scharfenberg    4:00     Group of 3

Fritz Kopatz            4:00     Group of 3

Glenn Smith        4:00    Group of 3

 

Melissa Hall        4:44        Group of 7

Larry Preble        4:44    Group of 7 

Bob Evancho        4:44 Group of 7

Thomas Nance        4:44  Group of 7

Keith Baldwin        4:44  Group of 7

David King            4:44   Group of 7

Tom Askew            4:44 Group of 7

 

Jason Willis    ?    Group of 1

 

When we arrive, Fritz and Glenn are already in the swimming pool  having gotten in before us.   Jon Wineland has already showered and dressed as has Jason.  A few of us walk to Dairy Queen for a post-ride milk shake, or, in Jason's case, blizzard.  We agree to meet to walk across the street for pizza at 6:30 to give everyone time to shower and rest for a bit.  At dinner, we don't all get to sit together but the service is fast and the pizza is good.  When we order the pizza, Tom is ahead of me.  The woman asks if we are together.  This causes us to laugh as we avoid a repeat from lunch.  Then when they bring the pizza the same thing happens.  They ask if Tom and I are together.  It appears this is going to become a joke on this ride.

 

 

A few of us order enough to have the extra for breakfast the following day.  The others will pick something up at the store.  At dinner Jon tells a funny story about the day.  Ed was riding and being chased by a German Shepherd, first in the yard but then in the road when the fence line ended.  When he realized Ed was too fast and far ahead for him to catch, he paused not knowing Jon was coming up behind him.  Jon yelled and the dog jumped about three feet into the air before skedaddling back to his yard.  Keith's wife has  joined him and it was delightful to meet her though we were at separate tables so never got a change to chat.  I wish we could have all had a table together and that the restaurant was less noisy, but at least we got fast, filling food.

 

After dinner, we decide that we want to leave earlier than scheduled to beat more of the heat.  Bags are to be in the car by 6:00 and we ride at first light.  I rather expect Jon to object as he did on my Montgomery overnight, but he does not. We walk to Dollar General to pick up a few more things for our rooms for breakfast as the breakfast places do not open until 7:00.  After that, I don't know what anyone else does because I am tired.  My head hits the pillow and I sleep.  While they might have gone out dancing and partying once I departed, I strongly suspect most did the same. 

When we gather in the morning, it is cooler than it will be but already in the seventies and quite humid.  Thomas announces he is taking a bit off the route where we go past  the hotel.  This will mean we reach the climbs earlier.   We head out into a misty morning and the worst of the climbs.  The climbs are challenging but I don't ever struggle like the previous day.  Sleep has restored me. The scenery is fantastic.  

 

Keith later tells me that the mist made him feel as if he couldn't breathe for a bit on the hills and I understand where he is coming from.  We hit two significant climbs almost immediately leaving French Lick.  The air is so moist it is almost cloying.  I suspect most of us feel the same. But the mist also accentuates the early morning beauty giving everything a haunting, mystical feeling.  For some reasons it makes me think of a couple morning rides rolling out on TOKYO, a four day tour Steve Rice used to put on for the club. Those that did that ride will always share a bond, and I hope that we all end this ride feeling the same, that we look back on this trip with the pride of accomplishment and a shared adventure.  

 

 I actually feel much stronger than I did the prior day.  Ed passes me on his recumbent going UP the hill, and I  tease him about my shame at being passed by a recumbent going up a hill as if he has not been ahead of me the entire ride.    I think how much I love overnight or multi-day trips, particularly in the mornings when everything is so fresh and roads are new and unknown. As I am contemplating this, I notice something.  I crack up when I realize that Tom has on the same jersey I picked for the day.  I later tease him that all we need is a tandem since on this trip everyone that does not know Tom is happily married to a wonderful person seems to think we are together.  

 

I am really enjoying the new roads we are on and am so grateful to Thomas for putting this  route together.  We reach Marengo almost too quickly it seems despite the climbs.  Not that I complain when Thomas tells me the major climbs are behind us. We  follow  Jeremiah's suggestion to stay on the highway as it is not busy this time of day.  The official stop is Dollar General, but most of us opt for the gas station.  When I go to us the restroom in the back, it is occupied and I find a group of old men gathered around a table drinking coffee.  I ask them if this is the Liar's Club.  They find this amusing and we engage in chatting for awhile.  I giggle when one says he wishes he had legs like mine.  I figure in ten more years, which I guess is about his age, I will wish I had legs like mine as well. 

 

The second stop is in Palmyra.  A couple of people on the ride begin to develop leg cramps that will hound them the rest of the day.  They are offered Rolaids and Electrolytes and other fixes. These help but never completely remedy the problem.  At lunch I notice Fritz has metal water bottles.  I ask about them and he says he got them at Bob's.  He said they really keep things cool.  Someone asks him how they are for squirting dogs and he admits they don't work for that, but I still like the idea of no plastic and may pursue it in the future.   I see Jason outside the lunch stop and he tells me he stopped at the grocery and is going on.  I hug him and send him on his way asking that he text me when he gets back so I know he is in safely.  I later learn that Jon missed the lunch stop and just rode on finishing with Jason.

 

At Salem, the third store stop, the day is telling on everyone, yet they are all positive and in a good mood.  There is still joking and laughing and very little moaning or groaning even among those cramping.   Everyone is determined to see this ride through, and remarkably they do.  And seven of us finish as a group, encouraging, regrouping, making this happen. This would have been a demanding overnight without the unexpected heat.  The hills both days were challenging and many. The fact that the heat just happened, slapping us in the face, made it tougher as nobody had been able to even begin to acclimate as you normally do with a few shorter rides.  We return as proud conquerors of the hills, the heat, and ourselves.  A few say it is the hardest ride they have ever completed.  NO DOG LEFT BEHIND!   A few had finished before our group.  I hope they also had a joyful finish and  not a "Thank God, it's finally over finish."  We ARE still alive. 

 

Tomorrow I will wake with part of me glad for the rest day that I see in my future, but there will be a part of me that is sad that I will not be swinging my leg over the top bar onto the bike for another day of adventure.  WELL DONE DOGS~WELL DONE. 

 

FINISHERS ON DAY TWO:  FRENCH LICK TO SCOTTSBURG

 

Jon Wineland        1:47   Group of 2

Jason Willis            1?47  Group of 2

 

Fritz Kopatz        2:49   Group of 3

Glenn Smith        2:49   Group of 3

Ed Scharfenberger    2:49    Group of 3

 

Thomas Nance        3:22         Group of 7

Bob Evancho            3:22       Group of 7

 Larry Preble            3:22        Group of 7

Melissa Hall            3:22        Group of 7

Keith Baldwin        3:22        Group of 7

David King            3:22        Group of 7

Tom Askew            3:22        Group of 7

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

The Preparation

"Hope for the best.

Prepare for the worst."

Chris Bradford

 

Yesterday I cleaned two of my bikes:  the Lynsky and the Calfee.  Afterward, I took the Lynsky out for a spin to make sure all is working well.  For I am trying to decide which to ride on the upcoming overnight trip.  It is going to be a challenging trip.  Both centuries are quite hilly.  But added to that is that I have not acclimated to heat because we have not had heat and all of a sudden it is predicted that both days will be in the nineties with feel like temps around a hundred.

 

The Lynskey is, frankly, the more comfortable of the two.  It is the bike I rode for PBP in 2011.  I love that bike.  But there is no doubt it is heavier than the Calfee.  The Califee has electronic shifting and no cables to worry about.  And it climbs like a dream and has an easier climbing gear than the Lynskey even though the Lynskey has my beloved triple, the triple I rarely use but always appreciate having available.  When Bob put my Calfee together, one thing I asked for was that the gearing be as similar as possible, but if an exact match was not possible, to give me an easier climbing gear as I am aging.  And he did.  It is not a huge difference, but it is a difference.  Decisions, decisions.    

 

I have great respect for the heat.  It has brought me to my knees in the past, particularly when I have not paid particular attention to hydration.  I think of the Natchez Trace 1000K where it was ridiculously hot on the first day and how every cell in my body cried for want of water.  Someone stopped along the way with a cooler of ice cold water and I remember being so grateful.  For I was in need.  There is not much along the Trace itself.  And I also was carrying and used an ice sock:  an old tube sock that I put ice in, rubber band closed, and ride with it around my neck.  And there have been other times.  Fortunately I have never suffered heat exhaustion or stroke, but I can't say that I have not tempted fate. 

 

I know there is not much on this course other than the store stops.  So I will need to be prepared.  Indeed, thinking back on my preparation for brevets and other multi-day trips, I think preparation is one thing I really enjoy.  Trying to think ahead and decide what is a want and what is a need for every ounce means there is more to drag up hills and along the course.   Trying to think of things that could go wrong that I can prepare for because sometimes those things happen that nobody is prepared for. 

 

But planning won't be overly difficult on this ride because there will be a sag wagon carrying our gear.  Still I enjoy going through each bike bag making sure I have what I need to make minor fixes.  Still no definite decision on which bike to ride, but both are ready.  Looking forward to what I hope will be a challenging but doable back to back century week-end.  Fingers crossed.   

Ride Report on Pottershop Century: Stage 8

"The summit is what drives us, 

but the climb itself is

what matters."

Conrad Anker

 

 I cannot tell you how very glad I am that someone reached into the archives of club centuries and dusted the Pottershop Century off.  Thanks, JOHN PELLIGRINO, the someone who did this.  And thanks to Fritz who took over captaining it when John was not able and adopted some of the changes John made to the route to decrease busy roads.   

 

For those that may not know, Pottershop is not one, but a series of hills that used to assault people at the end of the traditional Old Kentucky Home Tour, back when it actually went to Bardstown and was a two day affair.  Pottershop would pummel you near the end with ninety something miles in your legs.  My understanding is that Stuart Prather was the one who originally located this road.  I remember Mike "Sparky" Pitt saying he injured himself running one time on those hills.  Steep descents are hard on running legs.  I remember hearing, for I was not yet riding with the club then, that Packman, prior to the accident that left him paralyzed, dressed up as a devil chasing people up the hill with his  pitchfork over and over.  And I remember being on the road and seeing where Eddie Doerr, who was responsible for marking roads that year, had outlined where a cat had been hit and met  his demise writing, "Poor Kitty."  I remember Cheryl Brauner at the top of the first and steepest hill watching riders ascend. And I remember the first time I went to climb it, having driven to Bardstown just to do this and having run out of water.  It was well over ninety that day and I did not make it.  When I stopped, I paid  my dues.  A horsefly promptly bit me soundly on the rear end leaving a huge welt that itched and bothered me for days.  I have never walked that hill since, but perhaps today?

 

Anyway, I look forward to riding these roads again.  Frankly, I did not know if I would ever face Pottershop again.  And as always, I wonder if I will be successful in making the climb.  It always is rather surprising to me how one can build a hill into being more than what it is:  a hill to be climbed and conquered.  As we dream of it, it can become steeper, more difficult, and challenging to the point where, when you are successful conquering it, it is almost an anti-climax.  A few days before the ride, listening to the weather, I assumed Fritz would have to cancel as there were predictions for storms and rain.  But at the last minute, there is a reprieve and the weatherman says the rain will end prior to the ride start and won't return until late afternoon to evening.  

 

Fritz emails that the ride is on and I am ready having prepared most things the night before.  It is a smaller than normal group that arrives, maybe due to wet roads, possible rain, summer vacations, or fear of Pottershop, but it is a strong group.  Fritz Kopatz, Sharon Jeter, Jerry Talley, Amelia Dauer, Thomas Nance, Larry Preble, Jon Wineland, Harley Wise, Bob Evancho, John Killebrew, Ed Scharfenberger, Keith Baldwin, Glenn Smith, Michael Kammenish, and John Dippold all arrive ready to ride.  

 

 Amelia and I ask Fritz if it is okay if we leave early, and we do getting about a half hour jump on the rest.  We both feel this will make it easier on Fritz as he won't have to sweep at our slower pace all day though, of course, being Fritz he would do it and not complain.  He's just a nice person.  We talk of Paul Battle and how we wish he were with us even if he had only ridden to the first store stop and turned around. And we miss Bob Grable who has been a steady riding companion this year but was unable to ride today.  I struggle with my glasses due to the humidity and finally end up taking them off for the first part of the ride. 

 

Amelia and I are well matched pace wise and both bring our own set of memories of those parts of the course that mirror the old OKHT course.  Interesting that we didn't know each other until well after the ride was defunct.  Or I don't think that we did.  Anyway, we spend the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just riding at peace with each other's company on this  road we are traveling. 

 

While I was not there, from what I heard, others also had memories of the route.  Jon Wineland and John Killebrew were riding together at the start.  John shared that his father, who farmed after retiring from Dupont, had a farm near the route and John remembers fishing for bluegills in a pond and his dad cleaning and frying them.  Later in the ride, the two still together, Jon stops to move a dinner plate sized snapping turtle out of the road using his bike pump to hurry it into the grass and safety.  While he was performing this task, the fast group flew by him.  He later caught up with John Killenbrew and John laughingly asked if he had stopped for turtle soup.  Jon told him of the rescue and proudly related that he still had all his fingers.  John Killenbrew recalled catching a turtle in the pond he used to fish in and how his dad used it to make turtle soup.  John evidently was a bit squeamish at the idea of eating the turtle, but found that he actually thought it tasted good.  So I suppose the turtle should consider itself lucky that John was on a bike and not carrying a fishing pole.  

 

At the first store stop in Fairfield, Amelia and I arrive first only to be caught by the fast group.  I tease them as they arrive asking what took them so long, as if it was not quite the accomplishment that they caught us that quickly when we had a half hour head start on them.  I'm not sure if they all found it amusing, but I did.  We fix Amelia's GPS and head back out, leaving the first group at the store stop.  The second group had not yet arrived.  I later learn that there was a sign Amelia and I missed at the stop that the others found quite amusing.  On the ice lockers was a sign that read, "Don't Forge Ice."  (the t on forget was missing). 

 

Amelia and I both find that we are really enjoying riding these roads that we have not traversed for a number of  years.  In places the Catalpa blossoms line the sides of the road.  There are long sweeping vistas filled with various shades of green, weathered barns, and houses. The orange day lilies are beginning their June parade and daisy's scatter the landscape.  I also see the poison hemlock plant that seems to be taking over so many roadsides, though it does not appear as thick on these roads as it is on those I recently rode in Indiana.   The roads go from being still wet to dry. Later there will be some busy roads that are not so scenic or nice or safe, but everyone gets by these roads safely.  A couple of us wonder if there is not a work around that could be made taking off of the busier roads.   

 

As we  near Pottershop, Amelia recalls a OKHT ride when Raney, AKA Eleanor,  Self was riding and how they parted ways and Raney got lost adding a few miles and at the end, when Amelia saw her come in, saying she just knew Amelia would catch her coming in behind her.  We both talk of how we miss Raney being on the bike and how much fun she could be.  I also learn that Amelia's people are from Bardstown and actually had a farm somewhere on Pottershop and some are laid to rest in the cemetery we  pass following the climb.

 

And then we are there.  Amelia climbs the first, steep hill on Pottershop as if it were flat.  I lag behind just spinning but with my lungs feeling as if they would like to burst.  Of course, as we climb, the clouds part and the sun comes out, but some of the climb is shaded.  I had forgotten the opening at the top, but Amelia had not. It is as I remember it, however, in that it is really not the first hill that gets you.  It is the ones that follow.  I keep thinking we have climbed the last one only to find another.   But in the end, while we long for the summit, it is not about the summit.  It is about turning the pedals over and feeling your lungs and muscles working.  It is about celebrating being alive and still strong enough to climb the hills and meet the challenges that a century ride with hills brings. And it is about friends, making them, keeping them, the people that share the roads and the sweat and all the things that happen along the way. 

When we arrive at Wendy's, there is a group there already.  As I enter, Mike Kamenish is coming out of the store walking with his back curved and hunched.  I assume his back is hurting him, but he tells me he is walking that way because of the floor.  And he is right.  The entire floor is like an ice skating rink.  It makes me wonder if there is a new cleaning agent restaurants are using as Dairy Queen was similar at the last ride though not quite as treacherous.  Larry points out that it is a law suit waiting to happen and I think he is right.  I find myself emulating Mike, walking hunched over like an ancient woman and holding on to walls and other objects just in case. 

 

When I get up to order, the man taking the order is still mumbling about orders for Johns.  It is only later that I truly catch on to the reason for his consternation.  He struggles to spell my name and finally ends up spelling Milissa or something like that.  I later learn that he became confused by John Killebrew, John Dippold, and Jon Wineland all ordered one after the other.  When Mike Kammenish orders afterward and the man asks his name, Mike pipes up, "Well, it's not John."  The Johns all stand guard to ensure they get the right lunch.  Had I know, perhaps I could have told him my name was also John.  It is, after all, easier to spell than Melissa.

 

Another group pulls in and Fritz is not with them.  We learn that Fritz and Thomas went to the restaurant Thomas's wife's sister owns in Bardstown, "Fresh." The first group heads up but a few stay and leave with Amelia and I.  We are not too far down the road before Thomas and Fritz catch us.  By then the group that was with us has moved on and we will not see them until the third store stop.  Thomas and I talk a bit about the overnight trip coming up, but of course we still have a few details to iron out.  I do tell him I have made a minor alteration to my route changing one store stop and adding an additional store stop that I might need.  We talk briefly about how we intend to make the stop at stores on the overnight a bit longer and to slow paces due to the toughness of the course.  

 

It seems no time before we are at the last store stop.  By that point, looking at the skies, I feel hopeful that we will get in with no rain.  And I turn out to be right.  Ten of us finish the ride together and while it is still early.  Most of the others have left, but Jon Wineland remains in the parking lot.  There is, of course, the chatting that happens in the parking lot following a good ride.  I learn that Keith has a stent, something most of us did not know.  I learn that it is the first time Fritz, and  maybe a few others, have faced Pottershop.  We talk a bit about John Pelligrino and how we miss him and hope he can ride with us again soon.   It has been a good day.  No dog was left behind, but many were missed.  Come out and play!  

 

Finishing Groups:  (These vary a bit as two of the group of 3 signed in as solo finishers.  This is based on who I was told actually finished as a group of 3.  Since it was not a group of 5 it does not alter points in any way)

 

Ed Scharfenberger        2:40         group of 1

 

Jon Wineland                2:42        group of 1

 

John Dipold                   2:44        group of 1

 

Sharon Jeter                2:47            group of 3

Jerry Talley                 2:47            group of 3

 John Kellebrew        2:47            group of 3

 

Larry Preble            3:07        group of 10

Bob Evancho            3:07        group of 10

Harley Wise               3:07        group of 10

Glenn Smith                3:07        group of 10

Keith Baldwin            3:07        group of 10

Thomas Nance            3:07        group of 10

Melissa Hall                3:07        group of 10

Michael Kammenish    3:07        group of 10

Amelia Dauer                3:07        group of 10

Fritz Kopatz                    3:07 group of 10   

 

 

 

 

RIDE REPORT ON MUSCATATUCK CENTURY: STAGE 7

"The best laid plans of mice 

and men oft' go awry."

 

Robert Burns

 

For this ride, I suppose the above quote needs to be changed just a tad.  "The best laid plans of dogs and men oft' go awry."  But we will come to that later.  

 

The day before I am not at all sure I am going to ride the century.  I want to ride the century, but I have had a summer head cold (2 negative COVID tests) and have been weak, feverish, and stuffed up.  With my Alaska trip approaching, I worry endlessly that I am losing fitness and will need to decide if riding will hinder or aid in retaining the fitness I have. I e-mail Mike "Diesel Dog" Kamenish to send me the sheets if I don't show up.  He emails me back that he will stay with me and doesn't mind riding slowly if I decide to attend.  "Backpack" Bob has also assured me that he does not mind a slower pace.  But I don't commit waiting to see how I am in the morning.  

 

In the morning, I decide that, while it is NOT the smartest decision I have ever made, I will ride.  When I later announce this upon arrival, Jon Wineland leaves me momentarily mute by facetiously asking what WAS the smartest decision I ever made.  This will need some future thought on my part. 

 

 The temperature is supposed to be pleasant and what wind there is will be a tail wind most of the return journey.  Besides, it is a new course, lengthier than the original, but without the gravel that caused flats and consternation previous years.  

 

The parking lot fills up quickly.  Many of the people I know, but many of the people I don't.  We are joined by a number of SWI riders.  Steve Sarson, Tom Askew, Thomas Nance, Fritz Kopatz, Larry Preble, Bob Grable, David Chrismon, Julie Chrismon, Bob Evancho, Keith Baldwin, Ed Schaffenberger, Jon Minulli, Mark Rougeux, Vince Livingston, Joe Bolan, David King, David Frey, Jerry Talley, Jason Willis, Glenn Smith, John Dippold, John Neichter,  Jeremiah Westendorf, and I all sign in.  There are a few from SWI that sign only their sign in so we are never sure exactly how many are riding, but it is the biggest TMD crowd of the year.   People are still arriving while Mike is trying to give his pre-ride speech.  I am surprised to see Keith as I knew he took a spill earlier in the week and had been told he has a pretty nice bruise on his leg. 

 

During the speech Mike talks about the course being different and longer than before to take out the gravel that so many had complained about on previous rides.  The course is now approximately 108 miles long.  I giggle when I heard Thomas Nance, who has missed the last three rides, tell people that he missed them due to graduations and now they are talking weddings.  He says he told them they just have to get married some other time, that he has missed three stages for graduations and that is enough.  I smile at seeing Jason Willis.  Jason used to ride with us regularly, but I know I have not seen him on a century ride since before the pandemic.  He appears to be unmarred by the years that have passed.  It is just great to see him. Such a fine rider and an even finer person. 

 

Some of us talk about the upcoming overnight and a few more people express possible interest in attending.  Thomas and I briefly talk to each other about our routes.  I mention to everyone that there is a swimming pool at the motel we are staying at.  And it is time to ride.  What I don't mention is that despite my back to back centuries a couple of weeks ago, I have concerns about completing the overnight.  But one never knows unless one tries I suppose.  The words of Helen Keller come to mind, " Life is a daring adventure, or nothing."  I do love adventures, and I suppose they always come with the risk of failure.  Yes, the rides will be a challenge.  We'll see if this old body is up to what will be asked of it. 

 

It is always a thing of beauty to me seeing the riders spill out of the parking lot, different hues and shades and colors of jerseys creating a quilt of color and movement and the spin of wheels and gears providing the background music that I have come to love.  It also brings, for me, a tinge of sadness as I wonder how much longer I can continue this, how much longer before my body finally says that it is enough and it will tolerate no more.  I think of the dogs that aren't with us due to illness or having made other choices in life that better suit them.   Missed but never forgotten.  Their ghosts ride with us. But the joy of the moment pulls me away from these thoughts and I move on. 

 

Sometimes on a ride it takes awhile for the groups to form, but on today's ride it seems the groups form quickly.  And as it turns out, it will be a ride that has many small groups and only one large group.  I am surprised to find Jason riding with the back group that I am in because I know how fast Jason is.   It is obviously a choice on his part. We get a chance to catch up a bit and I am so sorry to learn he has suffered some significant losses in his  life.  Jason is getting into gravel riding and hopes to do some bike packing.  I suggest that he meet club member Jeff Carpenter as  Jeff rides gravel and occasionally puts a gravel ride on.

 

The roads are lovely.  Many I am familiar with but are being woven together in a new pattern.  At one point, we all see a mature bald eagle flying across a meadow, white tail and head seeming to make a statement.  

 

At the first store stop, the front groups have come and gone when the back group that I am with arrives.  There are a few of the faster riders still there, however,  including Jon Wineland who is fooling with  his bike.  (I later learn that at some point in the ride Keith also has a mechanical but I know no more about what happened, only that Tom Askew stopped to assist).  Mike stays back with Jon and the back group takes off knowing these two strong riders will have no trouble catching us.  I later learn that Jon took off and there was still rubbing and that when he tried to fix it again, the chain slipped off and jammed.  But they do fix it and catch up.  

 

It is not so long after they catch up that we come to......what.....GRAVEL.  Jon, who had ridden ahead, has ridden back to join us to watch our reactions.  Wait, Diesel, we were told that we were riding the extra miles because you took out the gravel.  Ahhh, the best laid plans of dogs.  I am glad I am riding the Lynskey rather than my new bike, but my heart sinks when I see it is 5.2 miles to the next turn.  As it turns out, all but about one mile of that 5.2 miles is paved, but the roasting of Diesel Dog begins.  Fortunately, the gravel is easily traversed in most places, but I later learn that David Frey (at least I think that was who said it) almost went down when hitting one of the thicker soft spots.  I laugh and tell Diesel he is lucky I am on the Lynskey or he might be carrying my Calfee.  I also chuckle thinking of a story that Paul Battle told me.  He was on a ride captained by Mike Crawford and Jim Tretter was with them.  Mike missed a turn on the course and took them all down a super long hill that they were going to have to climb because of missing the turn.  Jim Tretter suddenly yells, "Let's hang him."  There are, indeed, consequences for screw ups.  But no, Mike was roasted but never got the noose. 

 

While we roast Diesel Mike periodically throughout the day, I realize that one of the things I love about riding with the dogs, most of whom are experienced distance riders, is that they just take it good naturedly and deal with it.   Nobody is mad or pissy about the gravel.  Everyone realizes that distance brings challenges and sometimes requires using your head as well as your lungs, legs, and heart.  

 

At lunch, a small group does not want Subway so we had to Dairy Queen.  I know Dave will be there and tell Steve and Bob that, but they still seem a bit surprised to find him there. The faster riders have eaten and left before our arrival.  We eat quickly. ride back to Subway, and rejoin Diesel and the rest.  We talk at lunch about how we like how Diesel found a way to take us off the busy road that leads to the eating places.  We talk, of course, about the gravel.  Like me, Dave thought he was in for 5.2 miles of gravel.  Steve, at one point, maybe other than lunch, says that maybe we should ask Diesel to do a bike wash to get the dust off our rides.  Everyone knows that bike cleaning will be on our weekly agendas this week. 

It seems like a rather long trek back to the third store stop.   My lungs are gasping on hills partially because they always gasp on hills but partially because of the mucus filling my body.  The scenery which includes lots of green fields, daisies, and falling Catalpa blooms delights me eyes, though, and the stories and conversation make the miles pass.  At the store, Jon laughingly tells the group about my text to Dave following our pre-ride century to Story checking the roads for the stage. 

 

There are only 22 miles left following the store stop and only a couple of climbs, then where is a long downhill section toward the finish in Henryville.  A large group has formed.  At the store stop, Glenn, Tom, and Dave Frey have joined the rest of us forming a group of 9.  And we finish with laughter and smiles on our faces.   Four of us go for pizza before heading home.  Thanks, Diesel, for captaining.  Your course rocked.   And as I think about it, the roasting was so enjoyable that the ride would not have been nearly as enjoyable without the gravel;-)  

 

Finishers:

 

Vince Livingston        3:40         group of 1

 

John Dippold            3:42            group of 3

 Ed Shaffenberger    3:42            group of 3

 John Minnuli           3:42            group of 3

 

Joe Bolan                  3:46            group of 1

 

Fritz Kopatz            3:53            group of 3

Thomas Nance        3:53            group of 3

Jason Willis            3:53            group of 3

 

Jerry Talley            3:57            group of 2

Jeremiah Westerndorf    3:57    group of 2

 

Keith Baldwin            4:02        group of 2

Bob Evancho               4:02        group of 2

 

Jon Wineland               4:42        group of 1

 

Larry Preble            4:48        group of 9

Glenn Smith            4:48        group of 9

 David Frey            4:48        group of 9

Michael Kamenish    4:48     group of 9

Bob Grable            4:48        group of 9

 Steven Sarson    4:48        group of 9

Tom Askew        4:48        group of 9

Dave King        4:48         group of 9

Melissa Hall    4:48        group of 9 

      

 

 

TMD STAGE 6 RIDE REPORT: Story Century

"I get the news I need on the

weather report.  And I have nothing

to do today but smile."

Paul Simon

 

One of the worst things about ride captaining can be making decisions about whether to have or to cancel a ride due to weather.  There are those days where it "might" rain or it "might" storm or there "might" be winds strong enough to knock a telephone pole.  If you cancel, particularly if it doesn't rain or hail or storm or there is not a tornado,  someone is always upset.  If you don't and someone gets hurt or doesn't ride due to potential danger, you shoulder blame.  But today is not one of those days.  I have been holding my breath all week long waiting for the ax to fall, but it does not.  Despite all the recent rain and wind, today is predicted to be partly sunny with light winds and a high of around seventy degrees; in other words, perfect cycling weather.

 

Story Century holds many memories for me. It is where Matt "Pocket Chicken" Tindal, someone who used to ride with us, got his name because he carried his lunch in his pocket.  It is the century Mark "Deacon Dog" Rougeux and I rode one day when it literally poured buckets of rain all day long after we had assured ourselves before starting that the rain would stop.  It was chilly that day, and Mark, on his recumbent, had to deal with finding that his riding position allowed rain to enter the sleeves of his rain jacket puddling in the arms.  It was the century where Bill "Cisco" Pustow and a small group actually took the time to eat breakfast inside and how we laughed when the waitress was handing out bills and literally sang "William."  It was the century where a man I didn't know showed up in new white shoes training for the RAIN ride and got so upset when we reached the gravel section even though it was advertised on the ride description saying, "You've got to be kidding me."  (That section has since been rerouted by popular demand;-) And of course it is the century Jon "Lunchbox" Wineland and I rode just under two weeks ago to check the route arriving to find that the grill was not going and we would have to ride twenty two extra miles to find nourishment.  I was NOT jovial by the time we reached Brownstown as the man who stopped to try to talk to us while we were searching for food found out when I did not respond to his bantering. And I could bore you and go on, but I will not.  

It is a large crowd that gathers for the ride on this glorious day.  Amelia Dauer, Tom Askew, Steven Sarson, Fritz Kopatz, Bob Grable, Larry Preble, David King, Harley Wise, John Dippold, Jon Wineland, Steve Rice, Bob Evancho, Keith Baldwin, Mark Rougeux, Jerry Talley, David Frey, Steve Puckett, Michael Kamenish, Terrell Brown, Ben Simmons, Jeremiah Wertendorf, and Glenn Smith all fill the parking lot.  I ask Jerry if Sharon is coming today because, while I only see the back side of her riding off in the sunset, it is good to have other women riding.  Sadly, he says she is not. And the parking lot is full.  Any other riders would have had to park in the spill over lot. Dave King surprises me by not pulling into the parking lot with squealing tires about one minute before the ride start.  Instead Glenn Smith and another rider are the last to arrive.  

The parking lot fills with the sound of chatter, laughter, and bicycle sounds:  brakes tested, front wheels put back on, bikes being tested.  Meanwhile, the sky is blue with a few clouds.  The air has a bit of a bite in it, but it is one of those days when one knows the chill is quite temporary and will be tempered quickly by the sultry the sun.  I tease Mark Rougeux when he is talking about something and says, "Just call me stupid."  I announce that a new Mad Dog is born.  I warn everyone not to go out too fast, that the hills are almost all in the middle of the ride, and to stop at stop signs as they are there for a reason.  I also ask embarrass myself, as usual, by not recognizing Ben.  Ben loses the ability to gain a point as a new rider when he admits to having ridden with us previously. 

 

Of course, we all disregard my warning, at least about going out lickety-split, and the fun begins.  Amelia is the first to notice that we are going 17 to 18 mph, a pace the front riders will probably hold but those of us in the back will not.  Being sensible and not wanting the end to turn into a death march, she reels some of us in the back to more sustainable pace.  I am grateful for this.   While nobody bonks on the ride today, this may be one of the reasons.  Even the back of the pack today averages 15.4.  

 

When we reach the Shield's covered bridge, of my group, only Steven Sarson and I ride through the bridge.  The others take the new road.  Steve Puckett stops to take a photograph and I wait.  It does not take us long to catch up. Shortly thereafter is the first climb.  It is not much of a climb, but your legs do know it IS a climb and after all the flat tend to protest.  After we crest, we near the first store.  I think of how many stores there were when I first put this route together.  Three no longer in business.  

Jokingly, I ask the group if I should announce Mark's new Mad Dog moniker:  Stupid Dog.  Steven tells me that Mark is now appearing on television locally and Steve P. also has seen him.  He is dressed in his religious attire as a Deacon.  Steven suggests calling him Deacon Dog.  Later I will make the announcement only to be reminded that Mark has two other Mad Dog names;  Rocky and Ass Whisperer.  You can ask him about those nicknames;-)  Oh, my memory.  Isn't old age wonderful?

 

There are two possible first stop stops in Freetown:  Dollar General and Denney's.  Normally, unless I have to use the bathroom, I like to stop at Denney's supporting what is an old country store, not the restaurant.  But because of the bathroom, everyone stops at Dollar General.  It is a long stop as a woman beats the group to the restroom and is in no rush to depart.  One bathroom, 23 riders, and one woman who is having issues.  You do the math.

 

 I laugh at John when he tells me he was about to pop on arrival as there is no place on the first of the route to stop.  And there isn't.  It is mostly flat farmland other than the one hill mentioned previously and there is no forest.  While I have always asserted it is easier for a man to relieve himself during a ride than a woman, (other than France where they don't seem to care if you pull your pants down at the side of the road) it is not easy for either without the cover of corn fields or trees.  Earlier, before the ride started, I failed to recognize John.  It is odd how different people look without their helmets on.  Once again, I know who he is.  

 

We head onward toward Story.  This is where the hills begin.  I forgot to remind everyone that the hill we used to have to walk because the road had cracked and slid halfway down the hill and they had closed it placing gravel at the top had finally been mended.  It is not a terribly long hill, but it is a terribly steep hill, as Joe Ward used to say, a "gut buster."  Now, with the road being open,  there is no excuse to walk.  Everyone clambers up only to face the hills that will assault us until lunch.  Still, this middle section is my favorite part of the ride.  I notice daisies in the fields for the first time.  Some of the fields have the yellow flower cover.  I even see a few corn plants that are showing themselves.  

 

When we arrive at Story, a group of five, most of the others are there.  There are a few that have not stopped, but the majority have.  We order at the grill and sit outside chatting and listening to the guitar player.  He looks to be a few years older than me and many of his songs are from my younger years.  Lunch at Story is never cheap, and I forewarned riders in the ride description, but something happens this time that has never happened on our prior visits.

 

Some of us order potato chips with our meal.  In the past, they have always given us a bag of chips.  Amelia gets her food first and there are about 5 potato chips.  When I get mine, there are "maybe" five, four or which are crumbled into small bits.  Others have the same experience.  I later joke about at least there were five since nobody can eat just one.  (Older readers will get that).  I am told that Keith had the good sense to complain and received more. The rest of us eat our four or five potato chips, our sandwich, and move on.  As we are leaving, I notice that the people that ordered after us got full bags of chips.  I joke to Amelia that it really wasn't fair as those people had not ridden sixty miles to get there and didn't NEED a whole bag of potato chips.  

 

We leave with smiles on our faces ready to meet the worst and last hill a few miles down the road.  It is long and is one of those hills that rather than having the steep part at the bottom and flattening out, has the steeper part near the top.  But we climb with the knowledge that once this hill is properly vanquished, there will be no more until Brownstown.  After all, Garmin tells us so.  

 

By now it is Tom Askew, Amelia Dauer, Bob Grable, Steve Sarson, Steve Puckett, and myself.  I joke with Bob that he is going to lose his first place in the standings if Larry finishes with a large group.  Bob banters back that maybe one of us could have a flat tire and he could stop and help.    We make it to Brownstown.  The middle group is just finishing when we arrive.  Some of us go to Dairy Queen and some to the gas station before heading back out and making the last significant climb of the day.  It is a short but very steep scarp, one of those climbs that somehow looks easier than it is.  But everyone makes the climb for the last flat stretch toward home.  

 

I assume that we must have had at least a light tail wind just from the speed with with we finish those last few miles.  Somewhere along the way, we pick up Glenn who went off course and picked up a few miles.  I later learn that Jeremiah also went off course and added quite a few miles. Not even the normal stampede for the barn accounts for our increased speed. 

 

  When we arrive, most have left but  a few are there and spend time chatting before heading out, some to join me for dinner at Cracker Barrel and others for their homes.  Diesel sticks the water bottles he borrows in the pockets on the back of my jersey and everyone laughs when he teases that he is playing with my jugs. It is always good to end a ride with jokes and laughter.    No known mechanicals on the ride.  No known flats.  No spills or accidents.  No bonking or DNF's.  It was a good cycling day.  Thanks, all, for your great attitudes and coming out to play!  

Steve Rice:                3:30 p.m.        Group of 2

 

Mark Rougeux:         3:30 p.m.        Group of 2

_________________________________________________

 

John Dippold:            3:55 p.m.         Group of 3

 

Fritz Kopatz:              3:55 p.m.         Group of 3

 

Jerry Talley:                3:55 p.m.         Group of 3

 

_______________________________________

 

Bob Evancho:            4:14 p.m.        Group of 10

 

Larry Preble:                4:14 p.m.     Group of 10

 

Jon Wineland:            4:14 p.m.         Group of 10

 

Keith Baldwin:        4:14 p.m.        Group of 10

 

Harley Wise:            4:14 p.m.        Group of 10 

David Frey:            4:14 p.m.        Group of 10

 

Michael Kamenish:  4:14 p.m.        Group of 10

 

Jeremiah Westerdorf:    4:14 p.m.       Group of 10

 

Ben Simmons:                4:14 p.m.         Group of 10

 

David King:                    4:14 p.m.         Group of 10

 

____________________________________

 

 Glenn Smith            4:37 p.m.            Group of 8

 

Terrell Brown:        4:37 p.m.            Group of 8

 

Tom Askew:            4:37 p.m.            Group of 8

 

Steven Sarson:         4:37 p.m.            Group of 8

 

Steve Puckett:        4:37 p.m.             Group of 8

 

Melissa Hall           4:37 p.m.            Group of 8

 

Amelia Dauer:          4:37 p.m. Group of 8   

          

 

 

 

Ride Report on the Highlander 100: TMD Stage 5

"Laughter is a uniting force, it 

brings people together, and it makes

hardship easier."

Montaigne

 

Not to malign Backpack Bob, but it was a shitty ride start.....literally.  It was not the location of the ride start nor the people gathered there nor the parking available.  It was literally the smell of excrement that clung and permeated the air from the nearby septic tank being pumped.   But even that did not stop the smiles and laughter and nervous chatter as people gathered to ride and explore new roads on a course that Bob took the time to put together.

 

I love new courses and am always happy to see a new route as a tour stage.  I know that there are those that love the repetition of certain courses, and I myself have some of that in me, but I also truly enjoy rolling down roads I am not familiar with or that I am familiar with but have been put together in a different way that what I am used to.  One of the things I love about riding is not knowing what awaits right around the next turn, and this is amplified by a new course that holds no expectations. So I have looked forward to this ride despite Bob talking about all the hills.  Experience has taught me that hills often bring the best scenery, and this course will not disappoint with its 28  Wahoo climbs.   Bob always does a great job at course design so I know I won't be disappointed.

 

It is a nice turnout and the weather is predicted to be nice.  Bob Grable, Tom Askew, David Frey, Harley Wise, Amelia Dauer, Fritz Kopatz, Zeke Ledford, Larry Preble, Jerry Talley, Mike Kamenish, Dave King, Bob Evancho, Joe Bolan, Vince Livingston, Alan McCoy, Sharon Jetter, Keith Baldwin, Jon Wineland, John Dippold, Terrell Brown, John Killebrew, and I am there.   I am rather surprised to see Vince again as someone told me his event, the TransVirginia, https://www.transvirginia.org/about/, is coming up next week, but I assume this is a last training ride.  I feel certain he will do well. 

 

While in the parking lot, however, my GPS is not working.  It has given me problems since I bought it and they are replacing it, but I did not want to send it back until after this ride as usually it works.  I have my old one, but I know the battery will not last for a century, hence the new one.   But today was one of the days when it doesn't, at least at first.  As we head out, after the pack as Bob has stayed with me until I finally admit defeat, I remind him to tell me of turns.   I have been spoiled by the additional layer  of safety conferred by a GPS unit and don't want an accident caused by one person turning and the other not turning as I witnessed happening and was even involved in on occasion in the past.  

 

It's rather odd, how things change and how quickly they change.  When I first started riding nobody had a GPS unit. In fact, most did not have cell phones.  I really don't remember anyone having one.   Larry "Gizmo" was the first person I knew to have a GPS.  I believe it was a DeLorme.   Now most people have one though there are a few that navigate by their phone and one that uses a watch (sorry I can't remember who you are).  Jon Wineland still navigated via cue sheet when I first me him and before he was seduced by Garmin.  I learn later, after the ride, that Joe Bolan still navigates without GPS from a cue sheet.  His wife, Janet, calls this his Amish GPS and makes me grin.  

Bob and I are way behind the others and the front group is getting ready to leave by the time we hit the first store stop.  I appreciate Bob's patience with me in the parking lot and with my slower pace.  I know I need to ride conservatively since I am planning on riding another century tomorrow.  Amelia falls back with us at the store stop and the three of us will ride the rest of the day together.  

I fall in love with the greenness of the scenery which is a nice mix of farm land, forest, and houses.  The recent rain, while wearying and playing hell on training, along with the cool nights and warmer days, has caused everything to appear lush and bucolic.  Spring is always that way, but sometimes more than others.  As I ride, I think that spring is almost behind us.  Summer, as usual, sneaks up quickly. We pass tons of wildflowers.  The only negative is the unplowed, unplanted fields we pass.  The rainfall has impeded the farmers and while I see the occasional field that shows signs of being planted, most seem to remain barren.  

Not too far before we reach Salem for lunch, we come across Jerry, Sharon, and Fritz.  I am relieved to learn it is only a flat and is not a fall.  Jerry is fixing his third flat of the day.  Sharon and Fritz have stopped with him.  Bob and I stop.  Amelia rides on saying she will meet us in Salem.  Jerry says he finally found the piece of glass hidden in his BRAND NEW tire that was causing the flats, gets the tire inflated with a hand pump, only to have the stem pop out.  Fritz says he has an extra tube if the tire should flat again.

 

I loan Jerry my stem wrench (never used but carried) while Bob loans him his new battery powered pump.  Meanwhile, Sharon and I and then the others chat a bit about what riders need to carry with them, particularly if they ride much alone.  These include not only a pump and a spare tube, but a chain link, tire levers, multi-tool, means of inflation,  and tire jack.  On my Lynskey I also always carry a spare cable.   I smile at the tire jack as I believe I was the first one in our group to carry one.  For once I beat Larry at getting a new gadget;-)  It actually was recommended to me by a stranger in response to a blog post I had written about my concerns about growing finger weakness and its impact on my being able to change a tire if alone.  

 

As soon as the tire is fixed, we roll out ready to get to lunch.  We tell Fritz, Sharon, and Jerry to please go on knowing their pace is much faster than our own.   I get a text from Amelia that she is at McDonald's, and so once again I am eating at McDonald's, a place I normally frequent only once a year or so.  This is the third time this year I have eaten there.  At least it is fast, and that is why we make the decision.  I later learn that Subway was overwhelmed and extremely slow and any regrets I have vanish.  

 

While eating, we see a large group head out.  When we leave, we assume it is all of them, but later Sharon, Jerry, and Fritz catch and leave us eating their dust.  Amelia is not planning on completely the tour, and later Bob and I talk about how if either of us don't attend a ride, the other may be riding alone.  Oh, well, at least we are still out here.  In the end, at least to me, though I would love to be fast again, it is not about speed.  It is about the love of the road and how it unfolds and promises.  It is about how my legs and lungs feel after a good challenge and that feeling one gets cresting a tough climb or the humility one learns from climbing off and walking.  It is about the people and the love we share for a simple machine that takes us places we might otherwise never go.  

Shortly before the third store stop, we reach Bower's Knob.  Now everyone has been concerned about the alleged 14.2 percent climb up Star Valley Way (the easiest climb out I might add), but nobody mentioned Bower's Knob.  We all make it without walking, but I can't say it is not a challenge and that I did not breathe a sigh of relief when I crested.  I have climbed it in the past, but it has been awhile.  I do know it is a much harder, though shorter, climb than Star Valley which, despite RWGP and my Wahoo, I doubt ever reaches 14 percent.  I later learn that Allan McCoy broke a cable at the bottom of the hill.  Jon Wineland was able to tie it off for him.   While laying his bike at the side of the road to help, a tick crawls up his leg looking for lunch.  Diesel teases him that he can get a helping of Lyme Disease for his efforts.  The bike is fixed (though only though tying off and not re-cabling as the cable is internally routed), and they are off to the third store stop and the finish.

 

Bob, Amelia, and I are the last and only riders at the third store stop.  Bob has ice cream and then we head out to climb Star Valley.  Up in the Knobs, we pass some spectacular look outs on Sky Line Drive and even stop for a minute to just look and savor.  Then we finish it out to find Dave and Jon waiting to accompany Amelia and I to an after ride dinner celebration.  David Frey is there as well, but leaves shortly unable to stay for dinner due to family obligations.  

 

Throughout the ride there is laughter and the sharing of the challenges the road brings.  Hills, flats, broken cables, broken cleats......these things happen.  It is truly the laughter and sharing that makes them easier I think.  But whatever the reason, most of us are left wanting more.  And we will be back.  

 

When we finish we learn that, unfortunately, Zek Ledford, had to DNF.  Nobody knew why, but I later learned that he had a cleat issue and received a ride from a Good Samaritan.  I feel badly for him, but there are still plenty of rides that will allow him to get his ten.

 

Finisher groups are as follows:

 

Vince Livingston:        3:25        group of 1

 

Terrell Brown               3:40        group of 1

 

Joe Bolen                    3:45        group of 1

 

John Kiilbrew            3:50        group of 1

 

Bob Evancho              3:56        group of 3

 

Harley Wise                3:56        group of 3

 

Keith Baldwin            3:56        group of 3

 

Jerry Talley                4:02        group of 5

 

Fritz Kopatz               4:02         group of 5

 

Sharon Jeter               4:02        group of 5

 

Jon Wineland            4:02        group of 5

 

John Dippold            4:02        group of 5

 

Alan McCoy            4:10         group of 1

 

Larry Preble               4:14      group of 5

 

Tom Askew                4:14        group of 5

 

Mike Kamenish        4:14         group of 5

 

David King            4:14         group of 5

 

David Fry              4:14        group of 5

 

Amelia Dauer           4:50        group of 3

 

Bob Grable                4:50        group of 3

 

Melissa Hall               4:50        group of 3