Larry's Buckner River Dance Century

 "A daffodil pushing up through the 

dark earth to the spring,

knowing somehow deep in its roots that spring

 and light

and sunshine will come, has more courage and more 

knowledge of the value of life than any human 

being I've

 met."

Madeleine L'Engle

 

I am not sure I am ready for a century as I have been hiking more than riding throughout the winter, but there it is on the newly opened ride schedule, as tempting as the apple in the Garden of Eden.  Larry "Gizmo" Preble has scheduled his "Buckner Riverdance" century, not one of the hardest but not the easiest century.  The weather, while far from ideal, does not look to be too challenging but will be cold enough to ensure that the crowd should be small.  The decision is made.  The bike and necessities such as helmet and shoes are packed the night before to try to leave a bit of extra time for sleeping.  

Of course, since it would be wise to have a good night's sleep prior to riding the (gasp) first outside century of the year, I suffer from insomnia, tossing and turning and last looking at the clock at 1:00 a.m.  This from the woman who always goes to bed early.  Oh, well, when morning does come, I awaken before the alarm to find that I really am not feeling poorly or excessively tired.  And so, I head out to the ride start hoping that I don't regret my decision.

I am the first to arrive at the start and re-check to make sure I have not made a mistake about the time, date, or starting place.  I haven't.  I am just early as I almost invariably am for any planned activity or appointment.  But cars soon begin dragging into the parking lot.  I am surprised to find there are nine of us, most of whom I have not seen in months and months.  I am super-excited when Dave pulls in and sorry to hold him at arms length when he comes to the car for a hug, but I am not fully vaccinated yet and he is not vaccinated at all. It would be the height of  irony to pick the virus up or transmit it to someone I care about when I am so close to being finished.  I have had my first shot and have warned my children to prepare for a bout of excessive hugging.  How I have missed the warmth of hugging.  

There is a new century rider at the ride today:  Wei Zhao.  It is nice to see a female face in the crowd though we really don't spend time talking.  It is just too chilly and I never do well with strangers.  When the ride starts, I ride harder than intended to warm up, and at stops I don't linger due to chilling.  I ride for a short time with Mark who I don't think I have ridden with since last spring.  Then I catch up a bit with Mike Kammenish and Thomas Nance, but of course they pick up the pace and I cannot stay with them.  Mike says he has gotten a gravel bike and talks about how much he has enjoyed the gravel rides put on by Ridenfadden, a bicycle club in Louisville.  I decide I will try a ride or two with them this coming summer, though of course not in the fast group. Jon Wineland and Tom Hurst are also  up there, both strong riders.  Jon rides off but I know it is temporary as we have dinner plans. I appreciate the others moderating their pace a bit to take a few moments to catch up.  Dave King and I ride into the first store together. Larry, of course, is riding at the back as ride captain.  

While riding, Dave and I reminisce about old memories and at one point I think that I have been riding with Dave since 2004.  Very few of the people who rode centuries then still ride them.  I try to think of those that do and come up with a blank other than Mike and Dave. I remember how Mike was one of the first people kind enough to make an effort to talk to me on my first club ride. I keep hoping that the sun will pop out and warm us a bit, but it never does.  The long climbs after lunch do warm me up, but they make me sweat which then causes me to chill again once I am back on flat ground. I become very excited, however, and warm enough upon spotting the first of the daffodils braving the gray and cold to color the world.  Jon says there were some earlier, but I missed them.  How beautiful they are!  How they brighten the day.  What promise they hold, springing up each year full of sunshine, breaking winter's hold on the earth and setting her free. 

When we near the end, Jon makes a sudden turn around and heads back in the direction we came from.  I ride ahead knowing that he will catch me and having a pretty good idea what he is doing because I am getting to know him.  The next thing I know he has caught me and has a large, shovel sized tool strapped to the back of his bike on the rack he always has attached.  He says it is a edging tool.  I am pretty sure I have one out in the shed that was my husbands unless I donated it, but I did not know what it was.  Dave is surprised.  I am not.  On an earlier ride this year, Jon found and polished and gave me a pair of wire cutters  he found lying along the side of the road.  There are treasures, including daffodils, for those with the eyes to see them. By then Dave has caught back up with us and the three of us ride to the finish.  Dave makes a change to the route that allows us to miss a few traffic filled roads and we all agree that is a wonderful change and that it has been a delightful day and a good course.  

 

I am pleased and thankful for how my body serves me today.  I am tired, but not exhausted.  The last ten miles are a bit of a push, but I also know that, if necessary, I could ride a hundred more.  Not too bad for a woman who shortly begins her eligibility for Medicare.  Hopefully like the daffodils I have many years left to roam the roads by bicycle, to watch spring take hold, and to enjoy friendships that the miles have forged.  The future is dark in that I cannot see or predict it, but I hope I continue to push stalwartly upward toward light. Hopefully others had a slightly brighter day because I was along on the ride and they enjoyed my companionship and chatter as much as I did theirs. It takes courage to continue, to fight the years and time, just as the daffodil needs courage to continue to bloom each spring, to struggle and push upward toward light, and to make promises.  I suppose one day it will take courage to quit, to recognize an ending. And I hope that I realize that the ending is also a journey toward light.  Until then, ride on.  Keep riding on.  Keep blooming.