Hardinsburg: Century of the Week

"The longer I live the

more beautiful life becomes."

Frank Lloyd Wright

 

Today's century is the Hardinsburg Century, one of if not  my favorite of all my route creations.  When I originally put this route together, my intent was to have Hardinsburg at the half way point and eat there, but when I arrived I found that  not only would I have to add miles to have lunch there for it would be too early in the ride, but that there was no place to eat or even to get a drink.  There was an old Dairy Bar still open, but it was so filthy that even the thought of consuming something that came out of that building turned my stomach.  And so I rode on and the lunch stop became Livonia.  Today Hardinsburg has a rather nice gas station and what looks to be a clean, quaint restaurant.  Things change.

 

When I first reached Livonia, there was a gas station that appeared old enough to serve the first automobile and Little Twirl, an ice cream shop.  Not too many trips afterward, when I arrived the gas station was closed never to be re-opened.  Then Little Twirl was joined by a Mennonite Store that served sandwiches made from manna.  It, however, closed right before or at the start of the Pandemic.  Little Twirl remains though it is no longer open year round as it was when I first saw this town on my bicycle. 

 

I wonder who, if anyone, will show to ride today.   It turns out to be a rather small but pleasant  crowd:  Jon Wineland, Larry Preble, and Dave King.   Dave is running late and says to start without him despite my offer of waiting and so we do.  He catches us at the first store stop.  It is good to see him.  Dave and I have so many memories together, have traveled so many miles together over the years, that even though we are not really close in some ways, it is almost like being with family. 

 

The store in this town also has changed from when I first began riding here.  The original gas station closed when this one opened.  Dave reminds me that there was an old grocery store where the current gas station store stop is now located.  I had forgotten this but remember now and how when I was working I saw it had caved in shortly after the store closed. 

This route has a nice mix of farm land and forested areas.  Despite the drought, everything is green.  Corn is tassled and ears appear to be abundant.  I feel blessed to live in a country that has the ability to produce such crops.  Occasionally we pass family gardens and I think how I miss gardening, not enough to pick it back up at this point.  Maybe I miss the shared  labor.  There is something about sharing a chore that I almost always treasured.   Until the last few years, it was something that Lloyd and I shared together.  I think I have always appreciated the bucolic scenery on this route, but I do find that as I get older the scenery and life itself becomes more beautiful, more precious.  Perhaps this is because it also becomes more finite, this realization honed to a finer point by the growing list of loss that is part of life.  Whatever the reason, despite the fact I notice less while riding in company than I do on solitary excursions, today I am aware enough to soak it in.  I wish I could discuss with Mr. Wright his thoughts as to why, but obviously that is not going to happen, at least in this life.

How precious it is to have company on the ride.  How lucky we riders are to have the health that we do.  And yes, while we can attribute some of it to our own efforts, some is genetic and just the luck of the draw.  And how blessed we are to have these lightly traveled roads that are bordered by trees and fields bursting with bounty and the freedom and time to explore them.  

The road we take from Hardinsburg to Little Twirl brings back memories of many winter centuries for it always seems a rather hard road to me for some reason.  A ride with Steve Sexton comes into my mind, the wind raging, the others ahead of the two of us as our legs challenged the hills and the wind and the cold.  Today the road is not so challenging eased along by company and the lack of cold.  Indeed, today the humidity is the enemy.  It is eased by the wind and the cooler temperatures, but I do notice some rubbing in my shorts from constant dampness and know I will suffer a somewhat sore bottom this evening, something very unusual for me.  

At lunch we sit outside and meet an interesting woman and her partner.  She has two herding dogs that are exceptionally well behaved.  We chat a bit about dogs on rides and horses on rides as she also is an equestrian. It is refreshing to hear a dog owner express the opinion that it is the owners fault if dogs pursue riders in the road. This is my second trip to Little Twirl this year and yet again someone (Larry) buys my lunch and I think how fortunate I am to have such friends and how my riding friendship circle has expanded far from what it once was.  

 

The second half of the ride is challenging to legs that are already tired.  The pace is slower than what we have been riding during recent centuries, but there are more hills.  And my legs ache and complain at what is being asked of them.   If I were alone, I would ease my pace, but since I am the weak link in this group of riders I push myself a bit  knowing I will be a tired woman at the end of the ride.  

 

At the Red Barn, there is a group of men, including Amos, sitting outside.  They laugh when I say something about being a woman and getting chocolate telling me his candy bars are expired.  Of course, with aging eyes I can't read the fine print without the readers I don't carry on rides, so I buy the candy bar anyway and later find it was not expired.  They tease Amos about it.  

 

It is good knowing the worst of the climbs are over after the Red Barn, but still I know there are rollers ahead:  lots of rollers.  Larry and Jon ride ahead, but Dave hangs back with me until Little York when Jon hangs back and Larry and Dave ride ahead.  A ride which has been challenging for me has been easy for them, even Dave who says he is not in century shape.  But still they allow me to ride with them, and that in itself is precious and meaningful.  And it is over leaving me tired and longing for a  nice soak and treatment for some raw skin, but still life is beautiful and I feel certain my dreams will be filled with the green bounty of August and the warmth of friendship and bicycles, always and forever, bicycles.  

 

 

Virgin Century: Century of the Week

"The time you enjoy wasting

is not wasted time."

Bertrand Russell 

 

As is usual in Indiana for August, the prediction today is for very hot weather.  Hot weather or very cold weather always causes me concern when I lead a ride.  I don't normally have trouble in the heat if I am conservative about my pace and the course is not overly demanding, but still there have been times when I have finished a  hot ride with every cell of my being screaming loudly for liquid, preferably ice cold liquid, and I feel as if I might burst into flame at any moment. Where cramps torture me that evening while I lay in bed or relax on the couch and move my legs a certain way.  But that is not my norm and  that is me.  I worry more for those that show for the ride because they somehow feel to be my responsibility, as if they were not adults capable of making their own decisions. And I have nursed many a rider through a hot ride when they were having trouble. And I remember a couple of rides not captained by me with a rider, the same rider, prostrate on the ground while others threw water on him and tried to cool him.   But it always concerns me and interests me.  Why do some people adapt easily while others struggle to adapt?  Genetics?  Fitness level?  On a ride earlier this year, I learned that Garmin actually has something that supposedly tells you what percentage of heat adaptation you have.  Color me skeptical.  But perhaps it does work.

After last week's fast (for these old bones) ride, I find I really don't mind if people show this week or not.  I just want to ride.  Company will be nice if it happens, but riding alone at my own pace is equally enticing.  I tend to notice more of what I see alone, to think more.  As always, I remain quite flummoxed by how much I can miss while riding with others.  I know many others don't understand this.  They tell me they can't imagine riding a century alone, that it would be torture for them.  And of course, there are gains riding with company, but there are also losses.  Always the balancing act. With fall and winter coming and the Pandemic stealthily drawing in her net, I suspect there will be more alone time than I desire so I have actively sought company in anticipation.

 

 I have not ridden the Virgin Century for years now.  I did not design the course and it requires that I drive to the start.  It has its moments, but there is a bit too much farmland unmixed with variety for my tastes.  A few too many busy roads however short the time spent on them.  But still I like to see the course preserved.    There certainly are courses ridden more frequently that lack the charm of the Virgin, centuries like the Surbane and the Urbane, rides some people adore but I detest due to the heavy traffic and car fumes and traffic lights.  I particularly detest these rides in the spring when earth throws off winter's shackles and is awakening and there is birth and color throughout the countryside.  Despite my intense dislike of these courses, sometimes I ride them because of the TMD competition.   It seems that spring is when so many want to ride through the city and it just seems such a waste of bicycle time during months that seem to be made for cycling.  I suppose there is a beauty there that eludes me or it is because the courses are essentially flat with lots of rest time at traffic lights.  Regardless, I think I shall always prefer light traffic, scenic country rides.  If that means hills and a bit more effort, so be it. I long ago gave up trying to understand why people prefer heavy traffic, the scent of exhaust,  and lack of scenery.

 

As I understand it, originally the Virgin Century was put together for first time century riders and there is no denying that it is an easier, relatively fast course  compared to most centuries that we ride.  Alan Darby and Ellen M. normally captained this ride, but I believe that Paul told me he thought Mike Pitt put the course together.   As far as I know, Alan and Ellen  no longer ride and have not for a few years. Mike "Sparky" Pitt has not ridden with the club for years.   I knew none of them well, but still feel a twinge of regret at their loss.  I knew Sparky better than the others, and always appreciated his wit and how he could make me laugh until my stomach hurt.   As Bob recently pointed out to me:  most of the people we ride with are riding friends  only.  They are not people you go shopping with or play cards with.  Once they quit cycling, you lose touch.  I concur and add that they also don't seem to ride distance more than a few years.  I remember Bill Pustow once telling me that most people don't ride distance for more than two years, or I think that was the amount of time he gave them.  Was it him that figured that out or a study he came upon?  It seems true regardless of whether it is or not.

 

Despite the first of the course being relatively flat,  there is a long, demanding climb on what has become a much busier road than when the ride was originally put together and the end of the century is more difficult from the first half of the ride. I remember hurting on that climb one time, legs aching, mentally wrestling with the desire to quit.

 

All this riding....is it a waste of time that should be spent doing other things?  Many people think so. And it is a question I have asked myself numerous times, particularly on long brevets or difficult rides, the ones where you promise God and yourself that if he'll just get you to the end you will NEVER mount a bicycle again all the while knowing that you are lying and hoping God really does have a sense of humor because he also knows you are lying.  Similar in some ways to giving birth. As I labored to bring my daughter into the world, I vowed to remain forever celibate.  But later I had a son, and if my husband had concurred, would have liked to have had another.  In the end,  I suppose,  most things are a waste of time if you come right down to it.  Few of us ever really accomplish anything truly significant.  At least cycling contributes to physical fitness.  And I can think of worse ways to waste my time.  Is it a waste if we gain from it physically and or emotionally?  Russell is probably right.

 

  Distance cycling certainly is not normal, particularly for a woman.  For the majority of the centuries this year I have been the only woman on the rides.  But for some reason I love the rides, the roads, the adventure that  possibly awaits. I love the kindness of the men that are stronger but still  allow me to tag along and don't scorn my weakness.  Still, sometimes I wonder about myself and this passion.  Maybe it is  the possibility that draws me.   Maybe the memories many rides evoke. Maybe a longing for what might be just around the corner?  The adventure, the lure, the tinge of danger.  I just know that even a hard ride leaves me feeling a sense of satisfaction.   Over all the miles on the road, there have been only a handful of times when I was  not glad that I rode even when I had to push myself out the door. 

Five others show for the ride:  Tom "Ambassador" Askew, Jon Wineland, Mike "Diesel" Kammenish, Jeff Schrade, and Jeff's son, Jonathan Schrade.  Jeff and Jonathan are doing their first century of the year.  I don't know them so I have no idea what type of riders they may be.  Jon tells me his longest ride this year is 40 miles, but he is young, 18 I believe, and at 18 you can get by with more than you can at 65.   Amazingly, Jon W., the other Jon,  rode a century Friday and Saturday so today will be his third of the hot, humid week. I rode only a short portion of the Friday ride and was glad to rest yesterday.   Everyone is in a good mood and ready to roll and we leave out about five minutes after the start time.  

Almost immediately we break into groups.  As expected Diesel, Jon W., and Ambassador lead the way while Jeff, Jon, and I proceed at a much more reasonable pace.  The sun is shining and it is not yet hot and the miles pass quickly.  I have put on the description that I will sweep down to 13 mph, but we are averaging over 16 at the first store stop.  I can tell, however, that the pace is wearying for them and tell them I am more than happy to sweep at a lower pace down to 13, but I won't sweep at 13 unless someone needs me to.  They assure me they are fine with the pace and that I can go ahead, but I could not keep the pace of the front group even if I wanted to.  And we don't keep our 16 average.  At the end we are somewhere in the low 15's, still a respectable pace for the weather.

While the groups are separate, we tend to regroup at each store stop.  The problem comes at lunch.  When we arrive at the designated lunch stop, it is no longer in business.  I am not sure whether to turn around to the new location or proceed. Before the ride started I had mentioned the possibility of eating on the town square at the coffee shop.  As Jeff, Jonathan, and I head that way, Jon rolls out of the parking lot of Save-A-Lot to join us.  We find the others already at the coffee shop though they don't remember my mentioning it in my pre-ride speech.  It is definitely a step upwards food-wise from Subway and if I ever put this route on again, it will be the official stop.  Four of us eat outside and two inside.  Everyone agrees it is a better choice.  Nobody is pissed off that I did not check to ensure the old lunch stop is open.  I love it when riders roll with this punches.  This lunch stop also is close to the 60 mile mark, my favorite distance for lunch during a century.  

 

Despite the heat, everyone finishes strongly and gathers just a bit at the end before heading off home in different directions.  The long climb up 160 following the third store stop is not as onerous or as heavily trafficked as I remember though there are, indeed, more cars than I like.  The descent down Pixley is amazing and brings back memories of climbing it regularly as part of my training for the Virginia 1000K.  I  much prefer going down;-)  At one point, grass is tall and I notice deer.  You can't see them unless they are moving.  When they bound, you see the head and butt, then nothing.  I am never able to see exactly how many.

 

And another century is in the books.  And I have enjoyed myself whether the time be considered wasted or not.  Mostly I am glad that everyone seemed to have a good time and arrived in the parking lot safely. 

Century of the Week: Orleans: The Back Door

"We're all traveling through time together,

every day of our lives.  All we can do is do

our best to relish this remarkable ride."

Domhnall Gleeson

At the last minute I have to change the date of the century from Saturday to Sunday. This combined with a number of club members doing an out of town ride leads me to expect a small group, possibly no group.  And I am right:  only two arrive to ride. Jon Wineland and Mike "Diesel Dog" Kammenish are the two.  Expecting that those who did come to ride, if any,  would be stronger than I am, I had already decided to ride the Cannondale for I am much faster on it than I am on the Lynskey though not nearly so comfortable.  I don't understand the physics behind this.  I just know that it seems to be true.  I also recognize that despite my riding the Cannondale it will still be a slow pace for them, but perhaps not so wearisome as it might otherwise be.  Jon, particularly, with riding a century and running the day before might even be content with the slower pace.

The weather is unusually cool for this time of year and there is wall to wall sunshine, something that has been in short supply this summer.  It is delicious to roll out into the coolness. Queen Anne's Lace lines the hedgerow along with some purple Chicory and white Sweet Clover.  There are a few Black Eyed Susan's, but they are mostly gone, whisked away by July. What is left whispers of their former beauty and glory. Dew covers everything in the early morning, thick and nourishing and adding a beauty to the already gorgeous scenery.  I know it is very temporary, and perhaps that makes me appreciate it even more than I might otherwise.   I soak it in.  With winter coming and the Pandemic once more taking hold of the world, I know these days, like the dew and most things,  are limited.  I need this reminder of the beauty in the world, of friendship, for yesterday I was with my sister in Hospice, a living reminder of change and loss and the shortness of life.  I hope this ride will help me shake some of the anger over the unfairness of it.  Crippled in her twenties and now this.  Life just isn't fair.

The first of this ride has a couple of climbs that test the legs a bit:  Liberty Knob and the ironically named Flatwood.  But I love both of these roads.  There is brief, sporadic chatter and there is silence, silence that makes me remember the miles I have spent with each of the other riders.  Memory after memory of the years Diesel and I have ridden together flood my brain.  Diesel was the first person to talk to me on a club ride. I see him at the Back to School century in Seymour, along with Chris Quirey, as we pace lined and worried about the hill they promised us.  I grin thinking of how we kept waiting for the hill and realized we had climbed it without realizing it was the grand hill the organizers had talked about.  I see him on the Short Frankfort Century, allowing me to suck his wheel as we fought the winds from Hurricane Ike, signs blowing to the ground, loose gravel and sand blasting our skin until it it hurt.  I remember finally reaching a pop machine and being so grateful as  I could not let  go of the handlebars to drink due to the wind and how, as I opened it facing the wrong direction, the wind drew the precious liquid up and out of the can without it reaching my lips.  

I remember Jon and I and our picnic at Hardy Lake when we were first becoming friends.  I remember our later ride where we hit gravel and came upon a cow who had just given birth, placenta still hanging and visible, and how precious it was watching the newborn calf learn to stand.  How it knew instantly where Mom kept the milk.  And I am warm from that day.

We take a brief wrong turn that will add a mile onto the ride, but nobody complains and we are at the first store stop before you know it.  A car pulls in with the radio playing so loudly that it is an assault on the ears even from a distance.  As we look in, there is a woman and child, upper bodies dancing in time with the music, obviously entranced and enjoying themselves, and hearing the music scream, "Screw you."  I think of  how things have changed.  My mother would have put her foot down on music with those lyrics, or perhaps not.  The questionable lyrics of a couple of Beatles songs float through my brain.  All of us grin at  her antics.  I expect her to be  young, but when she gets out of the car she is not so young and appears to be toothless. I think how I love the different things I see on rides.  How odd each of us is.  I feel quite certain that she would believe anyone riding over a hundred miles on a bicycle is quite on the edge of sanity.  It is always the other person's existence that seems rather peculiar to us, locked in our own view of reality and right and wrong.

As we leave Shorts Corner to take Daisy Lane, I am glad.  Shorts Corner is more demanding than Daisy Lane and Martinsburg Roads are.  It is easier to keep up on flats than on hills.  I have grown noticeably weaker on the hills over the years.  But I suppose that is also true of the flats.  Later today, I will be impressed with my 16.1 finishing average, but it has not been so long ago that every century of the Century Challenge, a five century back to back event, was over 16 each day. I quite enjoy being at the top of the rise and the view that stretches before me like a canvas of colors.  Everything still lush and green despite the start of what looks to be a dry spell.  How lucky  I am to have the health to be here and to have friends to share it with.  

My GPS has been giving me some issues, but finally decides to behave itself and I am glad to have arrows as I am less familiar with the route once we leave Salem.  Orleans is late in the ride and lunch is not until about 60 miles.  At lunch Diesel talks of a bad fall he had breaking five ribs and other bones.  I realize I was not aware of it and I think how easily we loose touch.  Not good when there are so few of us left that ride. 

I think of how important it is to keep making new riding friends because so many drift off either having health problems or finding other interests or doing shorter rides.  I have made so many friendships through bicycling, friends that I treasure.  And while I know the day will come when I cannot ride anymore, I also know that unless it is due to sudden death, I will miss these miles, these friends, the hills, the grass, even the wind that I curse as it slaps me in the face and impedes my progress making a difficult journey even more challenging. 

After lunch the head wind we have been fighting becomes a tailwind and there is a long flat stretch that allows us to fly. Since it is a small group and we have space, I drop into my aerobars which seems to help me go even faster, perhaps because the bike fit was done anticipating being in the aerobars.  It seems no time before we hit Salem and the last store stop.  

And then we finish.  Diesel says he feels good and adds a few more miles to an already long ride.  I long for a chair and water.  I realize I have not drank nearly enough on this ride, a common fault of mine.  Despite the cooler weather, Jon registered 86 at one point and not counting the store stops, I have not drained one water bottle.  I resolve to do better next time.  And I appreciate the fact that in all likelihood, there WILL be a next time.  There is something healing about being on a bicycle.  There is something healing about the laughter on group rides or even just the silent companionship with each knowing the other truly loves what they are doing.  Doing my best to "enjoy this remarkable ride."  Ride safe and ride happy.