Paulhenge Century and New Roads

"The most splendid moment of an adventure

is not always the moment of fulfillment, not even the

moment of conception, but the moment of first

accomplishment, when the adventurer sets

his face toward the new road, knowing that his

boats are burned."

Katherine Thurston

I am looking forward to the new century route designed by Jon Wineland.  Looking at the GPS file, I know I have been on some of these roads, but many are completely new to me.  It is always so interesting to me how roads lace together running here and there but often coming together and emptying into familiar places.  "Why", I ask myself, "is there often a tendency at intersections to turn in the old familiar way?"   Is it just me, or do others find themselves doing the same, thinking that time is slipping by and there are miles to travel.  But then I realize I don't always do this.  If I did, there would never be  new routes. 

 

Though it is not a route I designed, I am enticed with the thought of the new roads. It is a longish drive for many to get to the starting place, Madison:  about an hour from Louisville.  I wonder how many will show.  I think how different we are.  The drive does not seem too much to me to see new places and new things.  Still it is for some, and   I also know that there are  those who, after viewing the  GPS file, will use the drive as an excuse to avoid the climbs.  There are easier pickings century-wise on the club schedule to finish out the tour and the cycling year, to do rides that "count."  How sad that we have come to this.  But as Amelia reminds me during the ride, there are those who must negotiate this precious time on the bike with spouses or significant others that don't ride.   As I have thought so often in the past, how lucky I was that Lloyd always supported my riding though I feel certain there were times when he would much rather I had stayed home.

The weather prediction means that the weather will be a bit sketchy in the afternoon:  a fifty percent chance of rain and thunderstorms.  But are we Mad Dogs or Pampered Poodles?  There will be no cancellation of this ride because it "might" rain or it "might" storm.  Not that I don't respect storms, and even have a healthy fear of them.  But during brevets I have ridden through plenty of them. But if one is not careful, fear can bind you more tightly than any ropes and keep you from living.  I am reassured in this decision as the riders begin to arrive, adults, capable of making their own decisions.  I know all but one and there is another I am only a little familiar with, but they are strong, capable cyclists.  Indeed, I am, perhaps, indeed mostly likely, the weakest of the lot.  I am okay with that as well.  I intend to lollygag and not push the pace today and I announced that in my ride description. 

As it turns out, there are eleven of us:  Jon Wineland (Course designer), Fritz KoPatz (back from his broken ribs), Tom Hurst, Amelia Dauer, Steve Meredith, Larry Preble, Thomas Nance, Samuel Bland, Clint Phillips, and Steve Draper, a visitor from Illinois who is working in Shepherdsville and found out about the ride on line.  We head out and are barely a half mile or so from the start when someone's bike begins making a metal screeching sound that I have never heard being made by a bike before.  As it turns out, Fritz's crank arm has cracked right off.  The  noise is the metal dragging on the ground.  I've never seen this happen before.  Someone later says it was probably damaged when he crashed and broke his ribs and they are probably right.  Regardless, Fritz has to turn around and return to his car.  His ride for the day is done. I am sad for him, but so glad that he didn't have a tumble. 

The rest of us follow Jon's advice and walk our bikes over the gravel bridge over the creek before heading up Heritage Trail, the first climb of the day and a long climb, but certainly not the toughest climb of the day.  At least the rest of us other than one rebel;-)  If I remember correctly Thomas rode over the bridge and down despite the rocks and pitted earth.   Some stop halfway up the climb to take photos.  Three of the riders take lots of photos so I don't bother knowing their pictures will be shared on Facebook.  

The first part of the ride is pretty flat and the pace is quicker than I had anticipated, but I have no trouble keeping that pace though I fall back a bit in anticipation of what is to come.  At one point, I tell Steve Meredith that the flatness is worrying me because I know the amount of climb in the ride.  Jon warns us that the last part of the ride is hillier than the first.  It is lovely to be out on roads that I have not ridden before or that I have not ridden so often that I know each turn and bend and bump, but I am not as strong as I once was so I exercise caution.  

I expect the group to fall apart at the first store stop as Jon has said he would like to have breakfast there and I have agreed to join him.  It is new to me, ordering breakfast this early in a ride.   Normally I eat a blueberry oatmeal bar I  make at home or buy a little something, drink, and head on.  But instead, I order a short stack of pancakes which is actually a pretty big stack of pancakes and I eat every bite.  I expect that many riders will take off since they have cue sheets and GPS tracks, but when I leave the store after eating breakfast, however hurriedly, they are there.  They leave when I come out, however, Jon is still inside.  I wait a moment and stick my head inside the door to find him, but don't see him.  I know that if I don't leave, I will never catch the group in front of me but that Jon will.  So I would either ride alone or Jon would mince his pace to match mine.  

So I head on knowing he will catch us, and he does...much sooner than anticipated.  It takes me quite awhile, but I do finally catch the back of the pack. I am glad Jon catches us quickly because otherwise I would have wondered about the buildings we pass that look as if they are half torn down.  As it turns out, it is the Urban Training Center where armed forces train for combat in an urban war zone. It makes sense to have one, but I never knew one existed.  I suppose I had never thought about it though I knew Lloyd had flown different places, including Colorado, while in the service and training.

 

 The others have taken off before then and by the time we reach the first covered bridge, it is just Steve and I though Jon is waiting at the bridge.  I want to walk through the bridge but Steve does not so he rides on.  Jon walks through with me.  I note that the bridge does not use arches like the covered bridge at Medora.  Instead it uses Howe trusses though not metal trusses.  Per Wikipedia:  "A Howe truss is a truss bridge consisting of chords, verticals, and diagonals whose vertical members are in tension and whose diagonal members are in compression. The Howe truss was invented by William Howe in 1840, and was widely used as a bridge in the mid to late 1800s."  

 

While we are there, Larry rides up saying the front group went off course.  So only Steve M. is ahead.  But Larry is alone because the others did not turn around with him.  Slowly the group regathers as the others find their way back on course.  On person, I think Steve, the other Steve;-),  says his GPS automatically reroutes when he goes off course.    

 

Right before lunch the group does a short out and back on a busy road, 50, to see Paul Henge, kind of a stone henge made from concrete slabs with shapes cut in the middle to tell time.   Laughingly, I ask Jon not to look at his watch and to tell me what time it is.  Appropriate photos are taken and we head back out, laughing and joking. 

 

We reach the lunch stop with no sign of Steve M.  We passed him on the out to Paulhenge so he must have ridden on to McDonalds. Everyone goes to the same place, Crossroads, but three decide to eat in under the air conditioning while the rest of the group eats at a lovely, covered patio outside.  It is interesting because the fan has smaller fans rotating and blowing on us.  And it is quite comfortable out there.  I am not hungry because of the pancakes and that is a disappointment.  I order scrambled eggs with toast because I know I will need fuel, but I wish I were hungry and felt I could eat one of the other selections.  Lesson learned.

 

We just finish lunch when the storm moves in.  At first we are going to brave it, but then the rain begins in earnest...not soft, gentle drops but hard, angry blobs of water pelting at full speed and angrily pummeling us.  We decide to wait it out on the covered front porch.  While there, Clint discovers an issue with his tire and changes it.  The first attempt is unsuccessful and the tube valve gets stuck. I have never seen tubes like this, bright colors and ultra thin. Luckily I have the multi tool I found as road treasure years and years ago with me.  Clint uses the pliers and a knife to remove the valve and the next insert is successful.  

 

By then the rain has passed and we head out crossing the second covered bridge at Versailles park: Busching Covered bridge built in 1885.  This bridge one can ride through and we do.  After that, the climbs begin.  The rain has stopped but the roads are wet with steam rising off of them.  As we climb, the sweat stands on my skin and does not seem to evaporate.  It is  hot and humid. Welcome to summer riding.

 

 We meet Steve M. at last store stop.  He has had an issue with his bike but it is now resolved.  He takes off ahead of the rest of us.  The last part of the ride is a blur as one rider becomes ill, cramping and vomiting.  With the constant stopping,  it is a race to get to the parking lot prior to the coming storm and we just make it as the wind begins to blow in earnest.  The rain begins to pelt down and I am thankful we are in because there would be no way to ride in this hard, blinding rain.  I assure the ill rider that it could happen to any of us.  That is part of riding.  But we finished, new roads with boats burning behind us.  And I look forward to doing this ride again.   

Rising Sun Century 2022: Friendship, and Not Just the name of the town we pass through with that name

"I have learned that to be with those I like

is enough."

Walt Whitman

 

 

It is one of those centuries that I can be somewhat afraid of without feeling shame, for it is very hilly and demanding.  The climbs are many and many of the climbs are long and some of the climbs are both long AND steep.  But still I steel my resolve and put it on the calendar knowing that the scenery will more than reward me for the effort.  It is one of those centuries that I know few, if any, others will ride (except Jon Wineland who modified Crawford's course and designed it and is, like me, a tad off) because of the difficulty and because it is not a tour stage and thus, does not count.  Sometimes it makes me smile, these younger men and women who will not ride a course because of the difficulty, when here I am, at my age, turning the pedals.  But it is okay.  Probably even good.  What a boring world it would be if we all had the same interests.  Bicycling is, indeed, a big tent with room for all. 

 

The Tour de Mad Dog has brought many riders into the century fold, many of them strong and capable, but I could count on both hands the numbers who ride when it is not a tour stage and there is no jersey to gain.  And of the few I know that do ride because they love distance, only a handful remain.  Pustow once told me that the average riding life of a distance rider is three years if I remember correctly.  I suspect that estimate is a bit on the high side. As for me,  I have slowed down.  The woman who could hold an average of 17 or slightly more on Wacky Tacky, a ride from Louisville down into Tennessee and then back across the border, is gone.  But the love of riding, well, it has remained.  And perhaps speed, as I recently asserted elsewhere, is vastly overrated. Still, the slowness of the pace and the feeling that they should stay back with me may keep some riders away though I have no desire that they stay back. 

Originally I don't construct a cue sheet knowing that I have a GPS file and that Jon will be riding and knows these roads, for while I have ridden them before there is no way I would find my way if my GPS quit and it has been on the fritz lately.  But Jon texts that his roofer is coming and he won't be riding, so I clamber out of bed, down the steps, and construct a paper cue sheet.  Back in bed, I toss and turn convinced that it will be just myself and Paul Lapham, a Madison Bicycle Club member that I have met a few times and who Jon says intends to join at the first store stop.  Perhaps we can get to know each other better. And I do not fear time alone though I don't always desire it.  I suppose if I get lost, I get lost.  As I once told Grasshopper, if you ride long enough you end up somewhere.  That being said, to be on the safe side I tuck a map of the area into my bag to carry along just in case.

But I am wrong.  It is not a large crowd that shows at the start, but Dave King and Thomas Nance arrive.  Dave grouses just a tad at the early start, but I remain glad I made the decision for wheels to roll at 8 since it is a long century: about 109 miles.  Both of these men love riding as much or even more than I do and it will be great to have their company keeping me from brooding about a recent personal tragedy that has been haunting both waking and sleeping hours.  Both are excited at the thought of new roads, new scenery, new hills:  a new adventure.  Century rides just hold so many possibilities.

It is cool compared to the recent weather, but the century starts with a rather long climb within a few miles and I am never uncomfortably chilly.  Since Madison is down by the river, there always is a climb to get out unless one heads toward Vevay along the river, and that road has no shoulder, fairly heavy traffic, and a 55 mph speed limit.  On the climb I think about Jon's history lesson that there used to be a vineyard on the right that is no more.  Before long, I am beginning to warm up.  There is cloud cover and I will not be dismayed if it remains throughout the day.  The prediction is for temperatures not to exceed the mid-eighties and light wind.  In other words, it should be one of the best riding days we have had for awhile.  

The scenery does not disappoint.  Throughout the day we are mostly on roads that have  no yellow lines.  Many have trees growing right up to the road, their canopies draping up and over the road providing shade, and green.  With the recent rain, everything is green and lush.  Only the occasional car passes us.  As we near the first store stop, I see a ride approaching from the opposite direction than we are headed toward.  As I suspect, it is Paul.  He turns and joins us.  I tell him I will introduce him to the others at the store stop, a stop he does not need as his ride is beginning but that we need as we are about 27  miles in.  He is patient but we do not loiter for long at Cheryl's store.  I notice the "For Sale" sign is missing.  Paul does not know if it was sold or not.  

Between the store and the lunch stop, climb after climb assault my legs but they hold.  Earlier in the year, on hard climbs my knees would occasionally have an unusual twinge that I can only describe as slipping.  I am glad I feel none of that.  The slower strengthening appears to have worked, at least for today.  The guys are faster climbers than I am, particularly on steep ascents, but when they pull ahead they stop and wait for a bit for me to catch up.  I don't expect or need them to do this, but they do it anyway.  I laugh at Paul at one point when he explains he had to climb a bit fast because his friends name popped up on his computer.  I suspect Stacey has the QOM on the climb out of Friendship, or I think that is what it is called as I am not on Strava.  Paul said he beat the time by one minute.   I don't doubt it.  Like Thomas and Dave, he is strong on climbs.  It is fun in places seeing their reactions to things I have seen in the past but they have not.  In one yard, there is a huge elephant as a lawn decoration.  Thomas, of course, takes photos, something I have meant to do but have never stopped to do.  Perhaps I should, one day, traverse this course alone, armed with my camera and time and no constraints or concerns about keeping up.

On our way we briefly discuss where to eat.  Dave does not care for Subway and I must say, it is not my favorite place to eat, but we decide that for today it will do.  We all ride right past it, however, when we reach Rising Sun.  When we reach the casino and are heading out of town, I know we are wrong.  We turn around and find it.  I figure out why my GPS has been trying to shuffle me off the wrong way and losing arrows at time.  I have been loading the wrong course to Rising Sun.  At lunch, I fix it and have guiding arrows the rest of the day.  

 

The ride back  has Raisor Hill on it.  I remember this hill from the last time I rode this route with Jon.  It is steep and it hurts.  I ease into my easiest gearing as we make the turn and I see the street sign.  I climb wondering if I will make it and of course I do.  Dave talks about feeling his heart pounding in his temple as he climbed.  Everyone is  impressed by the hill.  Paul says that most of their club rides descend the hill rather than climbing it.  I ask if they think Jon's ears were burning as I cursed his name repeatedly during the climb;-) but I am glad I climbed it and that my legs and heart did not betray me.  

 

At the third store stop, Paul leaves us to return home.  He says the slower pace has allowed him to finish the ride thus far feeling fresh.  It makes me think of  Lynn Roberts one time talking about our slow pace as we rode a century loitering and taking our time, enjoying each other's company as well as that of Amelia.  At the end he spoke of how he had never finished a century and felt so good.  Slower paces will do that.  There is a time and place for fast rides and a time and place for slower rides that include more time to notice the scenery and to talk and just enjoy being with friends, even in silence.  Sometimes I think that is the best, having friends whose company you enjoy riding along together in silence.  Just their being there is special.  

 

As we near Madison, Jon comes cycling toward us, his roofing completed.  As friends we cycle out those last miles.  The clouds are spectacular and so unusual, almost purple puffs.  And I feel a contentment and solace that I have been lacking while I deal with some personal issues.  I realize that Whitman is right.  To be with these like-minded people is enough.  

 

After the ride, Dave, Jon, and I have dinner together.  The icing on an already delicious day.  And I am thankful for the day, the meal, the friendship, and bicycles.  I am truly blessed.