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.