Getting By With A Little Help From My Friends: Story Century 2023

"The principles of living greatly include

the capacity to face trouble with courage, 

disappointment with cheerfulness, and

trial with humility."

Thomas Monson

 

I am captaining two centuries for the Tour de Mad Dog this year:  the Story century and the Medora Century.  Originally the Story Century was scheduled for Sunday, May 7th, but I canceled due to the prediction for rain and strong storms.  It turned out to be a wise decision, not one of those days where you cancel and then curse yourself because the weatherperson got it wrong.  The ride was rescheduled for Saturday, May 13.  

 

Rescheduling was fine until Murphy, one of my cats, became very ill.  Indeed, after a vet visit that included x-rays and blood work, and that seemed to have no resolution, I made arrangements with my daughter to be on call to come up on the thirteenth to accompany me to the vet and put him to rest as he was hiding and had quit eating for a couple of days.  Yet again, it seemed, I was being called upon to play God, but I did not want him to suffer and it is so hard to tell if a cat is in pain. How my heart was being cleaved into pieces at the thought of losing yet another one I love.   

 

Murphy was my mother's cat that we got from the shelter when she entered independent living.  She was so lonely there, a place she didn't want to be, and she wanted a cat so we adopted him after another family surrendered him to the humane society.  I often think how odd life is for while she was in a very nice Independent/Assisted living facility, I don't believe she ever felt at home there or was happy there.  But she was courageous, there is not doubt about that.  

 

I suppose, in the end, we all want to be in our homes.  And not every place we reside in is, or ever becomes, home.  But a bad case of C. Difficile that included hospitalization along with insistence by my siblings placed her there.  Murphy lived with her until she also entered Hospice.  Then he came to my home.  And, thus, I owe him for the care he gave my family.  This makes me think of a photo of a cat's tombstone first seen on Facebook.  The tombstone is old and weathered, but obviously was heartfelt:  1998-1910.  "He was only a cat, but he was human enough to be a great comfort in hours of loneliness and pain."  I like to think he was a comfort to my mother and sister, and that I am repaying him as best I can.

 

I can't tell you I was overly excited about having him move in with me, and not just because it meant I had lost loved ones.  I really did not want or need another cat.   Had it not been for a sick  husband, my intentions were not to have any pets after Kitti until I had some travel under my belt for there was no question that I was going to be a widow.  But he was so lonely being sick at home while I worked that we adopted two kittens from the shelter. They were a blessing and often diverted his mind from negative thoughts. Anyway, it is what it is. Someone needed to care for Murphy and he joined my household. Of course, I grew to love him despite the difficulties in introducing him to the others that share my home.    

But enough.  I can only say that I was disappointed at the thought of not being able to do the ride, but knew where my priorities were.  After all, as I teased them, Murphy sleeps with me.  They don't.  And so arrangements were made for others to captain the ride.  Steve Puckett and Chris Embry kindly agreed to lead the ride so it did not have to be canceled.  Still, disappointment is not always easy to deal with, but I try to look at my blessings.  And I could be on the way for a final, good-bye vet visit rather than standing here outside the store with friends and others who love bicycling.  At least I will be able to ride. 

Murphy rallied after the vet decided it was not a blockage and prescribed medication.  And so, while I could not ride the entire ride as I needed to be home to give him the medication, I determined I would be able to ride to the first store stop, turn around and go home to medicate him, then ride back out and meet the riders as they returned.  

With it being Mother's Day week-end and a rescheduled ride and an out of town ride, I did not expect the large turnout but was glad to see everyone.  Chris Embry, Glenn "Clothesline" Smith, Fritz Kopatz, Steve Puckett, Mike "Diesel Dog" Kamenish, Bob Grable, Samuel Bland, Jeff Schrode, John Fong, Mark Rougeux, Dan Barriere, Tom "Ambassador Dog" Askew, Amelia "Bubbles, Bird Dog" Dauer, Thomas Nance, Tom Hurst, and Steve "Mule" Rice all attend. (So many dogs needing names some of which have ridden with us for years)  I think that Tom and John are training for the Rain Ride.  Not sure if any of the others are.  Samuel is training for another event, gravel I believe, but I can't remember the name of the event.  Memory.....oh, my, how it deteriorates and robs us.  Steve Rice is training for PBP. 

The weather prediction is for scattered rain and storms today, however, the chances are around fifty percent so we head out not knowing if there will be a deluge or not.  As we take off, I realize I have forgotten my glasses.  I hurry to get them and then hammer to catch the group surprised that I am able to do so. The front group quickly leaves a few of us behind.  Such strong, strong riders.  I later hear they averaged about 20.1 mph until mile 22 and reached the store with an average of 18.1.  I feel sorry for Chris as he would definitely be up there with them and tell him I will be able to sweep until the first store stop, but he hangs back anyway. 

 

 I enjoy the chatter, the colorful jerseys, the sounds of the bicycles as we move down the road and think how very much I needed to get out and how grateful I am that Murphy is improving and that everyone has been so kind about his illness.  The stress was telling on me, particularly the one A.M. medications as I have trouble falling back to sleep.  One thing I have noticed about retirement is that I handle stress much less well than I used to.  Bicycling does so much to help in these situations:  the demands on the body and the time to think and puzzle.  And the scenery.  While this is not the most scenic route I have put together, and I will miss the most scenic part of this route, it does have its moments.  Some fields have not yet been sprayed and are alive with flowers.  Others show signs of birth: soybeans hesitantly breaching the soil, a few, sparse fields where I "think" I see the first slips of corn emerging.   In places, wildflowers cover the sides of roadside ditches, colorful and welcoming.

We are near the town where we will stop when Amelia gets a text that Denney's, the second of two available stores, is closed.  The front group has to return to Family Dollar.  This will add about two miles to their journey today, but when we arrive at Family Dollar, they seem okay with it.  Everyone is standing around talking and laughing and fueling for the hills that will come between them and the lunch stop, Story Inn.  I called the Inn  yesterday and they are expecting the group, but I hate it that I must leave them. I am glad to hear that Denney's closure is not permanent, as has happened with so many small stores, but a temporary aberration.  Since I originally put this route together, three other stores that were along the way have closed.  It is just hard for small stores to compete with Dollar Generals and other large stores. 

As we pull off and our paths diverge, I have to decide how to get home.  I decide to retrace our path rather than  head through Brownstown as I hope to meet the group in Brownstown on their way back.  I push myself and also surprise myself reaching home with almost 66 miles in the bank and a 15.8 average.   Had I been asked if this was possible, I would have told you no.  And had their been oodles of climbing, it would not have been.  But I feel good about it.  I will, after all, turn 67 next month.  And I don't have that many miles or centuries in the legs this year.

After giving Murphy his medication and throwing some leftovers in the microwave for lunch, I head back out.  The air now feels like a sauna.  It is not only our first hot day in awhile, but the humidity is off the chart.  It is only of those days where each breath seems as if it is as heavy as molasses and does not seem to fuel the muscles.  Sweat clings and dots the skin rather than evaporating.  And to top  it off, my arch nemesis while riding, the Cottonwood, is shedding its fluff.  I know if I happen to get one in my mouth, breathing will worsen significantly as they always seem to catch and grow in my throat.  

I assume I will probably not get to Brownstown before meeting the group as I had more miles to cover to my home than they did to lunch, but I hope to get there to get something to eat and/or drink.  "Hope is the thing with feathers and sings the tune without the words and never stops." (Emily Dickinson)  I meet two riders before Brownstown, Steve and Mark and my hope diminishes, but later I am told they did not stop at the lunch stop and that is why they were so far in front of the faster riders.  

 

The fast group is just pulling out of Dairy Queen, the third store stop, when I arrive.  The others remain in the store.  I join them.  I am glad to hear that lunch was fairly quick and yet disappointed to hear it was not at all crowded as I would hate to see it go out of business.  So many centuries that I put together I no longer do because of closed restaurants and/or stores. 

After leaving Dairy Queen, the group splits further.  Steve Puckett and I remain at the back and the rest take off.  The course is fairly flat other than the short, steep climb out of Brownstown so I am not at all surprised.  They, but not the fast group, are still in the parking lot when I arrive. (At least the fast group from Dairy Queen as some fell back to ride in a bit less slowly).  Everyone seems to have had a good time which makes me happy and, while I could not join them for the whole ride, I am glad that I got to join them at all.  Mostly I am  pleased that Murphy seems to be getting a bit better.  I hope when his time comes, I am able to face it with courage and humility, knowing that the bell eventually tolls for all of us.  And I am glad for bicycles.  Bicycles and friends, two of God's greatest gifts.  Yeah, "I get by with a little help from my friends."  Thanks everyone.