Medora: 2023

"The best portion of a man's life,

his little, nameless, unremembered

acts of kindness and love."

William Wordsworth 

As the Medora Century approaches, watching the weather is an exercise in futility and frustration with the prediction changing every few hours.   So I decide to just wait until the morning of the ride.  The morning of the ride the wind prediction is down to twelve miles with higher gusts (27) out of the west.  This is promising as while there will be wind on the way out, there should be some tail wind on the return, always my preference.  Also, it is not as strong as was  predicted earlier.  Lastly, and perhaps even more importantly,  rain chances are twenty percent or lower the entire day.

 

As I leave for the ride, the sun is shining and the wind is relatively calm.  There are some clouds, but none that look particularly dark or threatening.  I wonder how many will show.    Last week, when the prediction for today was mid-forties with rain and wind, I talked about possibly canceling.  I have ridden brevets and centuries in the upper thirties, low forties where it rained most of if not the entire day in the past, so I know I can do it, but I also have great respect for cold, wet weather and what it can do to people.  I remember having  to help another, extremely strong rider, get into his back pocket to get an energy bar on one such brevet as his fingers were no longer working and how close he was to hypothermia at the finish.  As for wind, Mike Kamenish and I rode Ike, though I will admit I hugged his back wheel for shelter much of the ride.

 

Can I still do this type of ride?  Certainly.  I am older and slower but far from dead.  But I will not purposefully seek it out anymore or ask others to ride in it.  Captaining a cold, rain ride is a big responsibility, particularly if any of the people who show are not experienced riding in rain and lack the proper clothing to do so safely.   I am glad I don't have to make this decision. Plus, I did not dress for particularly foul weather.

Medora is a special century to me, holding so many memories both solo and alone.  So much has changed since I first came upon this little, neglected town.  All the stores that were open at the time to meet a cyclists needs have closed.  A new cafe opened last year only to close.  I found it had re-opened on my pre-ride of the course, but don't feel it is dependable.  The gas station is now closed.  Randy's Market closed, re-opened, closed.  The pizza place, once a hamburger place and before that an ice cream place, has a for sale sign on it. The only place that has consistently remained open throughout the years I have ridden here is the bar.  

 

  So now I only schedule a ride for others when the festival is held each October.  And I mourn the loss of those small places and the loss of small towns where small businesses can't compete with the big conglomerates who often run them out of business before raising their prices to gouge a bit more deeply.  A friend, Thomas Nance, once pointed out to me that in our greed we have done this to ourselves, and of course he is correct.  But just because we put together that pill it doesn't make it any easier to swallow.  The festival does, however, when combined with being the last century of the tour, give the ride a party like feel. 

I am the first to arrive, but soon there is  a nice sized crowd, much larger than I expect.  Most are LBC members, but John Mahorney and Thomas Nance have brought some of the Ridenfaden members with them.  Amelia Dauer, Larry Preble, Stanley Paulin, Tom Hurst, Chris Quirey, Jeff Shrode, Paul Battle, Paula Pierce, Samuel Bland, Fritz Kopatz, Derek Wilder, Keith Baldwin, Bob Grable, Jon Wineland, Steven Sarson, Don Williams, Jose Rodriguez, Mary Margaret Williams, Mark Rougoux, Thomas Nance, Steve Puckett, Frank Harris, Dan Barriere, Clay Mitchell, Damar Kiper, Chris Embry, Glenn Smith, John Mahorney, and Dominic Wasserzug are all present.  It is Derek's first century and while I am never introduced, he rides strongly and never meets me at the back of the pack.  It is Dominique's first Mad Dog Century and I share part of it with him.  He also is a strong rider.  I am sad that Dave King and Mike Kamenish are not here to celebrate another year of the tour because each is special to me in his own way, but they had other things to do or did not trust the forecast.  Either way, by the end of the day I know neither would have enjoyed today's ride. 

 

One of the announcements is a new challenge I invented  for the ride.  The course is about as flat as one can make a course in this part of the country with the entire century only having about 3,000 feet of elevation.  BUT, we pass TWO fire tower climbs, both quite demanding.  One is in Clark County Forestry and the other in Jackson County Forestry. The challenge, if anyone accepts it, it to climb both during the ride while still completing the rest of the course.  I  have climbed both when younger, but never on the same day.  I stopped doing this a few years ago when my knees still hurt the following day after the climb and have not tried since as I could see no purpose in needlessly exposing myself to injury. Nobody speaks up.  

 

Everyone is in a good mood.  Why not?  The sun is shining and people have turned out in pink.  Paula makes everyone smile with a pink wig.  She says she believes it will get hot later in the ride, but turns into a blessing keeping her warm instead. Chris Embry is in pink from  head to toe, even sporting a mask.  The smile that started on my face with Paula with her pink hair, got bigger with Amelia in her tutu, and became humongous when I see Chris.  There are pink jerseys, pink socks, pink arm warmers, etc.  Oh, yes, real men are not afraid of pink.  I think of Paul's pink jersey and how he told me that it used to be the 25,000 mile jersey for the club but they changed the color because the men would not wear it.  It had to be better than the dreary gray they changed it to, one of the jerseys that I consider a "fish cleaning" jersey:  I wear it when I suspect there might be permanent damage or dirty that won't come out. I would prefer the pink. Pink is a happy color.

 

 

And we roll out after Steve Puckett announces that those who have qualified should be getting an email from him this week about the 2023 TMD jersey.  I wonder what it will look like this year.  It is always nice to get another jersey. I think of how when I first started riding I hated the bright, jarring colors.   Now they seem festive.  I suppose we change.  Now I love the parade of color as we roll out, the sound of laughter and free wheels spinning, the anticipation of the ride. 

 

  Before we have even finished the loop through the forestry I come across Chris Embry with a flat tire.  I stop and wait for him thinking this will probably mean I ride alone to the first store stop for no way am I keeping up with Chris.  But when we get ready to leave the forestry, Paul, Mary Margaret, and Don have waited at the forestry entrance.   Their thoughtfulness in doing so touches me.  Paul is my buddy, but I have only met Don and Mary Margaret on the BMB century.

As we ride to the first store stop,  someone notices a rider behind us.  I don't think I left anyone so make the false assumption that someone arrived late and hurried to catch us.  I am wrong.  It is Jon Wineland and Sam Bland, both who decided to accept the Fire Tower Challenge and had climbed Fire Tower Hill in Clark Forestry.  This fire tower was constructed in 1930 and overlooks parts of Clark, Scott, Washington, and Floyd County and, from I have read, was the first fire tower constructed in the state.  At one time, Duc Do posted how steep the fire tower climb was in places, but the link is no longer on the site.   I can tell you from past experience, it is steep.  

Jon and Sam say it was a  difficult climb not only because of the steepness but because the road was wet and covered with leaves that caused wheels to slip.  Jon had the same experience that I had the first time I "tried" to climb it with wheels coming off the pavement when trying to stand.  But they made it only to find the fire tower itself was closed.  "Will they," I wonder, "attempt the second fire tower after lunch."  Hint:  (They do).  

 

We reach Huck's and fuel up, but shortly after we leave and head toward the festival the rain begins.  Now I KNOW that Paul hates to ride in rain, and I worry because he doesn't look very warm.  I think that perhaps he will turn around.   He has done that before on this very ride though it was before I changed the course.  I suspect that because Don and Mary Margaret drove so far to get here he does not, but only Paul knows his reasoning for continuing.  Anyway, he completes the century finishing before I do and, as always, I am glad of the time I do spend riding with him. 

 

When we near the covered bridge, the rain really picks up, but since it is chilly we decide not to shelter there and press forward to Medora which is only a mile or two away.  I am glad they don't want to wait as I know waiting will only make us colder and the rain gives no indication that it is going to stop.  I am surprised not to see others heading back from the festival, but we don't. 

 

When we arrive,  I am amazed to find the city has opened the school gym, the Senior Center, and the church to warm us and any other fools who are going to an outside festival in a steady drizzle.  While I don't enter any of these buildings, I am  told they have free coffee and cookies that they are distributing to riders.  I have learned that, for me, it is best not to get too warm as it makes coming back out into the cold rain worse.  Instead, my strategy is to keep moving.  Inertia is the kiss of death on a cold, wet ride or on a cold ride.  But the kindness of the people here warms my heart.  I know the stands that are normally crowded stand lonely, without customers, and that it is costing them, but I later learn the fish stand gave some riders free fish.  It truly is amazing to see the kindness in the face of their own adversity.  

A few of us grab a quick tenderloin sandwich.  When the seller asks me if I want tomato and lettuce, I tell him  no, I want nothing that takes the heat away from the sandwich.  A town citizen yields his seat on a doorstep to me and I sit with the others fueling myself for the second half of the ride, surprised that I am not colder but knowing I need to finish and move on.  John Mahorney is there and says the radar looks like the rain is clearing out.  And it does.  For a few minutes before resuming the steady drumming, drizzle that has plagued us since the first store stop.  Occasionally it seems there is a break just long enough to obtain some dryness, only to resume.  The story of the day following the first store stop.

 

Suddenly, as happens with rides, I look up and everyone is pretty much gone.  Two have called for someone to pick them up.  I am glad they are using their heads and making the decision that is right for them. Most of us were not prepared for this. Dominic and I head out for the finish.  I assume those I was riding with have gone ahead only to later find that they were sheltering.  

At times, despite the rain and company, I notice the beauty of the harvested fields, lying sheared and mournful, waiting for spring to awaken them.  The trees, while not plentiful on this route which has lots of farmland (thus the flatness) are starting to show some color despite the drought.  And I realize that despite the rain, I am enjoying myself.  

Suddenly I look behind me and Dominic is gone.  I turn around and retrace my route finding Paul, Don, and Mary Margaret who I had unwittingly left behind at the festival.  I ride to the last turn and still see no sign of Dominic and there is nothing to do but assume he missed the turn and move on.  I thought I had seen him shortly before I turned, but perhaps I am mistaken.  We run into him emerging from the woods and I am relieved.  I did not want to leave him out on the course or off the course alone.  

Soon two Ridenfaden riders pass.  They say there is another group behind.  Then Sam catches us, delayed by the second fire tower climb.  He says he is tired but our slower pace soon is too slow for him to remain warm and he rides ahead.  From what I understand, he made it all the way to the other fire tower.  Jon did the climbing, but stopped a bit short of reaching the actual tower, but since he did the climbing, I consider these two the first to complete the Challenge, and what a Challenge it is.  

When we reach the third store stop, the two Ridenfaden riders are there, names unknown.  These "may" be the two that  I later learned went to Dollar General and bought sweat shirts to complete the ride. There is no way to really keep track of what happens on a ride unless everyone stays together.  Even then I suspect it is somewhat individual.  I invite them to dinner, but they say they need to head back to Louisville after the ride.  They take off before we leave the store. 

Mary Margaret, Don, and Paul leave the store before Dominic and I do, afraid to linger while Dominic prepares due to being cold.  We later catch them when Paul finds he has picked up something metal in his brake pads that is causing his rims to shed small, metal slivers.  Whatever it is, Don removes it and they ride on.  We meet them at the end of the ride in the parking lot.  Of course, right before we pull in, the sun pops out for about one minute and I smile thinking that God does, indeed, have a good sense of humor.  I thank him for getting everyone in safely. 

After the ride,  ten of us head to Good Fellas for pizza and conversation:  Amelia Dauer, Thomas Nance, Dominc, Mary Margaret, Don, Paul, Steve S., Jon W., and myself. Everyone appears to be a in a good mood despite the cold, rainy ride.  I look forward to hot food and going home to a nice warm bath.  As always, I know I will be thankful to whomever I owe the invention of the hot water heater to for it is one of my favorite things after a cold ride, to soak in hot water until even my bones are warm.  And today, to add to the warmth of the bath will not only be the remembrance of the ride, the laughter, the struggles, the companionship, the beauty of land itself, will be the kindness riders received at the hands of strangers in Medora.  I like to think that this kindness will be remembered.  It was truly special. Laughter and smiles lace the conversation as bellies are filled, the perfect way to end a ride that should have been easy but, with the wind and rain, wasn't. Good Fellas even puts in dessert pizzas for us: apple and cherry.  I am truly blessed.