Ride Report on TMD Stage 2: Suburbane Century

"There is nothing like 

puking with somebody to

make you into old friends."

Sylvia Plath 

As I drive to the ride start, I think about how it will be interesting to see who and how many show.  This century normally has a large attendance, but this year has not been conducive to training and it is not a particularly easy century.  The weather has been windy, rainy, cold, snowy, or a combination since January. Brevet weather, I think with a tinge of disgust and envy.  Yes, for some odd reason, there is a part of me that misses the challenge of a tough brevet, but this century with the wind and hills will be enough of a challenge for this woman nearing her 69th birthday and knocking on the door of 70.  Where, I think, did the years go?  

 

 Later during the ride I will relate the story of my recent visit with my young granddaughters.  We were walking through the Bible Museum in DC and there were pot shards in cases.  My oldest granddaughter, age 5, looks at her little sister and says, "These pots are really old.  They're even older than grandma."  I laughed them and I laugh now.  No filters, just pure honesty.

 

I arrive right behind John and Susan Pyron who were kind enough to agree to captain the century when Bekki Livingston could not due to some health issues.  Normally we park on the other side of the large parking lot, but it is filled with cars and buses.  I never do learn what the festival is.  Later, before the start, Dave King passes me on my way back from the port-a-pot asking where everyone is.  Had I not followed the Python's that would have been me. 

 

Cars roll in quickly after that, particularly since Jeff Carpenter was kind enough to put on a fifty mile route that hangs with the century route departing ways at the first store stop.  I laugh when Mike "Diesel Dog" Kamenish signs in on both sheets not realizing there are different sheets.  He grins saying, "Well, maybe I'll get credit for 150 miles."  This ride start always makes me think of him anyway as this is where the double century he used to put on every year started from.  How many years has it been since that was a club ride?  Many, many.  I rode it the last time it was offered with Thomas "The Train" Nance.  Either he was weaker or I was stronger because I could not stay with him anymore.

 

 It turns out there are four new riders:  Terrell Brown, Harley Wise, Jerry (I can't read his writing),  and William Gillan.   Other riders that sign in are Fritz Kopatz, Tom "Ambasador Dog" Askew, Larry "Gizmo" Preble, Bob "Backpack"  Grable, Steven "Diamond"  Sarson, Keith Baldwin, David "Bam Bam"  King, John Dippold, Steve "Mule"  Rice, Alan McCoy, Thomas "The Train" Nance, Mark Rougeux, Jon  "Lunchbox" Wineland, Glenn "Clothesline" Smith, Mike "Diesel Dog" Kammenish, Dominic Wasserzug, William Gillen, John Pyron, Susan Pyron, and myself.  People mill around the parking lot as they do before a ride, catching up with people as the bicycling season really begins.  My heart rises seeing some of the friends I have not seen for months and we exchange a few words here or there.  Tom Askew shows me a new helmet mirror he has acquired, one that will, I am sure, arouse a bit of envy from some others.  My jaw drops a bit when I see Alan McCoy is here as I have not seen him at a ride for a number of years, and yes, I hear someone make the joke about him being the "Real McCoy."  You younger riders may need to Google that reference.  

 

Before the ride I talk briefly with Harley Wise, a first time TMD participant and rider.  He asks about the pace and I tell him the group will split into different smaller groups with paces that probably will range from 12 mph to 18 mph.  Harley tells me he has just retired and has set completion of the tour as a goal.  As it turns out, Harley will be the first one in for the day reaching the end at 3:29 p.m.  With the last group coming in at 5:50, this tells you a bit about the pace he was  holding.

 

 At 8:30, the Pyron's send everyone on their way and it is quite the sight with the century group and the fifty mile group rolling out.  A wave of brightly covered jerseys and the sound of chatter fills the air along with the shifting of gears and the turning of sprockets.  As usual, it did not take long for groups to form.  On this ride, that was aided by traffic.  I talk briefly with Jerry, last name unknown, who says that he does, indeed, hope to complete the tour.  I also meet one of the other first timers: Terrell Brown.  I learn that Terrell is not from Louisville but came to this area as a runner for Bellarmine University.       

                                                                             

While I was not present, I have it on good authority that Thomas Nance missed a turn early in the ride going off course.  This made for some ribbing until one of the one doing some of the ribbing missed a turn.  Yes, Jon Wineland who pointed out that with all the turns in the course, missing one was only a one percent error rate;-)  Later, Thomas and Larry would tell Jon that while going through a neighborhood, some people told them Jon was looking for them.  He claims his GPS went a little wonky in the neighborhood, I think he just didn't want to admit missing more turns than Thomas. 

 

 At the first store stop, Harley reintroduced himself to Larry reminding Larry that once, long ago, Larry had bought him  breakfast and telling him that he owed him one.  Larry didn't collect yesterday because he had dropped back to the group I was riding with, but he may one day get that free meal.  Larry would have had to do some pushing to stay with Harley yesterday. It made me think of how kind riders normally are to others when they forget to bring their wallet or have another issue.   

 
Shortly after lunch at McDonalds, my group for the day has formed.  I am riding with Bob Grable, Keith Baldwin, Larry Preble, Steve Rice, David King, and Terrell Brown.  I was surprised to see Steve at the start and even more surprised by how strongly he was riding since he recently had a hip replacement.  He denies it still troubling him.  This is Dave's first ride of the year.  While he complains, he has no trouble keeping up and even beats Steve to one green sign.  (For those who don't know, it used to be a familiar practice during club rides to race and be the first to take a green sign for a county or city).   We briefly touch upon our upcoming bike ride when we will ride from Anchorage to Fairbanks and back.  Keith, who normally is with a faster group, reveals that he has not been riding much as he finally found a new home and was dealing with selling his old home.  Bob has also started a new job as Chief Financial Officer for a local company.  

 

We do not stop again until we are almost finished opting not to go to the Barbecue.  We debate not stopping, but decide it is needed.  The hills are beginning to tell on legs and joints and Larry says he is walking like an old man, then laughs and says he is an old man.  We all sit on the curb and, other than Terrell, groan when get up.  Soon we will face the last hill.   I know it is a bad hill as Garmin counts it as a hill.  Bob's Garmin says there are only four hills on the course.  My Wahoo says there are twenty six.  Jon's Garmin comes in with over 6,000 feet of climbing.  My Wahoo comes in at 5,600.  Regardless, my legs are cursing me by the time we crest Wolf Pen Road and are ready to quit.  And I am not the only one.  I don't believe anyone puked (not hot enough but something I have seen on rides before), but I think that every single one of us, at least in my group, was quite glad to put the hills behind us and finish. 

 

Thank you, Bekki and John Pelligrino, for this route.  And thanks again to the Pyron's for captaining. I'm sorry I don't know more about the other groups and what happened to them throughout the day, but this is how everyone came in that signed in at the end:

 

Harley Wise:    3:29 pm.       1 rider

Jon Wineland:  3:36 p.m.     1 rider

John Dippold:  3:54 p.m.     6 riders

Thomas Nance:  3:54 p.m.           6 riders

Alan McCoy     3:54 p.m.         6 riders

Glenn Smith:    3:54 p.m.         6 riders

Fritz Kopatz:     3:54 p.m.         6 riders

Michael Kamenish:  3:54 p.m.  6 riders

Tom Askew:  4:20 p.m.     2 riders

Jerry (Not sure of last name)   4:20   2 riders

Larry Preble   4:30 p.m.   7 riders

Keith Baldwin:  4:30 p.m.   7 riders

Melissa Hall:  4:30 p.m.    7 riders

Steve Rice:  4:30 p.m.   7 riders

Bob Grable:  4:30 p.m.   7 riders

David King:   4:30 p.m.  7 riders

Terrell  Brown:   4:30 p.m.  7 riders

Dominic Wasserzug:  5:50 p.m.  4 riders

Steven Sarson:  5:50 p.m.   4 riders

Susan Pyron:  5:50 p.m.    4 riders

John Pyron:  5:50 p.m.     4 riders

 

 

Christy Century Backward on a Blustery Spring Day

 "Rainy days should be spent at home

with a cup of tea and a good book."

Bill Watterson

(unless there is a brevet to complete or 

it is a gentle, warm rain good for 

riding in)

Me

 

On Thursday and Friday, I kept looking at the club calendar for a medium distance ride, fifty or sixty miles.  But nothing pops up.  The end of March is nigh and I only have one century under my belt, so despite  the wind prediction, I decide to put a century on.  There are reasons for this.  It has been two weeks since my last century and the endurance benefits are fading and I intend to ride next week-ends century.  It is only supposed to get down in the forties and there is supposed to be sunshine.  I have spent all together too much time inside this past week.  I know I will probably not ride an entire century if I ride alone and conditions get tough. And it is supposed to rain Saturday night and Sunday.  

I love it when it rains the day after a century.  It is as if God is giving me permission to rest and enjoy the fruits of my accomplishment.  I hold it similar to the way I would feel on a brevet when I would be riding alone through the velvet darkness passing houses where everyone was still sleeping and lights were out.  As if the world belonged to me and to me alone along with the rustling sounds that issued from roadsides.  The sound of a dog that you just can't place and that may or may not be a foe.  The deer that, startled, jumps from the roadside into the light of your hub light.  I rarely ride at night anymore, but I still remember it and cherish it.  And I cherish rainy days after a harder effort where you feel your rest is deserved.  God tells us, after all, that our body is a temple. 

I have my doubts as to whether anyone will show for the ride.  Most people in the club rarely ride a century anymore unless it is a Tour de Mad Dog Century, and this is not.  It is a route I have used before, but oddly have never ridden before because for today it is  backwards and has different store and lunch stops.  Strangely, that was not my intention when I put the ride on the calendar.  I intended to do the traditional Christy.  Then after either an email or text from Jon that he has decided to ride, I realize my mistake.  Despite the fact it is just more evidence of a mind sliding backwards, I see the humor in it.  And we run with it.

 

Jon does, indeed, show.  I make several trips over to the firehouse and see nobody.  Jon and I prepare to leave when Glenn arrives.  He says he had been there but left seeing nobody, then decided to do one last drive by and maybe try to catch me via his new GPS unit.  Like me, he has purchased a Wahoo.  Deciding what to purchase was a real struggle for me.  I really miss the street names that Garmin supplies and everyone I know who has one loves their new sun charged Garmin.  But my past experience with Garmin and their help desk soured me though I have heard from numerous people that it is now much improved.  In the end, I decide that I need something easy to use and this trumps all.   I still roam occasionally, but am more careful distance wise than in the past.  Anyway, the ease of use and the price distance were the final deciding factors.   Still, this Wahoo functions differently than my old Wahoo and I am still adjusting to the differences.  Some I like.  Some I don't.  

Glenn, Jon, and I take off.  I do worry about Glenn because I know I will be slow and Glenn is anything but slow.  He tells me it is fine and that he has been off most of the winter.  I tell him that is what Mike and Larry told me last century when they rode with my group rather than the front group they often ride with.  Winter was hard this year unless you love indoor training.  

 

It feels strange to be stopping for a first store stop at a bit over 16 miles, but as I tell Glenn, the next store will not be until the late forties or more in North Vernon.  The wind is strong and we talk about how we will have a long stretch right into it at the end of the ride.  Despite the fact it is supposed to warm ten degrees during the day and the sun come out, nobody takes off a layer throughout the day.  I came close, but am glad I didn't.  I never sweated heartily enough to justify stopping and I hate those rides where I have to stop and keep putting things on and taking things off.

 

Daffodils seem to be blooming everywhere and I love how they brighten the earth. Nothing screams spring so much as daffodils.  When I see the first one, I know spring is real and I made it through another winter.  The purple flowers that blanket fields are just starting, not yet brilliant but beginning to show in the way that makes you look twice to ensure it is not just your imagination giving you what it knows you want to see.   No Redbuds or Dogwoods yet and none were expected.  Fields remain neglected, remains of last years harvest on their faces, awaiting plowing.   I tell Jon it won't be long now and the farmers will begin.  Soil will be turned or no-tilled.  The greening of the earth is beginning, but it still lacks the brilliance that will come.  Trees are starting to bud out, but the green mist that will appear and burgeon has not yet arrived; it is only promised in the blurring of their stark outlines. 

 

 Glenn rides ahead and we don't see him again until the next store stop in Vernon.  I am glad he feels he can do this.  I tell both him and Jon about my granddaughter at the museum last week-end.  We were passing some ancient pottery on display and I hear her tell her little sister, "These are really, really old.  They're even older than Grandma."  How I laughed.  And the point of the story is that I don't want anyone who rides to feel they have to stay back with Grandma.  Grandma put this route together and is very familiar with the roads and when I point them together, I was alone. Indeed, while I love to share a course I put together, I would rather ride alone than have someone have to ameliorate their pace to match my slower one.  I was once fast enough to know how painful that slowness can be.  

 

Before the lunch stop, Glenn begins to fade and asks me to reach and get him a gel.  I suggest we stop and he get it not saying but thinking it would not be good if I knocked both of us down onto the pavement trying to reach into his pocket.  While we are stopped, I think of one brevet where Steve Rice was too cold to retrieve his gel and how I had to help him since his fingers were no longer working the way they should. This leads to the time I could not get my gloves back on my damp hands and he put them on me as if I were a child.  We are very near lunch when this happens and we reach the lunch stop with no issue.  Unfortunately, the restaurant is not yet open but the winery is with a reduced menu.  I tease Jon about my being right about the opening only to later find neither of us was right.  The opening was not this week-end as he believed or next week-end as I believed, but this coming Wednesday. 

 

The waitress is familiar with us as we ride there in the summer quite often and brings a round of water with lemon for everyone without even asking.  The food is delicious though a bit on the pricey side.  Surprisingly, service is quick despite the nice size crowd there when we arrive. Lunch seems to revive Glenn and while he stays with us the rest of the ride, he could obviously drop me if he would like as could Jon.  

 

After lunch the sun is out full blast, but the wind has not dropped and remains strong, flags whipping out wildly.  At times, it is slow going,  but if you are going to ride, you have to accept that there will often be wind trying to push you backwards.  On the reverse side, there are times when it pushes you forward, but not on this ride, at least at this point in the ride. Toward the end it is all headwind.  We decide that with the late lunch, we don't need another store stop and finish the ride out.  The last half mile or so is the only little bit without a head wind and it is good to turn and have just a crosswind.  It is even better to see the end.   I have enjoyed the ride and while I could ride further if necessary, my strength is ebbing.

But I like knowing that I did not waste the day and that I have prepared myself for the next century.  The wind made the preparation even more valuable as it tests not only the body, but the mind, and in distance riding one's mind is just as or more important, that ability to work through the times you want to stop but really don't have to.  Maybe life is like that at times?  Anyway, it was good to see spring. And now I can sit and read and write and listen to the rain outside with the satisfaction of knowing my body really does need the rest and recovery and that I did not waste the week-end and what turned out to be, following a cloudy morning, beautiful spring day.  Even though I am not as old as the pots in the museum, I still am old. The day is coming when this door will also be closed to me, but not yet.  I am blessed. 

 

 

5 Bridges Century: Stage 1: Tour de Mad Dog 2025

"The most difficult thing is the

decision to act, the rest is mere

tenacity.  The fears are paper tigers. 

You can do anything you decide to do."

Amelia Earhart

 

It was one of those days when it was hard to force myself to go out and play.  It would have been easy to talk myself out of it with the wind prediction and the cold.  I weary of the cold.  All week the temperature prediction kept coming down and the wind prediction kept going up.  Plus, the winter has not been conducive to activity.  Weather along with cataract surgery impeded fitness and made me soft despite hiking when permitted.  This was not just any century.  It was a 107 mile century with somewhere between four to five thousand feet of climb. Lastly, I would need to start to the ride in the dark.  Like any human, I use excuse after excuse to justify laziness, but experience has taught me that while there is always the weird exception to the rule, I am almost always happy that I forced myself out the door and rode.  Today would turn out to be no exception.

 

I arrive and am the first in the parking lot, but it is not long before others join me.  Thomas Nance, John Dippold, Fritz Kopatz, Larry Preble, Mike Kamenish, Bob Grable, and Dominic Wassserzug are there as well as the ride captain and course designer, Jon Wineland.  Shivering, we sign in, and then make our final decisions as to what to wear.   There is only supposed to be about a 10 degree temperature change throughout the day which makes it easier, but I still opt to carry a light backpack for possible shedding.  Larry heads off into the wind for a pre-ride check for clothing accuracy.  The others, like me, seem to be adding and shedding before making a final decision.

 

Soon we are off.  Shortly after our start, the sun comes out which makes a huge difference, both mentally and physically.  And with the first hill, we all warm up. The group quickly splits into two groups with Larry Preble, Thomas Nance, Fritz Kopatz, Mike Kamenish, and  John Dippold pulling ahead.  Thomas rides quite a bit with the Ridenfaden club throughout the winter and is always strong, thus his Mad Dog Name of Thomas the Train.  And I know Fritz does Zwift.  When I first met Fritz, for some reason I thought he would be a slower rider.  Instead, as people talk about later in this ride, he is one of the strongest riders in the club.  I'm not sure how John trains or how he rides.  I can't remember if this is the rider who came to Medora late or not.  Mike later reveals he also has been Zwifting and Larry reveals he has just re-started outside rides after being off due to personal tragedy. Regardless, they are all three quite strong. 

 

Most of the climbs in this ride, the major climbs anyway, are in the first part of the ride.  The Garmin shows three climbs,, the Wahoo shows eleven.  The climbs that Garmin shows, are all before the first store stop. Shortly after one climb, Bob Grable comments on our "blistering" pace of a bit over 11 mph.  I just giggle having expected this.  You can't put the bike away when it turns cold and not train inside and expect to have fall legs.  And we do pick the pace up so that we end with over a 12 mph average. I am not sure what the average turns out to be as I struggle with my new Wahoo and lose my mileage and data half way through but someone said it had risen.  Regardless, my goal is to finish and hopefully finish without it becoming a death march where I begin to hate cycling and myself for coming.  I have no illusions of finishing with speed.  Indeed, I have my daughter on call in case I am unable to finish.  

 

The last climb before the first store stop is voluntary.  It is a descent down to the bridge and then back up the way you came.  I toy with the idea of  not doing it, but someone mentions the bathrooms at the park there and so I descend making straight for the facilities.  Despite the hours sign on the door, the door is locked and the park office is closed.  I turn around to go to the store telling the others and momentarily blaming it on Trump forgetting that it is a State park and not a National park.   Jon reminds me of this fact and I laugh at my quickness in accessing blame.  My laughter dies during the climb but remains in my head because we humans are so weird, myself included.  Indeed, at one point during the ride someone, I think Bob, is talking about someone (not a rider) being strange and it strikes me as hilarious as I point out to him that most people are not out here riding 107 miles with a headwind for the first half in cold weather and that many might find this activity strange.

 

We hit the first store stop.  I playfully tease Mike about us now having a jump on Dave King who is not here today.  (Mike, Dave, and I are the only three riders who have completed the tour every year since its inception in 2004).  After a quick feed, I head out ahead of the others as I am starting to chill.  No need spending energy on goosebumps.  Bob goes with me.  Soon the others, minus Dominic, show up.  When asked, they said they could not find Dominic and Jon tells me Dominic said he was not really feeling up to par and might bail.  The assumption  is that he either left before  all of us and we will eventually catch him or he went home.   I feel a bit sorry for Jon as I know it is worrying to lose riders when you are captaining.  Believe me, I know. I think I am the only LBC captain that once lost ALL the riders on her route.  (While chasing a group that went off course and never catching them, the front group went off course.  I thought I was chasing them, crossing flood waters while carrying my bike,,  and ended up at the ride ending alone.  I had just gotten in when I received a phone call from one of the riders asking where I was.  I felt so badly about it but also saw the humor. Not sure about the riders.

 

Anyway, when we reach the first covered bridge, Busching Bridge, Larry and Mike are waiting for us.  They say that Thomas, John, and Fritz have sprinted ahead.  Larry said he had wanted to spend some time photographing the bridge. Mike and he will ride with us the rest of the day.   I enjoy this as I rarely ride with either any more and Mike is cracking me up with the occasional off color joke as he used to do. The only time we will see Thomas, John, and Fritz again is at the lunch stop.  They are getting ready to leave when we arrive.  They sign in as finishing an hour ahead of the rest of us.

 

 

Before lunch we pass Otter Creek Covered Bridge and Westport Covered Bridge.  I don't stop with the others and keep pedaling as I am really starting to feel worn out and beginning to worry about finishing.   We never catch Dominic and Jon does not have his phone number.  We talk about it over lunch.  I had warned Jon prior to lunch that I intended to eat quickly and leave before the rest so as not to slow everyone down, however, it turns out everyone but Jon eats quickly and is ready to leave.  Right before we finish, however,  Dominic walks in.  Somehow Jon missed seeing his bike when he left the store. Dominic then went a bit off course. Evidently a dog came out and caused him to miss a turn.  (Lots of dogs on this route as is often the case in Indiana).  Jon stays to eat with him.  The rest of us take off.

 

I find that lunch has revived me and determine to stay with the others who assure me they want to ride with me and are okay with a slower pace. I find that while I was in the store, I lost the direction arrows on my Wahoo. This and only this keeps me from heading out and letting them catch me since they were all using the facilities and I am not. I end up having to end the ride and restart and reload the route, but I do get my arrows back, a huge relief.  The others tease me for my dependence on the arrows.  I don't apologize.  Mentally, I go back in time to when we rode before GPS with just a cats eye  and a written cue sheet, or in my case, occasionally with a pocket full of sidewalk chalk so I would know my return route.  How hard I often pedaled to be sure that I was not left somewhere in the middle of nowhere not knowing where to go.  But oh, how fun those days were.  

 

When we reach the third store stop, Dominic and Jon come in before we have finished and we all leave together.  Prior to this, an old woman stops her car in the parking lot, waving her finger at us and telling us to be careful.  Okay, Mom.  I am fine with this.  As I told the others, it is a refreshing change from being yelled at for being on the road.

 

Soon after leaving,  I realize that Jon and Dominic are not with us.  Someone tells me that Dominic was starting to cramp.  I have feared cramps the entire ride.  They are still not the norm for me, but I do get them more than I used to and I know I am asking a lot of my muscles today.  We have been riding long enough and are tired enough that chatting is beginning to fade and everyone is thinking of the finish.  My knees are achy and I am so glad there are no long climbs before the end.   I can't say I am unhappy to see the end, but I find I am glad that I rode.  I don't feel like doing a jig, but I also feel better than I anticipated feeling.  Despite my lack of training, I have felt worse following other rides.  We sign in and shortly thereafter Jon and Dominic pull in.  Dominic said he ate something and it seemed to take care of his cramps.

 

For this ride, as is often the case when conditions are too hot, too cold, too windy, just not ideal, the hardest part was getting out the door.  Fear is, indeed, a paper tiger.   Tonight I will rest with my fear of not being capable of finishing assuaged.  Until the next hard century.  But, oh, how happy I am that riding season is back.  Another spring.  I am blessed. 

 

A Warm Day in January: Relatively Speaking

"Freedom is the oxygen

of the soul."

Moshe Dayan

 

 What a day it was to be out on the bike!  A treat after being sedentary from cataract surgery.  To ride was like coming home.  The wind seemed to welcome me and I knew without looking that my cheeks had been slapped to the point of being ruddy.  I knew without looking that a smile had eased the wrinkles that now haunt my face so deeply and thoroughly.  Oh, I thought, we normally talk of the arrogance of youth, but there is also, I suppose, the arrogance of health.  How I have missed being active and being outside.  How I have missed getting away from the news that causes my soul to despair. And there is no place I would rather be right now other than where I am:  on the seat of a bicycle exploring. 

I was starved for this, this feeling that I get when the road rolls itself out before me beckoning and promising.  When you ride outside, you never know what the road and the day may hold.  I have to pay more attention to the road than is my wont due to the occasional patch of ice that has hidden itself in the shade of a tree.  But I see so much more clearly now and, since my pace is slow, I do not fear that I shall miss one and take a tumble.    The snow is mostly melted from the fields, but in the forested areas it remains, a reminder of what has been.  Despite the fact I am heartily sick of it, it is beautiful.  God works in unexpected ways and his sending the snow and ice certainly made acceptance of my required down time more acceptable.  

As I near home, there is a lone turkey in the road.  I then see his friends in the neighboring field and laugh as the rafter runs for safety.  Overhead, two or three times, Sand Hill Cranes pass overhead purring.  My phone rings and I ignore it.  I laugh out loud like a crazy woman.   I try to ignore my legs which are telling me it is time to stop, but their grumbling soon overcomes my pleading and we make the final turn for home.  Despite the shortness of my ride, only thirty miles or so, today my soul got what it needed from my short spate of freedom.   And I do so look forward to seeing the earth wake up with my new eyes that see colors and shapes so much more brightly than before.  I have truly been blessed.