"Ah, summer, what power
you have to make us suffer
and like it."
Russell Baker
I can't say that I am not wary of the upcoming century and the predicted heat index of over one hundred, but I have come to accept that it is going to be one of those summers. We don't have them too often, but when we do they are cruel. Being unusually hot and humid puts demands upon you that other summers just don't. They are not just physically but mentally challenging. Even stepping out the door to go to a ride can be a test of will power. Most summers have a few days of this, but this summer has been one of those that is working overtime, as if testing us and our resolve. It is not so much the heat, but the humidity. The news weather person keeps describing it as "tropical."
You have two choices when there is this kind of summer: ride and learn to tolerate and deal with it or not ride. You can modify by riding shorter distances and going at a slower pace, but if you are going to ride, unless you go out in the dark, and perhaps even then, it will be hot and you run the risk of cramps or heat exhaustion or even heat stroke. Everyone who is a finisher this year will have my respect. Well, I suppose every years finishers have my respect, but this year particularly so because it has been a hard year not only course wise but weather wise. Or perhaps it seems that way due to my age. What was hard at forty is not the same as what is hard almost thirty years later.
Riding in the heat is not easy. I don't know that it is harder than riding in extreme cold and wind, but it is difficult regardless. I am glad that Amelia decided to start the ride at 7:00 rather than later and that she is treating everyone to a new course to Salem. I know she has put a lot of work into the course, changing it once due to road closures and driving it to ensure that there are no issues with road closures or road conditions or closed stores. While I have ridden all of these roads at one time or another, I have not seen them put together this way before and I know it will be a good if difficult ride with the hardest hill being Leota Hill. As she points out at one time, the climbing in the route, like Story, is all in the middle of the ride. She is also honest that were she not captaining, she would not be here.
Most of us have had those rides where we were not well trained enough to handle the heat or we rode too hard at the start of the ride or we entered the ride already dehydrated or don't pay attention to dehydration during the day. Those are the rides where every fiber of your being screams for water because more is being excreted in the form of sweat as your body struggles to cool organs because you can't drink enough to replenish what is being lost. These are the rides when you have to use common sense at times and call the sag wagon if it becomes too much. Tenacity and determination are fine qualities in a human being, but at some point can become stupidity. There is no weakness in doing the smart thing. Fortunately, this does not happen on this ride, that arguing with someone who wants to continue when they should not or accepting that I, myself, should quit.
I arrive at the ride start early. I see a large crowd of cyclists and am surprised at such a turnout because I figured the turnout would be small, but it turns out it is another cycling group and not the Mad Dogs. Still, 18 people sign in: Amelia Dauer, Mark Rougeux, Tom Askew, Larry Preble, Bob Grable, Jon Wineland, Harley Wise, Fritz Kopatz, Michael Kammenish, Thomas Nance, Bob Evancho, Glenn Smith, Vince Livingston, Keith Baldwin, Tony Nall, Paula Pierce, Terrell Brown, and myself. I am told Tony and Paula don't intend to do the entire ride. Unfortunately, before even starting Bob Evancho, freshly returned from his travels and from visiting his grands, finds he has a flat. He is offered a tire and/or tube, but he is running tubeless and decides he will not ride. After scratching his name off the sign in, he heads home. His is the first of a numerous flat day, giving lie to someone's recent comments about how we don't see as many flats as we used to. Some time during the day someone tells me that most of us ran over numerous bits of broken porcelain. I, personally, did not notice it, but I was probably talking too much.
The starting temperature, depending upon who you talk to, is 77 or 78 degrees. Amelia tells everyone they can head out. As usual, everyone just stands there for a few seconds before bicycles and riders spill into the street. I've never understood this, but it seems to happen every ride. I head out expecting to be quickly passed, but that does not happen. I find that I am feeling very strong today and that the heat is not, thus far, an issue for me. This is good news and not what I expected. I expected to be quite slow. I debated not riding or leaving early, but I need this ride as I am training for Alaska and repeated demands on an aging body that is not used to riding distance day after day for a week.
As we head out, I talk briefly with Harley and ask after his wife. I am so happy to hear she is feeling better and even has been out with him on the bike. I know he has been missed on the past few centuries. Harley is kind enough to compliment my ride reports. Keith says that he has a friend who is a writer and had started a program for the elderly in nursing homes, capturing the stories. Her program is "Feet to the Fire." The program sounds interesting. I google her web site though I don't spend enough time there to digest the information. I will save that for winter.
I talk with the one who I understood to say that people hated the overnight ride. He tells me I misunderstood him, that people were not saying they hated it, merely that it was hard. I am glad to have that cleared up. Both Thomas and I spent quite a bit of time creating that event, designing the routes, driving the routes, finding a reasonably priced motel. Hard is okay not only because of the sense of accomplishment, but because those are the rides you best remember. I blog many of my rides in an attempt to hold onto them, but still they blur in memory unless they were particularly hard or something particularly unusual happens. I remind him of when doing a hard ride was fun and not just hard. Perhaps that is what we need to hold onto though I can't seem to do it anymore in winter. I went over 12 years riding an outside century every month of the year in the past. But now I have a hard time getting out the door in winter to ride even a short ride. Oh, well. While I am not and will never be the rider he is, we have shared many miles and many roads and I treasure his opinion and his friendship.
The first of the ride is mostly flat but with roads that are not often included on our centuries. Once we leave Sellersburg behind, we are mainly on lightly traveled country roads until the we return to Sellersburg. The water is high along the sides of Weber Road and I briefly wonder if it could be flooded and impassable. This has happened on rides before. But it is not. I believe it is along this road that I first realize Amelia and a few others are not with us because the group is hanging together. I ask and am told she had to stop with Fritz for a flat. I will later learn that Fritz has not one, but two, flats one of which is caused by a slit in his tire. From what I learn, he was able to continue as Thomas Nance loaned him a tire. Harley Wise will later have a flat just outside of Salem. Keith stops to help him out.
For many of us, it is our first trip inside the new store stop in Henryville, the newly renovated gas station that is a huge improvement over the old store stop which, over the years, has become progressively worn out despite being completely rebuilt following the tornado in 2012. All of us are wondering about Amelia, Fritz, and Thomas. Tom tries to call Amelia but there is no answer. I text but get no response. (She later texts that she is at Circle K so we know she is okay). Since we don't know what may have happened or where people might be, we head on trusting that they are together and all is well. So long as they are together they will catch us shortly.
The first big climb is Leota Hill, a hill some are familiar with from the Maple Syrup Festival Ride, the traditional Salem Century, or from another ride. It is not as difficult as many of the hills we have climbed this cycling season, but it is a challenge. By this time the fast group has moved on and it is Bob Grable, Terrell Brown, and I. We lumber slowly up the hill. At the top. Larry is waiting for us and is taking photos. And we head down Saylor Road. Bob Grable tells a funny story about being on a ride in the area and on a hill, pulling up to an Amish buggy. He said it was a very hot day, just like today. Larry was with him. The man in the buggy, being Amish, is of course fully clothed. Bob remarks to the man, "It sure is hot out here." the man replies, " Yup. You know, there is something you can do about it." Bob asks what and rather then receiving some magical trick that the Amish have to tolerate the heat in full dress is told that he can always ride faster.
I, in turn, relate my story about the time I was on Saylor and a young Amish boy on a pony pulls along side me and asks if I want to race. I think it is along this road that we come upon a pond on the left hand side. Standing in the pond in a line as straight as if they were in the military are four young cows facing the shore, all black, identical in height, their rear ends glaring straight at us. For some reason this strikes me as being particularly amusing. There is also a foal along the way, short neck strained and legs splayed as he learns to graze from his mother who is close by, tail swishing at flies that are troubling her, chestnut cost gleaming and dappled in the sun. They are enjoying the lushness that the rain, warm weather, and humidity have brought. And while my body is not enjoying the heat or the humidity, I also am enjoying the verdant abundance that surrounds us.
I remark that is seems almost like the end of August rather than July with the hay bales neatly rolled in bales dotting the pastures. But perhaps not. The corn, while tasseling, still has a way to go before it browns and the ears point downwards rather than upwards. The soybeans are not yet yellowing. Queen Anne's Lace runs riot along the roadside, but there is not yet Ironweed or the other flowers that tell us that fall is here.
We reach the lunch stop with no issues and the fast group is still there. I hand out coupons to those that want them. Mine works. The others have issues with theirs. There are three people working so it is not long before we are back on the road. I warn them about the black dog at the top of a climb after the bridge and the lumber mill. He does not come out today, but there is a tan dog, saliva dripping from his mouth. Despite his barking, we ride by unscathed.
The fast group has again left us behind and this time it is Bob, Terrell, and I. Bob surges ahead for a bit and it is just Terrell and me. I warn him of the upcoming descent. At the top part, Bartle is a fairly technical descent and is quite steep despite the switch backs. I briefly think of Roger Bradford, no longer with us, descending and how I felt sure he was going to crash when his tire slipped in some gravel. I still remember the relief when he managed to keep it upright.
Bob is familiar with it as he climbs Bartle on some of his solo rides. During the descent, a car is coming on one of the turns just as Terrell reaches it. He later says it was a tense moment for both of them when combined with the strain of the hill on his rim brakes. And he is right. Bartle is quite steep in places near the top. I have descended it many times with rim brakes, but you definitely have more control with disc brakes.
During the descent, it begins to look like rain and we come across wet roads where the rain preceded us. Bob asked if I heard the thunder. I did not. By the time we reach the third store stop, Thorton's, the rain is coming down, not heavily but more than a light drizzle. It is not that there are as many drops as there can be in a light drizzle, but the drops seem larger than in a drizzle. Mike "Diesel Dog" later tells me that in the store the clerk asked him how far he had to go. He tells her about twenty miles. She is amazed, but not so amazed as when he tells her how far he has already ridden. Her response is, "In this heat?" I giggle at this story and think of the meme I saw recently where it says that people are being told that it is hot and to check on the elderly. I am up by five it says. Bring donuts;-)
It is during the last quarter of the ride that a couple of people begin to cramp. I notice Larry unclipping on one side and pedaling with one leg. He and a couple others fall a bit behind. We stop at a gas station we pass to allow them to catch up and perhaps rest. He said he thinks it is best if he just goes on. I then get a text from Thomas that Terrell is cramping and he has stopped with him. I stop at a shady spot and wait for them. The others opt to go on with Larry.
I am beginning to get worried when they appear over the crest of a small hill near where I stopped to wait. Thomas later tells me they stopped two times and Terrell finally accepted a Rolaid. Thomas turned me on the miracle of Rolaids when you are cramping a year or two ago when I was having my turn of leg cramps. While I wait, I think how much Thomas embodies the spirit of the Mad Dogs. He is one of the fastest riders out there today, but he is finishing last and has stopped twice that I know of to help others. I so admire his patience and just the fine person he is. The Dogs are lucky to have him as a member. And I am happy to see how everyone gathered to help Larry get in because in the past I have come across riders abandoned by others along the side of the road. Indeed, I remember Dave King chastising some riders who left another along the side of the road on a hot day back when Dave was TMD Director. Anyway, while I was not with that group, it is my understanding that Diesel began pushing Larry up the small climbs that were left. This is done by riding alongside the ailing rider and placing your hand on their lower back while you pedal upwards. Don't expect to see me do it as I would likely cause us both to crash, but Mike has always had excellent bike handling skills.
The ride ends and I am glad. It is not one of those rides that you wish would go on forever, largely because of the heat. But it has been a good day. And best of all is that nobody had to be rescued or ever cramped or had problems severe enough that people worried about their continuing or their ability to finish. I laugh when I hear Terrell say he was supposed to run tomorrow but does not see that happening. I need to try to ride tomorrow as part of my training, but we will see if I get out the door into the oven again. As Mr. Baker notes, summer did make us suffer, but I like to think that everyone else was also glad they rode knowing that in a few short months we will be wishing for riding days where we can go out in shorts and a jersey with no arm warmers or jackets or vests to tote along with us.
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THE FOLLOWING IS FROM JON WINELAND ON HIS OBSERVATIONS DURING THE RIDE: I particularly like the story about seeking Tom Askew. Jon has a ready wit and a keen eye so I often enjoy hearing his observations.
After the first store stop, Mike Kamenish and I were some way behind Tom Askew and I called out that I could just see the orange spec of his jersey disappearing over the horizon of a hill some a mile or so distant. As we gained on him, that spec turned out to be the orange triangle on the back of an Amish buggy, and Mike accused me of calling Tom a horse’s ass. I said that, well, it could be an improvement. When we eventually caught up with Tom, I told him the story and he was amused.
And, speaking of the Amish, Mike and I were approaching an Amish man pounding in metal fence posts with a two-handed hammering device that fits over the post. Mike hadn’t spotted him yet and wondered whether the clanging noise was coming from his bike! It was hot work for such a day, and Mike said he could be riding his bike instead; I pointed out that the man’s bicycle was lying in the grass and that he’d probably ridden it to the worksite…with that enormous hammer in the basket, or as Mike said, perhaps in a jersey pocket.
On the return trip through Speed, there were a couple of funny signs on Highway 31.
- One was at Speed Memorial Fellowship Hall, “Hot and Wet ? Party Inside” Punctuation is important.
- Another was at Speed Memorial Church, which has a lighted sign out front, and it was advertising some church program called “Streams of Grace” with details underneath. Directly in my line of sight behind the sign was a man with a hose, watering plants by the front steps with a garden sprayer in the afternoon heat.
- Silver Creek Senior High School also has a lighted sign out front, and I had noticed on our outbound journey that it said “ 8o° ” While mentally thanking Amelia for the earlier start and cooler temperatures, I did wonder why a smaller font had been chosen for the “0” in 80. Well, on the way back in the broiling afternoon, the sign still said “ 8o° ” So, I guess it would be right twice a day—eventually.
Jon
Finishing Groups:
Vince Livingston Group of 2 3:02 p.m.
Jon Wineland Group of 2 3:02 p.m.
Larry Preble Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Fritz Kopatz Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Keith Baldwin Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Glenn Smith Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Tom Askew Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Harley Wise Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Michael Kamenish Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Bob Grable Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Thomas Nance Group of 3 3:45 p.m.
Terrell Brown Group of 3 3:45 p.m.
Melissa Hall Group of 3 3:45 p.m.
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