Hardinsburg TMD Stage 2026

"Life belongs to the living, 

and he who lives must be prepared

for changes."

Goethe 

 

I was not sure if I was going to write up this century or not, having ridden it solo so recently, so when Fritz asked if I was and said he would withhold the stats, I told him to go on and publish them.  The stats, for those that don't know, are the finishers, how many stages they have completed,  and how many points they earned and the standings at the end of the century, for  this century was a Tour de Mad Dog stage.  It was not the planned stage.  I originally planned something easier and  somewhat new in how it would route, but as they say, "Man plans and God laughs."  God had different plans sending rain that would flood many of those roads and drive me to  a route that offered higher ground, less amenable to flooding.  Oh, well, there is beauty in hills, and they strengthen the legs and the lungs.  I grin briefly thinking of Harley saying that when he got his stents last winter, the doctor asked if he had not been breathing heavily on hills.  His answer, the truth, was that yes, but so was everyone else.  

 

But back to the route. I don't think these roads will be flooded as I have ridden them many, many times when there has been lots of rain, but it is always possible.  I have, a very few times, in years past ridden and found the roads in front of the park flooded. Last Thursday I rode to check those roads around Delaney Park that can flood, though not so easily as 700 or outside Medora, and to let Amos know we would be coming through if it is not raining.  Still there has been more rain since Thursday.  Indeed, I am amazed when it looks like rain chances are down to twenty percent most of Saturday after the morning hours.  I bite the bullet and make the decision early Saturday morning:  we will ride but I will delay the start time from 8 until 9 hoping the light rain will clear out.  There is no issue with delay this time of year, even with a century, for there is plenty of daylight hours to accommodate both slowness and mechanicals or the unexpected.  We still could get rained upon, but it is less likely and tomorrow allegedly offers not only rain, but thunder and lightening. 

 

With it being a holiday week-end, Horsey Hundred week-end (something I had not realized when I picked the date), and possibly rainy, I don't  expect many riders.  So I am surprised to find there are 15 of us.  Harley Wise, Larry Preble, Bob Evancho, Mark Rougeux, Steve Rice, Thomas Nance, Bob Grable, Glenn Smith, Jon Wineland, Mike Kammenish, Zach Coleman, Ben Hinnen, Jeremiah Westendorf, and Dave King all sign in.  Dave, of course, pulls in at the very last second  as has become  his trademark.  All around me are the sounds of people preparing for the day:  the sound of bicycle pumps filling tires,  the sound of bikes and brakes being tested, the nervous chatter of people readying themselves for an adventure.  For many, it will be their first time on this course.  Larry rounds people up for the traditional ride start picture.   In the pre-ride talk, I warn them of debris on the road from the rain and of not leaving everything on the pavement on Blue River Road because other than Leota Hill, the hills start after the first store stop on Shorts Corner.  

 

The group heads out but Dave and one other, Zach or Ben, I am not sure, are not ready.  (Ben and Zach, I apologize for not introducing myself or forgetting your name if I did).  I soft pedal until they catch me and we then pick up the pace to try to catch the group.  There is a pause at the bottom of Leota Hill as Zach or Ben lose their chain.  

 

We are with Mark at that  point and he tells me not to stay back with him.  He is trying to go slowly to see if it helps with a cramping problem he has had in the past.  And what a problem it has been for him.  In my mind I still see him near the end of one of my centuries falling over on his bike.  He had cramped to the point where he could not clip out and get off the bike.   I have been blessed with rarely cramping, and if I do it is normally in bed AFTER a long ride.  But I do cramp more now than I used to and have no idea if it is age related or caused by something else.  Regardless, I tell Mark not to worry.  I will be in the back sweeping.  (I don't mention that with this group, I would be in the back regardless;-)  Thomas Nance helped me a couple of years ago with the cramping problem on the bike by offering me a Tums.  And it seems to work for me.  

 

Chain fixed, Zach or Ben climbs Leota much faster than me.  He waits at the top but goes on to catch those who ride more his pace once he sees I am with Mark and not alone.  Mark and I ride together and Steve Rice drops back to ride with us.   Mark stops for a hydraulics issue,  and when he catches back up to us Steve tells him that I tried to get him to hide and let him pass us thinking he is chasing us.  I grin.  Some things never change.  It is nice to be teased.  It does not happen much any more and I actually miss it.  With three big brothers, I was teased mercilessly as a child and my husband took over that job when we married.  I do miss his sense of humor and how he could make me laugh.  All gone now.  There is nothing to do but to trudge forward, enjoying what you can while you can.  I think it was Gibran that wrote, "But life goes not backwards, nor tarries with yesterday." 

 

Shortly after the first store stop, on Shorts Corner, we come upon Harley Wise, Bob Grable, and Bob Evancho.  Harley has had a flat.  Steve and Mark ride on while I, being the good ride captain that I am;-),  stop to "help."  Mainly, with this first flat, I, like my cats at home, supervise from a distance. They are unable to find what caused the flat and insert a tube and inflate it.  Shortly thereafter, he has another flat.  Fortunately, he is riding 28s and I have a 25 tire I carry with me that will fit.  While he is putting it on, I find a slit in his tire that has punctured through to the outside.  I suspect it was large enough that with weight, the tube was protruding outward enough to cause the flat.  Anyway, one the new tire is in place, there are no more flats for this back group the rest of the day.  Bob Evancho has ridden on with our urging as he has afternoon plans with his wife and will never make it if he delays any longer. I remain unsure if he made it, and I worry about it on and off throughout the day.  Bob Grable, Harley, and I spend the rest of the day riding together never seeing another rider other than fading taillights on our way to stop at the gas station. 

 

We decide not to eat at Little Twirl and to eat at the gas station to save time.  Sure enough, when we  pass Little Twirl there are no bicycles.  I later learn from Thomas Nance that the group did stop there.  It was slow and crowded evidently which gives you an idea of the time we spent fixing the flat and our pace.  Of course, this is pretty much my normal pace anymore, but Harley and Bob could ride faster but don't.  Our service is quick at the gas station.  The sandwiches are made and just need to be dressed.  When I go to pay, however, the credit card machine rejects both of my credit cards.  Luckily I have cash but I worry about the rejection and if something is wrong as I know I am nowhere near my limit.  They later work elsewhere so I assume it was the machine.

 

After lunch we stop at the nearby restroom on the Monon Trail. I am impressed.  There is even soap and paper towels.  It will be delightful when the trail is completed and I only wish it would be all paved instead of being paved in towns but turning to crushed limestone in between towns.  I wonder if each small town will offer bathrooms like these. Everything is so green and fresh looking.  Roads are beginning to dry out and I remain hopeful that we will make it back to the start with only the few drops we had right before the first store stop.   

 

We chatter as people do on rides, sometimes all of us, sometimes two of us with the other riding silently and listening or not listening as the mood strikes.  Harley talks about how is going to be leaving to do the Ride Across Georgia and how this will cause him to miss the next two stages.  They both talk about wanting to go to France to ride.  I silently think of what trip I will do next.  This has not been a good year for me to plan trips, but perhaps something will work out in the fall.  

 

We pass Old Babe Road and shortly thereafter begin the long climb up toward the third store stop. I am surprised the sign is still there.  It normally disappears shortly after replacement.  The sound of water rushing down the hill is the background music and there is no talking, merely the sound of people trying to breathe and the occasional drip of leftover rain onto the ground.  It is lush and green and the wooded areas along the road look lovely. I try to keep my mind on the sounds and sights as my legs complain and curse me telling me I am too old for such nonsense. 

 

 It is a long hill and while it is not ridiculously steep, it is challenging.  Harley reaches the top first, then Bob, then me.  We go briefly off course when they both say their GPS says they are off course.  I then realize I mistakenly loaded the alternative course I had downloaded in case we rode on Sunday as I had to change the store stop since Amos is closed on Sunday.   Some ride captain I am, adding a mile or so to their journey.  I later learn from Jon Wineland that a delivery driver pulled into Amos's store while he was there and the driver was apologizing for being late because he got behind a group of cyclists slowly climbing that long hill.  For some reason, it struck me as funny despite the fact it must have been annoying for the driver who is working while the rest of us are out here playing.  But really, how long could they have held him up?  I understand because patience does not come easily to me, but still.  

 

I can see the dent in drinks from Thursday when I open the refrigerator.  I grab my usual third store stop Gatorade and a Snickers bar and sit outside looking forward to the last twenty five miles.  I really like Delaney Park Road and there is a delicious downhill to look forward to.  I think it is much more fun going down rather than up it as I did on Thursday.  I later learn from Thomas that he clocked over 49 mph on the descent.  Sadly, Glenn, who told me he was going 42, was going too fast to make the turn.  He went down and flipped all the way into the nearby creek.  There is no explaining why he was not more seriously injured, but he was able to ride the rest of the ride and, when I checked on him the next day, said he was surprised but he felt a little better than he did the previous day.  His angels deserve overtime pay.  

 

It is at this point that I will put on my old woman, motherly hat to pontificate a bit.  While most of the roads were dry by afternoon, there were still wet patches.  And most of you did not know the hills on the ride, whether they had switch backs, how steep the descent.  Always, always use caution on descents that you are not familiar with, and even more caution if there is a possibility of gravel and debris on the road (think recent hard rains) and wet patches.  It is much better to go slower and reach the bottom intact. Also, remember if you are riding with others down a major descent and one of you is no longer with you, to check on them.  Fortunately Thomas was behind Glenn and stopped.  And I am not saying I have not been guilty of these very things.  Yes, my S...t stinks at times too.  But I am sharing things I have learned.  And they apply to any ride, not just my own.  I remember hearing once that even pros say they slow down on descents unless they are racing. 

 

After Delaney, there are a few short, steep hills that my legs find offensive before the final, four mile rather flat finish.  When we pull in the parking lot, all the others have come and gone.  Bob finishes the course out as it is a bit shy of 100.  It was not the century that I first intended to put, but life requires that we adapt because she sure doesn't adapt to us.  Changes were necessary.  We are living.  And what better way to live than on the back of a bicycle exploring new roads?  

 

 

Finishing Groups were as follows: (because I know some of you like to see this  page)  

 

John Wineland        Group of 1         4:13

Bob Evancho    Group of 2                4:41

Jeremiah Westndorf    Group of 2        4:41

 Larry Preble            Group of 6        4:56

Zach Coleman        Group of 6        4:56

 Thomas Nance        Group of 6        4:56

 Glenn Smith        Group of 6        4:56

Mike Kamenish        Group of 6        4:56

David King            Group of 6            4:56

Steve Rice        Group of 2        5:03         

Mark Rougeux       Group of 2        5:03

 Harley Wise        Group of 3        5:40

Bob Grable        Group of 3        5:40

Melissa Hall        Group of 3        5:40   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Solo Hardinsburg: Spring 2026

 It is so small a thing

to have enjoyed the sun, to

have lived light in the spring, 

to have loved, to have thought,  

to have done."
Matthew Arnold 

 

It is  going to be a spectacular day, one of those special days that seems to be a gift from above:  little wind and wall to wall sunshine.  A cool morning will gently release  her grip to a warmer day, so I carry my Texas Hell Week cycling backpack from years ago.  A smile crosses my face at the first pedal stroke and stays there most of the day.

 

I am riding my Hardinsburg Century.  I don't know where it falls in the list of centuries I designed, but I do know it was before I had much in the way of maps and before GPS.  My original intent was to eat in Hardinsburg, a town I had never visited before, but upon arriving for the first time, I found the only place open to eat at was an ancient Dairy Barn that looked as if nobody had done any cleaning in the past one hundred years.  Filth covered the outside walls and the building looked as if it were falling apart.  I rode on finally finding Little Twirl in Lavonia, a much more acceptable option.   Since then, Hardinsburg has gotten a gas station and a few other places.  The Dairy Barn is gone, merely a memory.  

 

Regardless, it is one of my favorite rides of my own design.  I have found century routes that one designs oneself to be like friends:  you love or like them all but sometimes for different reasons.  Hardinsburg is just challenging enough that you know you  will be tired at the end.  There are more rollers than significant climbs, but there are a few significant climbs.  Wahoo numbers them at 23.  It is a nice mix of farm land and of forest roads where the trees overhang the road leaving dappling shadows dancing upon it.  Today, in the forested areas, there seem to be suicidal squirrels, and I barely miss several that dart back and forth in front of my wheel. 

 

As often happens on rides, I come across something new.  Someone has started a trend of hanging old caps on top of fence posts in a field.  There are Santa hats and elf hats and ball caps.   It reminds me of the Shoe  Tree Century that I rode years and years ago that featured a tree numerous people had adorned with old worn out shoes thrown across its branches.  Who thinks of these things?  

 

When I arrive, Little Twirl is closed, but I expect this and intend to lunch in Campbellsburg at the gas station.  The hamburger there, while pre-cooked and wrapped in foil, is surprising good once they dress it for me and I sit by myself in the sun enjoying myself. Food always tastes better when I am truly hungry.  I smile thinking of all the new century riders that seem to have trouble with understanding the need to eat on a long ride.  I ask if there is a restroom and there is none, but the worker directs me to one that is on the Monon trail. I find it easily.   I cross the trail twice today and think how nice it will be once it is completed.  

 

While I ride,  memory after memory from this ride, both when alone and in company arise, and I think of how that is one thing I don't like about Zwift.  Yes, you can train well on Zwift.  You can ride at times when it would be challenging or impossible even to ride outside.  But you lose something.  While I have never been an avid Zwifter, I have used it.  And I can't think of one single memory I have from a Zwift ride other than when I rode a century on it and was worried the electric was going to go off as I neared the end.  I treasure the memories of rides with those who no longer ride or who now ride in a different group than me or who I still ride with or who mainly ride on Zwift.  I am glad it is their thing.   I don't think it will ever really be mine though I probably will sign up again some future winter that is stuffed with cold and wind and snow.  

 

As I zoom down Cox Ferry Road hill, a long, steep descent that ends opening into a large meadow lined with trees on one side, there are two large planes flying remarkable low.  They are not small Cessna like planes though not huge and they do not have the markings of Delta or Southwest or a major airline.  They are green and have a strip on the back that is white and black lines as best I can determine.  Puzzled, I head onward.  The first plane was so close to the tree line.  The second not so much. A truck passes me and the driver, an old man, waves.  I wave back but my thoughts are consumed by the long climb to get to the third store stop:  Red Barn Bait Shop.  Each year on familiar but tough climbs I wonder if this will be the year my legs fail me.  But not this year.

 

 

The climb does not seem brutal today, perhaps because I just climb at my own pace and am not worried about holding others up.  Or perhaps it is the weight program I have adopted.  Then I reach the store and say hello to Amos and his dog before heading for home one one of my favorite roads.  As I near the finish I wonder why I ended it with the roads I did for they are far more challenging than the alternate route.  But I suck it up and ride them, sorry to end this beautiful day, remembering what it was like to have legs that could go hundreds of miles without much rest or sleep.  This ride might have been a small thing, but it is my thing.  I am grateful that I can still do this and I am grateful for a spring day such as this.  I am blessed. 

Unplanned Roads

"It's better to burn out

than it is to rust."

Neil Young

 

Today is supposed to be one of those rare cycling days with moderate temperatures and light wind, so I decide to try to preride my upcoming club century to check for any route issues.  I worry about flooding from all the rain and quickly find out that I am correct.  700 is underwater.  But I will not let it ruin the day, and head toward Medora (which I also expect to find flooded) by a different road.  I am hoping I can see if there is road construction near the bridge as while the flooding might recede by then, construction would mean the century is a no-go and I will need a substitution. 

 

As I ride, I wonder if I will remember the old way there: but it is a non-issue.  The road unfolds in front of me as if I just traversed these roads last week instead of a few years ago.  The flatness of the route appeals to me today.  Normally I head toward the hills knowing that riding only flats saps leg strength quite quickly. 

 

 The sun has not yet come all the way out and it is quite strange to find that on my left there is sunshine and some blue sky while to my right there are just gray clouds, thick and puffy and cluttering the sky.  They actually look threatening, but I know it is not supposed to rain.  As an experienced rider, however, I have learned that supposed to doesn't always count.  I briefly think of the Medora Century two years ago where we left the parking lot in sunshine and then the rain started and stayed leaving us cold, wet, and weakened. The memory of how the towns people plied us with coffee and warmth brings a smile to my face.  They mothered us, and tomorrow is Mother's Day.  

 

 As I ride I think of how I miss my mother, more now perhaps than I did at first, or perhaps differently.  I just know that lately she has haunted my mind with memories and a longing to hear her voice and see her again.  I read an article recently whose theme was that when our mother passes, it is not just that she died that haunts us, but that she died without becoming the perfect mother and her death brings the realization that those needs we have that she did not or could not fulfill will now never be fulfilled.  I don't know if I believe this to be true, but it is a different way of looking at the passing of anyone really, not just our mother.  

 

 I arrive at Medora and find it is flooded and the flooding is too far out from the bridge to really know about any construction.  I decide to go try to find an old, closed bridge I found once a number of years ago.  It was not only closed, but had a huge blockade, but some lady came out of her home and handed me my bike, crossed the bridge with me, and handed me my bike on the other side as the barrier was too high for me to lift it over and set it down.  Again, kindness in the world.  

 

 I never find the bridge, maybe because many of the roads are blocked by flooding.  I suddenly realize I really have no idea where I am.  Wahoo sucks for this type of riding since it does not identify road names or have an option to route to a store or town, but I don't have a Garmin anymore.  I know I am on Wheeler's Holler Road and that I eventually reach Lick Skillet (where did that name come from).  I smile thinking of how I used to tell Grasshopper that if you rode long enough, you would come out somewhere, and I head onward.  I miss seeing Grasshopper and the fun rides we used to have.  I think of riding with him to Medora one winter.  While we were eating our lunches, the snow started, huge flakes the size of a fist.  But we made it back to the start despite my misgivings. 

 

Eventually I give in and pull out my phone.  Just prior to this, my right shifter begins giving me problems and I decide I had better just turn around and go back the way I came. No century for this girl today.  I also eat my home made oatmeal blueberry bar and think how I will be a hungry girl with about 70 miles under my belt on one small bar and water. Still, I have ridden farther on less. If I remember correctly, the first PBP we went eighty miles before stopping. But perhaps my memory betrays me as it does more and more these days.  The hard drive is way past full and I am working on disc space I fear. If I think of it, I will have to ask Steve or Dave.

 

I do notice that corn has sprouted in the fields.  I don't see any soybeans and wonder if it is due to disrupted market chains or if it is too early.  I can't recall if it comes up the same time as corn or not.  The Catalpa trees, a favorite of mine,  are blooming as well, and occasionally their blossoms decorate the road as if the road were a bridal passage.    I notice how green and verdant everything is and that the daisies have started blooming.  I smile thinking of how,  when first married, I would pick them and bring them in to brighten our home.  I smile thinking of the wonderful Mother's Day bouquet I received from my son yesterday, so different with its roses and expensive flowers, but that I have to keep locked away in the bathroom or closet due to Murphy, jerk that he is, who knocks vases over. So many of the people I knew then gone:  my husband, my siblings, my parents, Dave, Henry, Mark....  But I push that thought aside making myself think if waters will go down in two weeks time and what century I will substitute for the club if they do not.  

 

I think about whether I want to try to do another overnight this year even though it will not be part of the TMD and will likely only draw a rider or two if that.  Or I could plan on riding it alone as I have done a few times. Still, I know my days of doing those are numbered.  I make a concerted effort to stay strong, but life will have her way.  We all have an expiration date.  But as Neil Young points out, "It's better to burn out than it is to rust."   I would like to go to Montgomery again, but it takes planning.  I thought I would have more time when I retire, and I suppose I do, but I waste much of it.  Some is a good waste of time.   I read more.  Some is not. I sit more.  But perhaps I will get it planned.  Time will tell. 

 

I am able to shift in the front to the small and middle chain ring, but not to the large chain ring.  In the rear I am limited to a gear.  Flats are slow and hills are hard but luckily there are no long and/or steep climbs on today's ride.  I am still on the back roads when a Jeep passes me with a man hanging out the window yelling that there are a hundred more behind him.  I lost count but I think he was being truthful.  I felt very vulnerable on the narrow, windy country roads with so many speeding past, not wanting to be left behind by their comrades,  and am glad it is not a large group ride as I think an altercation between rider and car would have been the inevitable result.  I breath a sigh of relief when I see the last of them and wonder about them.  I guess they must get the same enjoyment riding around in their cars as a group as we do on our bicycles, but I don't really understand how.  Then I think of my Uncle Victor and how he would take us for ice cream and "Spooky Rides" where he would turn the car lights off for a few seconds and tell scary stories.  So maybe it is not so strange. 

 

 I arrive home with 71 miles glad I didn't have to call Better World Club and find out how good or bad their bicycle service is.  I left AAA and joined Better World because you can buy a bicycle supplement to transport you 30 miles if you have a mechanical.    I will have to check my route another day.  I have no regrets other than my bike needing attention.  I remind myself of how blessed I am to have my health and a day meant for riding and how much I enjoyed being on roads and not being exactly sure of where I was.  I don't do that very often anymore.  Sometimes those unexpected things that happen on a ride are the best things, things we could not have planned better if we tried.  Gosh I love bicycles.