BMB and Mad Dogs
By: Melissa “Puddle” Hall
An unusual coolness embraced me as I walked out the door to make my way to the start of BMB, Boston-Munfordville-Boston.. It felt wonderful after the scorching weather we have had recently where you feel as if you are a muffin browning inside a giant oven, flirting with burning, the air as thick as molasses in the wintertime. Still I knew that despite this brief morning respite, it would be hot by the end of the ride. There was a large crowd when I arrived, some people I know and some I do not know. Just another sign that things have changed since the Tour de Mad Dog began in 2004 when I came to know everyone participating in the TMD and the start of each ride was almost like a family reunion. After the course briefing by the John, the ride captain, we poured onto the road, a collage of different colored jerseys and bicycles. Soft laughter and gentle chatter floated in the air mixing with the excitement of a new ride and seeing friends.
As always on this ride I remember my first BMB when it did not seem the easy course that it does on this particular day. On my first BMB, John Paul “Art Dog” did not know me, but he was kind and allowed me to draft behind his broad shoulders when I became tired. He also was the first to point out to me the “House with Hair” on 357 just north of Munfordville. I had heard about this house from Eddie Doeer, an original Mad Dog, so it was exciting seeing something I had only imagined before. Today I notice that there are orange blooms mixed in the “hair” of the house, and I imagine that the hair is all that is holding the house together. Somehow, despite all odds, despite Ike, this house remains standing, much like the survival of the Mad Dogs. I will never forget how one rider can make a ride so much easier on another. If I have not thanked you before, JP, I thank you now for your quiet patience and your bravery in letting me, an inexperienced rider with few handling skills, hug your wheel never taking my turn in the front eating the wind. I never will understand why a course can seem difficult one day and easy another. Yes, sometimes it is due to your fitness level, but not always. Sometimes it is due to weather, but not always. Sometimes it is due to good or not so good company, but not always. Sometimes you just ride more easily than you do at other times. Sometimes the hills feel like insurmountable mountains, taunting your mind as your thighs burn as if they were on fire, and other times they barely register as hills. Today I notice a charmingly beautiful field of Queen Ann's Lace that has small patches of purple Chicory and Black Eyed Susan entwined throughout making a beautiful pattern that I hope will slip through my dreams tonight. The word's of Alice Walker, “The Color Purple,” spring to my mind: “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.... People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.” Today the world pleases me and I hope the world knows it.
Because this route was the first Mad Dog Century and because of all the recent controversy about Mad Dogs I became curious to know more about the Mad Dogs, their start, the changes, and this ride. While I think everyone has the right of having an opinion, I detest it when it becomes nasty and name calling begins and feelings are hurt. Was there ever a united vision as to what the group was or should be? So many people don't even seem to realize that the Mad Dogs existed for three years prior to the Tour de Mad Dog and despite all odds to the contrary still do exist apart from the tour. For the first time since college, I decided to research a subject, at least lightly. I ended up with e-mails to five of the original Mad Dogs: Eddie Doerr, Mike Pitt, Tim Chilton, Jim Moore, and Bill Pustow, three of whom responded. I found an article in the 2001 club newsletter archives. I searched my memory for oral memories from early participants. Rather than clarifying the beginning, however, for the first time I realize how fickle and unreliable memory is and the more sources I gather make it more difficult rather than easier to write this article. Sometimes I just had to pick the version that seemed most likely to me, but as far as I can determine this is how it all began. My apologies to those of you who were there and saw things differently. I did the best I could at picking consistency from the various responses that were anything but consistent with each other.
It seems the first BMB happened January 13, 2001 in response to a few club members being impressed with the Big Dogs of Iowa (www.big-dogs.org). For those that are not familiar with the Big Dog site, it is a group of long distance cyclists, many of whom live in much colder climes than Kentuckiana, who pledge (if they accept the challenge) to ride a century every month of the year. The web site had pictures of cyclists in their winter gear riding roads lined with snow. This presented a challenge to cyclists in a warmer climate but where cycling through the winter was for the fringe elements. 2001was also the year the Bill Pustow went after the UMCA century (www.ultracycling.com) record completing 62 centuries, and per Eddie, the year others were dreaming of competing in RAAM. Nobody seems to remember for sure who designed the course, but Bill and Mike give Eddie credit. The original route was quite different from the route today and was an out and back course that passed through New Haven in both directions. Tim Chilton and Mike Pitt designed the changes for the course that we ride today.
Prior to BMB, the Louisville Bicycle Club had never had winter centuries. From what I have heard, most people hung up their bicycles at the end of October only to bring them back out in March, thus creating the traditional touring season that determines the yellow and blue jersey winners. A peek at the winter touring schedules on the web site confirms this change. Heck, one winter entry on the schedule did not even involve bicycles but running, walking, and roller blading. Don't ask me if they got mileage credit because I really don't know. Davy “Packman” Ryan, someone who rode in all weather all year long and really a pioneer in winter riding, even mentioned in one post on the list serve that he was forbidden to put a century on in the winter and was told he had to wait until May.
Anyway, for some reason, I suspect Mike Pitt's silken tongue and power of persuasion, BMB was scheduled with Eddie and Mike as ride captains and the club officers allowed the ride to be placed on the schedule. I suspect that none of them dreamed that it would become the popular route or pastime that it is today. Six brave people were the ones who broke tradition and braved the frigid winter temperatures: Bill “Cisco” Pustow, Anong “Mrs. Mad Dog” Pustow, Tim “Choo Choo” Chilton, Mike “Pan” Pitt, Jay (last name unknown and no longer rides) and Eddie “Waldo” Doerr. From what I am told, it was Tim's first century.
Eddie's recent e-mail says that it was 10 degrees at the start, but in his article for the newsletter at that time, he says it was 21 degrees, so I suspect the 21 degrees is correct. Memory is a capricious thing, changing course over time and molding itself to our liking. One thing that seems to be consistent and impressed those that rode that day was the ice clinging to the rocks along the sides of the long climb up Edlin Hill where water had leaked from the earth and was reaching downward toward the earth with frozen fingers. At the top of the climb was a low lying cloud where ice particles seemed to hang in the air and the world seems somehow transformed. The frost was so thick that the grasses actually appeared to be white, and the sun did not come out that day to kiss them with his warmth: a virtual crystal fairyland to the eyes. While I was not there, in my mind I can envision the beauty and I envy those riders that day, their accomplishment, and their camaraderie.
At that time, Subway was not yet the designated lunch stop, and the group stopped at a now defunct restaurant named Stewart's. The restaurant patrons included an Amish or Mennonite family with children that were wide eyed with fascination as Eddie performed a slow strip tease ridding himself of layer upon layer of wool draping each layer across the back of a restaurant chair. Other patrons watched the culture clash with amusement with one remarking after the family left that each thought the other was quite mad. There was also the famous sign on Highway 31, no longer hanging, but that still remained when I rode my first BMB, “Enjoy Kentucky, We Don't Rent Pigs.”
Originally there was talk of naming the Mad Dogs “Sugar Bears,” but thankfully Bill, Anong, and Mike prevailed and the name “Mad Dog” was coined. Bill's description to me was as follows: “I had remembered reading Heller's book "Catch- 22" and remembered an old Italian saying that only Englishmen and mad dogs go out into the noonday sun......or, I felt, would ride a century when it's below 20. We asked Anong for her opinion, and her response was to shut up and stop talking and just ride the damn century. As men normally do, we just ignored her and, thus, the Mad Dogs were born.” You gotta admire a woman with so much common sense and the ability to keep the guys in line, a dirty task but somebody's gotta do it. You gotta love the men who ignored her and their enthusiasm for the task at hand. Actually, according to Wikipedia, “"Mad Dogs and Englishmen" is a song written by Noël Coward and first performed in The Third Little Show at the Music Box Theatre, New York, on 1 June 1931, by Beatrice Lillie.” However it originated, it eventually became an integral part of the LBC. Per Mike, in February of the first year Eddie came up with the idea of trying to ride a century for each number representing the month: 1 for January, 2 for February, 3 for March, etc. Eddie made it all the way through August that year riding eight centuries that month.
Eddie's vision of the Mad Dogs was to encourage people to complete their first century. Both Eddie and Mike promised they would not drop those attempting their first century. Tattoos, stickers, and chocolates were inducements and rewards with the tattoos and stickers coming later courtesy of Mike Pitt. Along with the promise of a nickname, everyone was amazed at what grown people would do to become one of the pack. When summer arrived with his warmth and chocolates were no longer a viable offer after spending the day in a hot car, the chocolates were replaced by cold drinks in a cooler: whatever worked to share the love of the century. Mike found the sticker at a store, and for awhile stickers were all the rage. J.P. went on to take the sticker and use it as a creative muse in his design of the Mad Dog tattoo. The original tattoos, unlike those that Kirk give out, were black and white. Today’s tattoos have color and they are just as motivating. Each dog proudly displayed his tattoo generously provided by the LBC on century rides. Nicknames also became a means of encouragement to make people become part of the pack.
And this, believe it or not, is a brief summary of the first BMB and the start of the Mad Dogs as I gathered it from some of those who were there at the birth. To me, Eddie appears to have been the dreamer, but then I am somewhat prejudiced, for without Eddie I may never have discovered the Mad Dogs and my love of distance cycling. Mike called Eddie “the idea guy.” Bill appears to me to have been the pragmatist, using the idea to make the pursuit of a goal much easier than it might have been otherwise. Lastly, I see Mike as the glue that held them together for that first little bit. All of them were adventurers braving a new type of riding that was familiar to only a few in the area and intent on blazing a new trail. But those are just my perceptions. For whatever reason, the Mad Dogs remained alive, and with the birth of the Tour de Mad Dog in 2004, flourished. But never forget that while there can be no doubt that Tim’s wonderful creation of the TMD caused the explosion in distance riding in the area, the Mad Dogs still exist apart from the tour. The vision may have changed, but was it ever a collective vision in the first place? But the wonderful thing is that there is a place for all. “Come out and play.”
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