The Crawford Century TMD Ride: 2022

"Action may not always bring

happiness, but there is no happiness

without action."

William James

 

I am looking forward to this century though wary of the heat.  It takes awhile for the body to adjust to  heat, but the only way I know to make that adjustment is to ride in it and be outside. At least I don't puke normally like some people.  As with most things in life, you have to pay your dues.  The cost for some appears to be higher than for others, but I suppose in the end it all equals out.  I am looking forward to seeing everyone.  I am looking forward to  a new century route.  And I am looking forward to riding my bicycle.  

 

  When asked, I tell Bob Grable that I will be riding more slowly than the last century, a century where I surprised myself with my speed.  No, not a blazing fast pace, but faster than I expected and faster than I should probably go today.  

 

 

It is a good group that shows.  All strong and seasoned riders as best I can ascertain though there are two or three I am unfamiliar with.  They look fit.  And I do start the century at a reasonable pace, only to find my speed increasing as I warm up.  I have found that it takes me longer for muscles to warm up than it used to....they need a bit of coaxing and convincing before they concede that they still can do what is being asked of them. And today is no different. 

 

Still, I feel stronger than expected today. Can a vitamin B12 shot be responsible for how I feel?  At a recent doctor visit, Sara took blood and told me my levels were low and advised that  I needed a shot after questioning if I had gone vegetarian.  (I have not though I have significantly lowered my meat consumption over the past few years, particularly red meat).  The day after I felt as if I were twelve years younger.  Such a relief as I believed my fatigue was age related.  

We ride on roads that I have not ridden for awhile, many from past brevet courses and occasionally memories of past rides tease me.  I push them away.  Today is not a day for dawdling and reminiscing. I think of Dave King and Steve Meredith, both doing the Kentucky 400 K today and I wish them strength and a successful finish.

 

 

 Everything is green and lush:  summer creeping in and taking over.  There are still a few spring flowers scattered here and there, but they are obviously on the decline.  Daisies are starting and the honeysuckle is in full bloom, perfuming the air whenever we pass. If I were by myself and/or going at a slower pace, I would notice more, instead I find myself pushing, monitoring my breathing, monitoring my legs, thinking how best to put 100 miles behind me without ending the ride wishing I had been left in a roadside ditch somewhere.  And I find myself singing.  I am happy here in the heat and sunshine rolling along on a bicycle with friends.

As usually happens with larger groups, and there are  probably 19 riding, not large by normal TMD standards but large for this calendar year, we split into groups.  Bob and I are together at the first store step.  Ned is close behind us, but for some reason does not stop at the store with us.  I worry a bit but assure myself that I am not responsible for him or any of the others.  Steve Rice and Mark Rougeux, another group, are already there.  They head out shortly before we do though both Bob and I gulp our drinks quickly and head out. 

 

The lunch stop offers two possibilities, a gas station and a restaurant.  The majority opt for the gas station.  I am surprised at the number of people eating inside, not merely due to COVID but because the temperature outside is pleasant and there is a covered area with picnic tables.  I take my chicken salad sandwich outside and eat giggling again at the thought of another year of the finest in curbside dining.  At least there are picnic tables here.  

 

After a quick lunch we take off.  No lingering after this meal.  And our average speed continues to climb until the third store stop.  But the pace is beginning to tell and Bob and I, still together, decide to slow it down a bit, particularly knowing there is a huge climb that lies between us and the finish.   And huge it is.  Halfway up a man working in his yard grins at us and says something about the climb.  I tell him we have this in the bag.  And we do.  We end together, pleasantly tired but not completely spent.  And I am happy.  Happy for the day, for the ride, for friends, and for bicycles.  James is right.  I find I am rarely happy without action of some type, mental or physical, and today I have had my fill.  The day is completed when some of the men in the front group comment on how strong I am this year.  Their words are music to my tired ears.  And for today I am sated.  And as always, I am thankful....thankful for bicycles, thankful health, thankful for friends, and yes, even thankful for hills that serve to humble and strengthen us. 

 

 

Red Barn Ride: June 2020

"True friendship comes when the 

silence between two people

is comfortable."

David Tyson

As I head out on my bike this late morning, I think quite a bit about the ride I put on yesterday.  I was surprised that eight people showed though I know it is a lovely course with little traffic.  It is a long drive to the ride start for my friends from Louisville, but then there was nothing else on the schedule.  And some are close friends, friends whose company I enjoy and who must enjoy mine.  As the bike club re-opens from COVID, I suspect some captains and some riders will not return and others will wait to see how the rides go.  But most of us that ride will continue to ride because riding is about more than the bike. Riding is about the jokes, the surprises, the friendship, the beauty, the trials and tribulations, the triumphs, the sweat and the chills, and so much more. 

Today I have decided to ride to Borden and get a couple of tough climbs in, something I have been avoiding lately.  It does me no good to avoid the climbs because that is the only way to truly build strength.  It would be better to have others to climb with to push my speed a bit as I tend to be lazy, but it is what it is.   I think I am fortunate that the weather today is moderate.  Climbing is so much easier when it is not in the nineties where the heat brings the sweat that drips in the eyes causing them to burn as if they were on fire despite one's headband.  Over the years I have learned to carry an extra bandana for such moments and keep it handy, tucked in my shorts.  People have laughed at the "tumor" on my thigh, but it serves its purpose.  Today, however, I should not need it.  Thinking of this makes me giggle about a sweat band  that I bought at Texas Hell Week, a rubber "gutter" that went around my head.  The guys laughed.  They were right.  Not only did it not stop the sweat from getting in my eyes, it gave me a headache. 

Interestingly, perhaps even Freudian  or because I am lost in my own head, I miss the turn to Bartle's Knob, but this does not save me, it only adds miles as it is a dead end road.  I have never ridden down this way and it is a nice road, secluded with attractive homes.  One lady is out spraying the weeds in the ditch by the road.  I always hate riding by anyone spraying weed killer or pesticides because I suspect it is decidedly unhealthy.  I never know whether to try to hold my breath or breathe shallowly and rapidly to try to keep it from reaching deep in my lungs.  This time I hold my breath.  On the way back, I breath shallowly.  I am halfway up the road before recognizing my mistake and understanding that somehow I am not on the right road, but I ride to where it dead ends with no trespassing signs before turning around. 

Before you know it, I am passing Wiley's Chapel on the way up the first climb:  Bartle's Knob.  The climb is long and for one short moment, my Wahoo tells me the grade is 18 per cent, but since I am not hurrying not really painful.  I should be pushing myself to go faster, but instead just go at my own, slow, steady pace.  I think of how I used this hill and the next to help train for the hills in the Virginia 1000 K a few years ago.  It seems so long ago, and yet not.  Sometimes things are like that. 

I crest the hill and debate how to get to Borden. I know that Daisy Hill Road will take me to Borden, but I am pretty sure that Jackson Road also leads there and is the other hill I am looking for.  I am right.  I "thought" I was right, but I could as easily have been wrong.  When I turn onto Jackson, I tell myself if I am not descending within six miles, I will turn around.  But descending I am, and at quite a clip at one point.  I think yet again to myself that I need to get new brake pads in front. The back are fine, but the front definitely need replacement.  I think about what type of brakes I will get if I get a new bike.  So many of the new bikes have disc brakes.  The guys said it is overkill on a regular road bike, but the people that have them seem to like them.  Oh, well, it will be awhile before a new bike comes my way.  I remain glad I bought titanium.  It  lasts. In fact, the only thing new on it since I bought it in 2011 is chain, cassette, cables, bar tape, and saddle.  Oh, and one shifter, one that Steve Rice helped locate for me on line. Everything else is what came with the bike.  I did buy new wheels this year, but I have not yet put them on. 

That leads me to think of how I feel  like  I upset the bike shop by wanting high spoke count wheels.  I don't think he understands how I ride, that I may be one hundred miles out from my daughter or may run into gravel that I don't want to take the time to go around despite it being a road bike.  That bike has been on some pretty rough roads in its time.  "Why," I ask myself, "do I sometimes feel guilty getting what I want for myself when someone else thinks I should want something different but don't."  I have no answer for this.  Of course, as long as he makes money, it should not matter to the bike shop, but it either does or it is my imagination that it does.

Soon, I am sitting eating a small twist cone that seems pretty large but tastes pretty darned good.  I don't know how it will sit with the big climb up Jackson, but for now it is fine.  The biggest problem on the return is getting across the road.  Cars zoom and those that turn seem not to use turn signals, but finally I am across and ready to climb.  As I pass the elementary school, I giggle to myself remembering the look on the faces of the kids at recess when they realized that I was about to climb that huge hill on my bike a few years ago. 

Halfway up the steepest part of the climb, a bug flies into my open, gasping mouth and rather than being swallowed, it lodges in my throat.  I try to ride through it, but end up stopping and taking a few swigs all the while wondering if I will be able to turn the pedals and start back up or will have to walk. The road is wide enough to allow me to go sideways, much stronger because of the additional protein I just unwittingly downed, and finish the climb.  The grass alongside the road is still green despite the fact that we are starting to need rain.  Daisies, black eyed Susan, and lilies line the road in places. Later on, I see bales of hay lay waiting to be dragged to barns. Last year there was such a shortage of hay due to the drought. 

On the ride home I think about the company yesterday and find myself with a wide grin on my face.  I have blessed with many friends in my lifetime.  How much poorer would my life be without them?  How much richer are experiences when shared?  Sometimes we talk, usually we talk or at least I talk, but sometimes it is enough to ride in companionable silence.  It is nice to have friends like that.  It is nice to have friends that will drive quite a distance just to be with you and to share a course that you put together. I am truly blessed.  They listen at times when I feel they must think, "Will she never shut up?"  They bear with me at times when I have nothing to say but feel the warmth of their company.  Thanks to those that came.  It was a good ride.  And today is a good ride today.  Life is good despite COVID, at least at this point. 

A July Ride with Friends

"Friendship is unnecessary, like

philosophy, like art... It has no survival

value; rather it is one of those things that

give value to survival."

C.S. Lewis

After a long stretch of exceedingly hot and humid weather with "feel like" temperatures above 100 degrees, there is finally a day that promises low humidity and temperatures only into the eighties, a day that just seems heaven made for cycling.  I am concerned about the route, as I always am with a new route and an unknown route designer. Unlike some riders, I prefer lightly traveled, country roads to busy roads even if they are more difficult to travel and take more time just as I prefer living in the country to living in the city. It suits me and it suits my personality.  Having not ridden one of his rides before, I have no idea as to the designer's preference.  The TMD crowd of bicycle riders has grown, and there are now many people who ride whose names I don't know no less their personalities.

 I may end up one of the many cycling victims of the automobile, but I would prefer it not to be due to poor routing. Still, I am not stupid enough to believe that it can't happen anywhere. Eddie Doerr used to say that it was not a matter of if so much as when and how badly and I believe him to be right if one rides enough.  However unfortunate it may be, bicycling is dangerous business. This route appears to be a combination of lightly and heavily traveled roads. After finding it is scheduled to go through Madison on Regatta week-end, I struggle before deciding to roll the dice, take the risk, and go.  It helps finding a group is starting earlier than the scheduled time, something I normally don't do as I consider it rude unless there is good reason, but the part of the route that goes on heavily trafficked roads convinces me that it is safer to get through Madison early rather than late.  Past experience on rides in the area on Regatta week-end has taught me that many people will be drinking and that many drivers in the area will be impaired.  The earlier I get through there, the less likely I am to meet one of them, and that is just fine by me.

It will be delightful to see friends even if I won't be able to hang with them the entire ride.  It is nice of them to include me, and they are only starting early due to necessity. I used to be able to keep their pace, and perhaps I will again in the future, but right now I can't and have no desire to try.  I think how I have changed remembering futilely chasing after Jim Whaley on a ride, pedaling furiously and determinedly, with Mike Pitt saying over and over, "You can't catch him.  Stop. Stop. You can't catch him."  And still I pedaled and tried and tried only giving up when he was no longer in view.   I think how much desire plays into ability.  No, I didn't catch him that day, but I rode hard and I rode well.  When, I think, did that stop?  Did brevets and their non-competitiveness play a role?  Did I just grow lazy? I find I have no answer and it needs more thought, but not today.  That is a thought for a solo ride, and with retirement looming nearby, there will be time.

I do end up riding the entire day with Amelia, Jeff, Mike, and Paul, but it is only because they allow it.  I don't fool myself that I can maintain the pace they can set if they desire to. Once, yes, but not presently.  I tell each of them not to feel bad if they drop me, but they don't.  And as it turns out, it is just what the doctor ordered.  It is a fun century, the most fun on a ride I have had for awhile.  The last time I remember having so much fun on a ride was one of Rich's rides descending in freezing weather out of Clifty Falls down to 56, barely able to see as my glasses frosted over, laughing madly, cold as the dickens, delighting in the descent and the beauty of the snow as it fell icing an already delightful ride.  Or the century I rode this spring with Bill, Steve, and Dave. Friends, yes, friends are good.  Perhaps one can survive without them, but like love and relationships, they enrich life so. They are kind to allow me to stay with them and to include me, for they have honed a friendship out of hours spent in the saddle together that excludes me, just as I have with Steve, Dave, and Bill, but they allow me in and it fills a part of me that I had not realized was missing recently being so caught up in my own personal issues.

The route is lovely other than the Madison part of the ride and an early part of the ride that is not too busy due to the time of day.  Don't get me wrong.  Madison is a marvelous city and I love to visit there and to sample her restaurants and wines.  I just don't like to ride my bicycle there when the traffic is thick and heavy and people's minds are on vacation from their driving responsibilities. The designer has done a good job though minimizing these roads and keeping us on less traveled thruways.

The recent humid weather with bursts of rain have kept everything green and lush rather than browning to a crisp from the searing heat.  Some of the roads are unfamiliar to me.  During the ride, the others tell me a story of a ride earlier in the past week or two that they did on these roads when a huge storm blew in.  They sheltered in a garage with the owners blessing and the river was lapping at the doorstep by the time the storm abated and they resumed.  I do enjoy the stories I hear on rides, and today is no exception.  I enjoy Lucky's (Jeff's) relaxed attitude about things and wish I had more of that in me.  We talk of Steve Sexton, an old cycling pal,  and I spend a moment missing him and hoping he is well and happy.  I tell them of the time we were on a four day, four hundred mile ride and how I remember the heat and Steve grinning at me on a climb telling me it was a cleavage day. Paul tells me of the recent century where I did not ride with this group and Amelia was pushing the pace, pulling for mile are mile, another rider saying, "This is cruel.  This is cruel."  He laughed saying at first he though the fellow was saying this is cool.  That was before they dropped, no longer able to hold on.

Friends.  Yes, I suppose Lewis is right and we can survive without them as we could without art, philosophy, history, all those things that they are talking about dropping or have dropped from school curriculums.  But do we really want to?  Is life not a bit brighter, more fulfilling with these cushions to turn to that pillow us when life becomes cruel as it inevitably does at times.  I daresay that the answer varies for each of us, but today I am thankful not just for the health that allows me to continue to ride my bicycle for long distances but for the friends I have made along the way.  I hold the kindnesses they have offered along the way closely to my heart to warm me when the world turns cold.  And to them, both old, new, frequently and infrequently seen, I say thank you.  Life should be about more than just survival.