Time for an update

I've left this blog alone for far too long, and it's time for an update.  I'm also decided to change the focus a bit.  Instead of the fairly innocuous tails of cycling exploits (they'll still show up from time to time), I'm going to focus a bit more on what is going on in the world, and how that should probably change.  Now, before you get your wand in a knot, I don't mean change to make me happy, I mean change to make the world a better place.  Many of these ideas and topics won't be very popular, and may make you uncomfortable; tough shit.  Doing the right thing often means rocking the boat.

So I'll not only be pointing out problems, but also offering solutions.  Otherwise, it's just a bunch of whinging, and I really can't stand that.  There will also be considerable "speaking truth to power", hence the name change and change in focus.  The big thing is that I want folks to actually think, not just react to the world around them.  If you're lazy of mind and/or body, expect to get upset if you decide to keep reading (this sentence also works in reverse).  Remember, disagreement often leads to progress; surrounding yourself with "yes men" and barking into the echo-chamber that is social media does not. 

"Wana race?"

Sometimes its the little things that drive you mad; sometimes its something even smaller that puts things back into perspective.

So I was off to a recent meeting of the local Randonneuring club over the weekend.  It seems in terribly bad form to drive to a bike club meeting that is only about 13 miles away, so Chiron and I set off in the middle of the afternoon.  Cool, sunny, a 15mph head wind; you can't win them all, but it was looking like a good ride.  Then, about a mile into the trip, my cycling computer fell off as I crossed some railroad tracks and that erased all the stored data.  I was not amused. 

Determined to not let that ruin the day, I picked my zeroed computer out of the street and got back on the move.  I continued to fight the headwind as I made my way down the usual commuting route, and despite the wind, I was making decent time.  Traffic was light, and even the sight of one of the scariest things a cyclist can see (a little old lady with her glasses in her hand, driving a Ford Crown Victoria), I was still in a decent mood.  Then I got smacked upside the face by one of my biggest pet peeves; conscious, deliberate stupidity.

I can forgive ignorance; I can tolerate a significantly different point of view; I'll even stand up and defend someone's right to free speech, even when what they say is absolutely anathema to my understanding of things, but I cannot stand deliberate stupidity.  So, making the turn on to the street where the microbrewery was (where else, I ask you, should Randonneurs meet), was John Q. Redneck, moron extraordinaire.  No helmet, NASCAR baseball hat, yellow teeth (what there were of them) from a 2-pack-a-day habit, and a ruddy complexion most likely due to hypertension related to excessive alcohol intake.  He was riding a department store B. S. O. (bicycle shaped object), which, along with everything else, I was more than willing to overlook.  The problem was that he was riding the wrong way down a marked bike lane, right towards me. 

Trying to be nice and not get into a confrontation, I got over towards the right side of the bike lane.  So, of course, He got over towards the curb as well.  Obviously, this person's mental capabilities were somewhere on the Bristol Stool scale, but I was about to find out that he was an actual type 7 on that scale.  Since he was right in front of me, we had to stop.  I proceeded to say, while trying to not sound too judgmental, "You're riding on the wrong side of the road."

"I DO NOT ride with traffic!" was his reply.

Okay, now I'm really annoyed.  He just admitted that he knows the traffic laws (the ones written specifically to keep us all safe) and feels completely entitled to consciously break them and put others, namely me, at risk.  Sorry Jack, but when your decisions put me at risk, you're going to hear about it.  I proceeded to inform him of what I thought of his decision and his overall mental capabilities, and then I took off. 

Now, I'm really grumpy.  My cycling computer crapped out, and I had allowed myself to get into an abusive conversation with someone who probably didn't need someone like me yelling at him.  Were Chiron and I playing by the rules, yes.  Was he breaking the laws that govern road travel, absolutely.  Could I have handled the situation differently, yep, but I didn't.  Now I'm as annoyed at myself for loosing my cool as I was at the guy who caused me to loose it.  Not really the best way to spend time on a bike.

Coming to a stop at the next traffic light (still correctly in the bike lane), I grab my water bottle and put my foot down to wait for the light to change.  Hearing something odd, I turn around to see some Mensa candidate in a white sedan right behind me.  He was attempting to make a right-turn on red by using the bike lane as a turn lane.  Just shaking my head at this point, I turn around to see the light is now green.  Not in any hurry, I pedaled off to the club meeting.  I'm not at the point of saying, "I need a beer", but I am starting to consider the phrase. 

The next stoplight was at the biggest intersection I have to navigate on my way.  Left-turn lane, two straight-lanes, and a right-turn lane, coming from all 4 directions.  I'm in the right hand straight-lane, which has sharrows instead of a bike lane.  Waiting for the light to change, a young man and a few of his friends pull up in the right turn lane in a grey Ford crossover.  He looks out the window, sizes me up, and says,

"Wana race?"

I looked over, not being able to contain a smile and a laugh, and said, "Sure, let's do it."

The light turned green, and we both took off.  As I cleared the intersection, any remaining angst evaporated and I was once again my typical jovial, fun-loving, and sarcastic self.  Sure, there were other silly things to deal with on that ride; there always are.  The difference between a good ride and a bad one is largely decided by the rider, prior to the first pedal stroke.  We point the handlebars the way we want to go, and that includes being a positive person.  Most Randonneurs are like that. So...

Wana race?

Getting started

"When trying something for the first time, the less people that know about it, the better"

That is probably the second best bit of cowboy philosophy that I've come across (first would be "Don't squat with yer spurs on"), and it was a good way to get started in Randonneuring.  I had done RAIN last year (160ish miles in 14 hours; I was the 3rd unofficial finisher; I crossed the line at 9:05pm, oh well), so riding a long distance wasn't something that was new to me, but RAIN is also flat and most Brevets are not.  What was new about it was that I didn't know anyone else that was riding, I hadn't ridden that kind of distance while carrying anything more than a candy bar and water, and oh yea, it was the 200K on March 22, in central Ohio.  For those of you who are familiar with Randonneuring, yes, it was THAT ride.

All the folks that I normally rode with at the time already gave me a hard time about Chiron (my Surly LHT), so not wanting to have to answer the questions of, "You're going to do what? When? On that?", I just figured I keep my big mouth shut.  My normal riding buddies all ride on aluminum or carbon fiber bikes, which don't really agree well with my 16 - 17 stone ectomorphic structure, and I'm the only one with fenders. So, I figured I'd tell them about it once I was done.

I'd trained up for it, or so I thought.  I managed to do all of RAIN with only 600 miles of training on the year, so I figured that my just shy of 500 miles would be fine for a 200K ride.  Besides, I had 13.5 hours to ride 126 miles; should be a piece of cake.  I talked it over with Mrs. Mellonhead, and I told her that it was a training ride to get ready for RAIN this year.  She agreed/approved, so I signed up, reserved a room at the hotel where the Brevet was to start, and headed over the night before.  Since I didn't know anyone when I got there, I checked in and then got some dinner.

Back at the hotel after dinner by about 2130, I set the alarm for 0530 and settled down to get some sleep. About 5 hours later, I actually dozed off.  Three hours after that, I got up and staggered down to get some breakfast.  There was a decent crew already in the breakfast room, and I started to realize just exactly how "out of my league" I really was.  The guys that I wound up sitting with all had PBP shirts on, and they had all beaten my best years total mileage already; I'm toast.  Thankfully, Randonneuring isn't about speed, its about being determined to get the job done (and have a little fun while doing it). 

I tanked up on breakfast, filled up my water cans, loaded up all the stuff I though I would need on my bike, and took off with everyone else.  I kept up with the lead group for a little while, but realized that they were much faster than me, so I dropped back and was content to go at my own pace.  I managed to keep the group in sight for a while, but once they were gone, I was in a bit of trouble.  I had forgotten the zip ties that I needed to move my cycling computer, so I couldn't move it and attach my handle bar bag.  Since I didn't do any of that, I didn't have any way to keep my cue sheet in front of me.  Since I had been following the group, I wasn't sure which turns I had made, so I didn't know where to start on the cue sheet once I pulled it out of my pocket.  You can see where this was going.  Thankfully, one of the other riders caught me, and Bill had a GPS with the route programed in.  He admitted to being "a slower rider" which at the time sounded just fine with me.  For the rest of the day we would turn whenever his Garmin chimed; hearing that chime makes me smile to this day every time I hear it.

We chatted through the dull grey countryside of western Ohio as we made our way from Springfield to Troy, by way of Sydney.  This turned out to be fortuitous for several reasons.  Bill had a lot more experience and didn't mind showing the new kid the ropes.  He doesn't live too far from me, and he also let me know that there was a fledgling Indiana Randonneuring club starting.  This guy knows how to get a new guy interested in the sport.



On our way to the first control, we went past Kiser Lake State park; Dots, Mrs. Mellonhead and I are going to need to come back here and camp (I stole this photo; I can't find the one I took, and this one is better anyway). 





Continuing on from Kiser Lake, we climbed up out of the valley and headed toward Sydney.  Checking in at the first control was a bit of an education.  Maned controls are great, but this is where you loose time on your ride.  Best option, check in and then do only what you can't do on the bike, and then get moving.  This is where a handlebar bag comes in really handy.  It's much easier to chuck one full of food and eat while moving than sitting down at the control to eat, particularly if time is critical (a.k.a. you are a slow rider like me).  Also, handlebar bags hold more than jersey pockets, and they are accessible when you have a coat on because its 40 degrees and you want to stay warm.  They also give you a place to put your cue sheet.

One more thing, don't get the large coffee at a control unless you are a glutton for punishment.  I've yet to get a cold cup of coffee at a gas station, and you'll either need to be: fast, willing to poor half of it out, or be able to chug a lot of hot coffee in a short time.  I just get the small now.

On our way to Troy, we followed the river for a little while and navigated a few small towns, and then got back up on to the flat western-Ohio farmland. We had picked up a few folks that Bill knew, and the group of us made our way to the turnaround.  About 9 miles from Troy, I looked down the road to see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.  Two miles later (yes, the road is that flat and that straight), we came upon the accident scene involving Joe Giampapa.  I had briefly made Joe's acquaintance that morning, and found him to be a warm and encouraging person, personifying what I've found in many other randonneures.  We were the first group to come upon this scene from that direction, and the whole thing left us all a bit numb.  Talking to the other folks that showed up, which eventually included the RBA, we were trying to decide the most dignified and appropriate thing to do.  Eventually, with my body temperature starting to drop due to lack of activity (and somewhat improper clothing), I spoke up and suggested we get moving.  While silently filing past the scene, I removed my helmet, trying as best I could to show some respect to what had happened.  Getting back on our bikes, we stopped a few of the closest folks heading the other direction to let them know what they were about to come upon.

*Brief Aside.  I only met Joe Giampapa for a brief moment; I would hardly say that I knew him at all.  That said, I think about that incident often, and always before a long bike ride.  It doesn't prevent me from doing things, but it makes me very cautious about going for a long ride when I could be spending time with Mrs. Mellonhead and Dots.  I ride a lot because it's fun, but also because I need to stay healthy.  I didn't pick the best parents when it comes to blood pressure and cholesterol, so endurance activity is important, but I'm also always a little concerned that someone will need to use the info on my RoadID to give my girls some bad news.  If nothing else, I'm not as aggressive when it comes to dealing with people in cars now.*

Rolling into Troy, Ohio found us back on our game.  Troy is a scenic little town, with a nice little bike shop off the town square.  We checked in to the control there, and then headed around the corner to a great little cafe for lunch.  While the first half of the ride was part of the conversation, we spent most of our time over lunch discussing various rides, how long and what had gotten us started in Randonneuring, and the others generally welcoming me into the group. 

Back on the road we set off towards Sydney.  The emergency vehicles were still there, but the scene was mostly clear.  We soon split up, and it was once again just Bill and I.  By the time we got to Sydney, my lack of fitness had started to show, and even though Bill said he "wasn't very fast", the difference between speed and endurance was becoming evident.  I had neither.  Checking in at the last control before the finish, we tanked up and headed back toward Springfield.

Just out of last control, Bill and I discussed my slowness, and formulated a plan that would prevent either of us from getting in too bad of a situation.  We'd both continue at a pace that we were comfortable with, and Bill would stop at key intersections to make sure that I saw which way to turn.  Thankfully, I'm also pretty good with directions and can usually remember the route once I've ridden it.  Once or twice the whole plan fell through, and I had to stop and pull out the cue sheet and my phone of absolute knowledge to get my bearings, but we made it just fine.  Bill actually wound up waiting for me at one point, and some how I managed to pass him.  He wound up meeting up with another rider, and came in to the finish line control about 15 minutes after me. 

For my first Brevet, finishing a 200K Brevet in 12:30 wasn't a bad showing.  The fact that I've stuck with it and completed two more Brevets and a permanent so far, considering how things started, I think is fairly remarkable.