Alone again (naturally?)

This Sunday morning was the third in a row that I opted for a leisurely solo ride over a Mules thrash, and once again I enjoyed myself while staying within the limits of my current state of fitness. This new preference for riding on my own had me humming Gilbert O'Sullivan's gloomy little 1972 record, "Alone again, naturally" on several occasions. This ditty deals with parental bereavement, thoughts of suicide and other cheery topics, all delivered in a slightly nasal, irish-accented voice. Times were hard. With the weather getting better for cycling I expect to rejoin the Mules soon enough, but for now it's just me and Gilbert.

Just ride, eh? (Prenez votre velo uniquement, eh?)

gotta luv Canada

We're just back from a trip to Seattle and Vancouver (hence the dubiously bilingual title).  In Vancouver I went for a stroll along the waterfront at False Creek and saw this sign.  A day later I rented a bike and rode past it, so I used both sides as directed.

The title refers to a book that Susan bought me recently called "Just Ride", in which the author is quite unkind to weekend road-racers like me (and the Mules?).  Amongst many bike myths he attempts to debunk concerns helmet use. His idea is that wearing a helmet doesn't make you much safer but makes you think you're doing something dangerous.  I've heard this argument a few times recently, and helmet opponents usually invoke Amsterdam as an example, where tens of thousands of people ride their bikes daily and almost no-one wears a helmet.  So in the Just Ride spirit I planned to ride bare-headed in Vancouver, until the bike shop guy told me it was against the law.

The water front along False Creek and English Bay is just beautiful, and I had beautiful weather for my ride, too - sunny, clear and just a little cool.  I followed a well-laid out bike trail all the way to Stanley Park, then rode some trails in the park until I hit a hill too steep for my liking (this wasn't meant to be a Mules slog, just a gentle cruise!) and turned around.

I got a bit crossed up in the one-way circuit around Stanley Park, so I decided to ride back on the street.  From what we had seen, Vancouver was very bike-friendly, and I thought it would be fun to try some urban riding.

This area of Vancouver seems to change character with every block!  I went from low-end commercial to beautiful, leafy residential to high-end commercial very quickly and was soon back at the bike shop.  Great restaurants too...

I'm telling you, the @#$%ing bridge is out

oh, right, the bridge is out

Off to Zube with Kevin for a gentle run around the standard 45 mile loop.  Sean and Adam were there when we arrived but they didn't feel like the full distance.  Ian was in from China (!), taking a course in Houston and the opportunity to catch up  with his NWCC friends.

We set off at a warmish pace but I was able to persuade Kevin to cool it a bit.  I've done a couple of Terry Hershey runs lately but I'm not in shape at all, and was hoping for a very gentlemanly ride.  I was expecting the various NWCC speed groups to pass and they did, a surprisingly large number of riders.

All was going well up to the 15 mile mark, when a rider going in the other direction shouted that the bridge was out.  I  thanked her but was a bit confused as I couldn't remember any bridges on the route.  We made the turn onto Laneview and saw three more riders who had clearly turned around.  They also said that the bridge was out.  Thanks, but what frickin' bridge??  Kevin suggested we ride for another 5 minutes and then decide if we need to turn.

We made it as far as the intersection and saw a large orange sign stating that the bridge was out.  Suddenly I remembered that there was indeed a bridge over a creek ahead!  Somewhat sheepishly we turned around and headed back.  We talked about routes but ultimately all we could do was retrace our steps and then head for the gas station.

As we got closer I was beginning to tire and was glad to slot in behind Kevin, who was looking very strong.  We arrived at the Exxon with Kevin's computer showing 33 miles (normally 25!).  We had a good break before setting off again, right behind another group of three.  We kept pace with them for a while, although Kevin was as strong as ever on the climbs and pretty much blew the group to pieces.

We made the turn onto Business 290 and I was really in trouble.  I got behind Kevin and let him do  all the work, but I was pretty much spent and very glad to get back to Hockley.  I asked for a short breather and we took 5 in the shade of a disused gas station.  Finally back at Zube and I was feeling pretty rough.  Nothing that a beer, a cheese omelette (thanks Susan!) and a nap couldn't fix, though.

just like riding a bike

For the second Sunday in a row I braved the heat, humidity and crowds in Terry Hershey and George Bush parks for a ride.  I'm still nowhere near rejoining the Mules but it may not be too long now.

I had two choices this morning - get up at quarter to Sparrowfart, drive to Prairie View, cough up a large chunk of cash and kill myself trying to ride with Paddy, or get up when I woke up and enjoy a leisurely cruise  in the parks.  This was an intelligence test that I didn't fail.  The Mules rode the Tour de Pink today and I wore my pink Mules shirt in the park to show my support for the cause.

A Farewell to Mules

Yesterday morning saw me out at Zube with a big gang of Mules, although sadly no Kevin or Jorge.  It was unusually cool for June (low 70's) but already very humid.  Paddy proposed a new route that added 8 milles of country-lane riding and off we set.

All the Speedsters were there, including Shawn, just back from riding a 240km classic in Holland, and Ian who is soon to be transferred to China.  The pace was predictably hot, and Yvonne (who had looked very strong on my last Mules run) was falling behind.  About 10 miles in she and her husband Steve decided to turn back, leaving me at the mercy of some very strong riders.

I was lagging a bit too but Ian kindly bridged me over to the Peloton a few times.  After the goat farm turn, Britt and Oz decided to put the hammer down and we were flying along in a tight paceline, rotating the lead every 30 seconds at about 23-24 mph.  I held on for a while but eventually got spat out the back.

We regrouped at the gas station and headed into Hempstead (this was the new section of the route), familiar roads for me although I normally ride them in the other direction.  We turned at Peckerwood Gardens and then turned onto Brumlow road and terra incognita (for me anyway).  It certainly was a pretty route through the country and much nicer than the usual slog up Business 290, but the pace was still high and I was struggling pretty badly.

We made a turn north and got back on Business 290 just before Waller.  The guys formed a paceline once more and left me for dead pretty quickly.  I wasn't too sad to watch them go, I was happy enough at a slower pace and you always hate to be a drag on faster riders.

I got to Waller and saw that Paddy and Charlie were hanging back for me, so I slotted in behind and let them do the hard work all the way home.  Charlie and I had a good chat near the end, he's working on the same project as me so we have a lot in common.

Back at Zube and the tent has been set up.  Paddy tosses me a cold towel and it feels wonderful on my neck and over my head.  Sadly the beer selection was rather limited (what a whiner!).

And so the time has come for the Mules and I to part company, at least until the weather is a bit less aggressive.  I'll try a few rides with the Truth Squad, but I may just Lone Wolf it for a while.  Wtach this space...

The Little Mexican Truck that did!

(Followers of this blog may recall a somewhat facetious post about my friend Kevin and his classic steed, titled "The Little Mexican Truck that Could".  Here, as promised, is the sequel)

The Little Mexican Truck that Did!

The Little Mexican Truck felt nervous and excited all at the same time.  He and his rider Kevin had just finished their umpteenth Houston-Austin ride together, but this year, instead of riding home in the back of a real truck, they were actually going to do it - ride all the way to Marfa!

Sure enough, the next morning, at the crack of dawn, Kevin loaded up the truck like a burro in a spaghetti western and they set off.  The first day's ride was through rolling green countryside but after that it was mile after mile of dusty brown flat lands.  The Truck felt pretty good but was a bit worried about letting Kevin down, especially on the long days when they went for 40 or 50 miles without seeing any signs of civilization, other than Border Patrol helicopters and Greyhound buses.  Kevin was feeling good too, and enjoying the chance encounters with other oddballs when he stopped for lunch or overnight.

The Truck did its best to keep rolling but it couldn't help getting the odd flat tire.  Kevin was well equipped to deal with minor roadside problems, but his patience was tested to the limit when three of his stock of new inner tubes turned out to have leaky valve stems.  He'd got them from the hippies at REI and it seemed that someone had enjoyed a little too much wacky baccy at some point in the process.

In the end, they were both glad to see the Marfa city limits sign.  The Truck was relieved and happy but a little concerned - how was it to get home?  Surely Kevin wouldn't leave it?  Not to worry, after a good night's sleep, Kevin unloaded the Truck and took it to a bike shop in Alpine, where they broke it down and packaged it for the train ride home.

A few weeks later, Kevin and the Truck showed up for a ride with Andy, Paddy and some others.  Did they treat the Truck with new-found respect after its epic adventure?  Hell no, they still ripped the piss out of it (Paddy was particularly unkind - the Truck does not have any barnacles on it), while giving Kevin all kinds of praise, when all he had done was sit on it.  There ain't no justice.

Ready to Roll!

ready to roll!

After the brutal wind from the south that made my last training ride so painful, I was hoping that it would hold for a week, giving me a nice tail-wind for the event.  Alas, a strong front blew through on Friday, bringing heavy rain, thunderstorms and a change in the wind direction but no easing of intensity.

So on Saturday morning we grouped outside my house (Kevin, Tom and I), anxiously anticipating a beautiful Spring day in Texas spent battling a 20 mph cross/head wind.  We were not disappointed.

My brother-in-law David the Randonneur was riding again but had decided to make things difficult for himself.  He planned to do the entire ride in one hit, starting from Houston at midnight on Saturday so as to catch me in La Grange for the second day.  What a maniac.

Jorge wanted to ride with us but started with his team (with no BHP team this year, he opted to join some Colombian friends riding with BP, while we signed up with St.Arnold's Brewery).  We planned to meet at the first rest stop but in fact he caught us a few miles before it.

The route to Bellville is becoming very familiar!  The first long stretch north directly into the wind split us up, with Jorge and I pulling ahead of Tom and Kevin.  They wouldn't catch us all day.  We rolled into lunch feeling pretty good, although Jorge was regretting the lack of training a bit.

Back at it, with rollers all the way to La Grange now.  Jorge was tiring and with about 20 miles to run, he dropped back.  I wasn't doing that great myself but Fayetteville was a great boost.

Soon enough I saw the road junction that lead to the last rest stop of the day and I was glad to stop and take off my shoes - my right foot was really painful.  I walked around in my socks for a while and then ran into Kevin (my BW&F buddy) who was riding with his sister Pattie.  Kevin had agreed to do the ride on his fixie and there it was!  Amazing to ride that far in that wind on that bike.  When it was time to put my shoes back on I found that I'd been walking in burrs and had a ton of them stuck to my socks.

Back on the road and at long last a down wind run - the last 7 miles are more-or-less due south.  Even so I was glad to cross the finish line and accept a taster-size St.Arnold's beer from a raucous (possibly drunk) volunteer.

smiles of relief

At the team tent, Chris was already in and looking a bit bored, Kevin and Tom were still on the road.  After a swift  IPA I decided to take advantage of my top fundraiser status and use the priority shower line.  There was still a decent wait, but we had seats under a canopy and towels were provided too.

Back at the tent Kevin and Tom had rolled in and Jorge was there too - he had finished only a few minutes behind me.  We had a dinner and another beer, before turning in for an early night.

I slept as poorly as ever due to nerves, unfamiliar surroundings and an air mattress that deflated within about an hour of use.  The lights came on at 5 as always and I was ready to get up.  Breakfast comprised packaged kolaches and surprisingly good coffee and I took full advantage of the latter.  I packed my gear, cleaned up my bike and got ready for my day.

David checked in - he had decided to modify the route a little and had hit an unexpected dead end, so was running late and suggested we meet at a rest stop.

The line for the start was already pretty long when I joined but again that's par for the course.  It was probably an hour before I got going and when I did it was damn chilly in the shade.  I saw Kevin stopped by the road side and pulled up just past him to see if he needed help.  In fact he had lost touch with Tom and was waiting for him.  A little further on I passed Tom, who had actually got ahead of his partner.

I was riding the Challenge Route but the Parks were closed due to construction, so we got the big descent into Smithville and then were funneled onto Route 71 with the Fanny-pack set.  It was still moderately challenging, the same climbs but on smoother roads and more drawn-out.  We hit Bastrop for lunch but we were guided to the Middle School, rather than the High School where we'd had lunch every year previously.  I got my lunch and texted David, who was close behind.  Unfortunately in the crowd we failed to make contact, and he started without me.

The final afternoon of the ride is always a chore, not a great distance but boring roads and fatigue really starts to set in.  About halfway through when I was seriously dragging a paceline blew past so I jumped on to see if I had anything left in the tank.  It seemed I did, I hung on for a few miles, and felt a lot better about the ride.

phew, made it

We passed the Austin City Limits sign, always a boost, but there's still plenty of ride left, with several pretty good climbs before the end.  On one descent I was blowing and going just as a cop decided to wave some cars through.  I nearly locked up my back wheel and gave him a reproachful look as I passed.  All that was forgotten as I cruised the last few hundred yards and made the turn onto the home straight.  I took the opportunity to exchange high fives with the crowd on the finish lane and crossed the line, feeling relieved more than elated.

I dropped off my bike and made my way to the St.Arnold's tent which was absolutely packed.  I got my bag and a beer and headed off to the VIP shower truck.  I ad to check in with a cop of some variety and tried to disguise the beer in my hand as I did so but I don't think he cared.

After showering I thought about going back to the tent but didn't fancy the crush and went straight to the bus back to Houston instead.  But I should have stayed a little longer to wish Kevin Bon Voyage for his forthcoming cycle epic.