Bluebonnet Local

Last Sunday was the Bluebonnet Express ride, a very popular event that covers a lot of familiar terrain in Waller County.  Jorge was riding too so once again we car-pooled.  He likes to live it up a little on Saturday nights so I suggested he pick me up at 7.00, which also gave me a bit more time to get ready.

By the time we reached the Waller exit on 290 there was already a long line of cars.  We finally parked up with about 10 minutes to spare before the start.  I had already registered for the ride and Paddy had picked up my t-shirt and bib, so I went to find him while Jorge registered.

There was a good group of Mules at the Stable, all geared up and raring to go.  I told Paddy not to wait for us, as we were planning different routes anyway - Paddy was going to ride the full distance, 75 miles, I was planning 55, already a step up from my usual training runs.  I met up with Jorge back at the car and we saddled up.  Most of the riders had already gone and we rolled through the start without any delay.

It was a beautiful morning, with wildflowers a-plenty, and Jorge and I were in fine spirits as we cruised down the blacktop.  We spent the first half-hour passing everyone in sight before reality and a strong cross-wind set in.  But we felt strong enough to pass the first rest stop, which was already 13 miles into the ride.

We eventually turned north and into the wind, on the rolling route from Monaville to Hempstead.  We shared the lead quite well, and then got passed by a group of four riders.  Jorge jumped on their wheel and we kicked up the pace a bit.  The group included one man and three women, all riding very strongly.  I held back for a few rotations but then, feeling guilty, offered to take a pull.  Pretty soon I found myself at the front, just as we reached a downhill/uphill section.  Not surprisingly the group split apart (it's very hard to stay together when climbing) and Jorge and I were on our own once more.

The road took us past the Waller County fairgrounds and then we made the left onto Business 290 and into Hempstead.  There were a few sharpish rollers to negotiate before we reached the next rest stop in the outlet mall.  It was surprisingly quiet for such a big ride, I hardly had to wait for the porta-potty at all.  We had a good break - Jorge was feeling it a bit - and then set out on very familiar roads.

We made the turn on Laneview and basically rode our usual Zube route in reverse.  The wildflowers were spectacular along here, some of the riders actually stopped to take photos.  After a few miles we turned north and off the Zube route.  I was staring to get sore and tired and I think Jorge was too.  Some of the roads were very rough, which didn't help.

Eventually we turned south and passed the last rest stop, giving us 11 miles to go.  We had a few more climbs but nothing serious and pretty soon we were back at the start.  We cruised by the Mules Stable but no-one was in yet (they were all doing the longer routes!), so we went back to the car, changed and then drove back to the Stable.  Still nobody home, so we got food (pretty good chopped bbq sandwich) and went back to the Stable.  Riders started to come in, led by Ryan and Taylor, and before long we had a full complement, drinking beers and swapping war stories.

Back home, and another beer and a nap hit the spot.

climb like a Colombian

Two rides were on offer this weekend - an organised ride out of Magnolia on Saturday, and a Mules outing to Chappell Hill on Sunday. I was leaning towards the Magnolia ride, as it would be a chance to ride further than the usual 45 mile Zube loop, and I knew that Chappell Hill would be tough, with lots of climbs. But the weather looked dicey and Jorge wanted to ride on Sunday (so that he could party on Friday night). In the end I chose Chappell Hill, but I regretted it several times during the ride when I was in my granny gear going into a strong wind.

Jorge offered to drive to the start and duly picked me up at 6.15am. It turned out that while he hadn't been drinking the night before, he'd stayed up until 2am with his friends and was rolling on three hours of sleep. Chappell Hill is a small town a bit west of where we usually ride. We overshot the turn-off on 290 but arrived at 7.15 for the 7.30 start - but no sign of Paddy. I called him on his cell, only to have him tell me that we weren't starting until 8am (despite an email earlier in the week that specified 7.30) When he finally arrived he also parked up at a different spot to what he'd said in his email, leading to more confusion and opportunities for verbal abuse.

still smiling

We finally assembled for the start and I could see that I'd be the tail gunner today, with Greg, Shawn, Barry and Paul all looking very strong. The route runs more or less north-south and there was a strong wind out of the south, meaning an easier ride out and a tough one home. Once we were on the road it was clear that there were no easy options - we got into some climbs almost from the get-go. The wildflowers are already looking good, particularly the bluebonnets, but there weren't many opportunities to admire them, as we were either flying downhill or grinding up. Everyone looked strong and I was definitely falling back on the climbs, but was able to catch up on the downhills. We regrouped about 15 miles out for a photo-op. I took the pics and got everyone smiling by making a rude comment about Shawn's luxuriant mutton chop whiskers. A few more climbs and we turned into Washington-on-the-Brazos State Park, the halfway point on this route. This site is known as the Birthplace of Texas because the Declaration of Independence was signed here in 1836. After a good break we saddled up, stopping briefly for another photo-op in front of a bluebonnet patch. 

Once out on the road we quickly felt the wind. No more coasting on the downhills, I had to pedal hard to get enough gear so that I could climb the other side. I was trying to get as far into the big ring as I could on the descents and then shifting straight onto my middle chain wheel once the hill began to bite. The group split pretty quickly, but Greg was good enough to hang back to give directions to us slowcoaches. At one point I was in a group with Jorge, Phil and Tina and we worked together well, but I found a bit more strength on one of the climbs, and when I looked back I saw I'd dropped the others. I didn't want to be antisocial but I knew that I had to ride at my own pace if I was going to make it to the end. Eventually I stopped at the top of a climb and waited for the others. Paddy was also behind so it was good to regroup. We set out once more with nine miles to run. Phil, Tina and Greg set the pace and soon dropped us. I dropped Jorge and Paddy on a climb and didn't see them again, despite getting pretty tired. By now I was moving onto the granny ring on the bigger climbs and was actually in my bottom gear a couple of times. Finally the Chappell Hill water tower appeared, but there was still some climbing left in the ride, and I struggled through the downtown area fully expecting to get passed by the various dog walkers and Sunday strollers on the sidewalk.

 Back at the cars, the speed gang had changed out of their cycling gear and were indulging in the usual post-ride banter. I pulled up and asked if anyone fancied doing it all again - Barry was up for it but wanted to change his shirt first. Paddy and Jorge rolled up a few minutes later. We cracked open some beers (not Paddy, he still has 30 lbs to lose) and christened our new Mules coozies, courtesy of Le Patron.

So Jorge the Colombian got a chance to show off his climbing chops (Colombia has lots of mountains)!  He did well until he started getting cramps.

The Little Mexican Truck that could

This is the story of the Little Mexican Truck that could. The Little Mexican Truck didn't start life that way. It was born sometime in the last century as a shiny new Novara Randonneur touring bike. The Man Who Bought It (we'll call him Kevin because that's his name) loved the Truck and took it out for long rides every weekday and sometimes at weekends too. Together they cruised the highways and byways of Central Texas. Kevin loved to ride up hills (even though there aren't many in Central Texas) and he and the Truck would fly up the climbs, with Kevin's feet just a blur.

Time went by, and the Little Mexican Truck and Kevin both got older. The Truck started to have some rust here and there (it's a very humid climate and Kevin tended to sweat a lot) and the shininess faded. Kevin still loved the Truck though, perhaps all the more because some unkind friends on newer bikes (we'll call one of them Andy because that's the bastard's name) laughed at it. And then one day, Kevin came to Andy's house to pick him up for a ride and very kindly lifted Andy's bike onto his bike rack, next to the Truck. What a surprise for Kevin! Andy's bike wasn't made of good honest steel like the Truck, it was carbon fibre and weighed a lot less. The Truck was a bit embarrassed to be riding next to a bike supermodel, but it wasn't the Truck's fault that Kevin chose to put a 20lb carrier, full of goodness knows what, on it whenever he rode. Lifting Andy's bike made Kevin very thoughtful.

One morning Kevin looked at the Little Mexican Truck and realized that it was in poor condition, so he did something very kind. He took the Truck to the Bike Shop and they worked very hard on it, removing as much rust as they dared and spray painting the bare metal with grey primer paint. Kevin was very pleased with the Truck and took it to a ride with some of Andy's friends. Unfortunately one of Andy's friends was very unkind (we'll call him Kevin too, because coincidentally that's his name) and as a joke told everyone that Kevin's bike looked like a Mexican Truck - and the Little Mexican Truck that could was christened. 

Kevin (the Truck's owner, not the other shit-head) kept riding the Truck as often as he could, but he knew that sooner or later he would have to replace it and that made him sad, because carbon bikes are very expensive. That made the Little Mexican Truck sad too because it knew that no-one on Craig's List would look twice at it. But then - Kevin had a mid-life crisis! For years he and the Truck had gone on the two-day party which is the Houston-Austin MS150. In the early years they practically flew the 180 miles between the cities, more recently they had slowed down a bit, but the same thing happened every year when they reached Austin. Kevin would stand at the finish line (sometimes with Andy, sometimes alone) and say that one of these years he would just keep riding when he hit Austin, and ride clean out of the state. Sanity had always prevailed in the past, but this year Kevin was determined to do the whole 894 mile ride to El Paso, and he was going to take the Little Mexican Truck with him. The Truck was very excited to hear this, but also a little nervous. It didn't know if Kevin had it in him to ride unsupported all that way. It also wasn't sure that it could go that far any more, but after all, it is the Little Mexican Truck that could.

Will Kevin give in to his mid-life crisis? Will the Truck make it to El Paso? Will Kevin ditch it in a dark alley outside a bodega in Juarez (it is a Mexican Truck after all), fly home to Houston and buy a carbon-fibre rocket ship? I'll tell you in April after the ride.

Mules Galore

Very good turn-out last Sunday at Zube - Paddy, David, Doug, Roy, Jorge, Richard, Debbie and me. A cold and windy start but we toughed it out pretty well. The wind was out of the north so the first 20 miles or so were a struggle, but what bliss when we turned south! We were cruising along at 26 mph without really trying, so Paddy decided to kick it up a notch and with a bit of effort we hit 30 mph.

We regrouped at the gas station and headed home along Business 290 with the still-fierce wind on our rear quarter. David and Paddy were looking very strong and the rest of us were happy to let them go ahead at Waller. We rotated the lead pretty well for the last few miles. The final turn on Roberts took us due north into a now-screaming head wind and I took point, feeling strong. With barely a quarter of a mile to run I put the hammer down and finished in style, with Doug right on my tail. We celebrated around the Mules trailer with beer and bullshit.

A bad start to the day

For another rider probably also on his/her way to the Waller County Fairgrounds for this year's Pedaling the Prairie ride. I saw some wreckage scattered across the freeway that looked suspiciously like bike parts - and then a little further on, a Porsche Cayenne pulled over in the left hand shoulder, with an empty bike rack. Another good reason to transport your bike inside rather than outside your vehicle. It was a beautiful, sunny morning, but cold (for Southeast Texas) and windy. Paddy, Marian, Paul, Tom and Gunilla were at the start when I finally got there. Jorge showed up soon after. The initial plan was to ride the 55 mile route, but Jorge had a mandatory bike safety clinic that afternoon and decided to ride the 45 mile routs instead, with some other friends. I was experiencing the "borrowed bike" syndrome because I'd had a custom fitting session with Tad Hughes the day before. He'd raised my saddle considerably, as well as rotating the handlebars, in order to create room for my freakishly long torso. He had also changed out the insoles in my shoes and recommended cinching the straps down a lot tighter. All this was meant to eliminate post-ride back pain, and in-ride foot pain - we'll see how well it works. When we finally got going, the first 10 miles were downwind, so we formed a peloton and blew past the fanny-pack set. The fun was soon over, as we turned west with a strong cross-wind. I was feeling pretty strong and so was Paddy, but the others were struggling in the wind (not Paul, he'd gone ahead with the shaved-leg set and was probably half-way round the 71 mile route). Paddy and I agreed to share the lead but we had to ease the pace frequently to avoid dropping the others. We got to the 19 mile break point and stopped to regroup. 55 miles was going to be a challenge for Marian and Tom, especially if we had to go into the wind for any distance, so we decided to modify the route, with the option to add miles if everyone was up for it.

Before too long we were heading due north on a very bumpy road. Paddy and I were sharing the pulling duties quite well but it was pretty tough for the other two. But everyone got their second wind when we turned west onto a nice smooth road for a mile or two. Another long pull into the wind and it was clear that the additional mileage option was not on the cards, so we finished out with about 40 miles under our belts. We regrouped at the Mules trailer for beers and post-ride bullshit. The ride was benefiting the Faith West Academy and with hindsight I'm glad I didn't wear the evolution t-shirt that Mary-Claire got me for Xmas a few years ago.

"The North Wind doth blow..

..and we shall have snow, and what will poor Robin do then, poor thing?" The north wind was blowing hard this morning, but it didn't bring snow, and nor did it bring rain as was forecast, so I stirred my stumps and set out for a mid-morning ride. Given the amount of rain that fell yesterday, and the fact that I was riding in a reservoir, I probably should not have been too surprised to see flooding just inside George Bush park. I turned around and headed north for Cullen Park, planning to ride the second half of the four parks loop. The trail between Cullen and Bear Creek parks was under water in a few places but I forged ahead. Paterson road, on the south side of Bear Creek, is very prone to flooding and was closed, so I had to cut through the farm and ranch club. Once into Bear Creek proper, there was plenty of trash on the road from streams that had flooded over, and then the gate by Golbow was closed. I lifted the bike over the fence and hopped across after it, thinking that I hadn't anticipated a cyclo-cross route today. More flooding on Golbow had me turning around again and heading north for Clay. That section has been under construction and they forgot the shoulder, so I found myself in traffic on a 50mph speed limit road. Fortunately it was quiet. Back into Bear Creek, then Eldridge (a blast running due south!) and home. It was actually a very enjoyable, if low-key, outing.

wetter than an otter's pocket

The charmingly idiomatic phrase I chose as title for this post apparently has unfortunate connotations. I encourage you to consult Prof. Google for illumination, unless you've led a less sheltered life than me and started giggling when you first saw it. Carol Kirkwood, a BBC weather presenter, thought it was harmless too, and used it on air after getting a tweet from an evil-minded prankster. Anyway, rude or not it was an accurate description of the Houston area weather today, and will be tomorrow too. I planned to ride at Zube tomorrow but Paddy has already bailed, so I think I'll sleep in and hit the gym later.