Flashback Friday - When I Met Rozmo.......

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment my friendship with my cycling pal Rozmo started, I would pick BRAG 2004. It would have to be the first part of the week, because that was the year she had to go home mid-week to be with a friend for a medical procedure. We had known OF each other before then, and Rozmo would go back further than that. I guess it's typical of friendships (any relationship?), that one would remember something the other did that stuck with her, and the other has no recollection of the event whatsoever.

A typical Rozmo picture, taken when we had a rest stop at Mayfield Dairy. She said she wanted to show this one to her dad. He must be proud. 

Before my stint as the person in charge of the merchandise truck on BRAG, the job apparently belonged to Rozmo and a friend of hers. Working in the merchandise truck isn't necessarily a HARD job, but it can be annoying. You have to ride like hell to get into camp by 2:00, when the truck is supposed to open. If you're lucky, you have just enough time to shower and change clothes, only to get in a truck where it's approximately a billion degrees hotter than the surface of the sun. The shower becomes a distant memory almost immediately. The truck is open from 2:00 to 5:00, and it does have its pleasant moments. You get to interact with a number of people you might never encounter on the road. Okay, that's the only one I can think of. For the privilege of working in billion degree temperatures, one gets to ride BRAG for free. I did it for several years before I said to myself one day, "Hey...I've GOT the $200 rider's fee."

On the Silver comet Trail.

According to Rozmo, when she was in charge of the merchandise truck, I was assigned to work my shift that afternoon. When I reported to work, I told her and her friend they didn't need to hang around, I could handle it. She was grateful and has never forgotten it, and I don't even remember it.

This looks like a cold morning, but it was actually the first day of BRAG. Rozmo is almost always smiling. 

I do nice things so rarely, you would think that would stick out in my mind.

We started planning rides together after the summer of 2004. We went on a couple of out-of-town rides, and we started making plans to either stay together on BRAG or at least ride together.

Working at BRAG registration. Rozmo worked for BRAG almost fulll-time for a few years, and I was greatly relieved when she gave that job up. That meant we could once again ride together.

Just because two people LIKE each other, it doesn't necessarily follow that they can RIDE together. People have different riding styles. One may like to stop frequently, one may like to stop almost never. One may like to socialize at rest stops and get into camp whenever, and one may feel compelled to get it done and get it over with.

Rozmo and Chico in the RV. Rozmo is a dog person, which is just another reason I like her.

Rozmo and I don't ride EXACTLY alike, but we have adapted to one another's styles and ride well together. Rozmo never met a stranger, and she can find something nice to say to almost anyone. She compliments parents when their children are especially well-behaved, because she knows parents like to hear that. And she's not even a parent herself! But she was an elementary and middle school P.E. teacher for 30 years, so she knows a thing or two about children. And their parents.

This picture is from Paddle Georgia, another adventure Rozmo and I shared. We also shared the same opinion of it, almost. I went home after Day 2; Rozmo made it through Day 3.

Rozmo is one of the most organized people I know. Her things are always packed neatly, and she even folds her DIRTY laundry and puts it in a separate section of her suitcase. She is kind, generous, witty, and an excellent people-person. She can mediate any conflict, even between people she doesn't even know. Last year on BikeFest we witnessed a family dispute on the Riverwalk down below our camping area, and before we knew it, Rozmo was calmly walking the feuding parties up to the parking lot. She's just that kind of person.

This was after a particularly trying day on BRAG when everyone's laundry, which they paid to have done, got jumbled together. The facial expression is staged, but the emotion was real.

Rozmo pushes me to be a better cyclist and a better person. I am truly lucky (and grateful) to have her friendship.

I may have posted this photo before. We had dinner during BRAG at my non-cycling sister's house, and Rozmo was freezing. (She's very cold natured.) Rather than inconvenience anyone by asking for socks or requesting the thermostat be adjusted, Rozmo simply asked for two paper towels and wrapped her feet in them.

No one will ever accuse Rozmo of taking herself too seriously. Just another reason she's my friend.

Rozmo, Doug and I stopped at the "Castle" house on BRAG this past summer for a photo op. I also have a photo of Doug in his plastic bag inner liner, but this post isn't about him.

Casey Cagle's Charity Ride.....

Casey Cagle is our Lieutenant Governor, and he is an avid cyclist. He also sponsors several charities, one of which strives to combat childhood obesity.

It isn't a huge ride (yet), only in its second year, but it is only 20 minutes from my house, so I was eager to ride it. It gets old driving two hours or more to ride a bike 50 to 60 miles.

Today's ride had options of 20-something (we never pay attention to that one), 50, 66, or 100 miles. We knew we wouldn't be riding the century, since that's what we did just LAST Saturday. I was sort of leaning toward the 50-miler, using the excuse (?) that I had to go to Lukey-Luke's birthday party at 4:00. I succumbed to peer pressure, however, and went along with Rozmo and Rita on the 66-mile ride (which turned out to be only 65, and I was glad). Rita was her ever-cheerful, upbeat, happy self, and once again I resisted the urge to tell her to put a sock in it.

It was VERY, VERY, VERY chilly at the beginning. So chilly that when the route started off on some nice downhills, I whined, "I don't WANT to go downhill!" Naturally those words came back to haunt me at the end of the ride, when we had to go back up those very same hills.

The Lieutenant Governor was trying to ride with multiple groups today, and we saw him at the first rest stop. Rozmo (the only person I know who could get away with such things), said to him, "You lied to me! You said it was only hilly at the beginning!"

I told her, "Yeah, but he didn't say how long the beginning WAS."

Then Rozmo proceeded to tell our state's second-in-command that he had nice legs and that he might want to consider shaving them. (In her defense, she did NOT tell him, although she said it to me, that he had a nice butt.)

The route went right by the subdivision where Lukey-Luke and his parents live, and I was tempted to just stay there and tell Hubby to meet me there for the birthday party. But there was the whole shower/clean clothes/make-up/hair thing to consider, so I pedaled on.

I would be happy to do this ride again, particularly since it is so close to home. If they have it at the same time of year every time, it will just be a crap shoot regarding the weather. It could be 40 degrees, or it could be 80. That's just the way it goes in the South.

By the way, I didn't get many good pictures of Baby Luke at his birthday party. He was sleepy and overwhelmed with all the goings-on, and many people were jockeying to take pictures. So I stayed out of the way for the most part, but I will see if any are worthy of posting tomorrow.

BikeFest Saturday........

Well, we thought it would be a good idea. Again this year.

Riding the century ride, that is.

We had promises of it being better than last year because the roads were NOT Alabama roads. And that was correct.

Still, 100 miles is 100 miles, and it was pretty miserable toward the end. Correction: It was pretty miserable toward the middle. From the middle to the end was a special form of hell all by itself. Correction: From the middle to 10 miles from the end was a special form of hell all by itself. The last 10 miles were heavenly. But I may be in the market for a butt transplant. (It isn't really the butt, but to discuss the actual anatomical location would be indelicate. To say the least.)

Our first 10 miles today were on a bike path that is shady and fairly flat, and naturally free of traffic, so those were pleasant miles. We knew we would also return by the same path, so as Rita kept saying, "We really only have to ride 90 miles, because those last 10 are like a gift." I finally told her that "90 miles" and "only" didn't belong in the same sentence.

There were times today when I thought I should make a point to hang out with Rita more. She's so positive, so upbeat, so cheerful. All. The. Damn. Time. At about mile 75, though, when she said in her best cheerleader-type voice, "Guys, we're three quarters of the way through, and it's the hardest three quarters!!!!!" I almost told her to put a sock in it. There's really only so much cheerfulness a person can stand, especially on a 100-mile bike ride.

Rita was kind enough to stay with us all day, however, even though I'm pretty sure she had to dial it back a few notches (most of her notches?) to ride at the pace Rozmo and I tend to keep. I thought it was because she's much fitter and about ten years younger than I am, then I found out she is the same age I am. I'm trying not to hate her guts. I didn't always stay right with them, but I was never far behind, and I always caught up.

Rita kept saying that at mile 55 we would be at the highest point of the day, and it was "all downhill after that." I didn't want to come off as a Negative Nancy (sorry to any of you named Nancy out there), so I didn't point out that just because we had passed the HIGHEST point of the day, that didn't mean we wouldn't still have to do some ups-and-downs. I didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm. Wait...yes I did. Only it's impossible to dampen Rita's enthusiasm.

There were some awesome fraternity boys manning a couple of the rest stops, and they were truly delightful. They were selling pink bracelets to raise money for breast cancer awareness, so naturally I bought one. Rozmo bought five. Overachiever. One of the fraternity boys also served as the designated driver for his friends last night, so he was operating on about 30 minutes of sleep. On the century day. And he was smiling the whole time. Gotta love him.

When we got back and went to get our precious, prized bandanas, I came out to find my water bottle on the ground. I didn't think much of it, until I realized the cage was broken. A gentleman (?) came over and apologized, saying he was the guilty party, he wasn't watching what he was doing and knocked my bike over. (That's almost akin to someone keying your car.) He saw me standing there with the pieces of my water bottle cage in my hand, but he didn't offer to pay for the damage. (I probably would have refused anyway, but still.) Only after I had the bike back at the RV did I realize that BOTH water bottle cages were broken, and it cost me $36 to replace them. I could have managed with one, but not with zero. I could also have had carbon cages for $100, but water bottle cages is not an area in which I'm inclined to splurge.

This is Ken, Janet, and Janet's daughter Courtney. Until Friday, Courtney had never been on a bike ride longer than 15 miles. She rode 50 on Friday and 100 today. I bow down to her.

Rita and Rozmo. This was at the rest stop at the end of the trail at mile 10. It was also the rest stop at mile 90, but I was pretty much over taking pictures by then. They were still smiling, however. Especially the ever-cheerful Rita.

This is Dragos, and I love his name. I love almost everything about him, except for the fact that he is an Auburn grad. I first met Dragos on the bike ride in Iowa (either 2004 or 2006, I can't remember which), and we've run into each other a couple of times a year since then. He is delightful, and a kick-ass rider. Ah, youth.

Me, Rita, and Rozmo with our bandanas. Right before I fond out about the idiot breaking my water bottle cages. I mean, the nice gentleman who confessed to knocking my bike over.

I hung my bandana up in the RV, and I can't bring myself to take it down. It may still be there next year when time for BRAG comes around in June.

This was my eighth century, and while the smart thing would be to say it will be my last, I'm not known for being smart or having a good memory. Like childbirth, the agony of riding the century will fade, and I'll pony up to do another one. Even with Rita. If I don't put a merciful end to her undying cheerfulness.

Georgia BikeFest 2012 Friday.....

EDITED TO ADD: I have no idea what happened to this post last night. I'm pretty sure I clicked "Publish," but I can't guarantee it. I will back date it so it doesn't look like I have two posts on the same night. Because I'm weird that way. 

Tonight you get somewhat of a break from my yammering. I took a few photos on today's ride, but not enough to capture the essence of the day.

Rozmo and I waited until about 9:00 to leave this morning, which was heavenly compared to the 6:00 AM we usually try to leave on BRAG. We wanted to give it a chance to warm up so we wouldn't have to dress in layers that we would later have to take off. And try to track down a sag vehicle to retrieve them when we got back.

Today's route was the Saturday route from last year, which basically means it sucked. A lot of shake and bake (that's we call rough pavement), and it was almost entirely in Alabama. Strike two. Lots of hills, but we couldn't complain about the weather. It was very pleasant when we left, and while it got hot this afternoon, we've ridden in a lot worse heat.

Rozmo makes the cutest pictures. She does silly things and looks adorable. When I do silly things, I look stupid. I'm trying not to hate her for it.

We stopped to take a picture of Poorhouse Road, and Rozmo found a campaign sign for someone with her same last name. In fact, except for the "y" in Roy, it could have been Rozmo running for chief justice.

Rozmo was supposed to be taking a picture of me under the Poorhouse Road sign, but we had a delay while I got the fire ants out of my cycling sandals. I didn't even curse.

See what I mean? I look dorky.

I'm afraid my attempt at a photo essay didn't come through very well. I was trying to convey the idea that if I DO go to the poorhouse, it will be due to the expenses associated with cycling.

This is the river above which we are camped. This is before they let the water through, which they do at 3:00 every day.

Looking downstream. Or upstream. In the other direction.

I have no idea what this contraption is called, but it will accommodate seven "cyclists," one of whom must be the driver.

Me, Rozmo, Cheryl, Chuck, and Jerry. Steve joined us after this picture was taken, and when we started figuring out how to drive it, we were joined by Ramsey (isn't that a cool name?), a young lady who works for the bike shop. She took us a couple spins around the block, even among the spectators gathered to listen to the band. I love street dances. But I didn't dance this year.

Rozmo, Steve and I had dinner at a place where they have a $30 hamburger, and if you can eat it -- alone -- in under 30 minutes, you can have it for free. It's three hamburgers with all the toppings, PLUS you have to finish off the chili cheese fries that go with it.

Sometimes Blog Posts Sound Like Gunshots.......

.....and sometimes it's just the sound of Fate (or Karma, or whatever you want to call it) slapping her knee in DELIGHT at our audacity to think we are in control of things.

Let me back up a minute and explain.

I am in the town of Columbus, Georgia, right next to the Alabama border (I can literally throw a rock into Alabama, if I can get it across the river) for Georgia BikeFest. It's one of the two weekend cycling events sponsored by BRAG, three days of cycling without having to decamp every morning. It is a beautiful spot right here by the river, and I remember standing in this parking lot last year and saying (maybe smugly, maybe not), "Next year I'll be retired, and I'll be the first one here, and I'll get whatever RV spot I damn well please."

Ahem.

It is rare that I take the RV anywhere by myself. Either Hubby or Katydid is usually with me, but Hubby doesn't DO cycling events at all, and Katydid couldn't come this year for a number of reasons. But I've become (more) comfortable driving the RV, and it was only roughly a three-hour trip, so I wasn't worried. Driving through downtown Atlanta has its challenges, but once you've driven an RV through Chicago, you're prepared for anything! I just told myself I would take it easy, not get in a rush, stay in the far right lane as much as possible, and not stress.

That plan worked beautifully, until I heard the gunshot.

Wait, before I tell you about the gunshot, I have to tell you something I found hilarious, but I won't drag it out forever. When I was just south of Atlanta, I called Rozmo to let her know I had left earlier than I had planned, and if she wanted to ride some today, I would be there. She said she had left LATER than she meant to, and she was just then at Flat Shoals Road. I looked up at the next overpass and said, "Huh? Me too." Then I looked in my side mirror and saw her coming up behind me. She forgot I was in the RV, so she didn't realize who it was she was about to pass. I thought that was hilarious, that I would choose to call her at the exact same moment we were at the same exact spot on the interstate.

Then I heard the gunshot. Well, it wasn't an actual gunshot, and I recognized it immediately for what it was, but I don't know HOW I recognized it, since I'd never heard it before. It was the sound of a tire blowing out. On the RV. On I-85. It's amazing how well the human brain adapts to challenging situations. As soon as I heard the sound, I immediately turned on the flashers (I don't even know how I knew where they were) and headed for the shoulder of the road. I got way, way, way off the side of the road, and even then the RV shook every time one of those tractor trailer rigs blew by. It was a little unnerving, to say the least.

I won't bore you with all the details, but I called the insurance company with whom the RV is insured, and who provide roadside assistance. At first I thought I didn't have a spare (that might teach me to listen to Hubby, but probably not), and she said the RV would have to be towed. Then I discovered I DID have a spare, and she said someone would come change it for me. Now I'm not a wimp and I do know how to change a flat tire, but I've never tried to raise an RV with a jack, and the RV has dual wheels on the rear. Naturally the tire that blew was the INSIDE one. Which means removing TWO wheels. Sheesh.

I had to wait about an hour and a half, so I spent the time reading on my iPad. Finally a very, VERY nice young man arrived, and he was completely unfazed by having to lie down on the side of the road with 18-wheelers whizzing by only inches (okay, feet) from his head. Yes, the flat had to happen on THAT side of the RV as well.

I was astounded at how quickly he was able to get the tire changed, but then he called me over and pointed. "There's some damage here," he said.

Uh oh. The exploding tire had torn the fuel line away from the "neck," the place where you put fuel in. It wasn't leaking, but there would be no way to put more gas in the RV because it would just pour onto the ground.

Great. My weekend just went to hell. On a bullet train.

But then he said I could take it to their shop (and assured me the RV was safe to drive), about 40 miles away but still on my way to Columbus, and they could fix it today. He couldn't RECOMMEND their shop, because that would be soliciting business, and I was welcome to take it somewhere else if I wanted to.

Seriously? I'm gonna drive an RV around some town I'm not familiar with and hope I happen on a repair shop that can replace a hose on an RV? No, your shop will be just fine.

Hubby texted me when I was on the way and said for me to ask how much it was going to cost, then take it somewhere else if it was a "crazy amount." See above hypothetical question, Hubby.

The kind young man followed me down the interstate for about 20 miles, poking along at the speed I felt safe driving, which was just below what I would have been able to do on my bike. (That might be a slight exaggeration.) I got teary-eyed when I realized he was hanging back there. Then he disappeared (he never passed me, so I assume he had to go on another call and exited the interstate) and my tears dried up.

The people at the automotive shop were VERY friendly (could it have anything to do with the fact that it is owned by a woman? hmmmmm?), and they got me back on the road. I got here in time to register and pick up my packet, and if I didn't get the very best RV spot, at least I got one, and if I didn't get to ride my bike today, I'll have three days of riding, and I am very thankful that today's incident didn't turn out any worse than it did.

I could have been driving much faster (I was about 10 below the posted speed limit). The tire could have blown when I was in the middle of downtown Atlanta. I could have been surrounded by cars on both sides. It could have been one of the front tires, which probably would have caused an accident. Perhaps even a rollover.

But I'm here, Rozmo and I have had dinner (wonderful Thai food), and I don't have to move the RV again until Sunday.

Probably the best news of all is that Hubby feels terribly, terribly guilty because he knew the tires needed to be replaced soon and was putting it off.

No telling what I might get out of this.

Tee. Hee.

Pedal for Paws........

Rozmo and I did a ride today that she's done for several years, but it was only my second time. It starts only steps away from where Hubby and I tailgate, so the date of the ride varies depending on the UGA football schedule.

The ride ended at about the 58.5 mile mark, but Rozmo and I can't have THAT, not as card-carrying members of the Round Numbers Club, so we rode out on the North Oconee River Greenway for about a mile and back so we could round up to 60 miles.

We also have a ride of about 66 miles tomorrow. Sure, I thought back-to-back 60-mile rides was a GREAT idea. And the one tomorrow requires that I leave home no later than 6:00 AM. (I only hope I go to the right town this time.)

We had beautiful weather today, unlike last year when it was incredibly windy. Katydid and I were also on the tandem last year, which made it tougher, since the route is fairly hilly. The only complaint I have about today's route is that the rest stops don't have any potty facilities. I realize the ride organizers are trying to save money for a cause (in this case the Athens Canine Rescue), and having porta-potties costs money. In their defense, the first rest stop was at a barn formerly owned by singer Kenny Rogers, and the property is either in foreclosure (several owners since old Kenny owned it) or in the process of being sold. So the restrooms we have been able to use in the past weren't open. Likewise, the second rest stop was at a state park (right beside a VERY cool covered bridge) where there are public facilities, but due to some miscommunication (or lack of communication), the restrooms were locked. So Rozmo and I were forced to get closer to nature than we intended, and I don't squat very well.

I don't want to nitpick, though, since even a bad day on the bike is better than a good day off the bike. And it wasn't even a bad day on the bike. Tomorrow is supposed to be considerably cooler, and I'll have to break out the cycling knickers for the first time. And my cycling jacket. But it'll still be a good ride because it's in a beautiful part of the state. Report tomorrow night.

Pedal for Pets.....

How could someone resist doing a bicycle ride named Pedal for Pets? Good thing it wasn't Pedal WITH Pets. I don't have a little trailer to pull behind my bike like Katydid does. Katydid does...that sounds strange.

Oddly enough, summer time is pretty sparse as far as organized cycling events go. That's when most of the cross-state rides take place, so I guess folks don't schedule rides that might conflict with those. Or it could be that with the temperatures hovering in the low bajillions here in Georgia, ride organizers are afraid of being sued by masses of people who have suffered heat stroke. Even though they require riders to sign waivers before participating.

This ride was about a 2-hour drive from my house, so I left around 5:15 this morning. Then I turned around and went back for one of my water bottles (it was in the freezer), and I left again around 5:20. I had to drive right smack through downtown Atlanta, and I was mesmerized by the light fog hanging around the tops of buildings. I would have taken a picture of it, but that's hard to manage at 70 mph. And they sort of frown on someone stopping on the interstate. Or going below 70 mph.

This was the first year for this particular ride, and I think they did an excellent job with it. The routes were good, low traffic and not too many hills. They overlapped with several other rides we do in that area, but they had enough variety in them that we didn't feel we were just repeating a ride we had already done. I wanted to take a picture at one of the intersections were there were symbols painted on the road for a number of different rides. But I didn't. I'm a butthead.

The rest stops left a little to be desired, but I suppose I shouldn't criticize them in their first year. They had the usual bananas and oranges (cut into convenient pieces, which is always a nice touch), and they had some Clif bars (taste a lot like sweetened sawdust, but they're supposed to give you energy, so whatever). They also had boxes and boxes and boxes of honey buns. Seriously? I can't eat a honey bun and remain in an upright position, so I can't imagine eating one and riding my bicycle. That immediate burst of energy would wear off after 500 yards, and they would find me napping in a ditch.

The t-shirt wasn't much to write home about either. Not that I needed to write home. Especially about a t-shirt. Maybe I'm just now finding out that I'm not a fan of green. I'm pretty much over the ride/event t-shirts at this point anyway. I know I should decline them, thereby potentially helping a charitable organization save a little bit of money, but I can't bring myself to take that step. It's like I have to have SOMETHING, some visible, tangible evidence that I did indeed ride my bicycle 66 miles. Never mind that they gave me the t-shirt BEFORE the ride, and I could have brought it home without having ridden a single mile.

I had just uploaded the route to my computer when Hubby walked past my computer.

"What do you think that looks like?" I asked, pointing to the map.

He first said, "Texas."

WTH? Did someone amputate part of Texas without TELLING ME?

Then he said it looked like Casper the Friendly Ghost. I can almost go along with that one.

My first impression was that it looked like a dove, flying to the right. No, I don't know what happened to his wing either. Maybe it's the part of Texas that got lopped off. He even has a nest all ready for him, right up there above his deformed wing.

That "nest" is actually something I find pretty cool. On this particular mapping software (and some others that I've used), bike trails are marked in green. The town where all these lines appear is Peachtree City, which has billed itself as a very bicycle-friendly town. I have a friend (one of those riding across the country even as we speak) who lives there, and she uses her bicycle for EVERYTHING. She has a trailer she can pull behind her when she goes to the grocery store and other errands. I think this series of bike trails is an incredible thing for a 21st century town to have.

Skies were overcast for most of the day, and that made temperatures bearable for a while. The heat started getting intense toward the end, but at the end of a ride you can stand almost anything. My trip home was uneventful, even considering the fact that I drove past Turner Field at around 2:00, not knowing the Braves were playing at 3:30. Oblivious, I sailed right through downtown. Rozmo was not so lucky, sitting in traffic on I-285, desperately in need of a gas station and a restroom.

I'll definitely take tomorrow as a day off the bike. Good night!

My Mojo Was Hiding One County Over.....

What a difference a day makes. Today's ride was awesome in every way a ride can be awesome.

I wasn't sure how I would feel this morning after yesterday's episode of punkness (I just made that word up). I was also suspicious of my back tire, since air doesn't typically just LEAK out of a tire and pumping it up shouldn't have been enough to "fix" the problem. It was a little low this morning, so I pumped it up again, but I didn't think I had enough time to get it changed, so I just took off on my bike with the tire in question.

I realize that is completely illogical.

Today's ride was one county over from where we live, so it wasn't QUITE as painful when they said they wanted us rolling by 7:10 AM. (That turned out to be a lie anyway. We did a lot of standing around, even after we were staged at the start line.) I would have expected the terrain to be similar to what I encounter on my rides around home, so I was prepared for some hills.

I was pleasantly surprised. There were no major hills, but mostly rolling "bumps" instead. I averaged 18 mph to the first rest stop (where we didn't stop), and I averaged 16 mph over the entire ride. Thirteen yesterday, 16 today. I don't get it. But I'll take it.

The only complaint I have to offer is that there were no porta-potties at either Rest Stop #3 or #4. The lady at #3 said we weren't supposed to go inside the church, but I saw people going in and out, presumably to use the restroom. Because she had told us we weren't supposed to, though, I didn't go in. I'm not sure why I follow SOME rules SOME of the time. Rest Stop #4 didn't have any restrooms either, and the building wasn't open, so Rozmo and I decided we would find a spot on the side of the road. We never did, though, and we made it all the way to the end without experiencing any discomfort.

My shifter broke about 6 miles from the end of the ride, so I couldn't change gears. Naturally I was in my HARDEST gear, and it didn't take much of a hill to make me appreciate those other gears that I couldn't use. I had to stand up and grind it out, but I made it to the end. After a wonderful post-ride meal (in an air-conditioned building, thank you ride organizers), I really wanted to come straight home. But I did the grown-up thing (?) and took my bike to the shop. I didn't even care that I was still wearing cycling shorts and didn't have a hat to put on my helmet-haired head. I put on the event t-shirt from today's ride and marched in that bike store like I looked normal. Perhaps to them I did, in which case I feel very sorry for them.

It was a beautiful day weather-wise, warm but not brutally so. The route was very rural and scenic, and it even went by the house where my father lived when he died. I didn't stop to take a picture because presumably the woman to whom he was married when he died (I refuse to call her my step-mother. We usually refer to her as Charlotte the Harlot.) still lives there, and I didn't want her to swoop down the driveway on her broom. Sorry.

I'm especially glad that my cycling mojo wasn't gone forever. I just hope it hangs around long enough for my bike to come home from the shop. I miss it already.

Challenge of the Centuries - Saturday.......

Today's ride started off fast and cool and ended up slow and hot. Seriously, it was approaching 95 degrees by the time we finished at 2:00. Rozmo and I rode the 67-mile route, but as card-carrying members of the Round Numbers Club, we had to add in some mileage to make it 70.

The path over the dam. Apparently it is open to the public, but only to a certain point. Cyclists with wristbands were allowed to ride all the way across between certain hours today.

I asked Rozmo to take a new picture of me for my profile picture on Facebook. She does good work, even with bad subjects!

I can't resist taking pictures of water. Lakes, rivers, oceans, streams, waterfalls, bottled water...

I sometimes take decent pictures myself, even if they are accidents. This one I took shooting over my shoulder without looking at the camera. While I was riding.

The view from above the dam. I mean I was ON the dam, not hovering above it.

Sadly, water levels are very low.

Another water shot. I can't even explain this one. Or why I'm leaving it on here instead of deleting it like a sane person would.

Not a very good shot, but this is a dilapidated old school (??) standing in a field on the bike route. The deterioration is evident from year to year. I will be sad the day we ride by and it has fallen down completely.

See above regarding water pictures.

This was an attempt to take a picture over my head and behind me without looking at the camera. That might explain the strange tilt to the shot. And the fact that if I didn't know who that was, I might not be able to identify Rozmo.

A different attempt to take a picture over my head and behind me. Perhaps I am simply offering proof that I do indeed wear a cycling helmet.

We aren't sure yet about tomorrow's mileage. We usually do a shorter route on Sunday, but it will depend on Rozmo's out-of-town relatives. (Her folks live near where the ride is being held.) I'm not even sure which way I would LIKE for our decision to go. I'm tired and sore today, but BRAG is coming up next week (gasp!), and there ain't no options for daily miles when it comes to BRAG. Well, there sort of are... You can ride a lot of miles or a lot MORE miles.

Happy Memorial Day!

St. Patrick's Century Ride - A Week Early.....

Rozmo and I did a bicycle ride in the town of Dublin, Georgia today. Because its name is DUBLIN, naturally the town goes all out for St. Patrick's Day. But because many, many, many people go to Savannah for St. Patrick's Day (particularly years like this one, when it falls on a Saturday), Dublin has its St. Patrick's Day-themed events beforehand.

That was a long-winded way of explaining why we did a St. Patrick's Ride a week before St. Patrick's Day. And I'm done with typing St. Patrick's Day.

We spent the night in Dublin, since I had yesterday out of school. It was about a 3-hour drive, so we would have had to leave around 5:00 this morning in order to get there, get registered, unloaded, etc. etc. etc. It was hard enough driving the three hours BACK.

I had one of those long debates with myself about proper cycling clothing this morning. I had two base-layer shirts, a thinner one and one lined with sort-of fleece. I didn't think I needed the fleece-lined one, but that was the one I grabbed out of the suitcase. Fine. Then I debated about the jacket. My usual philosophy is I can stand being cold at the beginning if I'm pretty sure it's going to warm up. Temperatures were supposed to climb into the 60's today, so I initially left the jacket in the car. "I'm tough," I said.

Then I went back and got the jacket, and boy am I glad I did. It did warm up (eventually), but the winds were brutal and NEVER let up. ALL. DAY. LONG. Have I mentioned lately (like in the last sentence or two) how much I HATE riding in the wind? It's probably a very good thing I was unable to donate blood yesterday (iron count was too low); I would never have been able to tap the reserves needed to complete that ride.

The terrain wasn't difficult, and the scenery was pretty. Beautiful blue skies, early flowering flowers, lots and lots of gorgeous horses.

And the wind.

Here's our map from today. If you look near the triangle (indicating starting and, in this case, ending point), you may see some squiggly lines that look like we got lost right at the end. I assure you that's not the case. This time.

The ride was billed as a century (100 miles) with a 55-mile option. We were pretty sure absolutely positive we didn't want to ride the century, but 55 was doable. When we got back to the recreation center where the ride began and ended, we had ridden 47 miles. Being members of the even numbers club, we had to ride around and around the rec center until we had the requisite 50 miles. I made the almost-fatal mistake on about our hundredth lap of saying to Rozmo, "Why don't we go for 60?" Luckily she had a deadline to get back home so she could go to her Supper Club, so she didn't take me up on it.

Whew.

We averaged over 15 mph, higher than I usually do on long rides. The extra exertion required to fight the wind and keep up that kind of average has sapped my energy. On the way home from dinner, I asked Hubby, "Isn't it about bedtime?"

It was 5:46.

Goodnight.

Four-Day Weekend and a Three-Day Work Week....

Do I hear a "hallelujah" from the masses? I just had more days off in a row than I will work this week. That's one way to get the week started off with a smile.

I bookended my long weekend with bike rides. I rode 41 miles by myself on Friday, and today Rozmo and I rode a 56-mile route we've covered before (and part of it is on the annual Spring Tune-Up ride). It was much colder than I would like for a bicycle ride, and I pulled something in my back this morning, either of which singularly would have compelled me to call off the ride in years (days?) past. But I didn't want to let Rozmo down, I wanted to get my February mileage in, and I honestly thought the problem with my back (extreme lower back) would be helped by riding and stretching it out. Not so much.

I was getting out of the recliner this morning to go get ready when I felt a catch in my lower back. As I told Rozmo, that should have been a clear indication that getting out of the recliner was the worst thing I could do today. We stopped at a little store on our ride, and there was a picnic table in the sunshine, so I lay down on the bench. I told Rozmo, "I may never move from this spot again." The warmth of the sun felt very good, and lying flat gave my back some relief. That statement almost came true a few moments later when I realized I could NOT get up from that spot. I was finally able to haul myself up by grasping the table and sort of rolling off the bench. Not very graceful, but it worked.

The map doesn't do it justice. Ha ha ha ha ha. This is one of the prettiest areas in our state, with lots of horse farms and not much traffic. And friendly people who didn't ask us A) why we would choose to ride our bikes in chilly weather; or B) what the hell we were doing on the road in the first place.

Katydid, notice we went to Newborn...AGAIN!

BikeFest Sunday....

Today is my favorite day of a 3-day bike ride. Sunday's ride is always more relaxed, more laid-back. It sounds funny to say the route today was "only" 40 miles, but that felt like a walk in the park after yesterday's 102 miles. Katydid and I rode the tandem, and we took it easy, sort of meandering along. We joked and laughed, especially with Winston, who nearly KILLED himself trying to stay ahead of us. When we took a little short-cut off the Riverwalk, we could hear him 100 yards behind us saying, "How did they get in front of me?" Then at the end we took another short-cut through the parking lot (in our defense, it was much more practical than trying to ride the winding switchbacks of the handicap-accessible ramp up from the Riverwalk), we were waiting at Winston's RV for him. He said the sweetest three words I've ever heard from him: "I give up."

Today's ride was partly on the Riverwalk, which I wanted to roll up and bring home with me, and partly on the Army base of Fort Benning. We had to ride through a military checkpoint, and the man whose job it was to check for our wristbands took his assignment VERY seriously. I thought I was going to wreck the tandem just trying to hold up my arm to show my wristband.

It was a fabulous weekend (and the Dawgs won - barely - whew!) of bicycling. I had so much fun catching up with old friends and making a few new ones.

Here are some random pictures from the weekend.

View of the Chattahoochee River, which serves as the border between Georgia and Alabama.

On Fort Benning

Shadow shot of Katydid and me on the tandem

Shadow shot of me from Saturday's century ride, before the 72-95 mile stage when things weren't fun

The power of the water going through the turbine at the dam. The water is released about 5:00 PM, and the kayakers are already lined up to play in the rapids.

Building between the Riverwalk and downtown Columbus. I loved the angle of this shot.

The dam in the background, not long after the water had been released.

This puppy was enjoying a drink - and making a mess - along the Riverwalk.

Not a very good picture of a pink labrador retriever. His owner, who lost his mother to breast cancer, had dyed the dog pink for Breast Cancer Awareness. We later saw a pink giant poodle.

Another shot of the dam with the waters unleashed.

Katydid on the Riverwalk.

Another view of the river from the Riverwalk.

Rozmo on the way back to camp on Friday. I could have used some of that propane (sign in background) to assist me.

The marina where we had a rest stop on Friday.