Subtlety is Lost on Some People.....

One of the things we stress on BRAG (and similar bicycle rides) the most is the issue of safety. That can mean riding safely, wearing the proper clothing and a helmet, drinking sufficient fluids, and washing your hands.

On BRAG 1999 (I think), there was a horrible outbreak of an intestinal illness that sent many riders home. I am thankful that I didn't come down with it, but apparently enough people did that it got the attention of health officials. BRAG folks did a survey and while a cause was never definitively identified, there seemed to be a link back to folks putting their hands in bags of ice (to fill up their water bottles).

Many people were guilty of keeping their gloves on at rest stops. The gloves with which they had more than likely wiped their noses, wiped sweat off their brows, kept on while they visited the porta-potties, and then approached the food table. To put their hands in the ice bags.

Yuck.

I never was one to put ice in my water bottles. I figured it was pretty much a waste, since ice in Georgia in June wasn't going to stay ice very long. I fill my water bottles up at the rest stops, and if the water is tepid a few miles down the road, I'm still grateful I have it.

Ever since then, there has been a huge emphasis on hand washing at rest stops. There aren't any bags of ice out in the open, either. The tables are stamped with the words "Remove gloves and wash hands," and volunteers are instructed to enforce the policy.

There was a lady who worked rest stop #2 for several years, and she became (somewhat) affectionately known as "The Glove Nazi" or "The Rest Stop Nazi." She took her job very seriously, and she was even posted on the net doing part of her "gloves off wash your hands" routine.




I admired her to some extent for taking her job so seriously, but it began to wear on the nerves by day 7. You could hear her screaming before you even GOT to the rest stop. She hasn't been back in the last couple of years..... hmmmmm.....

Some people, though, need that kind of admonishment. I encountered a girl (woman) yesterday who would have incurred the wrath of The Glove Nazi.

She approached the table with her gloves still on, and the volunteer nicely asked her, "Have you removed your gloves and washed your hands?"

"Well, obviously I haven't removed my gloves," she responded, as she helped herself to some slices of peaches.

"We ask that riders remove their gloves to keep from spreading germs. There was a nasty illness on BRAG a few years ago."

"I've never been a rule follower," Miss Gloves On said, munching on her peaches and not the least concerned that everyone was staring at her.

Someone said, "The Glove Nazi would be yelling at you."

She said, "I don't mind getting yelled at."

I couldn't stand it. I had to speak up. "I'd rather be yelled at than come down with that horrible illness that went around on BRAG."

I swear to you, she said, "Oh, you haven't lived until you've had the swine flu."

I was aghast. I said, "Then I haven't lived, and I don't want to."

She just laughed.

She never got it. She never took her gloves off, so I'm sure she didn't wash her hands.

Gross. I hope she comes down with the dysentery from hell.

Sunday's Ride........

I couldn't beleive it when I looked at the time when I finished today. I was going sooooooooooooo sloooooooooooooooowly that I thought I was about 2 hours later finishing today than yesterday. It was actually only 10 minutes longer. I also thought the elevation was much more kick-ass today, but the GPS says otherwise. There were a couple of killer hills today, naturally at the end. I was just creeping up them. A guy came up beside me and said, "Are you in your lowest gear? Have you ever thought about getting a triple?"

His remains are somewhere along the side of the road.

The guy who sold me my bike assured me that the compact crankset I had was just as good as a triple.

He lied.

I think I will hunt him down and hill him too.

I WILL have a triple before I attempt another ride on my single bike.

I thought I had one of those "this would only happen to Bragger" experiences today, but it turns out I didn't really.

Today's route was 51 miles. The "short" option was 47 miles. What the hell? If I could ride 47 miles, surely I could ride 51. I mean, the last few were going to be the same anyway; it's not like they just tack on the extra 4 at the end.

I opted for the 51 mainly because it crossed into Tennessee, and I could legitimately say I rode to Tennessee on my bicycle. I was watching on the GPS to cross the state line, and I was riding with this other girl. We got to a park, and when we turned in, I noticed that the arrows turned around and went back out. So we just did a u-turn without venturing into the park very far. Turns out THAT'S where the state line was. I was bummed because I didn't think I had actually ridden to Tennessee, but as you can see from the map above (you might have to scootch it down a little bit), we definitely crossed the line.

I had my iPhone playing my music for the last half of the day, and I had it on shuffle. That was the only way to keep my sanity today. It was brutal out there.

When I rode up to my car, the song that came on was Julianne Hough's "My Hallelujah Song."

I am NOT making this up.

The song starts out: "Look at me, can't believe I finally made it here. Feeling like I'm where I belong. Singing my hallelujah song."

It made me smile at a time when I was thinking I might never smile again.

Today's Ride......

It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be. But I always say that after a bike ride.

I rode 50 miles in some of the prettiest country in the state, I think. It was very isolated at times, and I found myself thinking, "Man, I wish I had some music."

Duh. I have an iPhone.

There were miles and miles when I wouldn't see a car at all. Nor would I see another cyclist, which sometimes concerned me. But just when I almost reached the "oh crap I need to check the map" point, I would see a symbol on the road.




If you're so inclined to "View Details" above, note the elevation chart. No wonder my knees are aching. I don't have enough gears for climbing. Lying bastard who sold me my bike.....

It only got unbearably hot the last 10 miles, and I was finished with the whole 50 miles at 11:30.

I never write much about what we eat on these bike rides. It seems that we're eating continuously, but it's not that much at a time.

For breakfast, I had a bagel with jelly and a cup of coffee. Probably should have skipped the coffee, but it's such a habit.

At rest stop #1 (17 miles) I had half a PBJ, a cup of powdered sports drink (blue), and two chunks of watermelon (thanks Paul!).

At rest stop #2 (40 miles!!!) I had two sugar wafer cookies (I wanted two more to even out the stack, but I wasn't terribly hungry), a banana, a cup of the blue stuff, and a pack of peanuts.

Lunch back at the college was a ham sandwich, chips, a yucky cookie, and a bottle of water.
I didn't eat the apple -- too healthy.

Snack was a beer.

Dinner tonight was half a sandwich from Panera, chips, and a cup of soup. Yes, I said soup. When I was standing there in front of the counter, I thought, "These people are going to think I've lost my mind, ordering soup when it's 100 degrees outside."

When I got back to my hotel room to eat, I realized it was the sodium I was craving. That's from the combination of sweating all day, plus all the water I drank diluting my salt content. It was very good (French onion), and it didn't seem nearly so bad eating soup with the air conditioning cranked up.

I think I did all the right things today. I used sunscreen liberally, and I forced myself to drink water every 3 miles. It isn't enough to drink when I get thirsty; they say if you wait until you're thirsty, it's too late.

Tomorrow's ride is supposed to take us into Tennessee. That's one state I haven't ridden my bike in yet.

Gonna Be Hot.......

Because I live in the South and it's SUPPOSED to be hot, I generally don't complain too much about the heat. I reserve full bitching rights, however, for the winter, when it often gets below freezing and stays that way FOR DAYS. I realize that many people in this country (including my favorite cousin, who lives in Green Bay) have to deal with much harsher weather than I do, but I always return to where I live.

God didn't put me in the Deep South to be cold.

That being said, it's going to be hot this weekend. And I'm on a bicycle ride. Hence the late hour of this post. No, I haven't actually been out carousing. Neither Katydid nor Rozmo came on this ride, so I'm all alone (sniff, sniff). I worked at registration, went and bought a Schlotsky's sandwich, and came back to the room to follow the baseball game on the computer. I didn't bring the motorhome this weekend after all. It wasn't that I was nervous about being by myself and having to do everything (including setting up the satellite system, which we all KNOW I'm fully capable of doing, ahem ahem). I woke up this morning and realized that gas for the motorhome would cost almost the same thing as staying in a motel room for two nights. When I got mired in the Friday afternoon Atlanta traffic on the way up here, I was thankful I wasn't driving that monstrosity on the interstate.

I'm up in the "cool" part of the state, right at the base of the North Georgia mountains. One of my fellow riders came in to registration this afternoon and said she saw three bank clocks in town: 101 degrees, 102 degrees, 103 degrees. I told her she was obviously driving in the wrong direction.

And tomorrow and Sunday we are going to ride bicycles in this heat.

We did these routes last year, and while they will be hilly, they aren't mountainous. But they are very scenic and if I remember correctly, they don't have much traffic.

Remind me again why I do this?