Another Trip......

I'm leaving next Monday on another trip, and I hope to have a plethora of pictures to share. In fact, I bought a camera connection kit for my iPad (I'm not lugging the laptop, and I'll explain why in a moment) so I can upload pictures each day. I hope I hope I hope I hope. (My iPad is one of the first generation ones, so it doesn't have a camera.)

This trip is with my mother and both sisters. I know, I know, I hear you screaming "hypocrite" because I'm going on a trip with the same woman I've referred to as the She-Devil. (On her nickel, too.) Believe me, she's been called worse names. And she has earned every single one of them.

Example: At the company where she worked before starting her own business, they were putting a big fancy aquarium in their newly renovated lobby. Someone came up with the idea of buying a fish to match each employee's personality. There was a long pause, then someone said, "Where the hell are we going to get a barracuda for Carol that will fit in that tank?" So it's not just her children who think she's harsh and fearsome.

She has recently joined this traveling club at her bank, a group with whom she has made several trips. You can only be a member of this group if you have x number of dollars in your bank account. That goes against my grain (not to mention my bank account), but it's right up Mom's alley. To be fair (fairER?), Mom had a poor upbringing and a hard time with five kids and a worthless husband, even harder to feed all of us after the divorce. She got a whopping SIX DOLLARS a week for each child, and by golly that was still the amount my father was paying when I turned 18. He had started sending the checks to ME by that time, and he dutifully wrote a $24 check every month. No more, no less.

But I digress.

Mom enjoys traveling. Wait, let me restate that. Mom enjoys THINKING about traveling. She enjoys the looking forward to it, the planning it, the packing, the talking about it. She hates almost everything else about it. She once raised holy heck on a cruise ship because the LIBRARY WASN'T OPEN during its posted hours. She missed a connecting flight one other time (I thought it served her right for flying from Savannah to Atlanta to get on a plane to Tampa), and I was astounded when they didn't give her the entire airline as compensation.

Don't even get me started on the time she took Sweet Girl and my then-three-year-old nephew on a Disney cruise. She has such fond memories of that cruise, and both children were scarred for life. Sweet Girl called me crying about her Nanny's treatment of the youngster before they even got to the port.

Darn, I have digressed again. Back to THIS trip.

Even though a group is going on the trip, it can't be much fun to travel alone, so Mom talked Katydid into going with her. When Hubby and I were in Wisconsin, she called to see if I wanted to go too. I bit back my immediate response of, "Hell no," and said something almost worse, "But there's a football game that weekend." Then she told me that Frogger Blogger was going too, and I told her I would think about it. I couldn't let all three of them go off on a trip and not go myself! Besides, that would be an odd number, and it would make room assignments and seating assignments on the motor coach either difficult or crowded, so I agreed to go. Besides, I'm the one who is retired, and the other two had to use precious vacation days to make the trip.

And I AM looking forward to the trip, truly. I am grateful for the fact that I CAN go, and I'm appreciative of the fact that Mom insists on footing the bill for all of us. I'm NOT excited about riding on a bus for two days. The last time I was on a motor coach, I accompanied Sweet Girl's high school band to New York City for them to perform in Carnegie Hall. (Very cool experience.) I left a voice mail for Hubby somewhere in New Jersey along the lines of, "Just so you know, Hell is not a place. It's a bus ride." And they were good kids, truly. That's just a lot more sitting than I can handle.

This trip is to the Pennsylvania Amish Country and Williamsburg, Virginia. We are leaving early Monday morning from the bank, a little less than two hours from my house. We are going to see a dinner theater production of Fiddler on the Roof and a production of Jonah, with which I am not familiar. We are going to tour Amish farmlands and have dinner with an Amish family. (Please, please, please, please Mother, don't find fault with anything. Please.) Then we are going to my personal favorite, Hershey World. They can just leave me there. We tour Williamsburg the next day, and then make the trek home on the motor coach. When we get back at 6:00 PM on Saturday (Mom's 80th birthday), I will jump in my car and drive very fast (but not breaking the speed limit -  much) to the aforementioned football game. I probably won't make the 7:30 PM kickoff, but Hubby will be there already and I shouldn't miss too much of the game.

I just happened to have a picture of an Amish buggy handy. Sure it's a Wisconsin Amish buggy, but it fits the topic. Sort of.

Because we are traveling on a motor coach, luggage space is naturally limited. I don't like having a bunch of luggage ANYWAY, particularly when there is more than one hotel involved. Hence the reason I'm going to have to depend on my iPad instead of my laptop. It's not that bad, but it's a pain to use HTML code when I'm blogging. On a positive note, you won't have to read any lengthy posts like this one all next week. Score! I'm going to take a shoulder bag slightly larger than my usual purse that will hold my camera, iPad, iPhone, iPod, and Nintendo DS. (I've got to have a variety of things to do on the bus ride, but I'll mainly read.)

I think it will be an exciting adventure. And we'll see how this one goes before I make a decision about accompanying Mom to Australia in April. Fifteen days...holy smokes.

Another (and Almost Definitely Last) Peachtree Road Race.....

Last year on the 4th of July I wrote about participating in my first ever Peachtree Road Race, item #19 on my 50 Things to Do list.

I don't have a good explanation of why I chose to do it this year. Perhaps it's because when the race lottery is posted in March, the 4th of July seems forever away and all things seem possible. It could also be due to the psychological factor of "winning" the lottery to get in the race.

(Seriously? We WON something? Then why do I feel as though someone BEAT me?)

Because my friend Sara, the one who participated with me last year, gave birth on May 18th of this year, I talked Katydid into doing the race with me. We agreed to walk, not run, just so she could enjoy suffer endure the experience. And get the t-shirt. It's all about the t-shirt.

(I chose NOT to model the t-shirt. You can thank me later.) I wasn't crazy about the color, either off-white or cream. I like the colorful logo, but the background color was underwhelming.

The ubiquitous porta-potties.

This isn't at the race start. It isn't even at the race pre-start staging area. This is just walking TOWARD the race and looking for our start wave.

Huge American flag at the start line. With the view blemished by: A) the crane holding it up; B) the wind blowing the flag; C) the street signs; and D) the STOP/WALK sign held by a volunteer letting the group know when to move from one cattle pen staging area to the next. 

Waiting for the race to start. They suggest getting to the start line an hour before your start wave. There's a lot of waiting. And walking.

The race rules specifically state that participants are not to wear costumes, but how do you police that? I know the guy in this shot in the American flag costume had to be miserably hot. I was assigned to start wave "N," but Katydid was in "P." You can move DOWN, but not UP, so I left with the "P" group.

Another attempt at getting a shot of Old Glory in all her ... glory. Almost all the flaws of the previous shot, with the addition of shooting into the sun, which I realize is a photography no-no. And I'm not even capable of yes-yes shots, so I should have known better than to take this one. Just to show you the real me, warts and all as my mother would say.

I am really bummed about the picture above. This was my favorite sign all day long, and the words don't show up. I not only laughed out loud, I turned around and went BACK to take this (admittedly crappy) photo. The sign said, "Worst Parade Ever." Love it.

This was also a favorite. (Am I allowed to have two favorites? I hope so, because like children, I really don't want to have to choose.)

I don't know why the race hurt so much more this year than last, but I have a few theories.

• Last year I had done several 5K races, and I had run in the park a few times. This year, because my hips got so sore last year, I haven't run ANY, and I've only done a couple of 5Ks, both months ago. I've continued to cycle and walk in the park, but perhaps I need some occasional running if I am to do a 10K race. Which I probably won't be doing anymore anyway.
• I wore the same shoes as last year, which means they've got quite a few miles on them, and that means they are pretty much broken down and someone with a college education should know better than to walk 6.2 miles in them. But I've got a painful corn between two of my toes (sorry for the less-than-pleasant image), and my other two good pairs of shoes are very uncomfortable on that toe. 
• This might be a stretch, but perhaps WALKING the race was worse on my body than RUNNING. Sure it was less impact, but it also made the overall experience significantly longer. 
• The weather was warmer than last year, although it eased somewhat from the dangerously high temperatures in the 100's that we had last week. Race conditions started at a "moderate" level, but they were changed to "high" during the race, meaning heat-related incidents were more likely to occur.

Something else was different from last year, and I'm going to have to do some research to verify it. After the race ended today, signs directed us back to the MARTA train station. I'm pretty sure it was AT LEAST another 4 miles that we walked, and I'm pretty sure Sara and I didn't walk that far last year. Maybe she and I found a different station last year, and this year Katydid and I simply followed the signs. That walk back to the train station was more painful than the whole rest of the race put together.

And I think I'm done with Peachtree Road Races. It's not like I'm going to take up running on a regular basis, and doing this one race a year isn't worth it. It means I miss most of the 4th of July festivities with the family (even if it IS Hubby's family), and like I told Sweet Girl, I don't have the energy to take up another obsession. I'll stick with BRAG and other cycling events and leave the Peachtree Road Race to the youngsters.

And the Kenyans and Ethiopians.

Frankie's Ride.....

Today was one of those days that is so nearly perfect that it just makes you glad you're alive. At least that's how it was for me today.

Katydid and I joined a group riding on the Silver Comet Trail today. We rode to Rockmart, Georgia to Frankie's Restaurant. The original plan for this occasion was for a group to gather AT Frankie's and ride west to the Alabama border, returning to Frankie's for beer and pizza. Our group, though, decided we would ride TO Frankie's and partake of the pizza and fellowship (and beer for a few) and then return.

There are several trailheads on the Silver Comet that are easily accessed from almost anywhere in the Atlanta area. We chose one that is about 11.7 miles from the beginning of the trail, because the first part tends to be crowded, and it also has numerous road crossings that are aggravating and slow us down. That location also gave us a round-trip ride of approximately 52 miles, a decent length ride without being a killer.

The weather was magnificent, with perfect temperatures and beautiful skies (once the cloud cover burned off). I love riding on the trail because there is no traffic to worry about, and  you can really make the ride any length you want to. There's no law that says you HAVE to ride all the way to Frankie's, but that is usually our destination.

This is how the view typically looks on the Silver Comet Trail. I have no idea who that person is in front of me. The trail is very well maintained, and patrolled in some areas by law enforcement on golf carts.

This sign always spooks me a little bit. And they're not kidding about the remote part. You know what they really need? A sign that says: "Hey dummy, you might want to refill your water bottles at Frankie's, before you RETURN through this remote area." I'm just sayin'.

The view of a neighborhood from high above. I took this one while I was riding.

The view of Katydid from behind. She's sure to love this picture.

Just a few of the many, many bikes that were parked at Frankie's.

This is Lisa, one of the massage therapists who attend most of the BRAG events. She has her precious boy, Victor, in the trailer behind her. And I'm sorry, but I don't know her husband's name. He'll have to be known as Lisa's Husband.

I knew the trail was also designated for use by equestrians, but I don't think I had ever seen any on the trail before today. Unless I have and I just forgot it, which would still be just about the same thing, wouldn't it?

Every time I ride through this tunnel, I'm almost at the end of it when my GPS goes, "Hey...who turned out the lights? Where did the satellites go?" It's probably the longest of several tunnels on the trail, and I'm glad there are lights in them.

Another neighborhood shot, this time when I was OFF the bicycle.

Jezebel, patiently waiting for us to get going again.

People have put many birdhouses along the trail. I circled back to take a picture of these, made out of hard hats.

It was an all-around good day, and even the 2-hour drive home couldn't take the glow off. If I had won that hugo lottery last night, I would have bought me a trail just like this one, only closer to home.

Here's a riddle for you, and Katydid is NOT eligible to play:

Katydid and I left at the same time, rode to the same place, and returned at the same time. She rode 53 miles and I rode 60. How is that?

Flexibility is a Good Thing........

Flexibility is a GOOD thing, so why did it take me 50 years to figure that out?

Katydid (and Frogger Blogger, when she's not inconsiderate enough to go to GRADUATE SCHOOL and render herself unable to attend sisterly events for a period of time) have both humored me and gone along with my passion dedication obsession attraction psychotic interest in college gymnastics. They have driven to my house to attend home meets (the meets aren't actually at my house, you understand), they have spent nights away from their families and/or dogs (or brought their dogs with them, when we discovered we weren't nearly as sneaky as we thought we were), and they have accompanied me to faraway locations like Nashville and Jacksonville and Birmingham to attend 7-team meets that begin to look like a 3-ring circus.

Because I sometimes often always take even good ideas to ridiculous extremes, I made plans to attend not only all six home gymnastics meets this year, but three away meets. I have already told you about last week's meet, so don't be afraid that I'm going to go into all THAT again.

Katydid and I had made plans to drive to another meet in Alabama tomorrow night, this time in Auburn. It's a much more reasonable drive, only a little over two hours, so we were planning to come back home after the meet, getting back between 12:30 and 1:00 AM.

Katydid is unable to go, however, due to an ongoing illness, and she texted me today to see if I could get someone else to go. My mind immediately started spinning, wondering who besides my sisters would be willing to go along with me to see something they probably don't give two rips about. Hubby doesn't even like to go to the HOME meets, much less drive two and a half hours for one. And get off the golf course early just to do so? Not gonna happen.

Then a thought occurred to me.

"Psst. Hey, Bragger. You spent $10 on the tickets. You could just ... NOT GO. Save the $65 or more in gas. Watch it online. Go to bed at a decent hour. Avoid driving through Atlanta during rush hour." (Even my thoughts are long-winded.)

So I decided not to go, and I'm ... relieved. Worried about Katydid (so I wouldn't have enjoyed myself anyway), but relieved.

It also saved me the added pressure of writing tomorrow night's Favorite Things Friday blog post tonight. It's a win-win-win situation.

And we should win.

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.

BikeFest Friday....

This is a rather long-winded (if I don't fall asleep first) post about bicycling, so if that bores you to tears, you may be excused. It won't even hurt my feelings. Much.

Today's ride started out on the Riverwalk, a very neat bicycling/walking path in Columbus, Georgia. We went out to the Oxbow Meadows Environmental Learning Center for our first rest stop, then turned around and came back to BRAG headquarters for Rest Stop #2. That can be a dangerous thing to do, coming back to camp for a rest stop. It would have been way too easy to settle for a 17 mile ride and call it a day.

There was another big section of the route on a bike path, and that can be a good thing or a bad. It's good because there is no traffic and very few hills (the path is built on an old abandoned railway line), but it's treacherous passing other cyclists, particularly if cyclists and walkers are coming from the other direction. The path was also often covered with leaves (duh, it's called "fall" for a reason) and acorns, along with random tree branches. But it was still a very nice change from having to dodge cars. Rest Stop #3 was at the end of the path at about the 30 mile mark.

Naturally the hills began after we left the path, but they weren't the killer type. They would have been much worse on the tandem, though. My climbing gear on my single bike is much friendlier than the tandem. The fact that it is made out of carbon fiber (which apparently costs a war pension per gram) helps too.

Rest Stop #4 was at mile marker 40 at a pavilion next to a store. There were no porta potties, and I didn't want to walk across the parking lot to go in the store. Plus I don't like to use the bathroom in a store if I don't buy something there, and getting money out of my bike bag would have been way too much trouble, not to mention silly because we had FREE food and drink at the rest stop, so I just didn't use the bathroom at that stop. I realize I have just provided you with information you neither needed nor probably wanted.

Rest Stop #5 was at the bottom of a SCREAMING hill at a marina. Seriously, I gasped when I started down that hill. And the tent with the rest stop was set up right at the bottom of the hill. Really? I refused to ride my brakes down the hill, so I flew past the rest stop tent and went around a little loop in the parking lot. I was surprised more people didn't do the same thing. That rest stop was also only 5 miles from the end, which I thought was a little silly (that's two "sillies" in the same blog post, if you're counting), but I guess the folks in charge of such things thought they would get a bunch of complaints if the last leg of the ride had been 20 miles. And they're probably right, because people are bound to complain regardless.

It might not LOOK like a screaming hill, but trust me...I'm a doctor.

The route was advertised as 60 miles today, but my GPS said 63.63 when we got back. There is always a little variation, but today's difference may be due to the number of times we missed turns and had to go back. I swear, the number of times we turned around today is probably more than the last 10 years of doing these rides combined. I don't know if it was sloppy route marking (which almost never occurs) or sloppy paying attention to the marks on the road. But we got back safely, and that's all that matters.

Tomorrow's mileage is still being negotiated. Story tomorrow night.

BikeFest Day Zero....

We are right on the Georgia-Alabama border for a three-day bike ride called BikeFest. We are in a new location for the fall ride this year, although we have stayed here before on the week-long ride of BRAG. Katydid and I brought three bikes: my single, her single, and the tandem. We actually brought four if you count my unicycle, which I cannot ride yet. But it ought to provide some humorous video if nothing else.

We don't know which bikes we are going to ride on which day, but we are fairly certain we are NOT going to ride the tandem on Saturday. In a serious role reversal, I'm trying to talk Rozmo INTO the century ride on Saturday (which is actually 101 miles, and don't think that last mile won't be a killer), and she's trying to talk me OUT of it. The next shorter ride is 86 miles - hell, you might as well go ahead and ride the century. After that is the 47, and we're not even discussing that one. I mean, what would we do with the REST of the day? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

We are pretty certain we will ride 60 miles tomorrow, and discussions are taking place even as we type as to whether we will ride single or tandem. Weather is supposed to be nice, sunny and in the low 80's.

Now THIS is what personal days are made for.

Pedal for Paws.....

Katydid and I did a ride today in our college town called Pedal for Paws.

Wait, the RIDE was called that, not our town. Just had to clear THAT up.

The ride was to benefit Athens Canine Rescue, a worthy cause in our minds.

One reason we decided to do this ride was A) it was on a Sunday; and B) it meant we didn't have to leave home at 6:00 AM to get to the ride start. We could even load the bike in daylight! (But since Hubby was still sleeping, I couldn't PACK in daylight, which might explain the fact that I wound up with leg warmers [which I didn't need] instead of arm warmers [which I did]. Turns out leg warmers work almost as well on the arms.)

Another thing I really appreciated about this ride is that they emailed us the cue sheet (directions) last week. That meant I could convert it to a map on the computer and upload it into the GPS. Then the GPS beeps to let us know when to turn, and there is a bright pink line indicating the correct route. There are also symbols painted on the road, but having the map in the GPS is a great comfort.

When I was looking at the cue sheet, I was pretty sure the route would go right past the house where our Grandmother and Granddaddy used to live when we were young. I asked another rider if she would stop and take our picture (because Rozmo was so far ahead of us), and she willingly did so.

We didn't bother asking the owners if they MINDED us traipsing across their yard. Maybe they were still asleep. At any rate, I'm relieved they didn't come out shooting. We can't ride fast enough to dodge bullets. Hell, we can't ride fast enough to dodge a turtle with arthritic knees.

I love this house so much. I have many, many happy memories of time spent there. And some not-so-happy ones too. Like when my brother Jack would go to the railroad tracks across from the house and lie down on the tracks, telling me, "Yep. I hear a train coming." At which point I would cry and try in vain to drag him off the tracks, sure in my little tiny brain that he would lie there and allow a train to smash him to pieces.

See that window over the front porch? I once threw my ballerina doll out of that window. My cousin assured me she would catch it. She did not. Butthead. The doll never danced again. Probably tore her ACL or something.

I wish I had taken the time to take more pictures. Like the enormous magnolia tree in the front yard. Or the pecan trees in the back yard. But we were already trespassing, and we didn't want to be last to finish the ride. Again.

It was a very windy day and the route was very, very hilly, but we knew both of those things before we started. It didn't make it any easier, and my legs and back are very, very sore tonight. I see some P.M. medication in my immediate future.

This is the only ride I've ever done where I've found doggie treats in the goodie bag along with the usual PowerBar and energy gel. Gus wasn't thrilled with the dog bone, but Libby liked it okay.

And the t-shirt?

Orange print. On a blue shirt.

Like I'm ever going to wear THAT.

#44 - Ride my Bike in a New County........

A while back I wrote a post about all the counties in Georgia in which I've ridden my bike. Out of the 159 counties in Georgia, I reported there were only 25 in which I had not ridden my bicycle at some point. It should have been 24, as Rozmo corrected me when I told her about the map. She reminded me that the Silver Comet Trail goes through Cobb County, one of the counties I thought I hadn't ridden in.

As of today, the count is down to 23. Katydid and I did a ride in our hometown, and it went into Greene County. I found it odd in the first place that I had never ridden there, since it is A) only one county over from where we grew up; and B) not far from where I live now.

Today's ride was called the Teardrop Metric Century because of the shape of the map. It only took me about twelve trips to their website for it to dawn on me why the ride was named that. I'm so glad I went to college. Imagine how dense I might have been otherwise.

The county lines aren't visible (at least not readily) on the map, so I offer the following as evidence that we did indeed travel into Greene County.

Rozmo told me to point at the sign with my left hand. My left hand was busy saving me from falling off the post.

In addition to these pictures, Rozmo also took a VERRRRRRRRRRRY flattering one of my backside as I was climbing/stepping up onto that post. Don't think there won't be some payback for THAT. I'm so glad there's a "delete" key.

Katydid and I always wear our UGA jerseys when we do a ride on game day. I was a goober and forgot to wear the matching shorts.

We rode 64 miles, and it was a lovely ride. It started out cool (almost too cool for comfort, but we toughed it out), but the sun FINALLY came out and warmed things up. To make things even better, UGA finally got a win today by a score of 59-0. Okay, so we didn't exactly play a REAL team. But a win is a win. And we hadn't had one since last Thanksgiving, so we'll take it.

This ride was a perfect combination of pluses. #1 - It was closer than the ride we were scheduled to do on this date, which is about two and a half hours away and has a bear of a parking problem. #2 - It had a later start time. #3 - It was in our home county. #4 - Its route took us into a county I wanted to ride in.

The only downside was that the OTHER ride, the one we DIDN'T do, started and ended at the Budweiser plant.

Further proof that you can't have everything.

The Wilson 100 Bicycle Ride......

Katydid and I rode the Wilson 100 bicycle ride again today. We've never done the 100-mile route, and I don't think it's likely that we will. We have ridden the shorter rides a number of times, and today we did the 65-mile route. This ride follows pretty much the same route every year, so it SHOULD be familiar to us. Only it isn't always. Because we didn't ride it YESTERDAY.

The past two years it has rained either at the last rest stop or just after we left the last rest stop. This year we got lucky. It was hot (and windy), but it didn't rain. The terrain was gently rolling (only it didn't feel so gentle toward the end of the day) and fairly rural. We didn't have any close encounters with vehicles. The only time we almost got knocked off the road was by a peloton of somewhere between 75-100 cyclists. I lost count at 34, by which time they weren't riding in pairs anymore, they were riding four and five across. They do this every single year, and I let it affect my blood pressure every single year. I did say to one girl, "That was pretty close." And then I lost count of the riders because I was too busy holding the tandem on the road.

I don't know who that group is, but they show up every year. The good news is they don't stop for rest stops, so once they pass you, odds are you don't have to deal with them again. I hate it when an otherwise perfectly pleasant ride is spoiled by OTHER CYCLISTS.

The last rest stop is staffed by a woman who is also in charge of one of the other rides we do (almost) every year, one that occurs in April. She has the most wonderful baked goods, not just the typical rest stop fare. And this year she had blueberry lemonade. That was some seriously good stuff. I just stood by the cooler, because I kept draining the itty bitty cups they had. I should have just filled up my water bottle.

I got low on water, mainly because the last rest stop was 20 miles (and a billion degrees) from the end of the ride. I had to go to my back-up bottle of water, which I had poured before we left this morning. It was like drinking bath water. Not refreshing in the least.

And now I'm going to stop complaining, because it was a good day and a good ride. Katydid had suggested we ride our single bikes, since she hasn't had time to train and she didn't want to hold me back. I said to her, "I'd rather haul you than wait on you," and I meant it. At least having her on the back of the tandem gave me someone to talk to. And our average speed was decent, considering we haven't ridden tandem much at all this year.

Now I'm going to put my tired, aching muscles to bed. I was worried about oversleeping this morning, so I compensated by UNDERsleeping. I woke up at 3:00, and I'm not sure I ever went back to sleep. Early to bed is just the ticket. Forgive my rambling.....

Tour d'Oconee......

Katydid and I participated in a bicycle ride today that was appealing for many, many reasons. First of all, it was only about 30 minutes from my house, so we didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn. Second of all, it was in our home county, where we both grew up and graduated from high school.

It was the first time this particular ride had been done, and that's always an iffy proposition. Do the organizers know what they're doing? Have they thought of the gazillion things that could go wrong? Are they prepared for the number of cyclists that might turn out on a chamber-of-commerce-weather day in Georgia in May?

I don't think the ride could have been run more professionally. Roads were well marked, the routes were absolutely gorgeous, rest stop volunteers were friendly and helpful (example: I heard a woman ask for a cup late in the day, and a volunteer said they were out. Then I heard the same volunteer say, "But we'll find you one." I didn't see the end of the encounter. I hope they didn't "find one" in the trash. Ha ha), and police officers were EVERYWHERE, even late in the day, to assist cyclists in crossing major roads and intersections. It was so cool to have them stop traffic to allow us to cross without stopping, even when Katydid and I were the only cyclists in sight.

The route started out flat and fast, and I should have known it wouldn't stay that way. (I actually DID know it, but I wanted to pretend the information I had was wrong and we would sail along averaging 16 mph for the whole ride. Wishful thinking.) It seemed that all the hills were at the end, or maybe we were just tired. We rode by the house where I lived from age 12 until I got married, we rode within sight of a little house where Sweet  Girl and I lived during a separation from my ex, and best of all we rode across the bridge that Jason and I jumped off on my 17th birthday (separate entry coming for that). I kicked myself all the way across the bridge when I realized I had left my camera in the car. I specifically wanted it today because I KNEW the route was going across that bridge. Damn it.

The t-shirt is noteworthy too. The route map resembles the outline of a lion, so the ride was dubbed "Tame the Lion." If I didn't have the shirt on, I would take a picture of it, so you'll just have to trust me. You can see the logo here and picture it on a white t-shirt. It's all about the t-shirt, mind you.  You can see the actual route we took, uploaded from my GPS, below.

Excellent, excellent ride. I hope this one becomes an annual thing.

Spring Tune-Up Friday.........

Today was a good ride. I debated and debated about whether to do a shorter ride that would allow me to get back in time to watch the semi-finals of the gymnastics national championships (more on that later) or do the longer ride. It was a tough decision.

Ultimately I decided that the gymnastics competition would come out the way it would come out, and my watching it would not affect the outcome one iota. I opted for the longer ride, and I left this morning with Rozmo and a group of other cyclists. Katydid was pulling Chico (a chihuahua) in a trailer behind her bike, so she decided to do a shorter ride due to the extra weight.

Sorry, Gus, but I don't love you that much.

Our group dwindled down to three of us: Rozmo, Kelly, and me. I would like to think we rode faster than the others and left them behind. I will go on thinking that if I want to.

It was windy at times, but for once (perhaps the first time ever), there was a noticeable TAILWIND toward the end of the ride. We hit a stretch of smooth pavement, downhill, WITH a tailwind. That combination will probably never happen again.

We rode a total of 65.5 miles, and I averaged 14.4 mph. That isn't my all-time highest, but I was pleased with it since there were quite a few hills, plus the wind. It wasn't ALWAYS a tailwind, I assure you.

I'm glad I chose to ride the longer ride, since that's what we came here to do after all, and the UGA Gym Dogs are NOT advancing to the finals of the national championships. It's just how the whole season has gone. We did okay on beam, bars, and vault, but melted down on floor exercise. Floor. How the hell do you fall off a floor? On a positive note, we have three gymnasts who qualified to advance to Sunday's individual championships, so we could end up with a national champion after all.

On an even more positive note, one that has me periodically shrieking with laughter, random outbursts that startle Chico, Florida's gymnastics team also failed to qualify for finals. They were ranked #1 all season long, posted astronomical scores right out of the gate, and suffered yet another epic meltdown at the end of the season. Last year they did it on their own home floor. I'm having a very hard time feeling sorry for them. In fact, I don't.

I toyed with the idea of riding the century tomorrow, but I don't think I'm going to attempt it. We'll probably ride 69 miles, and that will be a-plenty. That is, if the severe storms they are predicting for tonight don't blow us away in the RV.

He Didn't Even LOOK Familiar.....

Mentioning the old Omni in yesterday's post reminded me of yet another story from years ago.

Have any of you ever had the experience of seeing someone you know, but NOT where you usually see that person, therefore you don't recognize him/her? It's embarrassing, particularly if the person in question is well aware of who you are.

Katydid and I were at the Omni, attending a [who else?] Billy Joel concert. We got there early, so we were milling around, buying over-priced souvenirs and beer. The beer, however, was worth it at whatever the price.

[Yes I, a teacher in _______ County, Georgia, occasionally drink a beer. So fire me.]

We were standing in line at the t-shirt counter, and Katydid was drinking a beer. This guy sidled up to us, and he sort of nudged Katydid with his elbow and gave her a look that we couldn't decipher. Then he took Katydid's beer out of her hand and TOOK A SWALLOW OF IT!!!!!

We were speechless.

Then he said, "Does y'all's mama know you're out this late?"

I don't think we said anything to him. We just sort of stared, open-mouthed. He looked at us strangely for another few seconds, then he wandered off.

I looked at Katydid. "How does he even know we HAVE the same mama?"

"I. Don't. Know."

We were completed weirded out. We bought our t-shirts and milled around some more.

At some point I had an epiphany, or my brain kicked into gear, or maybe the beer kicked in.

I turned to Katydid and said, "Ohmigod. That was BRIAN."

Brian is our first cousin's son.

That makes him our first cousin once removed, NOT our second cousin as a lot of people think. You're welcome for the genealogy lesson.

Luckily, we found Brian again before the concert started. We had a good laugh, we acknowledged our embarrassment/stupidity, and for several years his mother continued to introduce him to us at the family reunion.

Isn't it strange how we connect people to certain locations/events/people, and we don't recognize them outside those environments?

Hasn't this happened to some of you before?

Anyone?

**crickets**

**crickets**

Is anyone out there?

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah Zip-a-dee-ay.....

My oh my, what a wonderful day!

This was one of those days when I absolutely love living in the South. The weather is certainly unpredictable, and we typically go straight from summer to winter..... and sometimes back again.... without warning.

But I'll take days like this.

Bright sunshine and temperatures in the 70's. It's possible that my cheeks are sunburned. In November.

Katydid, Rozmo, and I went for a bike ride. Katydid and I rode the tandem, and we just tooled around, following some routes I've ridden before. We turned at random because I wasn't worried about getting lost. We were never more than 10 miles from my house.

We couldn't get the speaker system on the tandem to work, so we missed all of the UGA game. But we were only playing a high school sort of team, so we weren't worried. We did check scores during store stops, and the Dawgs won 38-0. That was our first shut-out in three years.

We rode a total of 37 miles, and I could have ridden 37 more. Okay, maybe 10.

Catfish Memorial Ride....

Katydid, Rozmo, and I rode today in a bicycle ride called the Lewis Grizzard & Catfish Memorial Bike Ride. It was named for late great Lewis Grizzard, a sportswriter-turned-humorist whom I loved because he was unabashedly a UGA Bulldog fan all his life. Catfish was his lovable black Labrador retriever, the topic of many of his columns.

I was slightly disturbed when I went to the Lewis Grizzard website and found there a list of upcoming appearances, since Lewis died in 1994 at the age of 47.

The bicycle ride today was in his hometown (or at least the town he grew up in), Moreland, Georgia.

It was a perfect day for riding. Skies were overcast, keeping temperatures down, no wind, and no rain, unlike our LAST bicycle ride. I didn't hesitate at the decision point for which route to take, not even blinking when we chose the 66-mile route. And I didn't regret it one time. Well, maybe the last mile, since it was one mile further than the "two miles to the finish" that was painted on the road. But I would have hated that last mile no matter WHICH route we rode.

My personal decision to ride the longer route was based on three things: perfect weather, the Atlanta Falcons had a bye week so I wasn't missing a football game (well, I was, but not the hometown team), and I don't have to work tomorrow. Poor Katydid - On the back of the tandem, she's pretty much bound to my decisions. But luckily she usually agrees with them. I don't know what we'll do if she ever DISAGREES.

Katydid and I were on the tandem, and Rozmo rode with us to the bitter end. We were the last three people in, something that used to bother us but doesn't anymore. We left late, we dawdled at rest stops, and we're just dang slow. But Rozmo, being the terrific friend she is, stayed with us all the way, even though she could have finished much earlier if she hadn't hung with us, and we were just happy there was some lunch left when we got back.

After a 66-mile bicycle ride, dinner consisted of three kosher dill pickle spears and a small bag of pretzels. I crave salty things after a bike ride.

If I hadn't forgotten my camera, it would have been a perfect day altogether.

Happy Birthday, Katydid!

Happy Birthday to my sister, Katydid!

I had a favorite picture I wanted to post with this blog, but I went off and left it at home, and I'm away for the night. It is a picture of Katydid on her bike, somewhere on the Withlacoochee Trail in Florida the one year we did Bike Florida. I snapped it with a disposable camera (before digital) while I was on MY bike. And we both lived to tell about it.

I was always envious of Katydid when I was growing up. She was A) skinny; and B) pretty. And she had C) straight hair, which folks in our family would gladly kill for. She was a high school cheerleader (when I was still very, very, very, very, very, very young ha ha ha ha ha), and they had these cute little outfits they wore for pep rallies. Because we were the Warriors in our county, their pep rally uniforms were navy blue squaw-looking things with white fringe all around the edges. And they wore white moccasins with them. And thank goodness for spell check, because I always think moccasins has one "c" and two "s"'s.

I had crushes on every one of Katydid's boyfriends, including the one named Bubba. She finally found out his real name, but I won't publish it here, just in case someone out there knows him. I wouldn't want to embarrass him. Let's just say being called Bubba was a very good thing.

The first time I decided to ride in the Bicycle Ride Across Georgia, Katydid was going to give up her vacation and go along with me as a "sag", or support person. It wasn't necessary, but it meant I wouldn't be totally alone. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into. Probably a good thing. Two months before the ride was to begin, Katydid bought herself a bicycle and decided she would go with me. Two months. And she did. She rode every mile with me. She waited while I lay down on the side of the road (and we have pictures to prove it), but we never got into a sag wagon. That may be because we didn't know there was such a thing. If we had known that in a truly dire situation a vehicle would have taken us to the next rest stop or maybe even into camp, we probably wouldn't have finished that first year.

But we did, and we went back the second year. And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth. And we just finished riding part of BRAG for what was my 18th consecutive year. Katydid took a hiatus for a few years, but she came back and picked up right where she left off.

We had always wanted to ride a tandem. Well, actually Katydid wanted it more than I did. I wasn't sure how we would manage. But when she came back from the Land of the Strange and Unusual, we bought a tandem. I don't think we ever discussed who would be the captain; we both just sort of figured it would be me. And she trusts me. I need to talk to her about that.....sometimes it may not be a good thing that she trusts me. Because I don't always have the best judgment. I haven't gotten us killed yet, and we haven't even fallen over (although there have been a couple of close calls), but sometimes I don't think things all the way through before deciding what to do.

Katydid was always good at sewing, a skill that somehow eluded me. I know how to read a pattern, and I understand what it's telling me to do, but I can't make my fingers obey what my brain is saying. I cross-stitch, I crochet, I quilt, but I cannot sew. I will sew on a button under duress, but that's about it. If I have a pair of pants that need to be hemmed (and every pair of pants I buy needs to be hemmed, except for capris, which on me just become pants of a proper length), I either go to the alterations shop (if I have time) or I use masking tape (in a pinch). But whenever I had a special occasion, I could count on Katydid to sew something for me. Like my prom dress my senior year. I had a specific pattern in mind, and I bought the fabric, the lining, the pattern, all the notions, etc. And she made a beautiful dress for me. She told me when she was finished to throw that $%!*::&^! pattern away, but she still made it. She made my going-away outfit when I got married, and she even altered it for summertime wear. It was beautiful yellow linen.

When I was 10, Katydid's then-husband was stationed at Camp LeJeune, North Carolina. Mom put me on a bus by myself, and I went to visit for a week. (Oh pipe down, that kind of thing wasn't considered at all dangerous back then.) Katydid and I hung out at the pool at their complex (trailer park? apartment? I can't remember) while her husband worked all week. They took me bowling for the first time. I don't remember what my score was, but I can assure you it ain't much better today.

I always knew I could go to both of my sisters with any problem in the world, and if they couldn't solve it, they would help me figure out a way at least to make it better.

Katydid, however, sometimes has to be reminded that I'm all grown up now.

Seriously. "Did you go to the bathroom?" Did you really ask me that? Just last week? Seriously?

Happy Birthday, Katydid!

Not a Responsible Baby-Sitter.....

Something someone said at school today reminded me of this story. Katydid may not remember it, and it's pretty risky for me to remind her. It's not too late for her to kill me.

I was babysitting her son on New Year's Eve. That means he was seven months and two days old, and I was all of sixteen. I considered myself responsible and mature and dependable. Hah!

My friends Jason and.......I think his name was Ron....... came over to Katydid's house to see me, since I couldn't go out and celebrate New Year's with them. Only their car slid off into the ditch at the end of Katydid's looooooooooooooooooooooooong driveway. They tried to get it out of the ditch but they couldn't, and somewhere in the middle of all of this they took off their shoes and walked up the driveway to get me. They had rolled their pants up to their knees, and their legs were COVERED in mud. It was freezing cold outside.

I had to take them somewhere, although it's a little fuzzy as to where I was supposed to take them. Somewhere to get another car, I suppose. I don't think they were drunk; neither of them could drive worth a hoot on a GOOD day.

So I bundle my nephew up in his little snowsuit, put his car seat in the back seat of my car, and haul these two guys somewhere in the middle of the night on New Year's Eve. He looked like a miniature Michelin man in that snowsuit. Bundled up, all strapped in, and the only things he could move were his eyes. He didn't cry or anything. And luckily he couldn't talk yet, or I'm sure he would have asked me, "What the hell are you THINKING, taking me out in the middle of the night?"

I took Jason and maybe-Ron wherever they needed to go and headed back to Katydid's house. I was a mile away when..........she intercepted me at the gas station about a mile from her house. Damn! So close! She had seen my car and, rightfully so, stopped to see what the hell was going on. Personally, I would have killed me. I would have dragged me out of that car and beat me unmercifully. I would have cried and cursed and said in our mother's best voice, "HOW could you be so STEWPID?" (Because our mother can say that word with more venom than any curse word. I think she'd rather us be criminals than "stewpid.")

Katydid, however, was very calm and rational. She simply rolled down her window and said to me, "I'm sure there is a very good explanation for this, and I'll wait until we get to my house to hear it."

Sixteen years old. Driving around in the middle of the night. On New Year's Eve. With a baby. Good Lord.