Valentines Day Ride Haiku

February ride.

Large Johnny Cashesque cyclist.

One handed photo.

Abbott's Creek 8

Rode my bike in a figure eight loop down into Davidson County. First time I've been on the road in over a month.

Evening Rides

I enjoy evening rides the best. The quality of light and richness of color and shadow do my heart and soul a lot of good.

WGHP Farmer's Market Ride

 

Light, Color, and Long Shadows

Farm at the end of Glenn Hi

Mr. Whicker's Farm

Maple Trees at the entrance to our neighborhood

Confessio: Rolling Downhill

If I ever write a book, I think I'd like to write a confession -- something in the vein of Augustine or Patrick. Not a defense mind you, but an admission. If I do write that Confession, this piece I wrote several years back will be in it. I'm posting it in remembrance of October 6 twenty years ago.

I’m a person with distorted perspectives. My portions aren’t normal. I think I can endure limitless pain, difficulty, adversity, etc… as if I could just go out and ride 50 miles at a whim. I, for some unknown reason, think I am exempt from the pain, monotony, trouble, and inconvenience of training. Who do I think I am? Actually, I do know why I think I’m exempt; it’s pride, arrogance, hubris. My proportion disorder manifests itself in every aspect of my life: work, play, home, tv, food, sleep, what have you. However, I have never had trouble with over-exercising. Granted, during those moments of self-aggrandized testosterone poisoning, I have overestimated self. Over the long-haul though, I’ve never been the one to over-commit to healthful discipline. Martin Luther spoke of living a disciplined life as a drunken man riding a horse: he climbs up on side, rides, falls off the other side, climbs back up that side, rides, falls off the other side, and so on.

What feels so dangerous about getting on my bike again is the fear of the inevitable slippery slope of disappointment, self-indulgence, failed passion, flagged commitment, finally to be overwhelmed by external and internal pressures, and at last, quitting. Or maybe just falling off and forgetting to get back on.

One of the last times I rode my bike was in 1990. Through the summer I rode up and down over the Parkway around Boone, North Carolina preparing and working toward a level of fitness which I thought would take me from 206 to about 180 pounds. I was planning on doing a biathlon in Greensboro and then a century ride in Goldsboro in late September. It was my desire to reach a level of fitness that would allow me to not merely finish but to compete.

My wife, Jennifer, and I had ridden the half-century of Seyboro Cyclists’ Harvest Hundred the previous two years. It was a great couple-thing to do. Our first year, we traveled to Goldsboro, NC which is, by a Carolinian’s reckoning, ‘Down East’. The Down East coastal plain has its own culture manifest particularly in its style of Barbecue.  Books have been written on the virtues of Carolina Barbecue. Carolina barbecue is always pork. It may be chopped, pulled, or sliced, or it may be seasoned with a sauce that’s tomato-based, vinegar-based, or mustard-based; but it’s always pork. In the Carolinas there are differing styles and any Carolinian will argue his preference till they’re blue in the face. Though I grew up in Western North Carolina where a tomato based sauce is used, it was when I traveled to Goldsboro and had my first vinegar-based, Eastern Style Barbecue, that I fell in love. I was and still am hooked. I won’t go near Goldsboro without stopping for a plate of Eastern Style at Wilbur's.

Jennifer and I traveled to Goldsboro because that’s where her relatives lived. We would stay with her aunt and uncle Pilkington and usually visit with her Grandma Catherine and her Grandpa and Grandma Bowen.

The first two years we traveled to Goldsboro, Jennifer and I ‘toodled” the half-century route. The first year we did the ride I don’t think either of us had done a ride over thirty miles, let alone fifty. So when we finished the ride just under 4 hours we thought we had done great. About twenty minutes later, we heard a lot of excitement at the finish line, and as we moved closer to see, we saw a pack of riders sprinting to the finish. They had ridden the century in about four and a half hours. They rode twice as far, in about the same amount of time. That’s what I wanted to do.

The third year, I trained a little harder, and tried to prepare myself for the Century. As usual, we traveled to Goldsboro, stayed with her Uncle Terry and Aunt Nancy, visited Grandma Catherine, and went to Wilbur’s Barbecue with her Grandpa and Grandma Bowen.

Dinner with the Bowen’s was interesting. Mr. Bowen was a retired executive with Southern Bell, self-made man -- opinionated and intimidating. For Jennifer it was, I believe, hard to make the emotional and relational transition from child to adult around them – as it always is with those who have watched us grow up. I, on the other hand, was a diffusing influence, and, I believe, added an unfamiliar mix to the relationship which allowed Jennifer to relate to her Grandparents differently. Grandma Bowen pressed me into offering to drive them to Wilburs in their Cadillac so that Grandpa Bowen wouldn’t have to drive – he always had a before-dinner-whiskey. Good thing too as he kept pointing to a radio tower beacon light and commenting about the C-130’s that kept the skies busy over Goldsboro as the flew into and out of Seymore Johnson Airbase.  Airplane indeed.

Grandma Bowens eyesight was worse. She was now, due to the effects macular degeneration, a degenerative eye disease, legally blind. While we were at Wilbur’s that evening, she kept swooshing her forehead with her hand. Finally, she asked, “Would someone please shoo this fly away from me?” It turned out that she was drinking her sweet tea from the side of the glass and had forgotten that there was a straw in it. As she drank, the straw would poke her hair, tickle her forehead, and she’d wave her hand to get that pesky fly.

I think that evening, Alvin and Thelma Bowen became a lot more winsome and a lot less intimidating to Jennifer and me. They had idiosyncrasies, and despite their intelligence and accomplishments, they were human. It was, sadly, the last time we would see them.

The following morning Jennifer and I rode out with the pack from the Goldsboro YMCA.  We began as a peleton, traveling at 19 miles an hour – an easy warm-up pace. Jennifer was tucked behind my rear wheel, and we were sucked along in a great mass of people power. It was quite an experience.

At about the sixteen mile point, I was pressing Jennifer to push forward and stay close to me. She needed to stop. I slowed down. She clipped my back tire, and flipped over her handlebars onto the pavement. She skinned the underside of her elbow and her thigh pretty badly. The pack, in its methodical cadence, disappeared in the distance. After twenty minutes along the side of that rode, assessing the damage, receiving first aid, checking the bike, Jennifer and I got back on our bikes. Something had snapped in Jennifer. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but she was off like a rocket. There is something to experiencing the thing you fear the most. When it doesn’t kill you, you have a surge of carelessness, anger, and drive that propels you forward in ways for which you could never have trained. She was an animal.

At about thirty miles her half-century route turned back towards Goldsboro. My century route continued out into Johnston County. Watching her ride off, exhilarated, and heading home, and I looking forward, alone knowing that she had twenty miles to go and I had seventy was one of the loneliest moments I have ever experienced. All I had as friends was orange spray painted arrows on the asphalt. Lost? Alone? Seventy miles?

At about forty miles I caught up with another rider. The fellowship forged by the common necessity of company and help always makes for the easiest relationships. We traveled together up to the seventy-five mile aid station. I felt great. Climbing back on the bike, I realized that I hadn’t much left, and I was alone again. At about eighty-five miles, I caught two riders. Obviously struggling, I thought we could help each other. Maybe it was presumptuous, maybe I was intruding, maybe we were bonking. They didn’t seem to want my company. The discomfort of not being wanted was overcome by my desperation for company and help, and I was grateful for it. I stuck with them till about the 92 mile mark. They veered off to a gas station for a break, I turned into the headwind and pushed the hardest eight miles I’ve ever worked. By the time I crossed the finish line – at about six and a half hours I was toasted. I ate like a pig, and the discomfort of being butt sore, leg sore, and back sore made me almost weepy. I didn’t think I wanted to ever get back on my bike again.

I did get back on my bike, and was as fit as I had been since high school football. Two weeks later, Jennifer and I took our mountain bikes to Boone in order to ride the Virginia Creeper with Ed and Pat, her parents. The Virginia Creeper is a rails to trails ride in Southwestern Virginia between Abingdon and the North Carolina state line. If you begin on the southern end at Whitetop Station you can ride down hill all the way to Damascus.  Riding fifteen miles -- all downhill.  That’s my kind of ride. We never went on that ride. And I have yet to do the Virginia Creeper.

Phone calls in the middle of the night never bring good news. The phone call that Pat received on October 6 of 1990 was not good news. The call was made by a policeman at the Bowen’s house. The house had caught on fire, and it was believed that the Bowens had expired. “Expired,”  it sounds like they were a coupon. Over the course of the next twelve hours the bad news became horrific. The house had not ‘caught’ fire, but had been set on fire, and it had been set on fire to cover up the murder of Alvin and Thelma Bowen. Fourteen years later, and it still seems so surreal as to be unbelievable. A cocaine addicted man who seemed to have it in for old people, broke into their house murdered Alvin, raped Thelma, and murdered her. To the best of our knowledge, nothing was taken, and after he murdered them and before he set the house on fire, he sat in their living room and smoked a cigarette.

The details of the crime were well documented. The murderer was tried and convicted of three other rapes and murders that year. To recount the details here seems like hyping the narrative in order to manipulate you, the reader. It was an awful, brutal, and heinous crime. It is a super-giant planet in the fabric of my space-time continuum – one which exerted and still does, a tremendous amount of gravity, and one which has exerted a sometimes imperceptible but nevertheless ubiquitous force in my life, and the lives of my wife’s family for over a decade.

That the crime remained unsolved for over eleven years may cause some to wonder how you continue on. I’m sure we would’ve collapsed in upon ourselves like a black hole. The medical examiners report, the police investigation, the fear, the questions, the pressure: we should’ve imploded; we could’ve died. One almost did die.

Three months after Ed, Pat, Jen, and me should’ve ridden the Virginia Creeper, Jen’s mother, Pat, was in Duke Medical Center having a radical neck dissection to remove melanoma which had attached itself to muscle tissue, lymph nodes, and nerves in her neck.

As far as I could tell, the people at Duke were great: aggressive, forthright, and informative. Pat began immunotherapy almost immediately. Of the tissue that was removed, cancer was found to be in 98% of it. The prognosis wasn’t good. Melanoma is so very aggressive that once it metastasizes they speak of when it will kill the victim. It’s as inevitable as gravity.

I don’t mean to be flippant, but cancer and violent crime -- it’s an little unsettling, and for one who has been committed to riding downhill, not a little overwhelming. I had the route all planned out. Now all my plans were up in the air. Seminary, success, children who know their grandparents, life untainted by tragedy and loss, an easy thrilling down hill ride.  I wiped out before even got on the bike.

I pretty much stopped riding in 1993. Oh, I’ve been on the bike, but it’s like I fell off and forgot to get back on. Life moved on, I finished seminary, I’ve been a minister for ten years, and have three kids. Pat, miraculously survived her melanoma to contract ovarian cancer five years later – she was receiving chemo in the same hospital and on the same day my wife delivered our son. Pat survived – again, and she moved on. My wife moved on too and discovered her love for art and now is an devoted artist and painter. I, on the other hand, was dropped on the Virginia Creeper. No longer even trying at life, it seemed as if I were sitting on the side of the trail, at the bottom of the hill, too tired, sad, or dulled to continue. Maybe, I was waiting for train to come pick me up.

Carbon Road Bike?

Over at Bike Radar..., Um, just sayin...

Who's Cranky?

Well...I guess I can go ahead and get that new compact crank I vowed I would have if I ever did Mountains of Misery again. Speaking of which, Chum and the Good Dr. are already boasting about beating Red to the top even if they do the double metric. We'll see, boys. We'll see.

2009 Bridge to Bridge Ride Report

Bridge to Bridge was epic. What else can you say? 8 hours on the bike, rain and fog? Epic. Der Jan and Big Red lined up with the 10 o'clockers, and we held our own on the modified route. It seems the first 45 miles are somewhat negotiable. I have no idea where we were or where we were headed. It was round and round in circles until we reach 90 and then made the left hand turn onto Adako Road.

Der Jan was a champ. Not having been on his bike, say 7 times, in 09 made the trip a little arduous. Granted he had the power (spin class doe help), but the climbs were a little uncomfortable. Big Red, too wasn't used to the high pace either--too much riding alone. Nevertheless they made it to 181 and it's 13 mile climb up to Jonas Ridge.

Red had time to snap this photo of Der Jan just after the turn onto 181. Jan, are your feet wet? He seemed to be say, "Where's the Merlot?" Indeed, "More wine."

Jan held out for 65 miles, and then packed it in with her Pinkneyest. Good call, Jan. I hope the ride home that evening wasn't too terrible. At least we'll have the memory of being flashed by the boys at the SAG stop. No kidding. A couple of dudes pulled up their shirts to cheer us on. I don't think I'll ever be the same. We also rode with the lead group (left at 11am) for, oh, I'd say about 15 seconds as they blew past us.

Rumor had it that Chum and the Good Doc were gunning to catch and pass on 181. After stopping at the rest stop at the top of 181, I could hear some chatter behind me. Guess who? Red was now on that cruel false flat just before Jonas Ridge. He hollered back, "You can't catch me, I'm going downhill!" We'll that was just enough taunting, and Red was caught by Chum and the Good Doctor. From then on we rode together. Up through the fog and rain, the Viaduct, the descent to Price Lake, up to Shulls Mill and the return on 221. They were kind and waited.


Chum, the Good Doctor, Red, and Pat from Charlotte, rode together most of the way up 221. Red wasn't too chatty, he's never liked 221 much. Each reached the gate prior to the 6:30 cutoff, but Red had had enough and skipped the climb up Grandfather. Instead he opted for the escape into McRea Medows.

Great ride, Ramblers. Thanks for the commraderie!

Mountain Miles

Chum, Big Red, and Good Doctor are working on those mountain miles for a challenge event next month. Here's a photo story of what was beautiful, quad busting, frustrating, and amazing about this week's big ride up to the three summits: Pilot, Sauratown, and Hanging Rock.

This is the view from the top of Pilot Mountain.Here's the view of Sauratown Mountain from Rock House Road.
The sign said that the road was closed, but you know we had to check. Unfortunately the way back to the detour was all up hill. As if we had gone up hill enough already.
Here's the view of Hanging Rock from the detour. Only 2 of the three went for it. Big Red was dead.

What's Out There? Weather

The diversity of life in the 21st Century is that in rural SE Forsyth Co is a Orthodox Church (Serbian, I think). You would never know it was there unless you were looking for it or, like me, you stumbled upon it. This is one of the reasons I like bicycling: you get of main thorough fairs and highways, and get to see the countryside.

Another great thing is the weather. Here's a picture from a ride earlier this week. I would miss seeing it with a car roof over my head--let alone inside, but I certainly wouldn't be "in" it.

Thursday Thinkin

Here's a link via Alan Jacobs of an interview with Bono by Rolling Stone.

On another note, I've migrated all the Horneytown Rambler's posts to this blog. For those who are wondering, the Rambler's blog was a blog devoted to cycling in and around Kernersville by a twentystone cyclist.

The Gospel Coalition Conference was this week. You can listen to or watch the talks live by following this link. Also, notes to Tim Keller's talk on idolatry is here.

Uphill Fight

Uphill Fight

Article in this morning's WS Journal about Neighborhood Transportation proprietor Bruce Hermann who was hit by a car while commuting to work last week. Let's keep Bruce and his family in our prayers.

Posted using ShareThis

What's Out There

Well the dark days of December start to get me thinking about cycling.

While you're wishing you were on your bike, you can check out the 2009 NC Transportation Cycling Events Calendar which is up and growing.

Lance Armstrong is Tweetin' fool. You can follow him here. The Astana Team's on Tenerife, an island off the coast of Spain. I must say it's pretty cool to be able to keep up with the Astana's team camp and what's going on with Levi, Chris Horner, and the rest. This buzz could save professional cycling and Trek.

Floyd's back cycling with Team OUCH (formerly Navigators) and Tyler Hamilton in the US Champion's Jersey. This is the comback year.

Oh, and by the way via bikesnob. The future is now.

Chum's Bum

When Red rides with Chum. The view is always the same. Nonetheless, Red's happy for the pull up and back to Danbury.

BTW, it was an awesome day for a ride. Cool northerly breeze, dry air. Wow, and it's August.

Chum and Red, as I said went to Danbury through Pine Hall and up 772 after a failed experiment on West Road. FYI, too many dogs on West Rd.

It was a lovely ride up north. After a nice sit in the rocking chair at the General Store, Chum and Red headed back via the same route. Red even got a picture of the Morotock Iron Furnace. Granted this is a site of interest for a very small and particular group of history enthusiasts.

Red and Chum enjoyed the rippin' tailwind back. They even increased their average speed climbing back up Piney Grove.

Dude.

Turtle Hop

Every once in a while. Chum just has to jump something.


Disclaimer: No turtles were harmed in the filming of this video. The turtle was already in the road, and we moved it out of the road after the shot. Incidentally, had we not moved it out of the road, it would've been run over by the car that came through shortly after.

Rockin' and Hangin'

Chum and Red headed north to start building for the fall challenge classics. It looks like they're thinking of Blue Ridge Brutal, Tour des Gaps, and Bridge to Bridge. Red is glad to report that Hanging Rock is still there, and it's still a climb. The last time the two were up there was before Blood, Sweat, and Gears.

Well, they did pretty well, considering. The two stopped at the General Store in Danbury. Chum got his obligatory Red Bull and fried apple pie while Red just got a Mountain Dew -- tasty. Having sat down, in the rocking chair out front of the General Store, Red about didn't get back up. Sometimes just hangin' and rockin' is just what's needed.

2008 Blood, Sweat, and Gears, and Shortcuts

Just to so we're clear. Red knows this is a month late. He's been riding his bike, K? Oh, and he just started back putting in office hours.

Chum and Red signed up to do Blood, Sweat, and Gears. No Famous Leo this year. Instead, Chum and Red were set to meet up at the start. Red arrived at 6:15 for the 7:30 start, and it was just in time. The cars started rolling in right after, and it was bumper to bumper. The weather was cool, and though a little cloudy and foggy, it began to clear just as he arrived. Chum arrived early enough, but check in and parking was a pain. He almost missed finding a parking space.

Rule Number 1. Arrive early. Carpool if you can. Parking is a premium.

Chum and Red arrived at the start line in front of Valle Crucis school, and it was packed. Red heard a rumor that his brother-in-law was at the start and was planning on riding the half-century. Red couldn't find him though.

Red was not feeling too great. Nervous stomach? He didn't sleep well either. Chum on the other had had said that the Chumettes were a little sickly too. Something in the air?

We headed out down to 105 and over to Shulls Mill Rd. The climb up Shulls Mill went as expected. Red climbed harder than he should've. Chum, faithful friend, stayed with Red and paced him up to the Parkway. The ride out through Blowing Rock, up the Parkway to Idlewild was to be as expected. Riders passed Red on the climbs; Red passed them on the descents. He was feeling a little worse.

By the time they made it to Railroad Grade road and the rest stop at 40 miles. Red was hurting. He didn't drink enough, and he had er, an emergency. Red hadn't felt this bad on BS&G sine his first ride in 05 after having eaten a certain high volume, low quality pizza joint. Good thing he ate there the previous night. Endurox and and calamari? Der Jan knows how bad it can be.

Rule 2: Don't eat at Cici's the night before a big ride. Don't eat out for that matter. Just bland normal food will do.

Big Hill Road, 194, then the Ramblers turned right at Meat Camp where they began the climb up Snake Mt. Chum was feeling cheeky, and it didn't seem he and Red were going to make the 7 hr goal. (They might've had Red not spent so much time at the previous rest stop). Here's the last Red saw of Chum climbing Snake. It was further up and further in for Chum as he motored to the finish.

Red on the other hand is a big diesel -- not unlike a a big dump truck. He put it in the low gear and did the squat lunges all the way up Snake. He did the obligatory "snake" swerve to combat the 18% at the top. And he's glad to say he made it without stopping or walking. Red actually passed people on this climb, but only because he wasn't walking. Apocalyptic is all he can say about it. Granted it's not as hard overall as some climbs, but it was hard enough with the bête noire.

Once he was over the top he passed a petite femme of a cyclist who had passed him on the climb. As she saw him accelerate past him on the descent -- as he always does, she said surprised, "You made it!?" Yeah, yeah. He made it.

The rest of the ride was uncomfortable. Red made it over the Col du Tennessee and down into Trade. He made it to old US 421. He caught, passed, pulled a group to the rest stop at Cove
Creek. Red was done, and he was thinking he was bonking.

Rule Number 3: Drink and eat early. Oh yeah, and eat the gels you've been carrying for the last 70 miles, stupid.

What to do? George's Gap? Bethel? 321? He didn't have it today. Red made an executive decision. Executive Order number: He ain't gonna do George's Gap. Instead he'll cut off the 13 mile loop and save himself for wherever he comes out. Bethel? 321? and then Mast Gap and the finish. Was it a good move?

Rule Number 4: It's only a quarter of a mile past the George's Gap turn, and 421 dumps you right into 321 at Mast Gap. If you're feeling bad. Take the shortcut.

Red climbed Mast Gap and made it to the finish, and not too poorly. He saved himself an unknown but most likely worse fate. And the look on Chum's face as Red cheered him to the finish was well worth it.

THE Piedmont Triad Omnium: A Old Guy's Perspective

This weekend the first Piedmont Triad Omnium was held in Lexington and Thomasville. The event was organized by a local cyclist - Jim Martin, and sponsored by many of the local bicycle clubs/shops. The following is a brief description from my vantage point as a volunteer and Cat 5 cyclist (50 yo for this season).

Criterium - Uptown Lexington 7/11/08
I was off Friday and met Jim Martin at Lexington Farm and Garden at noon to help load straw bales to set out on the course. We loaded the bales and set up the 0.7 mile course using the bales and CycleSafe.org equipment to protect riders from objects close to the road (signs, fire hydrants, mail boxes, etc.). It took a group of about 10 volunteers until 3 pm to get the course set up. After setup was done, I sat at Cafe 35 and called up a couple of fellow Ramblers to try to entice them to join in the fun that night at 8:30. Greendog stated that he 'might' come, but it's probably good that he didn't. I chilled out sucking down water at Cafe 35 musing over the variety of fiberglass pigs around until 4:45 pm, when I hopped in the car and went to Lexington Barbecue for my pre-race meal.
When I returned, I registered for my event and learned that the fields had been split due to the size. My race (Cat 5 & 40+ Cat 4/5) would start about 9 pm. Our field was to be about 74 strong. Uh-oh. A criterium under the lights with 74 relatively inexperienced riders (mea culpa) was not looking very enticing. I spent the hour before the race warming up on some of the back roads with a teammate. We got to the line early and were in the front for the start. I had trouble clipping in and immediately found myself at the back of the field. I consoled myself that it might be a tad less dangerous there than trying to take the first couple of turns with such a huge field. Unfortunately, trying to keep up with the field with the yo-yo effect proved to be difficult. I found myself off the back of the field with a few riders by 10 minutes into the race. The pack I was with rode hard and kept relatively close to the main field. We probably were behind the main field by 3 tenths of a mile by the last lap. As we rounded the last corner and started jockeying for position to sprint in I looked up to see the Cat 1,2,3 riders lined up as we were coming in. DAMN! I didn't get lapped, or pulled from the field, yet, I still didn't get to come across the line flying. Arghhhh!!!!! I finished way back in the standings for the criterium. They didn't event score the folks that didn't finish with the main field.
Risk for serious bodily harm - 10/10. For those of you considering Crit racing, look for small fields and non-technical courses to begin with. The 'pucker' factor was HIGH during this event. Several things combined for this: field size, field inexperience, and dark conditions. My heartrate averaged 182 for the race (Threshold 173) and I felt strong for the entire ride. I might have gotten a better result if I had gotten clipped in and was closer to the front, but, I kept my skin and didn't get pulled from the course. That may be the best I ever do in a Criterium since I'm not sure I want to risk injury this much in the future. I left the course happy to have my skin and eager to get to bed because I was scheduled for the 0805 start at the Road Race the following day.

Road Race - DCCC - 7/12/08
In bed by 11 pm the night before, I woke up at 0430 to start getting ready for the race. I arrived at DCCC a little before 0700. The Cat 4 riders left at 0800 and the field of 64 Cat 5 riders left at 0805. The race was controlled until we got to Yokley Road. The pace picked up a little on Yokley, but the entire field was together as we turned right on to Ridge Road. The folks on the front were content to ride slow for the first mile or two on Ridge until someone suggested that we pick up the pace to string things out a bit. A paceline was formed that ramped up the speed a bit, but the peleton stayed together pretty well. We turned right on to Clodfelter Road and were still together as a group. The first climb up Clodfelter to Old Greensoro went well. I'm sure we dropped a few folks on the climb, but fortunately, I wasn't in a position to see them. The paceline resumed on Old Greensboro road until we turned right on to Yokley again, Lap 1 of 3 completed. Shortly after we turned on to Yokley, the motorcycle pacing us motioned the field to the left lane while he tried to herd a dog off the course. Unfortunately, the dog did not cooperate and I watched as the rider slightly ahead of me and to the right ran over the middle of a small dog and proceeded to go over the bars. Ughhh. The dog yelped and, as I heard later, the next rider ran over the dog AND the rider that was down. Yet a third rider then proceeded to stop on top of the dog and fell over as he couldn't clip out. Just great. Fortunately, all the riders escaped without serious injury. The remaining field continued as they had been without any serious break attempts. I finished the second climb of Clodfelter with the lead group and was pleased as we turned on to Yokley that I wouldn't get lapped today. Somewhere on Ridge a couple of guys went off the front but never gained much ground. The pack pulled them in after we climbed up to Old Greensboro for the last time. I was feeling pretty good at this point and kept jockeying for position as we ramped t hings up towards the finish. The field was some 35 strong as we came to the red cones that signaled the entire road was clear for us leading to the sprint. I stayed behind someone I knew was a strong rider, but he was bumped in the mayhem leading up the sprint and I watched as he tensed up and backed off. There was no place to go and I just waited for him to recover and followed him in. I finished 21st with an average HR of 160.
Risk for serious bodily harm - 6/10. Road races are more my style. The problems are that with such a large field there is little room to move up in the field due to crowding on the road. Also, it was difficult on the climbs as inexperienced riders often could not hold their line when they were out of the saddle. The sprint with a field of 35 proved to be dicey and possibly the greatest chance for serious injury.
After the race, I stayed to sit at one of the intersections and monitor traffic while two other groups went out. It made for a LONG day. I was in bed before sunset.

Time Trial - Thomasville - 7/13/08
Ten hours of sleep did me good. I arrived at Finch Auditorium by 0815 and proceeded to warm up. I lined up at the start around 0922 to head out on the 10.4 mile course (out and back) on Unity Road in Thomasville. The riders went out according to their Categories and I was the first Cat 5 to go out. We went out in 1 minute intervals. The traffic intersections were fairly well controlled and I cruised going out. The outward route seemed to be mostly uphill and I reached the turning point by about 13 minutes. After I turned, it was some distance before I saw another rider and I began to think I might not have to suffer the disgrace of being passed on the course. Woo hoo! I continued to suffer as much as possible and began to pick up momentum on the downhills leading in to town. While picking up speed on one of the downhills I became keenly aware that both policemen controlling the next intersection had their backs to me and were waving traffic through. Uh-oh! I started screaming and they figured it out when I was about 20 yards away doing something like 27 mph. I managed to slide around the car IN the intersection without losing too much momentum. I crossed the line in under 26 minutes and that was good enough for 6th in a field of 32. Average HR was 181.
Risk for serious bodily harm - 2/10. The major risk in this race was the intersections. That shouldn't be a problem in the future as I expect they will seek a road with less traffic.
After my race, I headed out on the course to stand at one of the intersections to help alert the police officer when riders were approaching. It was truly humbling to watch this professional handle traffic in a potentially dangerous situation. Cars approaching the intersection were often confused at what was going on and their reactions were often unpredictable. This officer had no time to let his mind wander or people could get hurt. He did an outstanding job and I got an education just by trying to help him out.

Overall Omnium Results
Sheesh. I'm not even sure I got on the board. I will say that Jim Martin did a great job putting this together. For a first effort this was absolutely amazing. I don't think he imagined this kind of turnout even in his wildest dreams. If you folks want to see an event like this first hand, try volunteering next year. The amount of work that goes into something like this will make you appreciate it more than you might think.
Greg

PG-13 Live Tour Coverage

Vaughters drops the F-bomb on live TV.