Cattle Guards, Wind and Suffering

First of all let me describe a cattle guard. It is a few bars of metal laid across a road to discourage cows from wandering. Cows will not cross one, neither should anyone sane, but in Texas we ride across them on bicycles. When you cross your first cattle guard it scares the beejeezus out of you. The first one is like that every year and well it should be. Once you get used to them you learn that 20 mph is pretty smooth and 30 mph you just glide over them. Over 30 mph and you start contemplating your personal mortality. If you have to hit them slow, your butt hurts and your teeth rattle.
Three of us decided to go to the Easter Hill Country Tour in Kerrville, Texas. Sponge Bob and I had been there many times before, Hudler was there for the second time. It was early this year, weather and fitness were big factors. Usually we ride about 65 miles the first day, 107 the second day. and 35 miles the third day. Easter Sunday is the third day and we ride if, and only if, the weather is just a little better than decent.
Hudler got a new ride name this year. Everyone gets one. Sponge Bob used to be Goat Boy. I was Kleine Sheist or the little monster. Hudler is now the Iceman. Why? He turns the motel AC on to Ice Age, he has a fetish for iced tea with pebble ice, and he is remarkably pale.

Sponge Bob took two years off and has been back a whopping six months. Hudler lies like hell and does super secret training. Speedo, moi, is over 50 and usually prefers drinking beer with the cats to training. Our main man, the Deacon Landry, has five broken ribs and a plate in his ankle. He decided healing was more important than suffering and stayed home. I have a few smart friends.
Seeing as the Deacon stayed home, I was in charge of navigating. I got lost three times before we left the city limits on Friday. I figured it out after that pretty quick. Iceman did point out to me that, no matter how much I denied it, we were on the exact same route as the year before. Who knew? Bifocals or shades? You make the call.

Friday was windy as hell. Any advantage my weight might have given me was pretty much wiped out. I hung in there but pretty much got whipped. Sponge Bob was in stealth mode and snuck by us. Imagine our surprise when he got ahead of us. We managed our 65 miles and headed back to the hotel for beer, a jacuzzi and food. My buddies wanted dinner as well but I tried to replace 1400 calories in one meal and really didn’t have much more room.

Saturday I figured turn about was fair play and told the Iceman to watch out for Bear Creek Road. There is this little rise with a 1/2 mile grade of 18% (@#$%&*(steep for the laymen) that comes on Freedom Trail Road, right after Bear Creek Road. Yeah. I know I lied but it was fun, payback for all that super secret training. We call this little rise “The Wall”. It starts out painful and finishes with a oxygen deprived scream. There is a nice descent afterwards but there is a rather inopportune hard right at the bottom.

I have no more pride. I did the paperboy weave up the Wall. I knew there would be much more suffering later. I felt a need to pass the guy with the tall wool socks so I pushed a little and immediately regretted it. Iceman went straight up and it a new maximum heart rate for his introduction to being 50. Sponge Bob? what a trooper. He suffered like St. Sebastian and still kept going.

That set the mood for the day. Right and left you started hearing “My legs are shot”, “My butt hurts” and “ Are we there yet”. Sponge was fading fast but was smart enough to say I have nothing left and I don’t want to be your excuse for being slow and out of shape. Iceman kept running off, I was having a nice conversation about drive trains until mine malfunctioned. My chain fell off my inner chain ring. Usually you can just shift it back up but this time I kept riding until I did an Arte Johnson (If you are too young to get the reference, google “Laugh In”) and fell over. Sponge Bob gave me high points for a gymnastic roll and had the kindness not to laugh.

Sponge had to abandon 60 miles in. Not even the pickle juice could save him. We sent him home with instructions to clean up, smell good, and make dinner arrangements that included beer. Iceman and I continued on even though he had a knot in his calf that must have been painful. I was hoping it was painful because that’s when I pounced. Yes friends and neighbors, I thought my good buddy and dear friend was hurting so I picked up the pace. That sounds so heartless and cruel, it is supposed to. It isn’t true. In fact my butt started to get a real personal wet pain going, an aggravated tenderness in a portion of my anatomy that will not be named. Yes, I went faster, I just wanted the ride to be over.

We made it in. Sponge Bob was smart and called it a day before he crumpled. Iceman took the easy way out and headed for the Motel. I had one last thing to do, Aneurysm. It’s relatively short , very steep and causes a lot of pain after 100 miles. It’s also a tradition and some one has to do it.

Don’t cry for me Argentina. I had a good soak, a cold beer ( Sponge Bob is a saint), a little nap and dinner with excellent company. Now that I am home, I feel happy to have done it but a little disappointed in the way I rode. I tell myself it is just a barometer to give me a baseline of where I am now and what it’s going to take to get where I want to be. I always want to do better, but hey, who doesn’t? It was a fun trip and the guys are great. It’s going to be a good year.