Imagine That

It's difficult to get back into riding my local trails after a weekend of exploring new ones.  I am eager to go camping and riding again, especially now that it has cooled off a little.  So when the alarm went off on Saturday morning I was less than enthused about doing the Sausage Ride.  I always underestimate this event, never hydrate enough, eat poorly the night before.  In other words just treat it like a normal group ride  Which it never turns out to be.

The clay roads were in great shape, we had a small group, and I was happy.  At least for the first 2.5 hours.  Then right about the 3 hour mark I started to sense a little hate creep in. I started to hate the way the potholes in the roads would jar my wrists.  I hated the never ending rollers that seemed to go up twice as long as they went down.  I hated the way Big Jim would whistle while I struggled to breath.  I hated the way the Boston Ga. water tasted in my bottles and the fact that I could never seem to drink enough.  By the time 3.5 hours rolled around I was watching my odometer like a hawk, willing it to roll over faster.  Then, after Big Jim effortlessly rolled away from me, I got to ride back to Bradleys' by myself.  Finishing in a little over 4 hours.

 

 

El Jalisco's

In the end, while drinking frosty cold beers and waiting for our steaming plates of Mexican food, it all seemed worth it.  The beer tasted better than it normally does (if that's possible) and the food, which is usually nothing great, seemed like a feast.  I spent the rest of the day in a rather pleasant haze.

 

Maybe I'll prepare better for that ride next month, then again, maybe not.

 

Round Here

I took the single speed out the other day.  Wearing shorts, a tee shirt, and sneakers, I just roamed around Beautiful Downtown Havana.  Unlike the other two cyclists who normally frequent our little berg, I wasn't carrying a bag of aluminum cans, nor was I yelling obscenities at the passing cars while dressed in short shorts and a blue blazer.  It doesn't take long to cover most of the town.  I'm always surprised at what I've missed.

 

 

These used to be all over the county.

 

 

I have no idea what this is

 

This was under a shed which had collapsed and been covered with vines.

 

CX

I started Cyclocross practice this week.  I like the change of format plus it provides a great workout.  I dread riding my mountain bike with lights and will avoid it like the plague.  I may race the Macon event, defiantly Tallycross, then Gainesville.  That should take me right up to Christmas, then 2013's gone.  Man the years go by like months nowadays. 

 

Bye Chuck

Chuck Wicker died this week.  He was 85 and a moto riding fool most of his life.  My last view of him was as he was walking across the road to get on his street bike after watching the Supermoto in Tallahassee this past summer. 

 

He was racing enduros in the Super Senior Class when I first started back in the 80's.  He was always fast and I don't think I ever beat him straight up.  At an age when most people are content to be able to just walk around the block Chuck was still doing doubles (double jumps) at his practice track.  He was my idol for staying active, he just never gave up.

 

He always had a big smile and started talking to you like he'd just seen you yesterday, even if he hadn't seen you in years.  He would lay out the same section for our annual TTR Enduro, we used to call it Chuck's section even after we stopped having the event. 

 

He was truly one of a kind.  Godspeed Chuck.