Brons2
07-18-2005, 08:41 PM
4:41 am.
Far before the butt-crack of dawn, my hotel phone at the Houston
Westchase Marriott goes off. It is my wake-up call. It was not
supposed to occur until 4:45. I guess that's what happens when you
arrange your 4* hotel on Priceline for the mere sum of $40. Irritated
for the lack of 4 extra minutes of sleep, I arise, shower, shave and
eat a PowerBar or two. I dress in my Texas Exes bicycle jersey,
Adidas cycling shorts and my best Carnac riding shoes. I pack up my
belongings, fumbling around for a few minutes trying to find my car
keys, then sling my bag over my sholder, and grab my freshly cleaned
Riv which had stayed in the room with me. I garnered a few stares in
the lobby as my Hugi rear hub loudly clicked away. Turned in my keys,
and then out the front door. Got to my truck and thought about
putting the bike in the bed and then decided against it; as normal in
my crew-cab pickup I folded up the back seats and loaded it in the
back. It fits well by merely turning the wheel all the way to the
side, no disassembly needed.
On the road about 5:45 am. I stop to pay the toll on the Sam Houston
Tollway, then onto I-10 and out to the sleepy suburb of Katy, Texas
where the Katy Flatland Century will begin.
http://www.northwestcyclingclub.com/club/rides/KFC%202005/KFC%20Map%202005.pdf
I pull into the parking lot at the Katy Mills mall at around 6:00. I
start preparing: sunscreen, filled water bottles with store-brand
Gatorade, go to pick up my rider packet. I air up the 28's on the Riv
to 120 psi (more on this later). I am number 1, err I mean, 957.
About 6:50 I roll over to the starting line. We get serenaded in the
Star Spangled Banner by a 7 year old girl, who is actually pretty
good.
Finally at 7:05, we are off, 5 minutes late. I am chomping at the bit
to get going. It is already hot and humid. Nothing like the Houston
area for heat and humidity. I take the first few miles pretty slow,
warming up and getting my legs under me. After a bit the slow riders
are a bit much to take. I grab onto a paceline and stay with it for
quite a while as we pass most of the slower bikers. This paceline is
mainly filled with bikers from one of the Houston area LBS's. Finally
a few miles past the first rest stop (didn't stop for it) I let go of
the breakneck paceline and slow down a little bit. I come up from
behind on another line of 3 riders going slower than me, but still at
a reasonable speed. I latch on and ask one how fast we were going, as
I don't ride with a computer. He says 22. I wonder how fast I had
been going with the first paceline, as I slowed down twice to join
theirs!
I follow this paceline for a while, even taking a couple of turns at
pulling the thing. Of course everyone loves riding behind me as I am
6'7" and 260 lbs. Unfortunately, the paceline seems to split up after
we make a left turn and are now heading south. The road is now rough
and worse a stiff breeze is now in our faces. Nevertheless, the Riv
handles the barely paved road surface was aplomb. A few miles later I
come across Stop #2. I stop this time to grab some more nuclear blue
Powerade, bananas, oranges, and chex mix. Upon stopping, there's no
more breeze, and the sweat pours off of my body in the now oppressive
heat and humidity. It's 8:15 am.
I find my bike, laid in the grass alongside tons of alumimun, carbon
fiber and titanium contraptions, and ride on. The breeze feels great
on my now drenched skin, but does slow progress some. Some guy calls
Hook 'Em Horns and carelssly almost runs into me. Annoyed, I sprint
away from his pack. I wonder if he was an Aggie. One member of his
pack catches me, and we form a line. We take turns pulling, until
finally a faster person comes along from yet another LBS. I get on
his wheel, but my former companion does not. I follow him the rest of
the way to Rest stop #3, which is at the 40 mile mark. It is a few
minutes after 9. Considering my 10-15 minute stop at #2, this is
really hauling @$$ by my standards. I attribut this to the Riv, it's
really got a great riding position even for fast riding. I have Deda
215 drops and I have rotated them back a bit to give myself a more
comfortable riding position with the top (ramps?) being totally flat.
This works wonderfully for comfort.
Nevertheless, I am hot and tired. I switch to water as the sugary
sports drinks are making me a bit nauseous. I ask the SAG folks at
the stop to put some oil on my pedals, which they do. (I guess I
washed things a bit too zealously yesterday). I notice the storm
clouds off in the distance. I also noticed them before. When leaving
the stop, the person with the radio advises me that I will hit rain.
I ask if there is any lightning and thunder. He says no. So I pedal
on. After three or four miles, the sky gets very dark. I think to
myself, well, we expected this. Then I see the flashes. Argh, they
said no lightning. I start counting from the flashes to the booms.
It isn't that close. I pedal on, as do all the riders on the road.
Soon we are pelted by rain, and the lighning is getting closer. I
surmise that there isn't much to be done as we are way, way out in the
country, but I start looking for places of shelter. Finally, a bolt
hits so close that there is no delay between the flash and the boom.
I was looking off to the right anyways and I saw it, it was extremely
close. I curse my steel Riv and wonder if one of those carbon fiber
contraptions would provide more protection against lightning. I
decided that I will stop at the next house I see. I do so and huddle
on the porch of a farmhouse. One rider is already there. The people
come out and ask if we need water or anything. We say no, we're
alright. Amazingly, riders continue to go by undeterred on the road.
We agree that it isn't worth our lives.
At long last, the rain lets up a bit, but the thunder is still around,
along with occasional flashes. My porch hiding compadre takes off. I
wait a while longer, maybe 15 minutes, until the lighning seems
farther away. Finally I leave as well. There are a few flashes
farther in the distance, but nothing close to me. Weather appears to
be clearing off to the west as I glance to the right. I come across a
ride marshall in his vehicle. He says to ride onto #4 and not go any
farther. Finally as I ride into the sun, I arrive at stop #4, at the
51 mile mark. It is shortly after 10. I get some more water, and
some cookies, and use the restroom. Then comes the bad news. There
is another cell to the south, which is moving northeast. Stop #5
currently has lightning. I decide to wait awhile at stop #4.
About 10:30 the storm appears to be heading off to the east, so I head
out for stop #5. I encounter some lovely chip seal roads. They are
no match for the comfort of the Riv. I get most of the way to #5, and
then again, the sky darkens. My hopes are shattered as I see more
lighning bolts. I drop out of my paceline and tell them I am not
getting any closer to the storm, then stop in the middle of the
(deserted country) road. I go back a couple hundred yards where some
older children are playing outside. I ask them how far it is to the
junction of FM 1952 and FM 1489, where stop #5 is. They don't know.
About then their father pulls up. He tells me that it's only a couple
of miles to the junction where #5 is and that I will make it before I
hit the storm. Hoping that it isn't headed my way, I head off again.
This time the advice was correct, I arrive at #5 without encoutering
any more lightning or rain. Halleluiah. Better yet, the storm is
moving away from us to the northeast, and although we'll be riding
north from this rest stop, it won't be fast enough to catch the storm.
We are now at 60 miles and better, in the aftermath of the storm
it's much cooler. On the downside, my bottom bracket has started to
make some strange creaking noises. I ask for SAG at the stop, only to
find that they are not there. Ugh. I figure, it will either stay
together or break badly.
I ride on down the wet road. My bottom bracket noise is worsening.
It stops when I stop pedaling, but as soon as I resume, there it is
again. At least the riding is much easier on the cool downdraft on
the backside of the storm, and without the worry of more lightning as
I can't even see it anymore. The anvil which has sheared off the top
of the storm provides a nice respite from the normally intense Texas
summer heat.
I stop again at stop #6 asking for SAG. None to be found. Another
rider hears my SAG issues, and asks me what year my Record stuff is,
assuming that the Riv is some sort of retro bike. He does not believe
me when I say 2002. He says campy equipment of that age shouldn't be
taking a dump, campy is the best and bla bla bla bla. I ignore him
and ride the 13 miles on to stop #7 at a rather high rate of speed,
still in the cool overhang of the thunderstorm. Finally at #7 there
is a SAG detatchment! Yay. It's probably only because this also
serves as a stop on 2 other of the shorter routes. Nevertheless, I am
glad to see them. They put the Riv up on the stand and can't find
anything wrong with the bottom bracket, they say it's very tight, and
that usually these things are real loose if they're going out. They
tighten it up and say maybe it's my pedals. I get some food and ride
off.
Far before the butt-crack of dawn, my hotel phone at the Houston
Westchase Marriott goes off. It is my wake-up call. It was not
supposed to occur until 4:45. I guess that's what happens when you
arrange your 4* hotel on Priceline for the mere sum of $40. Irritated
for the lack of 4 extra minutes of sleep, I arise, shower, shave and
eat a PowerBar or two. I dress in my Texas Exes bicycle jersey,
Adidas cycling shorts and my best Carnac riding shoes. I pack up my
belongings, fumbling around for a few minutes trying to find my car
keys, then sling my bag over my sholder, and grab my freshly cleaned
Riv which had stayed in the room with me. I garnered a few stares in
the lobby as my Hugi rear hub loudly clicked away. Turned in my keys,
and then out the front door. Got to my truck and thought about
putting the bike in the bed and then decided against it; as normal in
my crew-cab pickup I folded up the back seats and loaded it in the
back. It fits well by merely turning the wheel all the way to the
side, no disassembly needed.
On the road about 5:45 am. I stop to pay the toll on the Sam Houston
Tollway, then onto I-10 and out to the sleepy suburb of Katy, Texas
where the Katy Flatland Century will begin.
http://www.northwestcyclingclub.com/club/rides/KFC%202005/KFC%20Map%202005.pdf
I pull into the parking lot at the Katy Mills mall at around 6:00. I
start preparing: sunscreen, filled water bottles with store-brand
Gatorade, go to pick up my rider packet. I air up the 28's on the Riv
to 120 psi (more on this later). I am number 1, err I mean, 957.
About 6:50 I roll over to the starting line. We get serenaded in the
Star Spangled Banner by a 7 year old girl, who is actually pretty
good.
Finally at 7:05, we are off, 5 minutes late. I am chomping at the bit
to get going. It is already hot and humid. Nothing like the Houston
area for heat and humidity. I take the first few miles pretty slow,
warming up and getting my legs under me. After a bit the slow riders
are a bit much to take. I grab onto a paceline and stay with it for
quite a while as we pass most of the slower bikers. This paceline is
mainly filled with bikers from one of the Houston area LBS's. Finally
a few miles past the first rest stop (didn't stop for it) I let go of
the breakneck paceline and slow down a little bit. I come up from
behind on another line of 3 riders going slower than me, but still at
a reasonable speed. I latch on and ask one how fast we were going, as
I don't ride with a computer. He says 22. I wonder how fast I had
been going with the first paceline, as I slowed down twice to join
theirs!
I follow this paceline for a while, even taking a couple of turns at
pulling the thing. Of course everyone loves riding behind me as I am
6'7" and 260 lbs. Unfortunately, the paceline seems to split up after
we make a left turn and are now heading south. The road is now rough
and worse a stiff breeze is now in our faces. Nevertheless, the Riv
handles the barely paved road surface was aplomb. A few miles later I
come across Stop #2. I stop this time to grab some more nuclear blue
Powerade, bananas, oranges, and chex mix. Upon stopping, there's no
more breeze, and the sweat pours off of my body in the now oppressive
heat and humidity. It's 8:15 am.
I find my bike, laid in the grass alongside tons of alumimun, carbon
fiber and titanium contraptions, and ride on. The breeze feels great
on my now drenched skin, but does slow progress some. Some guy calls
Hook 'Em Horns and carelssly almost runs into me. Annoyed, I sprint
away from his pack. I wonder if he was an Aggie. One member of his
pack catches me, and we form a line. We take turns pulling, until
finally a faster person comes along from yet another LBS. I get on
his wheel, but my former companion does not. I follow him the rest of
the way to Rest stop #3, which is at the 40 mile mark. It is a few
minutes after 9. Considering my 10-15 minute stop at #2, this is
really hauling @$$ by my standards. I attribut this to the Riv, it's
really got a great riding position even for fast riding. I have Deda
215 drops and I have rotated them back a bit to give myself a more
comfortable riding position with the top (ramps?) being totally flat.
This works wonderfully for comfort.
Nevertheless, I am hot and tired. I switch to water as the sugary
sports drinks are making me a bit nauseous. I ask the SAG folks at
the stop to put some oil on my pedals, which they do. (I guess I
washed things a bit too zealously yesterday). I notice the storm
clouds off in the distance. I also noticed them before. When leaving
the stop, the person with the radio advises me that I will hit rain.
I ask if there is any lightning and thunder. He says no. So I pedal
on. After three or four miles, the sky gets very dark. I think to
myself, well, we expected this. Then I see the flashes. Argh, they
said no lightning. I start counting from the flashes to the booms.
It isn't that close. I pedal on, as do all the riders on the road.
Soon we are pelted by rain, and the lighning is getting closer. I
surmise that there isn't much to be done as we are way, way out in the
country, but I start looking for places of shelter. Finally, a bolt
hits so close that there is no delay between the flash and the boom.
I was looking off to the right anyways and I saw it, it was extremely
close. I curse my steel Riv and wonder if one of those carbon fiber
contraptions would provide more protection against lightning. I
decided that I will stop at the next house I see. I do so and huddle
on the porch of a farmhouse. One rider is already there. The people
come out and ask if we need water or anything. We say no, we're
alright. Amazingly, riders continue to go by undeterred on the road.
We agree that it isn't worth our lives.
At long last, the rain lets up a bit, but the thunder is still around,
along with occasional flashes. My porch hiding compadre takes off. I
wait a while longer, maybe 15 minutes, until the lighning seems
farther away. Finally I leave as well. There are a few flashes
farther in the distance, but nothing close to me. Weather appears to
be clearing off to the west as I glance to the right. I come across a
ride marshall in his vehicle. He says to ride onto #4 and not go any
farther. Finally as I ride into the sun, I arrive at stop #4, at the
51 mile mark. It is shortly after 10. I get some more water, and
some cookies, and use the restroom. Then comes the bad news. There
is another cell to the south, which is moving northeast. Stop #5
currently has lightning. I decide to wait awhile at stop #4.
About 10:30 the storm appears to be heading off to the east, so I head
out for stop #5. I encounter some lovely chip seal roads. They are
no match for the comfort of the Riv. I get most of the way to #5, and
then again, the sky darkens. My hopes are shattered as I see more
lighning bolts. I drop out of my paceline and tell them I am not
getting any closer to the storm, then stop in the middle of the
(deserted country) road. I go back a couple hundred yards where some
older children are playing outside. I ask them how far it is to the
junction of FM 1952 and FM 1489, where stop #5 is. They don't know.
About then their father pulls up. He tells me that it's only a couple
of miles to the junction where #5 is and that I will make it before I
hit the storm. Hoping that it isn't headed my way, I head off again.
This time the advice was correct, I arrive at #5 without encoutering
any more lightning or rain. Halleluiah. Better yet, the storm is
moving away from us to the northeast, and although we'll be riding
north from this rest stop, it won't be fast enough to catch the storm.
We are now at 60 miles and better, in the aftermath of the storm
it's much cooler. On the downside, my bottom bracket has started to
make some strange creaking noises. I ask for SAG at the stop, only to
find that they are not there. Ugh. I figure, it will either stay
together or break badly.
I ride on down the wet road. My bottom bracket noise is worsening.
It stops when I stop pedaling, but as soon as I resume, there it is
again. At least the riding is much easier on the cool downdraft on
the backside of the storm, and without the worry of more lightning as
I can't even see it anymore. The anvil which has sheared off the top
of the storm provides a nice respite from the normally intense Texas
summer heat.
I stop again at stop #6 asking for SAG. None to be found. Another
rider hears my SAG issues, and asks me what year my Record stuff is,
assuming that the Riv is some sort of retro bike. He does not believe
me when I say 2002. He says campy equipment of that age shouldn't be
taking a dump, campy is the best and bla bla bla bla. I ignore him
and ride the 13 miles on to stop #7 at a rather high rate of speed,
still in the cool overhang of the thunderstorm. Finally at #7 there
is a SAG detatchment! Yay. It's probably only because this also
serves as a stop on 2 other of the shorter routes. Nevertheless, I am
glad to see them. They put the Riv up on the stand and can't find
anything wrong with the bottom bracket, they say it's very tight, and
that usually these things are real loose if they're going out. They
tighten it up and say maybe it's my pedals. I get some food and ride
off.