Yesterday, in Lancaster, Texas, I did my second bike rally of the year and my 448th overall. I was delighted to find all of my home boys in attendance: Joe, Phil, Randy, and Julius. Also present were Julius's son-in-law Troy and several other longtime riding buddies (Don, David, George, a second Randy, et al.). The weather could have been better—it was overcast and cool—but it could also have been a lot worse, so I'm not complaining. My only concessions to the cool air were a long-sleeved shirt under my jersey and brown cotton gloves on my hands. (I'm one of the few cyclists not to wear fingerless cycling gloves. I don't understand why cyclists wear these gloves.) Joe, Phil, Randy, and I left seven minutes early, to avoid waiting in the pack. Several hundred riders showed up. To our surprise, it took 52 minutes for the pack to catch us.
It's early in the rally season, so nobody had plans to hammer. We rode side by side and talked. (Much of the course was on lightly traveled country roads.) Occasionally, we rode in single file so as to benefit from the draft. There were times when we were joined by other riders. The fields were filled with bluebonnets. It was quite pretty. As I recall, 2008 was a bad year for wildflowers. We thought Julius and Troy would catch up to us along the way, but they never did. We didn't see them until the finish. Two thirds of the way in, we saw a camel standing in a pasture. That's right: a camel. I've seen emus and even bison while riding my bike, but this was my first camel. What's next, a giant panda?
None of us had ridden 62 miles yet this year, so our legs began to tire near the end. At least mine did. But I felt good the entire way, unlike in years past. I've had some awful experiences in Lancaster. In fact, my slowest rally ever was in Lancaster (13.67 miles per hour in 2007). We stopped three times at rest stops. I ate half a banana, some Oreo cookies, a couple of fig newtons, and a handful of pretzels. Afterward, Phil, Randy, and I ate at On the Border, a Mexican restaurant, where I caught the end of the Detroit Tigers/Texas Rangers baseball game on a large-screen television. Joe, Julius, and Troy were supposed to join us at the restaurant, but they got lost and never showed. At least Joe got lost; I never did hear from Julius. For all I know, he and Troy are still searching for the restaurant.
Statistically, I had a good ride. This was my ninth Lancaster rally in 11 years, and also my fastest. I averaged 17.00 miles per hour for 62.5 miles. (Elapsed time = 3:40:34.) I didn't know it at the time, but I had only 1.2 seconds to spare! Had I taken two seconds longer, I would have had to write "16.99" in my log. Thank goodness for that! My maximum speed for the day was 33.8 miles per hour. I burned 2,167 calories. My maximum heart rate for the second week in a row was 155. My average was 124, which is much better than the 106 I saw a week ago. That means I worked hard (i.e., I got a good workout). My home boys were fat, old, and lazy yesterday. They have no self-respect. They allowed me to break the wind for them for miles on end. I'm not complaining. I like being a man among men. It toughens me up for future rallies. Perhaps this post will humiliate my home boys enough to make them train harder during the week and try harder at the rallies. (I'm teasing them. Then again, maybe I'm not.)
The high temperature for the day was 71º Fahrenheit. Joe, who has a thermometer on his cycling computer, told me that it never reached 60º during the ride. The average wind speed for the day (at DFW Airport) was 10.4 miles per hour, which makes it "windy" in my log. The maximum wind speed was 21 miles per hour. I'm looking forward to warm weather. Having lived in Texas for 20½ years, I'm used to it.
