This morning, in Flower Mound, Texas, I did my sixth bike rally of the year and my 452d overall. It was raining when I woke up (at 5:20); it was raining during the drive to Flower Mound (29.1 miles from my Fort Worth house); it was raining as I walked to and from registration; it was raining as I prepared my bike; it was raining as I lined up at the start (inside the Texas Motor Speedway); and it rained for the entire four hours and five minutes of my ride. (We left at 7:30; I finished at 11:35, having stopped several times at rest stops.) Only one of my friends (Phil) showed up, and he drove back home without riding. I don't understand this mentality. The harder something is, the more I want to do it. Call me a masochist, but that's the way I am.
The rain wasn't bad. It let up to a drizzle a few times, but always resumed. It was never a downpour. The temperature was in the 60s, so I never got cold. I wore a clear plastic rain jacket. My shoes and socks got soaked in the first mile or so. As I explained to a fellow rider at a rest stop, once you get soaked, it can't get any worse. There are no degrees of soakedness. (Neologism alert!) Because of my perspiration, I was as wet under the jacket as I would have been without it, but the jacket kept the wind off my skin and kept me warm. I've had hypothermia before (in Tucson!) and it's not fun.
Now the bad part. As I waited at the start, I noticed that my cycling computer wasn't working. I couldn't get it to show anything besides the current time. That meant no statistics for the ride and nothing to look at and think about during the ride. Damn! The computer eventually went blank. It still won't come on. I'm pretty sure the battery is fine, so the moisture must have messed it up. Since the course was different this year, I have to go by the rally organizer's listed "100 kilometers," which is 62.14 miles. The course could have been anywhere from 60 to 65 miles. I estimate that my average speed was 17.5 miles per hour. It may have been as high as 18.5. I rode alone for 95% of the rally. There were other riders on the course, but it was best to ride alone so that I wouldn't have spray in my face.
I noticed a lot of frog noises during the ride. Some of them were quite loud. Perhaps the frogs were singing out in joy because of the rain. I also heard a couple of redwinged blackbirds, which took me back to my childhood in Metamora, Michigan. I would be remiss in not mentioning that this was my 19th Cross Timbers Classic in 20 years. I began doing this rally in 1990, when I was 33 years old. In fact, it's where I met my friend Joe, who wimped out today. He will not hear the end of it.
