Yesterday, in beautiful Italy (pronounced IT-lee), Texas, I did my 10th bike rally of the year and my 456th overall. I did my first Tour d'Italia (as it's known) in 1990, when I was 33 years old, so this was my 20th year of doing it. Actually, I missed three editions in the early 1990s while I was on vacation, so I've done 17 of the past 20 Tours d'Italia. It's usually hot and humid at this rally, but occasionally it rains, which makes it cold. Three years ago, I had a flat tire midway in and replaced the tube in a pouring rain. I got so cold that I cut the rally short: to 50 miles. Had I had the sense to carry a rain jacket, I could have done the long course.
I love small towns, and Italy is a small town. It's only 53.1 miles from my house in Fort Worth. We start at the high school, which is on a side street not far from Main Street. In fact, this year, for the first time, we started the rally on Main Street. I didn't realize that there was a new starting place until I left my car, and by the time I got to the start, I was far back in the pack and couldn't find my home boys, whom I had seen earlier. Someone said go and off we rolled, into the countryside.
As in Mesquite two weeks ago, I had no idea whether I was ahead of or behind my friends. I guessed behind, so I rode reasonably hard for the first few miles, thinking I would catch them. Almost an hour into the ride, I caught Randy, who told me that Phil and Bryce were ahead of us. I eventually dropped Randy (not on purpose!) and met up with the others at a rest stop, where they were waiting. Shortly before I reached this rest stop, I was in a pack of three or four riders, none of whom I knew. I did a goodly share of the work at the front, into a stiff headwind. One rider in particular didn't grasp the concept of a rotating paceline. Every time he went in front of me, he picked up the pace. After the third time he did this, I rolled alongside to explain how it works. When he goes in front, I said, he is to slow his pace to that of the person behind him. The idea is not to go faster; it is to keep the group moving at the same speed. Taking turns breaking the wind is merely a way of saving energy.
Some people are insulted (and even angry) when tips are given to them, so I was friendly in the way I explained it. When we stopped at the rest stop, he came up to me and apologized. That was nice. I patted him on the back and told him that he was all right. "I've been doing these rallies for 20 years," I said. "I'm just passing along tips I've learned along the way." I asked his name (Harold) and invited him to ride with us the rest of the way. I'm sure I'll see him at other rallies. One day, perhaps, he'll instruct another novice about how to ride in a rotating paceline.
We started riding at eight o'clock in warm temperatures and with partly cloudy skies. It heated up quickly. I had quite a sunburn on my face when I finished riding, which confirms something I read many years ago. You can get more of a sunburn with clouds in the sky than you can when there are no clouds. It has something to do with the refraction of light. I wore flip-up sunglasses over my glasses. I flipped them up and down many times, depending on whether the sun was visible. Although the wind slowed us down when we rode into it, it had a nice cooling effect as we cruised along. I'm used to Texas heat and humidity. Do I prefer less humidity? You bet. I lived in Tucson for five years (August 1983 to August 1988) and know what a difference it makes to bodily comfort. But there's no sense complaining about what can't be changed. Either you accept the humidity as it is or you spend your life indoors, with air conditioning. I long ago resolved not to let weather dictate my life.
My speed wasn't as high yesterday as it was a week ago in McKinney, even though I worked almost as hard. My average heart rate for the day was 127. My maximum was 154. But I averaged only 17.19 miles per hour for 63.0 miles. (A year ago, on the same course, with the same heat but with less wind, I averaged 18.93 miles per hour.) I rode 17.7 miles the first hour, 17.9 the second, and 16.1 the third. I averaged 17.02 miles per hour for the final 39:50 of the ride. There was one brutal stretch of road, going into Irene. I've done it more than a dozen times, but it was particularly hard yesterday because of the quartering headwind. I happened to be alone during this stretch, having dropped my home boys and everyone else who was with me. (Two of those with whom I was riding dropped me.) The road was rough; there were hills; and I couldn't seem to sustain any speed. Finally, I reached the rest stop on the other side of Irene and ate my annual plum. Yes, this is the rally where they have fresh cold plums at the rest stops.
Just seconds after leaving the rest stop, we heard a loud bang. It was Bryce's rear tube. I couldn't believe the worn tire he was using. It should have been replaced long ago! There were so many bad areas on the tire that there was no way it could be patched. Bryce immediately decided to sag in. Luckily for him, a sag wagon was coming by at that very moment. We said goodbye to him and headed up the road. Randy, who has a sarcastic sense of humor, called Bryce a lucky bastard. The three of us—Phil, Randy, and I—had fun talking the rest of the way to Italy. We stopped for a few minutes at the rest stop in Frost, where Elvis Presley was singing on a flatbed truck. They say Elvis is dead, but he can't be. I see him at various bike rallies. He's almost always in Wichita Falls, at the Hotter 'n' Hell Hundred. Phil and Randy are a few years older than I am, so they enjoyed the singing. Phil embarrassed us by singing along with Elvis. He knew every word of the song: something about postage.
The official high temperature for the day at DFW Airport was 96º Fahrenheit. It was probably 90 when we finished riding, shortly after noon. I was fried. The average wind speed for the day was 14.8 miles per hour, with a top speed of 24. I consider anything 10 miles per hour or higher to be windy. I think I was dehydrated before the rally started, as a result of the runs I did on Thursday and Friday. But I felt good the whole way and had fun. I burned 2,261 calories. Phil and I stopped at a Taco Bell in Midlothian on the way home. We compared notes and talked about upcoming rallies. What a privilege and a pleasure it is to be able to do bike rallies. You'd think I'd be sick of them by now. Ha! It's just the opposite. I love them more than ever.
