Yesterday, in Crowley, Texas, I did my 19th bike rally of the year and my 465th overall. This is the rally in which I crashed a year ago, so naturally I thought about it before, during, and after the ride. Before the rally, I rolled up to a sag wagon. The driver was just getting out. "A year ago," I said, "I had an accident at this rally. I'd like to find the man who drove me in, so that I can thank him again." The man asked whether I had fallen on gravel. I told him yes. "Are you the one who didn't want to get in the truck?" I laughed and said yes. I shook his hand and thanked him. I told him that it took months for my shoulder to heal, but that I was 99% back to normal. He said he was glad to be of service to me. What a nice moment that was. It felt like closure.
The weather did not cooperate this year. The forecast was for rain all over the Metroplex, all day. None of my friends showed up. I can't say I blame them. But I'm a different breed. The harder and more uncomfortable something is, the more I want to do it. To me, this is what it means to be a man. You don't shy away from difficulty; you embrace it. You don't flee from hardship; you cope with it. I put my expensive new rain jacket in my jersey pocket in case the rain increased from a drizzle. I didn't want to be caught in a downpour halfway into the rally. A few miles into the ride, I wished I had put the jacket on, because the rain gradually increased in intensity, and I was shivering. I got soaked to the skin in no time. My shoes were filled with water. My glasses were covered with droplets, which made it hard to see. It was dark and gloomy.
Somewhere after 10 miles, a man rolled up from behind and commented on my shoes. We got to talking about various things, including the weather. I told him that I was thinking of doing 40 miles instead of 62, even though it would make me feel guilty afterward. He was doing 40 anyway, so we rode the rest of the way together. The course has many turns. Since the pavement was wet, we had to be careful negotiating them. Some of the turns, in addition to being wet, had gravel on them. As if this weren't enough, we had to fight off dogs. I remembered that there were many dogs on this course a year ago, and sure enough they were back. I have no idea why this rally has so many loose dogs. I told Steve (the new friend) that there must be an ordinance in Crowley that requires every homeowner to have at least three dogs, no more than one of which can be confined. He laughed.
At one point, with a man riding behind us, we got off course. When we reached a "T" intersection without an arrow indicating which way to turn, we knew something was amiss. I got my course map out of my pocket. It was soaked but readable. We calculated that we missed a turn a quarter of a mile back. Sure enough, when we returned, we saw the sign that we had missed. This added about half a mile to our total. There was a headwind during the final 20 miles, but it wasn't bad. The rain never stopped. Sometimes it was a drizzle, sometimes a rain, and sometimes a downpour. Talking to Steve (who is 42 years old) made the time—and the miles—go faster. I recommended that he do next year's Hotter 'n Hell Hundred. He said he would consider it.
Statistically, I rode 39.8 miles at an average speed of 17.26 miles per hour. (Elapsed time = 2:18:20.) My maximum heart rate was only 145, and my average heart rate a measly 105. My top speed for the day was 28.0 miles per hour. I burned only 1,009 calories. I'm sure I got some benefit out of this ride, but not much. It was like walking at a brisk pace for two hours. I'm glad I did the rally, though. I get to count it as a rally; I made a friend; and I got to thank the man who helped me a year ago. The rain didn't kill me and I managed to stay upright. Do I regret not doing the long course? Not really; on the way home, the sky darkened and it really poured. I would have been out in it for another 80 minutes or so.
Addendum: One of the things I wanted to do during the rally is inspect the intersection where I fell. A year ago, the pavement had eroded and become gravel. That's what caused my fall. I noticed yesterday that the intersection has been repaved, but there was still gravel! The only difference is that the gravel is now on the pavement. Needless to say, I negotiated the turn very carefully. It would have been awful to crash in the same place two years in a row.
Keith Burgess-Jackson, J.D., Ph.D. 