Well Ken, here is my raw attempt at the redramatization of last Saturday at the “Hot Rocks” ride.
I awoke with 2 alarms going off at 4:45 in the a.m. Dang early for me I must say. Oh, I ate pizza the night before, so now its sitting like brick at this time. Crapper here I come!!
Packed the bike and 4 bottles in my cages, along with 6 accel gels, 15 endurolyte pills and 1 pickle juice bottle…..mm mmm mmmmm pickle juice, missing one “Wheelbrothers” jersey.
Off to Rockwall, just a hop, skip and a million miles away. 1hr and 10 min later, missed exit and phone call from Ken on a borrowed cell from a complete stranger I made it.
Registered, found Ken, could not miss him, 10ft tall and white guy proudly displaying the “Wheelbrothers” jersey. After a short reunion with the ever colorful Mr. Ken (great to see you again buddy, always a pleasure), application of sunscreen, butt butter slather and my first pit stop at the “oh boys” I was ready.
Started promptly at 8am with a typical “Tour de France” merging of several hundred cyclist around a road separation we were off. Going well, caught up on things a bit….and quickly found the peleton of riders and latched on like leeches after about 5 miles. Ride was going pleasantly until we came to a “T” in the road 15 miles in (no traffic control) with an 18 wheeler moving full steam ahead preparing to plow about 15 cyclist. Ken was near the front of the group as everyone yelled and smoke from the 18 wheelers tires began emerging. I ran off the newly paved road into the old gravel left by our friendly road workers. As I attempted to get back on the road via a 45 degree lip I go down like a rock, feet clipped in still, in front of 10 other passing cyclist. I now have a bruised hand, bleeding knee, and very bruised ass. Maria (my bike) was ok.
We continued on our journey after a short recovery stop to assess the damage. The hills were rolling like the blubber on a fat woman, but we managed. The temp was rising, as was the heat index and we managed on. Our first 30 miles we averaged just over 20mph, with two stops for bottle refills. We pressed on gaining a few comrades along the way, then we lost them.
Here comes mile 50 and I begin to wonder why we do this in this kinda weather and I remember, its because of “FRIENDS”, I would not have it any other way. Mr. Ken request we slow a bit….and I don’t argue at all…I was ready for a bit of a slow down. Then suddenly Ken gets some sort of burst of energy as we go up a hill…..or is it…I lose energy and begin to Bonk!!
I don’t know, but I do know I now have consumed 4 pickle juice bottles, eaten 4 gels, taken 9 endurolyte pills and its still hurting like a Mutha $%^&*#. Ken and I begin to think we only have less than 10 miles to go, but sure seems like 40miles because the rollers keep on coming.
We hit the last rest stop at 58 miles and Ken forgot his name and I could remember just the Ry in my name. Downed one more pickle juice and we were off gutting it out for the last 4 miles.
We see the finish line and in like the good ole Ryan fashion I cramp in my right quad and hammy. Ken pulls away, I yell, but silence…he does not hear me…..I contiplate, a 1 leg finish, but I cant clip out, it hurts to much. I manage in a lot of pain to catch Ken to finish with him and we pull in for the dismount, which by the way took a few minutes due to the cramping.
We ate, shared a beer (thanks Ken), collected 14 pickle juice bottles and headed home.
Great ride for Ken and I, since it was a lot like HH100. Sorry we missed everyone, but we will reunite for the big Bang in Whititi falls.
-Ryan “Wheelbrother” Tibball
phil 4:13 ” I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me