Brandon, Daniel, Ed, Ian, Robert N., and I rode together for about the first 50 miles. We lost Ed and Robert after a while but later picked up Dick. For the entire day, Daniel really pushed the pace. After a fast, early stretch where he pulled most of the way, he said that the rest of us would start putting a hurt on him. Ha – that never happened. It was almost comical.
The Georgia Guidestones made a unique information control. Consisting of granite slabs that came from nearby quarries, the Guidestones have words of wisdom written in various ancient and modern languages. Their origin is mysterious; an anonymous person or persons obtained the land and had the monuments constructed. I visited the Guidestones 19 years ago during the 1996 Bicycle Ride Across Georgia (BRAG), the last time I did BRAG. It was fun to go back. The Guidestones still look like a cross between Stonehenge and 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Soon after the Guidestones, we passed a huge turtle in the roadway. Its carapace was at least 12 inches long. I forgot to take a picture, but this is what it looked like:
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| Common snapping turtle |
Whether I’m in my car or on my bicycle, I always try to stop to move turtles that are trying to cross the road. Always move a turtle to the side toward which it’s heading, or it will just try to cross the road again. Although I’ve moved many a turtle out of the road, this is the first time that I’ve come across one that was parallel to the white line! I assumed it wanted to be on the side it was closer to; I hope I made the right choice.
Canola farms
have proliferated in northeast Georgia in recent years. Used primarily to produce cooking oil, canola
covers acres and acres with a profusion of yellow blooms this time of year:
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| Photo by Kevin Kaiser during pre-ride the previous Monday |
I’ve always thought canola blooms are really pretty. Therefore, I was somewhat taken aback when Ian commented that he thinks they are ugly. Really! It’s interesting, though, to consider something from someone else’s perspective. As I thought about it, I conceded that yes, they are unattractive from a monocropping standpoint. I still think the flowers are pretty, though. I joked with Ian that he must hate the opening credits to Little House on the Prairie. Living in his native England in the 1970s, he wasn’t familiar with this particular slice of Americana. When I described those yellow flowers to him, however, he said that those would be OK since they grow naturally on the prairie.
One hallmark
of Saturday’s brevet was the generous hospitality. In addition to Kevin and Chris taking their
usual good care of all of the riders, Jim Shanni provided support. Jim really went all out! First, he parked his vehicle at the control
at the Richard B. Russell state park office, offering us drinks and snacks. Then, after the ride, he had pizza for
everyone! All of this was greatly
appreciated.
We also had
a wonderful, unexpected oasis thanks to our fellow randonneur David Nixon. David didn’t do Saturday’s ride with us, but
we rode right near his farm between Royston and Jefferson. He parked his truck along the route and had
water, Cokes, snacks, and sunscreen available for us. That was incredibly thoughtful regardless,
but he happened to be at a particularly opportune location, along one of the
longer stretches between controls. My
companions and I had discussed looking for a church or fire station to
replenish our water, but David made that unnecessary. Thank you so much, David!
Jim drove by
to check on us later in the ride and let us know that a train was blocking the tracks
at an upcoming railroad crossing. When
we arrived at the crossing a few miles later, Chris was there to direct us
around the end of the train, which fortunately was only tens of yards past
the crossing. Having to take our
bicycles off road seemed a fitting tribute to yesterday’s Paris-Roubaix race.
Our group
was making good time, but we had to encourage Daniel to take it a little easier
on the rest of us. Toward the end of the
ride, he started having severe cramps.
You never would have known it from the way he rode, though. Of course, we didn’t want him to be in pain,
but it almost seemed like he was sandbagging.
I’ve never seen anyone with cramps ride that hard and fast. If we had been in a Nancy Drew mystery, the
plotline would have been, “The ruse worked!”
With about 15
miles to go, we all were tired and anticipating the finish. Daniel started talking about how hard the
last 15 miles of the Dublin 600K were two weeks ago. I had read his ride report, which was quite
descriptive of that particularly tough brevet.
However, I really didn’t want to think about that just then as I was
battling my own fatigue with more than 175 miles in my legs. I jovially told Daniel that I’d much rather
talk about bunnies and rainbows. He
laughed, and we all continued on. Then,
with about 5K to go, Daniel started telling us about a bluegrass song called
“There’s Always One More Hill to Climb.”
He claimed that it’s an inspirational song. I yelled “Bunnies and rainbows! Bunnies and rainbows!”
Thanks again to all my rando friends who made it such a wonderful day, either by riding with me or providing support. I really enjoy these brevets, and they also work well with my RAAM training schedule.
Thanks again to all my rando friends who made it such a wonderful day, either by riding with me or providing support. I really enjoy these brevets, and they also work well with my RAAM training schedule.
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| Dick, me, Ian, Daniel, and Brandon - good rando buddies |
I was already riding a good bit before I even knew I'd be on a RAAM team, usually 8-12 hours per week. At the beginning of 2015, I started training specifically for RAAM, setting a goal of gradually increasing my weekly mileage from January until June. In January and February, I rode about 10-12 hours per week. Since March 1, that's increased to about 15-20 hours per week. As I push my physical limits, I find that I have to be more mindful of minor ailments that normally I hardly would think about. That's because I don't want small issues to become big ones.
In the past week
I’ve developed hot foot. This is a
common condition in cyclists in which the ball of the foot becomes sore, caused
by the metatarsal bones squeezing the nerves between them. My right foot was already sore before
Saturday's brevet, but when I got home Saturday evening, the ball of that foot
was pretty fiery. I did a little on-line
reading, and fortunately, this is not a fatal condition. A few suggested treatments are loosening your
shoe straps, particularly the ones near your toes; moving your cleats back on
your shoes; and placing inserts in your shoes.
Of course, I'm implementing these recommendations, but on Saturday I was
seeking immediate relief from the pain itself.
I love a good foot massage regardless, and so I was happy that my
husband Robert was willing to oblige. As
he rubbed the sore ball of my foot, I fantasized, "I need a foot masseuse
named Alejandro.” Robert replied, "I
need someone to iron my clothes named Helga.”
Bwa ha ha! Robert actually makes
a pretty good foot masseuse, and so I suppose I'll just keep him. Between him and a soothing bag of ice, my
foot felt a lot better.
Now about that ironing...
Now about that ironing...
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