In another inexplicable unexplainable chain of events I found myself on Saturday saddling up to ride my bicycle 25 miles for a charity sponsored by a little church in North Carolina I’d never heard of.
My little brother and Miss Carol had decided last spring that they were going to ride the 50 mile course and somehow convinced me I needed to join them in their efforts and at least ride the 25.
In a moment of weakness I agreed.
I blame alcohol.
So I got a new chain and new tires ’cause the old ones had rusted and dry-rotted, respectively, did a ‘coupla deep knee bends, strapped on my required gay-ass helmet, plugged iTunes and headed out.
The first mile was hard and the others were harder. But the hardest thing was finding something to think about, or do, to pass the time. iTunes helped immensely but it wasn’t enough.
For a time I looked around at the homes and stuff we were passing at 12 miles an hour until I started noticing the mile markers that North Carolina has thoughtfully placed at EVERY HALF MILE along their roads.
Thank you North Carolina.
So then I looked at the horizon but the horizon never seemed to get any closer so I stopped doing that.
Then I tried just closing my eyes and listening to the music but that didn’t work very well either for obvious reasons.
Finally I just pedaled and wondered what other people doing longer races thought about.
And guess what? I won. I actually finished first.
This is what happened- only 10 of the riders took the southern 25 mile route, (Let me explain- the 50 mile course was divided into a southern half and a northern half, the northern portion being the nicer waterfront ride, the southern being the easier for my little brother to find me and rescue me when I bailed on this bullshit) and for probably the same inexplicable and unexplainable reasons that led to this nonsense in the first place Miss Carol and me wound up leading the southern routers and then with about 6 miles to go, Miss Carol got tired of my slow ass, hit the gas and disappeared over the horizon I was trying not to look at.
I pedaled on wondering if maybe I’d missed the turn when I saw Miss Carol stopped at the turn-off and talking to my little brother and his cupcake and telling them I’d probably miss the turn if she didn’t wait for me.
But I didn’t and I powered by with a primal scream and iTunes rocketing around in my head and pedaled like a madman to the finish.
Woo-hoo. I’ll never do that shit again.
Congrats on the win….I can’t imagine sitting on a bicycle seat for 25 miles!! o.O
I agree with Debbie. How are your balls after 25 miles? Never mind. Please forget I asked.