By: Dominic Wasserzug and John Fong
John Fong’s widow Kim Fong was present at the start of the ride briefing. With her was Brenda Kopatz, close friend of Kim and wife of Fritz Kopatz who is the ride captain for today’s Mad Dog. The morning’s autumn light carried a tinge of amber which emanated warmth on an otherwise brisk October morning. Fritz and fellow club members took a moment to share some touching words about how great John was. Fritz remarked about how John was always making friends everywhere. Indeed, one rider present named Christopher mentioned that he met John online on Zwift. Following remarks, John Pellegrino presented the Mad Dog jersey that John Fong designed for the 2023 Mad Dog season in a touching display. Pellegrino explained that this particular jersey was special because it had been signed by John Fong himself.
As a matter of special mention, rider Matt Mangun who worked with John at UPS completed his first ever Mad Dog ride with us in honor of his dear friend and co-worker. We welcome Matt into our pack and thank him for pushing his limits to honor John with us. Thank you for your commitment to this ride.
And this was a sentimental ride. At face value it is sentimental because the ride honors the memory of a fellow rider that is no longer with us. The real meaning to that, though, is found in why we ride. Exploring those reasons, I think, is important to understand that significance. Throughout the ride, I would discover those reasons through the experiences of our journey.
The first reason would come to me before the ride even begins. Jonathan Minucci would remark at how wide awake I appeared when he greeted me. I would joke that I had already been up for four hours and he would explain that he had already watched all the TV series Lost and even baked some bread, none of which is true of course. This is typical comradery poking light at the fact that we go to great lengths to rise early in the morning and head out on epic bicycle rides with friends. While rooted in humor the sentiment remains that we are all very dedicated to our hobby.
Indeed, in one of John’s last Facebook posts he stated what started as a hobby ten years ago bloomed into a passion, and passion takes dedication. I don’t know exactly how many rides John did in those years. John’s final club milage count remains at 11,513 miles and I know that not all his rides were LBC rides. It takes serious dedication to rack up those miles. That is a lot of metaphorical bread and early mornings.
The next reason comes from a conversation with Larry Preble. At some point during the ride, he and I started to take notice of what crops remained for the harvest along the side of the country backroads we were riding—a frequent pastime on Mad Dog rides. One crop, we decided appeared to be Kale, to which Larry exclaimed, what would be one of many infamous Larry puns on this ride, “kale for what k-ails you”. Not to worry, this will be the only pun I report on here. This kale you pun, however, is apt for this ride.
John also remarked in his last post how cycling taught him life lessons, and I believe that we each have kale we bring with us to the road and in our journey, we learn our lessons. The kale comes is all different shades and varieties, but I believe it is in large part why so many of us keep coming back time and time again. Everyone’s kale is theirs and theirs alone to grapple with and yet we all ride this ride together on road and in life. As John would point out, it is the journey and not the destination. This is a sentiment that we are all familiar with, but it is the shared journey that makes this so special.
The last core reason was experienced with all of the other riders on this day, and that is the beauty of the world around us and life itself. Repeatedly we all were basking in what was unseasonably amazing weather for the third Saturday in October. The clouds looked as though they were painted on a backdrop of perfectly serene clear blue skies. So much of how we see and experience the world depends on the weather, and the weather today can only be described as heavenly. At each turn on this ride, mother nature did not disappoint, as we were greeted with picturesque scenes all of which could provide a lifetime of fall calendar photos. Dreams of peace and serenity never looked as clear and vivid.
John described life as a mist. His perspective on eternal life points out that, while life as we know it in this world is but a temporary state of being, the beauty of the things we are so fortunate to get to experience makes our short time on this earth even more important. Sometimes that weather is tumultuous and unpredictable, and those moments may reveal us in ways that we’d rather not journey. Learn to embrace each day and find beauty within it no matter the horizon, and you will learn to appreciate all days and life itself.
With that I will leave you with John’s last message to us all on Facebook in this report so it may be forever part of our record. We love you, John Fong, on all days and eternally.
"""
Life is a Mist: 10 Years of Cycling, Lessons from the Road
About ten years ago, I clipped into a pair of pedals for the first time. What began as a simple hobby quickly became something much greater—a passion, a source of growth, and a lens through which I’ve come to see the world.
As I reflect on this decade of riding, the memories flood in: the thrill of cresting grueling climbs, the quiet joy of sunrise rides, the satisfaction of smashing personal records, and even the humbling grind of headwinds. Cycling has gifted me so many unforgettable moments, but it has also brought something deeper—friendships forged on the road. Together, we’ve shared victories, pushed through pain, and built bonds that extend far beyond the miles we’ve ridden.
Yet, cycling has been more than just a sport for me. It has been a teacher. From the saddle, I’ve learned lessons that shape my daily life: how to press on through discomfort, how to appreciate the journey rather than fixate on the destination, and how to find beauty in the struggle. Each ride has been a reminder to keep moving forward, no matter how distant the finish line might feel.
But as I sit here today, reflecting on the road behind me, I’m also staring at a climb ahead—one that is steeper and more uncharted than anything I’ve faced on two wheels. This season of life has brought challenges I never trained for. No amount of miles, intervals, or endurance rides could have prepared me for what lies ahead.
Still, cycling has taught me this: when the climb feels insurmountable, keep pedaling. There will be moments when stopping seems like the only option, but pushing through leads to growth, strength, and a perspective you can’t gain any other way. It’s in the struggle that character is formed and hope is renewed.
For now, I take it one mile, one day at a time, trusting that the strength, discipline, and faith in Christ I’ve gained through years of riding will carry me forward. While the road ahead may be difficult, I remain hopeful. There are more memories to create, more milestones to celebrate, and more opportunities to grow—if God wills.
Life, like cycling, is a mist. It’s fleeting and fragile, but it’s also full of beauty and purpose when lived with an eternal perspective.
Here’s to the road ahead—every climb, every mile, every challenges in life and every blessing waiting on the journey.
“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”
—Romans 5:3–4
"""-John Fong
Completing today’s Mad Dog ride is as follows:
John Dippold
Alan McCoy
Tony Konvalin
Larry Preble
Fritz Kopatz
Steven Sarson
Bob Garble
Harley Wise
Matt Mangun
Jerry D. Tally
David Frey
Dominic Wasserzug
"Memories are the treasures we keep locked
deep within the storehouse of our souls,
to keep our hearts warm when we
are lonely."
Becky Aligada
It is finally here, the second Saturday of October. This has come to mean, at least for me, the Medora Century, at least if the weather cooperates. And today it does. Sunshine and light winds. A bit cool at the start though not as cool as it has been at times in the past, Warm enough for shorts without leg or knee warmers. Later in the day it will be warm enough to discard arm warmers and vests and jackets and ride short sleeved. Precious weather any time of year, but particularly with fickle October who often likes to tease us with a bit of warmth, then slap us with wind, cold, and rain.
Medora is not the most scenic club century by far, but there is just something about it that I like. Perhaps it is the countless memories I have made over the years, memories of those that still and those that don't still ride. Or perhaps it is the ease of the course or perhaps it is just the time of year and the feeling of melancholy that stems from knowing the cycling season is, for many, coming to a close. And I must not be alone because 35 people sign in and I am unsure how many more from Ridenfaden and Southern Indiana Wheelmen are here. The following people sign in on the pink sign in sheets: Tom Askew, Larry Preble, John Killebrew, Harley Wise, Paula Pierce, Glenn Smith, Dominic Wasserzug, Mark Rougeux, William Bicknell, Paul Battle, John Dippold, David King, Brooks Hellenbrand, Jackie Rountree, Fritz Kopatz, Steven Sarson, John Pelligrino, Amelia Dauer, Keith Baldwin, Steve Puckett, Sharon Jeter, Jon Wineland, Joe Bolan, Zeke Ledford, Mike Corus, Dan Barriere, Bob Grable, Jeff Schrode, Thomas Nance, John Mahorney, Andrew Degs, Brandon Havel, Mike Ngong, and myself. (not sure of some of the spelling of last names).
Most, though not all, are wearing pink of some type, honoring the town we are about to visit and the fight against cancer, a disease that affects so many of us. This year I went with my pink witch hat at the start, pink socks, pink jersey and vest, and pink gloves. I smile remembering how dismayed I was when Steve brought me back pink gloves when I asked him to pick up wool gloves for me. I still see his smirking in my mind for nobody gets dirtier on a ride than I seem to do. Who knew that they would come in so useful in the future;-) Another memory. I also have bought myself pink handlebar streamers, something I desperately longed for as a child but never received (along with a banana seat bicycle that I never was lucky enough to receive and now, sadly, have outgrown).
The TMD has had two pink reward jerseys though different shades of pink. Some, like myself, have on the older jersey and some are wearing last years. Others have jerseys that have pink in them. Dave King is riding a bike that is partially painted pink. Paula Pierce has her pink wig, though I think she gave it a trim from last year, and a tutu. Amelia Dauer once again is clad in her tutu. Paul Battle is wearing his 150,000 mile pink jersey, pink socks, and a helmet cover that has pink on it. (For this century, Paul will take the honors that have thus been accorded to Larry Preble this year as the oldest rider on the century). Steven Sarson has on his pink panties over his riding shorts. I hear one rider, I think I remember it was Harley Wise, saying how he priced a pink jersey but it was just too expensive. And there are more riders wearing pink of some kind, getting into the spirit of the day. Such a crowd that I have trouble taking it all in and certainly don't remember all of it. Everyone seems to be in a good mood and the air seems to hum with anticipation. It brings a smile to my face. There is nothing like the feel of anticipation that seems to hover in the air before a ride and with not knowing what joys and challenges the day might bring.
Paula comes up to me asking if Tom Askew and David Frey can get a helping point for helping her get to the ride. Evidently her battery went dead along the way and she was on the verge of calling her husband to pick her up. Teasingly, I tell her no: the point is only for help on the ride, but I quickly tell her yes after seeing her disappointment. I am just glad that she got here and a tad worried about how she will get home. With the late start, she may be fighting darkness on her trip home.
Prior to the ride, Thomas Nance had texted me that if I see his car and not him, he is riding the Fire Tower to do the Fire Tower Challenge. Amelia tells me she arrived before he left. Only two riders have completed the challenge thus far: Jon Wineland (who does it again today) and Samuel Bland. I have done both climbs, but not on the same day. Jon Wineland teased me with the idea during the pre-ride, but I declined. Thomas is, by the way, successful but he brings back memories of my first, failed attempt to climb the one in Clark Forestry when he says his front wheel kept coming up off the road due to the steepness. That was my issue the first time I attempted to climb the fire tower hill. I failed that day but later was successful even making it up on my double as I got stronger. It also brings back a memory of taking Grasshopper to climb and him looking at me and saying he didn't know you could go so slowly on a bike and still stay upright. Amelia talks about how she quit climbing it because it caused her knees to hurt and they don't normally hurt and I agree. It is one hard climb and helmets off to anyone who climbs it and then another challenging hill later the same day.
Joe Bolan from SWI asks about dogs telling me that dogs had bothered him awhile back on a road that is part of the route. I tell him they didn't bother me on the pre-ride, but we should let people know. Dominic Wasserzug has brought a bar code people can scan if they want to participate in next years Bike to Beat Cancer and asks that I put it with my sign out sheet. John Pelligrini has brought a photo of last year that shows John Fong and Tom Hurst and remarks how hard it is to believe that we have lost both of them. Later, during the pre-ride speech, John Mahorney reminds us of their loss. It makes me think about how fragile we are and how our days are, indeed, numbered. I remember Tom telling me during his illness that it was so strange to him because he had never been in such good shape before in his life. One thing age has taught me is that life is full of loss making it even more important to cherish these days when we feel happy, healthy, and strong and the friends and family that we have that our still with us.
After a short speech urging everyone to have fun, the groups take off and that is the last I will see of most of them except for when I am nearing Medora and they are leaving it. I am late leaving the parking lot as Dave King forgot gloves. I loan him my short fingered gloves (not pink) and then Mike Ngong says he left his gloves in the car. Finally we are off chasing the group. Mike tells me it is his second century. What he does not tell me is that he has not ridden a bicycle outside for six or eight weeks (I can't remember for sure which) but has been spinning at the Y. I tell him that since I don't know how he rides, he has to tell me if I am going to quickly or slowly for him. While it is hard to imagine anyone being slower than me anymore, it does occasionally happen, and with centuries, one must absolutely do two things: pace oneself and eat. Meanwhile he is trying to find the route on his phone. Eventually he does and this enables him to move ahead.
We are not too far into the ride when I come upon a group at the side of the road: Steve Sarson, Brooke Hillenbrand, Larry Preble, and Bob Grable. Brooke has broken his rear derailleur cable. Fortunately, Steve Sarson has one; however, as they try to put it on they discover it is too short. I carry one on the Lysnkey, but not on my Calfee since it has electronic shifting. Nobody else has one. Much discussion ensues about whether to tie the cable off so he has a couple of gears or to try to tie the old and new cable together. Bob is carrying wire cutters. Just as they are trying to tie it off, Jon Wineland arrives saving the day with a cable that is long enough to reach the rear. Frankly, prior to this I did not know there were different length cables. Brooke seems to feel badly about holding everyone up, but I am so glad he came out to play. As Jon Wineland has been known to say, "We have all day."
Meanwhile, the jokes fly and the laughter fills the air becoming somewhat bawdy but eliciting loud guffaws from all. I hate to think what would have happened had I, a woman, not been there with my gentle, restraining presence to tone it down a bit because of course I would never engage in or condone such ribaldry (Okay, I admit I participated a bit. Too many of you know me to lie so blatantly;-) Anyway, the details of what happens or is said in Vienna stays in Vienna.
As we leave, Larry asks us to follow his slowly as he wants to use his drone to take some footage. Unfortunately, the drone ends up crashing into a tree. He finds it more quickly than I would expect for him to and we are back on the road.
When we arrive at the store stop, everyone is gone. This doesn't surprise me because our repair stop took awhile. But what happens next does surprise me because after a quick bite and drink, we begin to head out only to find that Brooke has a flat tire. It takes little time to fix it, however, and we are on our way. It interests me that he has one of the new, brightly colored tubes. I am beginning to see them more and more often on rides. I ask about them and am told they are very light.
By now the dew has worn off the Fox Tail and other weeds which glimmered and beguiled earlier in the ride as if there were a field of diamonds sparkling brightly in the sun. The slight fog that hugged the earth has lifted. Most of the trees are still green, but there are hints that fall has arrived and their days are coming to a close. We pass fields of soy beans and corn some of which have been harvested and many of which have not. A few fields are being worked, but less than I would expect on such a fine week-end day for many of the farmers here work second jobs as well as farming.
As we near Medora, we see two large groups of riders heading back. We stop for a photo at the covered bridge and Larry sets his drone to fly through in front of us as we ride through. Bob mentions getting a tire stuck in one of the cracks in the past and I remember that I normally caution people to walk rather than ride through, but none of us has an issue, maybe as most of us no longer ride on tires only 23 or 25 wide.
There are still oodles of riders at the festival despite the two groups that have eaten and left. The car show is still there and a few of the cars have been decorated for Halloween. I chuckle at the car with the huge skeleton climbing on top. I am surprised at the small crowd at the festival. Normally there are more people. Is it because we have arrived a bit later? I am glad I didn't wear another cape to give away as I did last year because I am not sure who I would have given it to though I did see children pass in the barrel ride.
We eat and prepare to head out when Mike walks up only having just gotten himself a piece of fish to eat. He seems surprised to see the group ready to leave and refuses our offer to wait. He puts it in his pack and we take off though I caution him about the need to eat on a century.
When we get to the bridge that I had cautioned the group about because it has a large lip to it that could easily pop a tire, we find the group waiting. A photo is taken and then Larry again sets his drone to fly ahead of us. At some point, however, the drone hits the ground due to an accident and I later learn that the photos taken throughout the ride are probably lost as it won't restart. If it does not restart, the photos will be lost as the drone has an internal SIM card.
The group again splits and Mike and I finish together at the back. He says he is very proud of himself and I feel proud for him and his accomplishment and wonder if he will attempt to complete the TMD next year. One never knows who will and who will not fall in love with century riding. Centuries are, indeed, an accomplishment. And those first few centuries where one learns pacing, eating, etc. more so. Some of the group is still at the end and I grin seeing how many have adopted Dave King's after ride Moomoo dress. It is then that I learn that Steve Puckett took a tumble, clipping Jon's back wheel. I am so relieved to find he was not injured. As I dress under a towel for pizza, I think maybe I should join in and purchase a Moomoo. It would be easier. A group of seven or eight go out for pizza and then Medora is officially finished for this year. And there are new memories to keep me warm when I am lonely or when my century days are complete. Like fall, they give me mixed feelings: happiness intertwined with melancholy. Thanks, everyone, for coming out to play. I hope you formed some memories that you can remember with a smile on your face during the cold winter months and in the future. Just know that you are treasured and that though I didn't ride with many or even most of you, I am SO glad you were there.
Finishers who signed in are as follows:
Joe Bolan 3:33 group of 1
John Dippold 4:03 group of 9
Harley Wise 4:03 group of 9
Sharon Jeter 4:03 group of 9
Fritz Kopatz 4:03 group of 9
John Killenbrew 4:03 group of 9
Keith Baldwin 4:03 group of 9
Glenn Smith 4:03 group of 9
Dan Barriere 4:03 group of 9
Andrew Dean 4:03 group of 9
Tom Askew 4:06 group of 1
Jeff Schrode 4:30 group of 1
Thomas Nance 4:45 group of 1
John Pelligrini 5:30 group of 1
Mark Rougeux 4:45 group of 1
Larry Preble 5:37 group of 11
Steven Sarson 5:37 group of 11
Jackie Rountree 5:37 group of 11
Zeke Ledford 5:37 group of 11
Brooke Hillenbrand 5:37 group of 11
Bob Grable 5:37 group of 11
Dominic Wasserzug 5:37 group of 11
Amelia Dauer 5:37 group of 11
Steve Puckett 5:37 group of 11
Paul Battle 5:37 group of 11
Jon Wineland 5:37 group of 11
David Fry 5:37 group of 11
Paula Pierce 5:37 group of 11
David King 5:37 group of 11
Melissa Hall 5:44 group of 2
Mike Ngong 5:44 group of 2
See the September 2025 Newsletter HERE
By: Melissa Hall
"Alas, the summer sun can't last
forever. The days will grow cooler and
shorter and our skin will once again pale."
Sarah McLean
With the promise of ninety degrees or more later in the day, I walk out my door to head for the ride clad only in riding shorts and a short sleeved jersey. "Will this," I wonder, "be the last ninety degree day?" There is the mere hint of fall's coolness in the morning air, but it is just that: a hint and promise of what is not yet here but inevitably will become reality. Leaving for a ride scantily clad will become less and less likely to be a reality. And it is dark. Even for a ride starting at 8:00 a.m. there is a bit of driving in the dark to reach the starting point. "Where," I ask myself as I drive, "did the summer run off to?" for it does not seem that enough time has passed for it to end. I have always read that as you age, time passes more quickly. Sometimes it does and at other times it drags, but the seasons certainly fly. Well, all except winter which can seem like it is eternal when it clutches the world with arthritic ridden fingers that will not seem to unclasp and will not allow themselves to be pried apart.
While I leave plenty of time and arrive forty five minutes prior to the ride start, there are others there before me. Car after car pulls in. Because there are two rides today, a shorter ride and a TMD century, it is hard to tell which distance people are riding. There are smiles on faces and a swirling quilt of brightly colored jerseys weaving in and out as people go about their business of getting ready. There is the soft, somehow comforting, murmur of talking and occasional peals of laughter or chortling that bring a smile to my face. There are the sounds of wheels turning and gears shifting as people make sure everything on their bike is in order and working. I hear Mike Kamenish tease Jon Wineland who is returning a cooler to me about whether he had brought body parts to the ride for disposal (yes, only Mike) and I think how much I cherish the anticipation that fills the air for it is summer and we are about to explore the world on bicycles. The day shines with promise.
As it turns out, Paula and Dee have 24 riders show up for their century, a century that was designed by Jon Fong who is not longer with us and is much missed. I suspect he touches many riders hearts today in thought and prayer and a reminder of how, despite our apparent health and strength, fragile we are. Riders are as follows: Paula Pierce, Steven Sarson, Larry Preble, Tom Askew, David Frey, Bob Evancho, Dee Schreur, Fritz Kopatz, Dominic Wasserzug, Vince Livingston, Jon Wineland, Harley Wise, Bob Grable, David King, Keith Baldwin, Michael Kamenish, Jerry Talley, Glenn Smith, Brad Conrad, Brian Corbett, Todd King, Terrell Brown, and myself. Jackie Roundtree also rode the century, but did not sign in on the century sheet, so I don't know if it was unplanned or what. I email her and find it was a miscommunication between her and another rider.
Paula gives her pre-ride speech. When she is done, we dribble out of the parking lot, heading through the busier parts of town to the country where traffic will be much less frequent or heavy. We pass a park where young people are having football practice and it is nice to see so many families. I miss those days when my husband was alive and the children were involved in activities that required our attendance. Glenn Smith and Jon Wineland realize within a mile that they each have forgotten something and turn back. Glenn had forgotten his backpack and Jon his food that he carries with him. It is a good thing Jon remembered as I understand every last bit was consumed prior to the end of the ride.
The pace is quick and I decide that I need to pace myself better and fall back. Dee falls back shortly afterward and she, Ann Stainback, and I ride together for a short bit. Ann is quite strong but states that she lags on hills. I suggest that she work on using her breath as one does in Pilates. Hills are hard for most of us, though there are some that seem to be built to climb. I giggle to myself when she, after telling me what an inspiration Bernice was to her when she first started riding, says I am the new Bernice. I giggle because I remember Claudia telling me, after we climbed Oregon Road on a brevet, that I was amazing because I was her mother's age and her mother could not climb that hill. I giggle also remembering how when I first started riding, Bernice once said something about people "our" age despite the fact I was around twenty years younger than she. I know Ann means it as a compliment and wonders if she realizes how big of a compliment it is. Bernice was one spectacular woman, riding until she was ninety or so and still riding two days before her death. There will never be anyone like her.
Dee and I talk briefly. Dee is one of the heroines of this ride having had knee surgery and having only completed two fifty mile rides yet honoring the commitment she made to co-captain the century with Paula. I later learn that she also had to contend with a worn out cleat that kept coming undone from time to time. Some people are just built tough. Dee is one of them. In fact, both of Dee and Paula are Mad Dog heroes as are some others agreeing to captain a stage despite the fact they have no intention of completing the Mad Dog Challenge this year thus giving back. It strikes me that there are more females on this stage than on any of the others that I attended: Paula, Dee, Jackie, and me. It is something that has grieved me over the years, the lack of females in distance riding, but I have come to accept that it is what it is.
Forgetting my resolve to slow my pace, Glenn and I head out toward Boston. While I keep in mind that this is a difficult course to pace oneself on because of the initial flats, I think I can maintain this pace. In the end, I decide I may have been better riding in the draft of the group I had been with rather than facing the wind with no pull all those miles, but who knows? I arrive at Boston with an average of over sixteen and later learn the group I had been with was averaging over eighteen.
When we arrive, there is quite a group there and it is difficult to know who is only doing the short ride and who is going long. I nudge myself to remember to look at the GPS until the route splits so as not to head in the wrong direction. I stay at the market on a short time, long enough to consume my home-made energy bar and milk, and head out. Later I learn that Jerry Talley arrived at the market with a broken cable. (Jerry is another hero from the ride as he completed the century with the cable tied off for his rear derailleur and only two gears and finishes with one of the faster groups). Jon Wineland helps him with the issue and Bob Grable lends a tool. When I later told Jerry I thought he might turn around, he tells me he wanted to but did not feel he could after Jon had worked so hard fixing his bike. I also learn that Jerry has only been riding for three years though he is remarkably strong on the bike. Well, Jerry, had I not heard what happened, I would never have known you completed the course with only two gears. Well, done, you.
Those of you who know Jon Wineland know that he always appreciates a good road treasure find. He has hauled tools and objects that have been the subject of jokes and admiration. Today he happens upon a large brick sized piece of metal in the road. He does not, however, haul it with him to find a use for later, but is courteous enough to move it out of the road so it does not cause an accident or a flat tire. He estimated the weight at 10 to 15 pounds. Shortly after I understand he caught up with Dee, Paula, and Terrell and would end up spending the day with them. Everyone teased Dee about sandbagging her physical condition as I understand that she consistently surged to the front.
Shortly after Boston, Bob and Larry catch up with me. I tell them to go ahead, but they insist on staying with me and we ride together until lunch. We are now on roads I am not very familiar with which is always nice. But I know that while I am riding okay, I am not feeling great today. Maybe it is the speed I went out at or maybe the heat or maybe it just is how I feel today. I am not feeling bad, but not my usual self either. Somehow the topic of age comes up for Larry and I, as usual, are the oldest of our gender on the ride. Larry jokes that if we were younger, we would have to dance with each other at the prom. I tell him he is lucky this isn't the case as I am not a good dancer and would likely step on his toes.
We talk about lunch and where to eat and end up pulling into McDonald's only to find a large group gathered there. I suppose many of us opted for fast and cheap. Bob says lunch will be cheaper than his store stops. I sit at the same table as Harley who talks about his weight loss and think how proud he should be of himself. I have always thought weight loss is so much harder than giving up smoking. You can quit and never have another cigarette again. You can't stop eating. He and a few others relate the dietary changes they have made not only because of weight but because of health issues and we take a moment to realize how lucky we are, at our ages, to have the health to be here today. Bob Evancho tells of some friends of his who are now having health problems as we talk about how lucky we are to have the health to be here. Keith talks, though it may have been at a stop rather than lunch, about a 91 year old who is in excellent health but is having cognitive issues and how health can be a blessing and a curse.
The group finishes and leaves together, but I know I will not be staying with them. It always amazes me how quickly the group decides to leave and gets ready to do so, as if there were a hive mind. During lunch, we had joked a bit about being Upsalled. Most of the riders needed an explanation as they never met Mike. Once on a century long ago, the group gathered up quickly and departed while Mike Upsall was in the bathroom. For some reason, he thought the group knew he was in there and still left, so being Upsalled became a term for being left behind. I still remain in touch with Mike who rides the roads of the west coast now and is happy to be ride of hot weather. A loss for the club but a gain for him.
The group stays together for awhile, but on the first slight climb I drop back. I have ridden enough centuries to have a sense of my pace, particularly with this heat, for the day is getting hotter and the promised clouds have not appeared in sufficient number or strength to offer a cooling shield. While in Alaska, I lost some of the acclimation to the hot weather, and I find myself draining water bottles more quickly than anticipated. When we reach the turn for the store stop, I debate just going to the Dollar General that is right there rather than backtracking, but Bob wants to go to the store and so I do. While there, we pick up Dave King who has dropped back to ride with us.
Not long afterward, we pick up Jackie and Glenn and finish together as a group. I am looking forward to finishing. My right thigh is flirting with cramping and will later cramp on the drive home (thank goodness for cruise control). I am thirsty and about out of water and my feet are longing for regular shoes. And we arrive.
While some have finished and left, a few are waiting there. Tom is handing out drinks to people with his normal, friendly smile upon his face as if life is an endless source of amusement. Steve, who seemed very strong today, explains that an unknown infection that his dentist found and treated, had impeded his riding this summer. Obviously true as he hammered the course today.
The conversation moves on to Dave King's after ride mu-mu. And sure enough, once Jackie and he have circled the parking lot a few times, he comes out in his brightly colored mu-mu talking about the breeze he is able to experience in this rather odd article of clothing. It makes me grin, something Dave often does and for which I have a huge appreciation. I stay for a short bit, but then head home to shower and collapse on the couch, glad I have ridden but spent. Surprised and satisfied with my 15.5 average for the day. Thankful to God for the day and people and the memories I have made. For our tans will fade and many of these friends I will only see a few more times before the season is over, but I will have the memory of the day, the laughter, the camaraderie of the dogs, the shared toil and sweat and the shared glee of speed and finishing, conquering the course, the heat, and the day. Shakespeare is right, "Summer doth have too short a lease" despite the heat. Most of you will never know how I will miss you despite the fact many of us are not close. During the cold winter I will long for the sight of your faces and the sound of your voices, for your stories and your laughter. Come spring, these things will serve as a tonic. But there are still a few more century rides to go in the tour, including Medora. Well done, Dogs, well done!
Finishers:
Todd King 2:05 group of 1
Vince Livingston 2:41 group of 1?
Brad Conrad 2:41 group of 1?
Fritz Kopatz 2:41 group of 1?
Larry Preble 3:07 group of 10
Steven Sarson 3:07 group of 10
Harley Wise 3:07 group of 10
Dominic Wasserzug 3:07 group of 10
Keith Baldwin 3:07 group of 10
David Frey 3:07 group of 10
Jerry Talley 3:07 group of 10
Bob Evancho 3:07 group of 10
Mike Kamenish 3:07 group of 10
Tom Askew 3:07 group of 10
Glenn Smith 3:20 group of 5
Melissa Hall 3:20 group of 5
David King 3:20 group of 5
Bob Grable 3:20 group of 5
Jon Wineland 4:38 group of 4
Dee Scheur 4:38 group of 4
Terrell Brown 4:38 group of 4
Paula Pierce 4:38 group of 4
See the July/August Newsletter HERE
"Ah, summer, what power
you have to make us suffer
and like it."
Russell Baker
I can't say that I am not wary of the upcoming century and the predicted heat index of over one hundred, but I have come to accept that it is going to be one of those summers. We don't have them too often, but when we do they are cruel. Being unusually hot and humid puts demands upon you that other summers just don't. They are not just physically but mentally challenging. Even stepping out the door to go to a ride can be a test of will power. Most summers have a few days of this, but this summer has been one of those that is working overtime, as if testing us and our resolve. It is not so much the heat, but the humidity. The news weather person keeps describing it as "tropical."
You have two choices when there is this kind of summer: ride and learn to tolerate and deal with it or not ride. You can modify by riding shorter distances and going at a slower pace, but if you are going to ride, unless you go out in the dark, and perhaps even then, it will be hot and you run the risk of cramps or heat exhaustion or even heat stroke. Everyone who is a finisher this year will have my respect. Well, I suppose every years finishers have my respect, but this year particularly so because it has been a hard year not only course wise but weather wise. Or perhaps it seems that way due to my age. What was hard at forty is not the same as what is hard almost thirty years later.
Riding in the heat is not easy. I don't know that it is harder than riding in extreme cold and wind, but it is difficult regardless. I am glad that Amelia decided to start the ride at 7:00 rather than later and that she is treating everyone to a new course to Salem. I know she has put a lot of work into the course, changing it once due to road closures and driving it to ensure that there are no issues with road closures or road conditions or closed stores. While I have ridden all of these roads at one time or another, I have not seen them put together this way before and I know it will be a good if difficult ride with the hardest hill being Leota Hill. As she points out at one time, the climbing in the route, like Story, is all in the middle of the ride. She is also honest that were she not captaining, she would not be here.
Most of us have had those rides where we were not well trained enough to handle the heat or we rode too hard at the start of the ride or we entered the ride already dehydrated or don't pay attention to dehydration during the day. Those are the rides where every fiber of your being screams for water because more is being excreted in the form of sweat as your body struggles to cool organs because you can't drink enough to replenish what is being lost. These are the rides when you have to use common sense at times and call the sag wagon if it becomes too much. Tenacity and determination are fine qualities in a human being, but at some point can become stupidity. There is no weakness in doing the smart thing. Fortunately, this does not happen on this ride, that arguing with someone who wants to continue when they should not or accepting that I, myself, should quit.
I arrive at the ride start early. I see a large crowd of cyclists and am surprised at such a turnout because I figured the turnout would be small, but it turns out it is another cycling group and not the Mad Dogs. Still, 18 people sign in: Amelia Dauer, Mark Rougeux, Tom Askew, Larry Preble, Bob Grable, Jon Wineland, Harley Wise, Fritz Kopatz, Michael Kammenish, Thomas Nance, Bob Evancho, Glenn Smith, Vince Livingston, Keith Baldwin, Tony Nall, Paula Pierce, Terrell Brown, and myself. I am told Tony and Paula don't intend to do the entire ride. Unfortunately, before even starting Bob Evancho, freshly returned from his travels and from visiting his grands, finds he has a flat. He is offered a tire and/or tube, but he is running tubeless and decides he will not ride. After scratching his name off the sign in, he heads home. His is the first of a numerous flat day, giving lie to someone's recent comments about how we don't see as many flats as we used to. Some time during the day someone tells me that most of us ran over numerous bits of broken porcelain. I, personally, did not notice it, but I was probably talking too much.
The starting temperature, depending upon who you talk to, is 77 or 78 degrees. Amelia tells everyone they can head out. As usual, everyone just stands there for a few seconds before bicycles and riders spill into the street. I've never understood this, but it seems to happen every ride. I head out expecting to be quickly passed, but that does not happen. I find that I am feeling very strong today and that the heat is not, thus far, an issue for me. This is good news and not what I expected. I expected to be quite slow. I debated not riding or leaving early, but I need this ride as I am training for Alaska and repeated demands on an aging body that is not used to riding distance day after day for a week.
As we head out, I talk briefly with Harley and ask after his wife. I am so happy to hear she is feeling better and even has been out with him on the bike. I know he has been missed on the past few centuries. Harley is kind enough to compliment my ride reports. Keith says that he has a friend who is a writer and had started a program for the elderly in nursing homes, capturing the stories. Her program is "Feet to the Fire." The program sounds interesting. I google her web site though I don't spend enough time there to digest the information. I will save that for winter.
I talk with the one who I understood to say that people hated the overnight ride. He tells me I misunderstood him, that people were not saying they hated it, merely that it was hard. I am glad to have that cleared up. Both Thomas and I spent quite a bit of time creating that event, designing the routes, driving the routes, finding a reasonably priced motel. Hard is okay not only because of the sense of accomplishment, but because those are the rides you best remember. I blog many of my rides in an attempt to hold onto them, but still they blur in memory unless they were particularly hard or something particularly unusual happens. I remind him of when doing a hard ride was fun and not just hard. Perhaps that is what we need to hold onto though I can't seem to do it anymore in winter. I went over 12 years riding an outside century every month of the year in the past. But now I have a hard time getting out the door in winter to ride even a short ride. Oh, well. While I am not and will never be the rider he is, we have shared many miles and many roads and I treasure his opinion and his friendship.
The first of the ride is mostly flat but with roads that are not often included on our centuries. Once we leave Sellersburg behind, we are mainly on lightly traveled country roads until the we return to Sellersburg. The water is high along the sides of Weber Road and I briefly wonder if it could be flooded and impassable. This has happened on rides before. But it is not. I believe it is along this road that I first realize Amelia and a few others are not with us because the group is hanging together. I ask and am told she had to stop with Fritz for a flat. I will later learn that Fritz has not one, but two, flats one of which is caused by a slit in his tire. From what I learn, he was able to continue as Thomas Nance loaned him a tire. Harley Wise will later have a flat just outside of Salem. Keith stops to help him out.
For many of us, it is our first trip inside the new store stop in Henryville, the newly renovated gas station that is a huge improvement over the old store stop which, over the years, has become progressively worn out despite being completely rebuilt following the tornado in 2012. All of us are wondering about Amelia, Fritz, and Thomas. Tom tries to call Amelia but there is no answer. I text but get no response. (She later texts that she is at Circle K so we know she is okay). Since we don't know what may have happened or where people might be, we head on trusting that they are together and all is well. So long as they are together they will catch us shortly.
The first big climb is Leota Hill, a hill some are familiar with from the Maple Syrup Festival Ride, the traditional Salem Century, or from another ride. It is not as difficult as many of the hills we have climbed this cycling season, but it is a challenge. By this time the fast group has moved on and it is Bob Grable, Terrell Brown, and I. We lumber slowly up the hill. At the top. Larry is waiting for us and is taking photos. And we head down Saylor Road. Bob Grable tells a funny story about being on a ride in the area and on a hill, pulling up to an Amish buggy. He said it was a very hot day, just like today. Larry was with him. The man in the buggy, being Amish, is of course fully clothed. Bob remarks to the man, "It sure is hot out here." the man replies, " Yup. You know, there is something you can do about it." Bob asks what and rather then receiving some magical trick that the Amish have to tolerate the heat in full dress is told that he can always ride faster.
I, in turn, relate my story about the time I was on Saylor and a young Amish boy on a pony pulls along side me and asks if I want to race. I think it is along this road that we come upon a pond on the left hand side. Standing in the pond in a line as straight as if they were in the military are four young cows facing the shore, all black, identical in height, their rear ends glaring straight at us. For some reason this strikes me as being particularly amusing. There is also a foal along the way, short neck strained and legs splayed as he learns to graze from his mother who is close by, tail swishing at flies that are troubling her, chestnut cost gleaming and dappled in the sun. They are enjoying the lushness that the rain, warm weather, and humidity have brought. And while my body is not enjoying the heat or the humidity, I also am enjoying the verdant abundance that surrounds us.
I remark that is seems almost like the end of August rather than July with the hay bales neatly rolled in bales dotting the pastures. But perhaps not. The corn, while tasseling, still has a way to go before it browns and the ears point downwards rather than upwards. The soybeans are not yet yellowing. Queen Anne's Lace runs riot along the roadside, but there is not yet Ironweed or the other flowers that tell us that fall is here.
We reach the lunch stop with no issues and the fast group is still there. I hand out coupons to those that want them. Mine works. The others have issues with theirs. There are three people working so it is not long before we are back on the road. I warn them about the black dog at the top of a climb after the bridge and the lumber mill. He does not come out today, but there is a tan dog, saliva dripping from his mouth. Despite his barking, we ride by unscathed.
The fast group has again left us behind and this time it is Bob, Terrell, and I. Bob surges ahead for a bit and it is just Terrell and me. I warn him of the upcoming descent. At the top part, Bartle is a fairly technical descent and is quite steep despite the switch backs. I briefly think of Roger Bradford, no longer with us, descending and how I felt sure he was going to crash when his tire slipped in some gravel. I still remember the relief when he managed to keep it upright.
Bob is familiar with it as he climbs Bartle on some of his solo rides. During the descent, a car is coming on one of the turns just as Terrell reaches it. He later says it was a tense moment for both of them when combined with the strain of the hill on his rim brakes. And he is right. Bartle is quite steep in places near the top. I have descended it many times with rim brakes, but you definitely have more control with disc brakes.
During the descent, it begins to look like rain and we come across wet roads where the rain preceded us. Bob asked if I heard the thunder. I did not. By the time we reach the third store stop, Thorton's, the rain is coming down, not heavily but more than a light drizzle. It is not that there are as many drops as there can be in a light drizzle, but the drops seem larger than in a drizzle. Mike "Diesel Dog" later tells me that in the store the clerk asked him how far he had to go. He tells her about twenty miles. She is amazed, but not so amazed as when he tells her how far he has already ridden. Her response is, "In this heat?" I giggle at this story and think of the meme I saw recently where it says that people are being told that it is hot and to check on the elderly. I am up by five it says. Bring donuts;-)
It is during the last quarter of the ride that a couple of people begin to cramp. I notice Larry unclipping on one side and pedaling with one leg. He and a couple others fall a bit behind. We stop at a gas station we pass to allow them to catch up and perhaps rest. He said he thinks it is best if he just goes on. I then get a text from Thomas that Terrell is cramping and he has stopped with him. I stop at a shady spot and wait for them. The others opt to go on with Larry.
I am beginning to get worried when they appear over the crest of a small hill near where I stopped to wait. Thomas later tells me they stopped two times and Terrell finally accepted a Rolaid. Thomas turned me on the miracle of Rolaids when you are cramping a year or two ago when I was having my turn of leg cramps. While I wait, I think how much Thomas embodies the spirit of the Mad Dogs. He is one of the fastest riders out there today, but he is finishing last and has stopped twice that I know of to help others. I so admire his patience and just the fine person he is. The Dogs are lucky to have him as a member. And I am happy to see how everyone gathered to help Larry get in because in the past I have come across riders abandoned by others along the side of the road. Indeed, I remember Dave King chastising some riders who left another along the side of the road on a hot day back when Dave was TMD Director. Anyway, while I was not with that group, it is my understanding that Diesel began pushing Larry up the small climbs that were left. This is done by riding alongside the ailing rider and placing your hand on their lower back while you pedal upwards. Don't expect to see me do it as I would likely cause us both to crash, but Mike has always had excellent bike handling skills.
The ride ends and I am glad. It is not one of those rides that you wish would go on forever, largely because of the heat. But it has been a good day. And best of all is that nobody had to be rescued or ever cramped or had problems severe enough that people worried about their continuing or their ability to finish. I laugh when I hear Terrell say he was supposed to run tomorrow but does not see that happening. I need to try to ride tomorrow as part of my training, but we will see if I get out the door into the oven again. As Mr. Baker notes, summer did make us suffer, but I like to think that everyone else was also glad they rode knowing that in a few short months we will be wishing for riding days where we can go out in shorts and a jersey with no arm warmers or jackets or vests to tote along with us.
__________________________________________________________________________________
THE FOLLOWING IS FROM JON WINELAND ON HIS OBSERVATIONS DURING THE RIDE: I particularly like the story about seeking Tom Askew. Jon has a ready wit and a keen eye so I often enjoy hearing his observations.
After the first store stop, Mike Kamenish and I were some way behind Tom Askew and I called out that I could just see the orange spec of his jersey disappearing over the horizon of a hill some a mile or so distant. As we gained on him, that spec turned out to be the orange triangle on the back of an Amish buggy, and Mike accused me of calling Tom a horse’s ass. I said that, well, it could be an improvement. When we eventually caught up with Tom, I told him the story and he was amused.
And, speaking of the Amish, Mike and I were approaching an Amish man pounding in metal fence posts with a two-handed hammering device that fits over the post. Mike hadn’t spotted him yet and wondered whether the clanging noise was coming from his bike! It was hot work for such a day, and Mike said he could be riding his bike instead; I pointed out that the man’s bicycle was lying in the grass and that he’d probably ridden it to the worksite…with that enormous hammer in the basket, or as Mike said, perhaps in a jersey pocket.
On the return trip through Speed, there were a couple of funny signs on Highway 31.
One was at Speed Memorial Fellowship Hall, “Hot and Wet ? Party Inside” Punctuation is important.
Another was at Speed Memorial Church, which has a lighted sign out front, and it was advertising some church program called “Streams of Grace” with details underneath. Directly in my line of sight behind the sign was a man with a hose, watering plants by the front steps with a garden sprayer in the afternoon heat.
Silver Creek Senior High School also has a lighted sign out front, and I had noticed on our outbound journey that it said “ 8o° ” While mentally thanking Amelia for the earlier start and cooler temperatures, I did wonder why a smaller font had been chosen for the “0” in 80. Well, on the way back in the broiling afternoon, the sign still said “ 8o° ” So, I guess it would be right twice a day—eventually.
Jon
Finishing Groups:
Vince Livingston Group of 2 3:02 p.m.
Jon Wineland Group of 2 3:02 p.m.
Larry Preble Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Fritz Kopatz Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Keith Baldwin Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Glenn Smith Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Tom Askew Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Harley Wise Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Michael Kamenish Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Bob Grable Group of 8 3:30 p.m.
Thomas Nance Group of 3 3:45 p.m.
Terrell Brown Group of 3 3:45 p.m.
Melissa Hall Group of 3 3:45 p.m.
BY: Melissa Hall
"You have to motivate yourself with
challenges. That's how you know you
are still alive."
Jerry Seinfeld
I have been keeping an eye on the weather because the motel for the Tour de Mad Dog overnight requires 72 hours cancellation. I see it is not supposed to rain and we decide to hold the ride. Or maybe it is more accurate to say nobody mentions canceling so we don't. Then the weather prediction begins to worry me as the weather forecasters begin predicting heat in the 90's that will have a heat index of over one hundred. Poor Thomas has to stoically endure email after email from me as I worry about the upcoming ride.
The TMD always used to have an overnight, but somehow it got lost along the way. When I sent out a survey earlier this year, surprisingly, at least to me, respondents wanted to revive it. Personally, I always thought it was a shame that it was discontinued. I have so many fond memories of past overnights. Some were tour stages and some were not. I guess a favorite memory was the year Jim "Grizzly" Moore brought his guitar and song sheets for a sing along and we sang "Mad Dogs in the Sky." Not one time, but repeatedly;-) There was just enough alcohol involved that people participated fully. I can still hear Jim Tretter pounding the table and yelling, "One more time." And there was the year when we arrived Mike "Sparky" Pitt had provided Halloween masks for everyone. Or the year Steve Royse arrived too late for the sag. We stopped for clothes for him at a Goodwill near where we were staying. For anyone who is interested, Larry has a video memory of some of these events on Youtube. Somehow overnight adventures seem to accentuate the group bonding of the Mad Dogs.
Thomas Nance was kind enough to volunteer to captain but requested a co-captain. I waited hoping someone else would step up to the plate because each year I doubt my ability to do back to back centuries at this stage of my life plus I tend to be rather bossy and at 69 I am not going to change, but when nobody does I bite the bullet. Once we decide on a destination, I plan a route there and he plans the route home.
This was before knowing it would be scorching hot. Thus far I have always been successful on multi-day trips. Hopefully this will not be the year that changes, but if it is there are lessons we learn from failure. How little we would progress without the occasional failure. It is good to challenge yourself occasionally, to try new things or hard things or different things, to, as Seinfeld notes, know you are alive.
I think you miss a lot in life if you only do those things you are sure you can do successfully because it means limiting yourself and not really knowing for sure if you could or you could not. Sometimes it is good to put yourself outside your comfort zone. I have thought that about Lance Armstrong and his drug use. Could he have won once or even repeatedly without cheating? Neither he nor anyone else will ever know. Looking back, many of the things I regret are those things where I didn't accept a challenge or stretch myself a bit. But that does not mean that making the decision to take the plunge is always an easy one. I am, after all, a chronic worrier with an over active imagination.
Because of the hot weather prediction and worrying about how people will do, I sleep only a couple hours at best the night before, restless to the point where even Tom, the cat that always sleeps at the head of my bed, arches his back, stretches, and heads for the floor to sleep alone and undisturbed by the inconsiderate human who keeps tossing and turning. Everything is laid out and waiting for morning to arrive. Bottles half filled with water in the refrigerator waiting for last minute ice cubes. Clothing that is lighter in color. Sign in sheets and sign out sheets. Wallet. The preparation all made easier by knowing that there will be a sag vehicle and we will not be riding self-supported.
So at this point I want to give a few gigantic shout outs. Bob Evancho, I hope you realize you won the lottery the day you asked Molly to marry you and she accepted. Thank her again for being such a wonderful and dependable sag. Not many people would be willing to devote two entire days to carrying luggage, ice, and water for a group of dirty, smelly, sweaty cyclists. A huge shout out to Janet Bolen as well who also offered to provide some sag services if necessary. It was a huge relief knowing we had someone we could call if a rider needed assistance or a ride in. Not everyone has a spouse who is supportive of their hobby. These two ladies are and I hope their husbands appreciate it. Another shout out to Thomas Nance who was the first to agree to captain this throw back ride. Without our TMD ride captains, the TMD would cease to exist. And Thomas can always be counted on to captain rides as needed with the patience of Job himself.
Morning comes and I am surprised as car after car rolls into the parking lot. There are seventeen of us: Larry Preble, Bryan Holden, Tom Askew, Keith Baldwin, Jon Wineland, Bob Evancho, Glenn Smith, Thomas Nance, Jason Willis, David King, Tim Getloffuge, Fritz Kopatz, Joe Bolan, Ed Scharfenberger, Jeremiah Westendorf, Carilo Molina, and me. Four are not LBC members. I am surprised. Even without the heat, I did not expect this kind of attendance.
The parking lot fills with nervous anticipation as each of us nurses our hopes and fears for the coming days. I know that Jeremiah is only riding with us part of the way and is planning on turning around. Jon Wineland and Jason Willis are opting to go self supported: Jason because he is planning on a solo self-supported trip later this year and Jon because he is weird;-) (I can say that because Jon is a dear friend, because he IS rather off, because I have said it to his face many the time while also claiming the title as my own as well). Perhaps we are all weird, getting ready to ride two hilly century rides over two days in extreme heat without being acclimated and when most people are planning to be inside under the air conditioner or outside in the swimming pool. And then we have two who plan on riding there and back without staying all night. Of those two, only one will be successful: Bryan Holden.
One rider, and I am not sure who, has trouble with his brakes in the parking lot. I assume they get fixed because he rolls out with us into the already warm air at 7:00 a.m. heading for the Red Barn. But maybe not. I don't know Tim and never hear of or from him the rest of the ride. So perhaps it was him. But when we finish, the parking lot is empty so he evidently is not dead and forgotten somewhere out on the side of the course.
The route today is one that I planned. I have driven most, but not all of it. What I did not drive, I "thought" I knew and had taken roads from other rides going in that direction. But more on that later. I called Amos a couple of weeks ago telling him I would be bringing a group of riders in and he has promised to have Gatorade. I normally ride and don't drive my routes ahead of time as this tells you more about dogs and terrain, but this route is an exception as it would have involved an overnight stay.
The group stays together for longer than I expect. As we head for the first hill, a hill I have warned them about and that is shortly before the first store stop, the chatter begins. Everyone is in a good mood. Fritz and I chat a bit about the TMD jersey and other things. I speak with Bryan Holden for a bit recommending he consider PBP in the future since he apparently is comfortable with riding at night and with distance riding. Keith and I find that we have something in common besides a love of cycling. Both of us had siblings that were in accidents that caused them to be in a coma for a long period of time before awakening: his brother and my sister. Keith, Larry, and I talk a bit about loss and how hard it can be at times. In the end, you have no choice but to move it, but it is never easy if you have loved someone who is gone.
As we talk, groups begin to form and my group is the last to arrive at the Red Barn. I had thought I would be at the back alone most of the ride as my strategy was to ride even more slowly than usual, and I can no longer keep up with many of the riders. But this never materializes. Nobody stays long at the Red Barn as we want to make use of the cooler air. No, it is not cool, but we all know it is cooler than it will be in the afternoon. I do warn them of the hill ahead, the one Larry remembers that Cathy Hill named "The Wall," and I also warn them of the hills after the last store stop as we pass Paoli Peaks. While I have not faced them on a bike, they appear to be quite punchy when in a car. (I later find I am not incorrect).
On the long descent following our departure from the Red Barn, I notice someone's bottles flying out of their cages and spinning out across the road. It turns out to be Bob Evancho's bottles and Tom Askew, who was behind him, is dodging them. Fortunately, for we are flying due to the steepness of the descent, Tom and I both miss them. Bob has to turn around to retrieve his bottles and I wait. Today is not the day to not have water bottles full and ready. Hydration will be key. It reminds me of Medora one year when it was hot. Bernice lost her water bottles and did not stop because she did not think she could get them and catch the group or that the group would wait. I retrieved them for her. She would have definitely been in bad shape had I not done so. But having aged and slowed, I better understand her reluctance.
When we arrive at "the wall," I am with the group. By the time we finish the ascent, however, I am not. It was a huge decision for me whether to take the Lynskey with my triple or the Calfee. I chose the Calfee. I have climbed this hill numerous times on the Lynskey and it is one hard hill, but I have never done it on the Calfee. I am amazed at how hard I am struggling when my wheel turns a bit bumping my toe. And I am finished. It is clip out or fall. No way am I descending to start again and no way can I restart. So I walk cursing myself for hitting my toe, for being weak, and for bringing the wrong bike for the job. I also worry about the hills to come. At the top I notice that I was attempting to climb the hill in the big ring and relief washes over me. Tom Askew has waited for me at the top and we take off toward lunch together.
Shortly thereafter, what do we come to but......drum roll.......a gravel road. This is not supposed to be on the route. I have no idea how bad the gravel is or for how long. I have Dieseled the other riders telling them there is no gravel on the route when there obviously is. Fortunately the gravel is easily ridden and is only for only a short stretch, but as I am cracking up imagining the ribbing I will receive while simultaneously I worry if there will be more. Actually, as it turns out, there are very few comments about the gravel, maybe because it isn't bad, but I think how lucky I am that Diesel isn't there after the teasing we gave him. Diesel is, when people ask, per Jon Wineland, adultering this week-end. From what Jon told me, what he meant to say was adulting, but of course once adultering was mentioned it could not be dropped or let go of without a thorough teasing. There isn't more gravel, but I don't recognize these roads. The other routes that use these roads must use a different part of them. I ride and enjoy them and the company.
The orange day lilies are blooming as are the daisies and black-eyed Susan's. Despite the heat, everything is still quite green and lush from the recent rains. And I adore being on roads I do not ride regularly. Tom Askew tells me about different things throughout the ride as do others. While I knew he was in the service, I did not know that he played tennis and represented them at times.
We arrive at Orleans to find that the Dawg House is no more and the pizza place does not open until noon so everyone but Dave and Jon decide to eat at the Mexican Restaurant. I don't think the overnight riders stopped either or Joe Bolen. Tom and I arrive after the others and they originally want to seat us in another room but we end up sitting with Bob and Molly. The food is good and quicker than I expected. When they bring the checks, however, she does not take my credit card and obviously doesn't understand English well enough to understand that she put my meal on Tom's bill. Tom is fluent in German and knows some Spanish, indeed he ordered in Spanish, but decides not to press the issue. I try to give him money for my meal, but he declines. As we leave, I see Jeremiah on the street and he tells me he is turning around. Since the restaurant in about 60 miles in, he will get a century in today, but not one that counts toward the TMD. I bid him safe travels and later text him to ensure that he arrived back safely.
Seven of us basically ride together the rest of the ride. When a few get ahead of us, they wait for us and we regroup. It reminds me of the old days, no dog left behind. I don't remember if it was the first or second day, but at one point while re-grouping, we ride up to find the group conversing with a young, overweight young man on a bicycle. The boy is obviously flabbergasted that we have ridden our bikes there from Scottsburg. I wonder if he is trying to decide if we are lying. He is also seeing a bunch of adults riding bicycles. As a child, I never remember an adult on a bike: only children. I wonder if it will expand his perspective or give him ideas he might not otherwise ever have growing up in a rather small, rural, Indiana town.
A few streets later, this or another boy makes sure to show us up by riding in an area next to the road and passing us. Of course, he has a motor on his bike, but he is obviously quite proud of himself. Thomas and I talk a bit about bikes when we were kids. Thomas said his group was fascinated with Evel Knievel and would build ramps to jump on their bikes. To be young is to think one is invincible to harm, but what fun those exploits were. Perhaps, by choosing to ride today and face these harsh conditions, a little of that remains alive in us even as we age. I like to think so.
The next store stop is only about ten miles from the motel, but with the heat and the upcoming hills I recommend that everyone stop and top everything off. Fortunately, they listen because the heat is getting pretty intense. Dave was quite distraught at the previous store after finding they did not have ice cream. and I was in the dog house;-) This store, however, does not disappoint. I can feel the heat is beginning to tell on me. Earlier in the ride,when Keith has a flat, we begin to joke about others getting flats for a chance to stop and rest. ( At least I "think" it was day one. I find it hard to remain chronological on multi-day rides) At one point, Keith helps me out loaning me a tool to fix my loose water bottle cage. As lose as it turned out to be, I am lucky I noticed and stopped. Frankly, I would have continued to the next store before tightening it not wanting to hold up or lose the group, but they all encourage me to fix it now. Losing use of that cage due to a lose screw could have been disastrous. I am thankful I listened to them and owe them big time.
Luckily, there is also a fairly strong head wind that helps keep us cool enough the rest of the day. Not cool enough for comfort though, just cooler than we might otherwise have been. It is blazing hot and little of this part of the route is shaded. Each of us is coated with a shiny layer of sweat no matter how much we try to hydrate. I know there is no way we can adequately replace the sweat that is covering us. Time to begin monitoring urination. A weird topic, but one the is appropriate for distance riders who need to monitor color and frequency to best judge dehydration.
I walk portions of a few hills on those last miles into the motel only to always find the others waiting and we finish as a group other than a few riders that went ahead riding at their own pace. When we arrive we find that Camilo, who originally intended to ride back with Bryan, is done and trying to find a way home. Eventually, he does. Finishers for day 1 are as follows:
Jon Wineland: 3:23 Group of 1
Camilo Molina 4:00 Group of 2
Bryan Holden 4:00 Group of 2
Ed Scharfenberg 4:00 Group of 3
Fritz Kopatz 4:00 Group of 3
Glenn Smith 4:00 Group of 3
Melissa Hall 4:44 Group of 7
Larry Preble 4:44 Group of 7
Bob Evancho 4:44 Group of 7
Thomas Nance 4:44 Group of 7
Keith Baldwin 4:44 Group of 7
David King 4:44 Group of 7
Tom Askew 4:44 Group of 7
Jason Willis ? Group of 1
When we arrive, Fritz and Glenn are already in the swimming pool having gotten in before us. Jon Wineland has already showered and dressed as has Jason. A few of us walk to Dairy Queen for a post-ride milk shake, or, in Jason's case, blizzard. We agree to meet to walk across the street for pizza at 6:30 to give everyone time to shower and rest for a bit. At dinner, we don't all get to sit together but the service is fast and the pizza is good. When we order the pizza, Tom is ahead of me. The woman asks if we are together. This causes us to laugh as we avoid a repeat from lunch. Then when they bring the pizza the same thing happens. They ask if Tom and I are together. It appears this is going to become a joke on this ride.
A few of us order enough to have the extra for breakfast the following day. The others will pick something up at the store. At dinner Jon tells a funny story about the day. Ed was riding and being chased by a German Shepherd, first in the yard but then in the road when the fence line ended. When he realized Ed was too fast and far ahead for him to catch, he paused not knowing Jon was coming up behind him. Jon yelled and the dog jumped about three feet into the air before skedaddling back to his yard. Keith's wife has joined him and it was delightful to meet her though we were at separate tables so never got a change to chat. I wish we could have all had a table together and that the restaurant was less noisy, but at least we got fast, filling food.
After dinner, we decide that we want to leave earlier than scheduled to beat more of the heat. Bags are to be in the car by 6:00 and we ride at first light. I rather expect Jon to object as he did on my Montgomery overnight, but he does not. We walk to Dollar General to pick up a few more things for our rooms for breakfast as the breakfast places do not open until 7:00. After that, I don't know what anyone else does because I am tired. My head hits the pillow and I sleep. While they might have gone out dancing and partying once I departed, I strongly suspect most did the same.
When we gather in the morning, it is cooler than it will be but already in the seventies and quite humid. Thomas announces he is taking a bit off the route where we go past the hotel. This will mean we reach the climbs earlier. We head out into a misty morning and the worst of the climbs. The climbs are challenging but I don't ever struggle like the previous day. Sleep has restored me. The scenery is fantastic.
Keith later tells me that the mist made him feel as if he couldn't breathe for a bit on the hills and I understand where he is coming from. We hit two significant climbs almost immediately leaving French Lick. The air is so moist it is almost cloying. I suspect most of us feel the same. But the mist also accentuates the early morning beauty giving everything a haunting, mystical feeling. For some reasons it makes me think of a couple morning rides rolling out on TOKYO, a four day tour Steve Rice used to put on for the club. Those that did that ride will always share a bond, and I hope that we all end this ride feeling the same, that we look back on this trip with the pride of accomplishment and a shared adventure.
I actually feel much stronger than I did the prior day. Ed passes me on his recumbent going UP the hill, and I tease him about my shame at being passed by a recumbent going up a hill as if he has not been ahead of me the entire ride. I think how much I love overnight or multi-day trips, particularly in the mornings when everything is so fresh and roads are new and unknown. As I am contemplating this, I notice something. I crack up when I realize that Tom has on the same jersey I picked for the day. I later tease him that all we need is a tandem since on this trip everyone that does not know Tom is happily married to a wonderful person seems to think we are together.
I am really enjoying the new roads we are on and am so grateful to Thomas for putting this route together. We reach Marengo almost too quickly it seems despite the climbs. Not that I complain when Thomas tells me the major climbs are behind us. We follow Jeremiah's suggestion to stay on the highway as it is not busy this time of day. The official stop is Dollar General, but most of us opt for the gas station. When I go to us the restroom in the back, it is occupied and I find a group of old men gathered around a table drinking coffee. I ask them if this is the Liar's Club. They find this amusing and we engage in chatting for awhile. I giggle when one says he wishes he had legs like mine. I figure in ten more years, which I guess is about his age, I will wish I had legs like mine as well.
The second stop is in Palmyra. A couple of people on the ride begin to develop leg cramps that will hound them the rest of the day. They are offered Rolaids and Electrolytes and other fixes. These help but never completely remedy the problem. At lunch I notice Fritz has metal water bottles. I ask about them and he says he got them at Bob's. He said they really keep things cool. Someone asks him how they are for squirting dogs and he admits they don't work for that, but I still like the idea of no plastic and may pursue it in the future. I see Jason outside the lunch stop and he tells me he stopped at the grocery and is going on. I hug him and send him on his way asking that he text me when he gets back so I know he is in safely. I later learn that Jon missed the lunch stop and just rode on finishing with Jason.
At Salem, the third store stop, the day is telling on everyone, yet they are all positive and in a good mood. There is still joking and laughing and very little moaning or groaning even among those cramping. Everyone is determined to see this ride through, and remarkably they do. And seven of us finish as a group, encouraging, regrouping, making this happen. This would have been a demanding overnight without the unexpected heat. The hills both days were challenging and many. The fact that the heat just happened, slapping us in the face, made it tougher as nobody had been able to even begin to acclimate as you normally do with a few shorter rides. We return as proud conquerors of the hills, the heat, and ourselves. A few say it is the hardest ride they have ever completed. NO DOG LEFT BEHIND! A few had finished before our group. I hope they also had a joyful finish and not a "Thank God, it's finally over finish." We ARE still alive.
Tomorrow I will wake with part of me glad for the rest day that I see in my future, but there will be a part of me that is sad that I will not be swinging my leg over the top bar onto the bike for another day of adventure. WELL DONE DOGS~WELL DONE.
FINISHERS ON DAY TWO: FRENCH LICK TO SCOTTSBURG
Jon Wineland 1:47 Group of 2
Jason Willis 1:47 Group of 2
Fritz Kopatz 2:49 Group of 3
Glenn Smith 2:49 Group of 3
Ed Scharfenberger 2:49 Group of 3
Thomas Nance 3:22 Group of 7
Bob Evancho 3:22 Group of 7
Larry Preble 3:22 Group of 7
Melissa Hall 3:22 Group of 7
Keith Baldwin 3:22 Group of 7
David King 3:22 Group of 7
Tom Askew 3:22 Group of 7
See the June 2025 Newsletter HERE
See the May 2025 Newsletter HERE.
"I get the news I need on the
weather report. And I have nothing
to do today but smile."
Paul Simon
One of the worst things about ride captaining can be making decisions about whether to have or to cancel a ride due to weather. There are those days where it "might" rain or it "might" storm or there "might" be winds strong enough to knock a telephone pole. If you cancel, particularly if it doesn't rain or hail or storm or there is not a tornado, someone is always upset. If you don't and someone gets hurt or doesn't ride due to potential danger, you shoulder blame. But today is not one of those days. I have been holding my breath all week long waiting for the ax to fall, but it does not. Despite all the recent rain and wind, today is predicted to be partly sunny with light winds and a high of around seventy degrees; in other words, perfect cycling weather.
Story Century holds many memories for me. It is where Matt "Pocket Chicken" Tindal, someone who used to ride with us, got his name because he carried his lunch in his pocket. It is the century Mark "Deacon Dog" Rougeux and I rode one day when it literally poured buckets of rain all day long after we had assured ourselves before starting that the rain would stop. It was chilly that day, and Mark, on his recumbent, had to deal with finding that his riding position allowed rain to enter the sleeves of his rain jacket puddling in the arms. It was the century where Bill "Cisco" Pustow and a small group actually took the time to eat breakfast inside and how we laughed when the waitress was handing out bills and literally sang "William." It was the century where a man I didn't know showed up in new white shoes training for the RAIN ride and got so upset when we reached the gravel section even though it was advertised on the ride description saying, "You've got to be kidding me." (That section has since been rerouted by popular demand;-) And of course it is the century Jon "Lunchbox" Wineland and I rode just under two weeks ago to check the route arriving to find that the grill was not going and we would have to ride twenty two extra miles to find nourishment. I was NOT jovial by the time we reached Brownstown as the man who stopped to try to talk to us while we were searching for food found out when I did not respond to his bantering. And I could bore you and go on, but I will not.
It is a large crowd that gathers for the ride on this glorious day. Amelia Dauer, Tom Askew, Steven Sarson, Fritz Kopatz, Bob Grable, Larry Preble, David King, Harley Wise, John Dippold, Jon Wineland, Steve Rice, Bob Evancho, Keith Baldwin, Mark Rougeux, Jerry Talley, David Frey, Steve Puckett, Michael Kamenish, Terrell Brown, Ben Simmons, Jeremiah Wertendorf, and Glenn Smith all fill the parking lot. I ask Jerry if Sharon is coming today because, while I only see the back side of her riding off in the sunset, it is good to have other women riding. Sadly, he says she is not. And the parking lot is full. Any other riders would have had to park in the spill over lot. Dave King surprises me by not pulling into the parking lot with squealing tires about one minute before the ride start. Instead Glenn Smith and another rider are the last to arrive.
The parking lot fills with the sound of chatter, laughter, and bicycle sounds: brakes tested, front wheels put back on, bikes being tested. Meanwhile, the sky is blue with a few clouds. The air has a bit of a bite in it, but it is one of those days when one knows the chill is quite temporary and will be tempered quickly by the sultry the sun. I tease Mark Rougeux when he is talking about something and says, "Just call me stupid." I announce that a new Mad Dog is born. I warn everyone not to go out too fast, that the hills are almost all in the middle of the ride, and to stop at stop signs as they are there for a reason. I also ask embarrass myself, as usual, by not recognizing Ben. Ben loses the ability to gain a point as a new rider when he admits to having ridden with us previously.
Of course, we all disregard my warning, at least about going out lickety-split, and the fun begins. Amelia is the first to notice that we are going 17 to 18 mph, a pace the front riders will probably hold but those of us in the back will not. Being sensible and not wanting the end to turn into a death march, she reels some of us in the back to more sustainable pace. I am grateful for this. While nobody bonks on the ride today, this may be one of the reasons. Even the back of the pack today averages 15.4.
When we reach the Shield's covered bridge, of my group, only Steven Sarson and I ride through the bridge. The others take the new road. Steve Puckett stops to take a photograph and I wait. It does not take us long to catch up. Shortly thereafter is the first climb. It is not much of a climb, but your legs do know it IS a climb and after all the flat tend to protest. After we crest, we near the first store. I think of how many stores there were when I first put this route together. Three no longer in business.
Jokingly, I ask the group if I should announce Mark's new Mad Dog moniker: Stupid Dog. Steven tells me that Mark is now appearing on television locally and Steve P. also has seen him. He is dressed in his religious attire as a Deacon. Steven suggests calling him Deacon Dog. Later I will make the announcement only to be reminded that Mark has two other Mad Dog names; Rocky and Ass Whisperer. You can ask him about those nicknames;-) Oh, my memory. Isn't old age wonderful?
There are two possible first stop stops in Freetown: Dollar General and Denney's. Normally, unless I have to use the bathroom, I like to stop at Denney's supporting what is an old country store, not the restaurant. But because of the bathroom, everyone stops at Dollar General. It is a long stop as a woman beats the group to the restroom and is in no rush to depart. One bathroom, 23 riders, and one woman who is having issues. You do the math.
I laugh at John when he tells me he was about to pop on arrival as there is no place on the first of the route to stop. And there isn't. It is mostly flat farmland other than the one hill mentioned previously and there is no forest. While I have always asserted it is easier for a man to relieve himself during a ride than a woman, (other than France where they don't seem to care if you pull your pants down at the side of the road) it is not easy for either without the cover of corn fields or trees. Earlier, before the ride started, I failed to recognize John. It is odd how different people look without their helmets on. Once again, I know who he is.
We head onward toward Story. This is where the hills begin. I forgot to remind everyone that the hill we used to have to walk because the road had cracked and slid halfway down the hill and they had closed it placing gravel at the top had finally been mended. It is not a terribly long hill, but it is a terribly steep hill, as Joe Ward used to say, a "gut buster." Now, with the road being open, there is no excuse to walk. Everyone clambers up only to face the hills that will assault us until lunch. Still, this middle section is my favorite part of the ride. I notice daisies in the fields for the first time. Some of the fields have the yellow flower cover. I even see a few corn plants that are showing themselves.
When we arrive at Story, a group of five, most of the others are there. There are a few that have not stopped, but the majority have. We order at the grill and sit outside chatting and listening to the guitar player. He looks to be a few years older than me and many of his songs are from my younger years. Lunch at Story is never cheap, and I forewarned riders in the ride description, but something happens this time that has never happened on our prior visits.
Some of us order potato chips with our meal. In the past, they have always given us a bag of chips. Amelia gets her food first and there are about 5 potato chips. When I get mine, there are "maybe" five, four or which are crumbled into small bits. Others have the same experience. I later joke about at least there were five since nobody can eat just one. (Older readers will get that). I am told that Keith had the good sense to complain and received more. The rest of us eat our four or five potato chips, our sandwich, and move on. As we are leaving, I notice that the people that ordered after us got full bags of chips. I joke to Amelia that it really wasn't fair as those people had not ridden sixty miles to get there and didn't NEED a whole bag of potato chips.
We leave with smiles on our faces ready to meet the worst and last hill a few miles down the road. It is long and is one of those hills that rather than having the steep part at the bottom and flattening out, has the steeper part near the top. But we climb with the knowledge that once this hill is properly vanquished, there will be no more until Brownstown. After all, Garmin tells us so.
By now it is Tom Askew, Amelia Dauer, Bob Grable, Steve Sarson, Steve Puckett, and myself. I joke with Bob that he is going to lose his first place in the standings if Larry finishes with a large group. Bob banters back that maybe one of us could have a flat tire and he could stop and help. We make it to Brownstown. The middle group is just finishing when we arrive. Some of us go to Dairy Queen and some to the gas station before heading back out and making the last significant climb of the day. It is a short but very steep scarp, one of those climbs that somehow looks easier than it is. But everyone makes the climb for the last flat stretch toward home.
I assume that we must have had at least a light tail wind just from the speed with with we finish those last few miles. Somewhere along the way, we pick up Glenn who went off course and picked up a few miles. I later learn that Jeremiah also went off course and added quite a few miles. Not even the normal stampede for the barn accounts for our increased speed.
When we arrive, most have left but a few are there and spend time chatting before heading out, some to join me for dinner at Cracker Barrel and others for their homes. Diesel sticks the water bottles he borrows in the pockets on the back of my jersey and everyone laughs when he teases that he is playing with my jugs. It is always good to end a ride with jokes and laughter. No known mechanicals on the ride. No known flats. No spills or accidents. No bonking or DNF's. It was a good cycling day. Thanks, all, for your great attitudes and coming out to play!
Steve Rice: 3:30 p.m. Group of 2
Mark Rougeux: 3:30 p.m. Group of 2
_________________________________________________
John Dippold: 3:55 p.m. Group of 3
Fritz Kopatz: 3:55 p.m. Group of 3
Jerry Talley: 3:55 p.m. Group of 3
_______________________________________
Bob Evancho: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
Larry Preble: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
Jon Wineland: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
Keith Baldwin: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
Harley Wise: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
David Frey: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
Michael Kamenish: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
Jeremiah Westerdorf: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
Ben Simmons: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
David King: 4:14 p.m. Group of 10
____________________________________
Glenn Smith 4:37 p.m. Group of 8
Terrell Brown: 4:37 p.m. Group of 8
Tom Askew: 4:37 p.m. Group of 8
Steven Sarson: 4:37 p.m. Group of 8
Steve Puckett: 4:37 p.m. Group of 8
Melissa Hall 4:37 p.m. Group of 8
Amelia Dauer: 4:37 p.m. Group of 8
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