Traci at the rest stop.

Shake Down, Break Down

I guess you have to take the good with the bad. Yesterday was good. Today was bad. The ride didn't turn out as I planned and I left a friend out on the road. I don't like that feeling.

The plan was simple. Traci W. wanted to do a shake down ride with her new bike and paniers so she rode from Dodge City toward my house in Garden City. I rode out to meet her half way and then we pedaled back into town. It was a fun day and the 61 miles slipped away. We had a tough stretch as we turned into the wind for a long uphill section but we made it back to town just in time to enjoy lunch at a local Mexican food restaurant. Then it was on to my house for camping lessons!

Camping on my lawn!

This was a chance for Traci to see if she had forgotten anything or needed to re-evaluate any of her equipment. Traci is planning a 10 day bike tour of the San Juan Islands in Washington state. I watched and learned as she set up her tent in my back yard. I'm not a camper so this was all new to me. She made it look so easy but I'm sure if I would try it would take me hours to do what she did in minutes. I picked her brain about all sorts of biking and camping gear and learned so much. Maybe someday I'll try camping, but I'm not quite there yet. I went to bed with achy knees and shoulders and a tender (a hmmm) lower region. Nothing that a good nights sleep couldn't cure.

Drying her tent on the airport sign as I changed a flat.

Saturday morning started with a low tire. The rear tire has been giving me fits for a while and after having 2 flats on one ride I have started carrying 2 tubes and a frame mounted pump. I aired the tire up and it seemed fine. The morning was beautiful and we were scooting right along. Then things went down hill, and I'm not talking about the road. At the 6 mile mark I noticed the tire dragging and stopped to check. Yup, it was low so I pumped it up. Traci warned me that I would need to change it anyway soon so at the 10 mile mark I stopped again. It was time to change that tube.

Repacking her tent and ready to roll.

I have changed flats before so I got to work. Traci took this opportunity to dry out her rain-fly from her tent, hanging it on the Regional Airport sign. There was a small wire sticking through the tire and after pulling it out and getting the tire back on the rim we were ready to pump. But for some reason the new tube wouldn't take air. Well, rats. We tested the tube before putting it back in but now, nothing. We even wasted a can of air trying to get it inflated. It just wouldn't air up.

Time to pull out spare tube number 2. I took the tire off the rim again and put the next tube on and low and behold, it held. We were back in business and headed down the road. I told Traci that now I had to go all the way to Dodge with her because I didn't have another tube and didn't want to ride back home without one.

Things were going along great until mile 15. You guessed it, the tire was flat again. Now we had to break out Traci's patch kit and fix one of the tubes. It's a pretty simple task if you have the right equipment and Traci does, of course. We found the hole the wire had made and fixed it right up. By this time I was getting pretty good at changing tires but my hands were getting sore and I don't think I'll get the chain grease out for days. I looked at the clock and we had been on the road for almost 3 hours and made 15 miles. Not a good day at all.

Traci riding off in the distance.

We were back on the road and feeling the wind a little more. My heart sank to my toes when my tire went flat AGAIN! We had not even made another 1 1/2 miles. This was not going to work. I was so frustrated and aggravated and disappointed, but I had to call a halt to my part of the ride and send Traci on her way alone. At this rate it would be evening before we made it to Dodge City. I know she's a big girl and riding the roads by herself is nothing new but I still felt like I was abandoning her. A call to my wonderful Hubby had a ride on the way to pick me up, a mere 16.5 miles from home. 

So, I didn't get the mileage I was looking for but I did learn from this experience. I will be getting a patch kit, and carrying canned air along with my pump. I learned that camping is not like living on Mars, but the right equipment is key. I will be getting a new tire to replace my old one, along with some new tubes (I want to start fresh). And I learned that sometimes you have to say, "enough". That was a hard call to make but the right one. I can't thank Traci enough for all her patience and helpful tips. I feel I know a lot more then I did two days ago but still don't know near enough. Right now I'm waiting to hear from her to let me know she made the 45 miles to home without any trouble. Not finishing a ride is a yucky feeling, and knowing I let a friend down even more so. Sorry, Traci. 

Never a Dull Moment

If nothing else, getting out on the road and into the pool keeps things interesting. There is always something happening to keep me on my toes. This week was no exception, with everything from grasshopper attaches to a ride in a State Trooper vehicle.

I don't have a big race in the near future so I'm just doing what I want workout wise for a few weeks. It's nice not to have to follow a plan for a little while and I'm enjoying it immensely. I'm still doing something everyday but on my own time and at my own pace.

On the day I went swimming I didn't time it very well. It was another triple digit temperature day and it seems the hotter the air the colder the water feels. I'm not one to just plunge into the water. I inch down bit by bit, slowly letting my body adjust to the cold. It was taking a good long while to get up the nerve to sink my body down but I finally got all the way in. Then the whistle blew for break time and everyone had to get out of the pool. What?!! I just got used to the water and they want me to get out? Yup. I spent the next 20 minutes baking on the side of the pool.

My long run was through the sage brush and I felt like I was in a really bad disaster movie. Grasshoppers were everywhere and jumping on my legs as I ran. Believe me I was doing some really interesting moves to bat them off as I ran. I wish I was talented enough to write a really bad movie about Attack of the Killer Grasshoppers.

But my ride was the most interesting workout of the week. The forecast was for little wind in the morning so I decided to head out for a 40 mile ride. I started nice and early with energy gels, fruit chews, plenty of water and everything I thought I might need for a long ride. Things were fine until about 10 miles into the ride when my rear tire went flat. No problem. I carry a spare tube and a can of compressed air for just that reason. This was the first time I changed a tire by myself and was taking my time and being careful. After only 10 minutes I was back on the road, my hands greasy from the chain and feeling pretty proud of myself.

That is until I got a second flat on the same tire 5 miles later. That was a problem. No more tubes and no more air in the can. That made me 15 miles from home and a long way from anywhere out on the highway. I knew my Hubby was working a good 50 miles away and would not be happy if he had to come pick me up. I started walking back home and called him to get the phone number of a neighbor lady that I though could come and pick me up. Between bad cell reception and loud trucks we got cut off a few times and when we finally got connected a State Trooper had just pulled up behind me. He offered to put my bike in the back of his SUV and drive me home. What timing!

Between adventures and misadventures it's been a full week. I learned some lessons and laughed at my own goofs and blunders. Life truly is full of interesting stories and adventures if you just get out of the door and look for them. Never a dull moment!

Medal of Honor

There is a box in my workout room that holds my bib numbers. I save every one of them and write down the race, date, distance, and time on them. I save my training calendars with the squares colored in and print-outs of race results. I keep the coolest swag items and the neatest bags. And, yes, I keep my medals there too.

Living where I do has it's advantages. The races aren't huge so you don't get lost in the crowd. And if the fast old ladies don't enter I sometimes manage to bring home a little bling. But what's the prize worth when there is no one there to compete against? Some would say "not a lot". And I might have said that too in my younger days. But looking at that box of medals made me realize something. I'm still running.

When I see the fit men and women who enter these races I can't help but be humbled. They are so fast and so smooth and so, so, so much better then me. When I step up to the line I feel like an imposter. Someone pretending to be an athlete. They work hard and train hard and have God given talent and man-made technique. They leave me in the dust and make it look so easy as I'm sweating up a storm and gasping for every breath as my hips and knees scream at me. They deserve those medals and the recognition of a job well done.

But when there are only a few in my age group I start to get that competitive drive and I think, maybe, just maybe, I can do well enough to place. If I pace myself just right and suck it up at the end, or in the middle, or just after the first mile, then I might actually win something, even if it is another medal to throw in the box. I try a little harder and push a little more and run some of my best races when there are only a few competitors in my group.

More importantly, I feel those medals are a badge of honor for sticking it out and showing up at a race. As I get older that becomes even more of an accomplishment. Every time I pin on a bib I'm proving to myself that age is just a number.

I have run in a few races were I was the only person in my group. I have been know to sneak a peak at the registration sheet looking for ladies my age to size up the competition. I've even come right out and asked how old someone was after we crossed the finish line in almost a dead heat. My favorite shirt says "Don't pass me, I'm not in your age group." But it's all in fun. In the younger groups there is more competition and so those medals are more precious and harder to get. But when you are in the "Masters" division, it's all about outlasting the other old ladies! I'll take those medals no matter how they come my way and throw them in the box. When I look back on them, I'll know they are awards for stepping up to the line at an age when many are sitting back and watching from the sidelines. They truly are my badge of honor.