The Davis Bike Club picked a perfect California fall day for their Foxy's Fall Century. Not hot, not cold, just right. The Davis club did an amazing job with support and traffic control. I've never been on a ride with so many police-controlled intersections. It must have cost a fortune. It certainly made a lot of busy roads more fun.
We got started at 7:04, just as the sky started to brighten. Our friends Dan and Steve were still in registration line. We guessed they'd catch us after the first rest stop, but instead they blew past before we got there. They ended up kicking it in at 6 hours, and only stopped for 11 minutes all day.
Tricia and I took a much more leisurely approach, and ended up with a 6:37 rolling time and a lot more down time.
Tricia keeps a road kill count. I have no idea why, and I'm not sure she knows either. But I report them here none the less.
1 raccoon
1 possum
3 squirrels
2 furry remains of indeterminate origion.
Other more interesting and less gross sights:
When we rejoined the shorter route there was a bouncer-size man in a track suit looking jacket with the words "Diva Security" and a bike on the back. It looked very cool. Then, twenty feet in front was a woman in purple on a comfort bike with a bike licence plate that read "Bike Diva."
We also collected several complements on our Northern California jerseys, always a nice experience.
I need to get my pocket camera fixed. Trying to shoot from the bike with the iPhone just isn't working.
Sorry about the blow by pass with barely a hello. It was just one of those days when the legs did a reverse Jens Voigt and told my brain to shut up. Here is what they said:
ReplyDelete"Brain, we want to ride. we mean, we wanna, we
wanna ride. Ride. we wanna, we wanna mash, we wanna need fuel and electrolytes, have veins gorged with blood. Suck salty cliff blocks. We mean ride, Ride,
RIDE, RIDE." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "RIDE, RIDE," and
Steve started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down
yelling, "RIDE, RIDE." And a Davis volunteer came over, put a wrist band on me,
sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."