Around here (in the ATX), 7am May rolls are the best. Here is why:
1. Bubba usually sleeps off his hangover, and his pullout couch is a much less dangerous weapon than his Doolie. (Unless you are the last girl at Midnight Rodeo)
2. Temps at 7am are crisp and cool, with descents sometimes offering three distinct temperature zones. Like the basement in summer. If you live up North, where basements offer respite from tornadoes and your mom's prying eyes.
3. Texas wind, like Bubba (see #1) typically wakes up later. Much like Bubba, if it gets up early, it can be a real asshole.
4. Karl Marx may have been a cyclist. Friends willing to get out for a 7am ride are likely to do a lot of work in the front, and a good peloton operates best as a socialist collective.
5. Finishing a 4 hour ride before noon is critical. Post-lunch cycling is for dessicated frogs and the insane.
Big Crowd started our 4-hour tour today. 7am roll from the French Bakery. Badger, ME and Ullrich rolled east to Lola, where we hooked up with Hot Rod Lincoln, two of his buddies (Steve and Borat?), Growleur, and of course, the Ticket. GF was also s'posed to join us, so we hung around for a few minutes.
At 7:35, with no evidence that the Dr had rolled out of bed, much less up Bee Cave, I told him via text to "catch us on the way to Fitzhugh". Off we went.
Down BC Hill, where (Jack C is still in the top 3 of the Steep Shot), up Governor's Hill and on toward Old Bee Cave Road. Borat led the way on this stretch, stoically churning, jaw set. A man of few words. Is nice!
Circle Drive was more of the same, a long, stringy paceline interrupted by the occasional buzz by a Bubba-o-the-morning. Those guys are typically very unhappy, MEthinks. I digress.
Our turn on to Fitzhugh was rewarded by the arrival of the Dr. He turned himself inside out to catch us, as evidenced by the snot hanging from his chin, and the obvious marks of suffering borne by the lone rider.
The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.
--Karl Marx
While Karl may have been totally wrong in his overall economic thesis, he nailed this quote.
The Dough turned up the heat a bit post-arrival of the Dr. (For those that know Jeff, that sentence was wholly unnecessary). Solid, but not overcooked tempo to the Olive Farm. For loyal readers, this is the location of my Buddy the Elf story a number of years back. There we lost Lincoln and his Logs, who opted to turn back rather than suffer any more of our company, proving their impeccable judgment in character! Thanks for rolling with us fellas! I love your movies!
Shortly thereafter we also lost the Badger, who had to cut the roll short. An amateur carpenter, he had to get back his den to complete some intricate woodworking project or such. He was also gassed, as he hadn't been on the bike in awhile. Good to have him back in the Pelo!
We then headed out toward Ewan MacGregor Lane, where the Obi Wan of Dripping Springs (Ray Moore) was doing some crazy-ass 100 mile climbfest with his equally insane acolytes. Dan, that's you. And you too Dean. On the way we ran into the Dean of Pain (Wayne-don't call me Zig-Ziegler) and his buddy Glenn North. Having not caught up with those guys in awhile, we literally stopped in the middle of the road on Fitzhugh, creating a very interesting navigation challenge for the flatbed crowd that drives that stretch. Always good to see Wayne, particularly when I don't have to hold his wheel.
On we went, bypassing the MacGregor lane loop and opting to spin Sycamore loop. Apparently Dykes named this the Taco Loop, as the elevation changes once conjured a taco from his belly. Not magically of course. Just the common vomit response. This story got us really excited about the loop. But we did it anyway. It was absurdly steep in spots, but generally a beautiful track. And the vomit had been washed away, so it smelled pretty good out there too.
After Sycamore, we refueled at Dan's truck. Thanks Ray and Dan! You guys are gracious hosts, no doubt. We took some water, and left some water, then rolled back. Spirited tempo up to 290, where some mental suffering was traded for the physical type.
Smooth roll back home, no Bubba-buzzes, no controversy. Home by noon. Is Nice!
1. Bubba usually sleeps off his hangover, and his pullout couch is a much less dangerous weapon than his Doolie. (Unless you are the last girl at Midnight Rodeo)
2. Temps at 7am are crisp and cool, with descents sometimes offering three distinct temperature zones. Like the basement in summer. If you live up North, where basements offer respite from tornadoes and your mom's prying eyes.
3. Texas wind, like Bubba (see #1) typically wakes up later. Much like Bubba, if it gets up early, it can be a real asshole.
4. Karl Marx may have been a cyclist. Friends willing to get out for a 7am ride are likely to do a lot of work in the front, and a good peloton operates best as a socialist collective.
From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.
--Karl Marx5. Finishing a 4 hour ride before noon is critical. Post-lunch cycling is for dessicated frogs and the insane.
Big Crowd started our 4-hour tour today. 7am roll from the French Bakery. Badger, ME and Ullrich rolled east to Lola, where we hooked up with Hot Rod Lincoln, two of his buddies (Steve and Borat?), Growleur, and of course, the Ticket. GF was also s'posed to join us, so we hung around for a few minutes.
At 7:35, with no evidence that the Dr had rolled out of bed, much less up Bee Cave, I told him via text to "catch us on the way to Fitzhugh". Off we went.
Down BC Hill, where (Jack C is still in the top 3 of the Steep Shot), up Governor's Hill and on toward Old Bee Cave Road. Borat led the way on this stretch, stoically churning, jaw set. A man of few words. Is nice!
Circle Drive was more of the same, a long, stringy paceline interrupted by the occasional buzz by a Bubba-o-the-morning. Those guys are typically very unhappy, MEthinks. I digress.
Our turn on to Fitzhugh was rewarded by the arrival of the Dr. He turned himself inside out to catch us, as evidenced by the snot hanging from his chin, and the obvious marks of suffering borne by the lone rider.
The only antidote to mental suffering is physical pain.
--Karl Marx
While Karl may have been totally wrong in his overall economic thesis, he nailed this quote.
The Dough turned up the heat a bit post-arrival of the Dr. (For those that know Jeff, that sentence was wholly unnecessary). Solid, but not overcooked tempo to the Olive Farm. For loyal readers, this is the location of my Buddy the Elf story a number of years back. There we lost Lincoln and his Logs, who opted to turn back rather than suffer any more of our company, proving their impeccable judgment in character! Thanks for rolling with us fellas! I love your movies!
Shortly thereafter we also lost the Badger, who had to cut the roll short. An amateur carpenter, he had to get back his den to complete some intricate woodworking project or such. He was also gassed, as he hadn't been on the bike in awhile. Good to have him back in the Pelo!
We then headed out toward Ewan MacGregor Lane, where the Obi Wan of Dripping Springs (Ray Moore) was doing some crazy-ass 100 mile climbfest with his equally insane acolytes. Dan, that's you. And you too Dean. On the way we ran into the Dean of Pain (Wayne-don't call me Zig-Ziegler) and his buddy Glenn North. Having not caught up with those guys in awhile, we literally stopped in the middle of the road on Fitzhugh, creating a very interesting navigation challenge for the flatbed crowd that drives that stretch. Always good to see Wayne, particularly when I don't have to hold his wheel.
On we went, bypassing the MacGregor lane loop and opting to spin Sycamore loop. Apparently Dykes named this the Taco Loop, as the elevation changes once conjured a taco from his belly. Not magically of course. Just the common vomit response. This story got us really excited about the loop. But we did it anyway. It was absurdly steep in spots, but generally a beautiful track. And the vomit had been washed away, so it smelled pretty good out there too.
After Sycamore, we refueled at Dan's truck. Thanks Ray and Dan! You guys are gracious hosts, no doubt. We took some water, and left some water, then rolled back. Spirited tempo up to 290, where some mental suffering was traded for the physical type.
Smooth roll back home, no Bubba-buzzes, no controversy. Home by noon. Is Nice!
