|The Beach Ride starts out right.|
I was riding with some new friends on a Wednesday Night ride and telling old stories from rides I've been on in the past. I'm guilty of doing that when I'm with new people. Especially if there's someone with us that's fairly new to riding. Anyhow, I thought I'd write down some of my favorite stories for posterity. Or maybe it's because I didn't ride my bike this weekend and consequently have no story to tell. Either way I figure you're reading my blog and it's better than some diatribe about my trainer workout.
For this first installment of Riding Stories I've chosen to highlight a couple of my favorites from the infamous Beach Rides. These rides are where I cut my teeth as a roadie. They served as my first real "mileage". My first large group ride. My first experience with saddle sores, bonking, dehydration, and public nudity. I'll explain that one later.
The Beach Ride was put on every year by Kelly Parham. Kelly is a legend in North Georgia cycling circles. He's a beast. There isn't an endurance race that doesn't have his name on the list. Those who know him can vouch for this too; he's a kind and helpful guy with a big big heart.
|Kelly Parham's latest crazy adventure.|
|2009 Beach Ride|
|2008 Beach Ride|
I'd seen enough. So I started looking over his shoulder up the road for some city limit sign that would tell me that food was near. And then I saw it. A giant, bloody, fly infested pile of road kill. So I waited to see the motion from Mike that let us know about it. Any second he would check behind for cars and move to the left. But he didn't move? I looked again...the nasty heap was still there...only closer. I slowed to give him room to maneuver and checked behind me for cars. Mike stayed steady. When we got within 50 meters of it I made the signal for Mike and moved slightly to the inside. As we approached the mound of flesh tried to remain calm, because in a pace line you're supposed to remain calm, and just as he was about to reach the point of no return I said "Mike!"
He calmly proceeded to bunny hop the road kill. And I un-calmly proceeded to scream at him for not telling anybody it was there. He said he knew we knew. Maybe he did. But I think I've shown this to be a lesson on what not to do when you see road kill.
Dog Gone Too Far
|Beach riders invade Subway|
The dog T-boned a telephone pole. Right in the rib cage. I could hear all the air leave the dog and then there was only silence as we rode on by. No yelping or whining. Just the normal cycling sounds of tires and cassettes. I guess that dog had run farther than it had ever been before because it had no idea there was a pole there.
We rode on without speaking...and I couldn't handle it. I finally yelled, "Did anybody else see that?"
It was the best story told at dinner that night.
In another post I'll write down some more stories from my Beach Ride adventures. It will probably be at another time when I've just laid in bed instead of getting up on a Saturday morning to ride. But if I hadn't been there when my youngest got up I would've missed her telling me she dreamed about flying cupcakes.? Man, I love my girls.
This weekend I'm traveling down to Newton County with Star Bridges. We're going to race the Crit and Road Race. I can't wait for some great racing!
See you out there!