Hotter ‘n Hell 2011~ The Tortoise and the Hare

The groans of anguish were deafening, when we told our three kids that we would be making a slight detour through Wichita Falls, on our way home from an out of town wedding Friday night.  They quickly flashed back to “Mom’s Epic Eleven Hour HHH Ride of 2010″.  They feared that it would be eleven hours of their lives that they would never get back.  The college boy immediately wanted to know if Wichita Falls had WIFI, the middle child (of course) wanted to know if there were any STARBUCKS nearby, and the youngest one wanted it clarified, “…exactly how many times can I call you on your ride until you start yelling at me?”  I assured the kids that this time we wouldn’t be doing the 100 mi. because of the late arrival into Wichita Falls, and all the wedding revelry the night before, the 100k was just about all that Mom could handle this year.

Getting three unwilling kids (or as they referred to themselves as “hostages”) up at 5:30 am on a Saturday was no small feat, let me tell you.  We left our offspring at the START, with their electronic devices, and plenty of “bribe money” to keep them well stocked in French fries, funnel cake, and STARBUCKS until our return.  Because of our desire/guilt of getting our children somewhat placated for their long wait, we had a late start and missed the group of friends that we had intended on riding with.  Which meant that now, Rick and I were going to have to ride together….alone.  And for some reason, this is something my husband usually prefers not to do.

On the occassions when Rick finds himself “stuck” with me on a ride, he comes up with little games to keep me as he would say, “Focused”.  This time the game was ” The Ride within the Ride”.  As we rode along he instructed me to find someone on the ride “to beat”.  Once I picked the person out, I could not let him/her beat me to the finish.  “One thing for sure,”  Rick said, “NEVER let a guy riding a bike and  WEARING A BELT beat you.”  And that’s when I noticed that the guy that we were about to pass was wearing blue jean cut-offs, knee high brown socks, loafers, AND A BELT.  Rick looked and me and whispered loudly, “That’s your guy to beat.”  We had a good chuckle as we sailed on past him.

We were making great time, and were confident that we would make it back by mid-morning….and most importantly, before the kid’s Starbucks rations had run dry.  Unfortunately for my husband, I don’t have the iron bladder that he does.  And with each long line that I stood in at the port-o-potties, Rick would remind me of how I “was holding him back”.  He also implied that with each rest stop that I visited, the closer the guy with the belt and brown socks would come to catching up with us.

It was somewhere around mile 40-50 that Rick got his first flat for the day.  Of course, I was told that he probably got the burr in his tire from one of MY many rest stops.  His second flat occurred just before the Air Force Base.  Again, I was reminded that this flat was more than likely wife induced from yet another one of my numerous rest stops.  Just about the time we rode past all the jets on the tarmac…the third tube popped.  That concluded our supply of spare tubes and canisters, so Rick decided to walk his bike to the base where the repair tent was.  I felt that at that particular moment, it wouldn’t be prudent for me to suggest that HE could possibly be the one holding ME back now, so I bit my lip and rode on to the rest stop and waited for him.  As we approached the repair tent, there was a long line of wounded bikes waiting to be healed by the great bike gurus.  And lo and behold, to our surprise, at the front of the line, was none other than….Ol’ Brown Socks!

We looked at each other in horror, when we realized that we were having a “Tortoise and the Hare Moment”….because the guy wearing a belt….was NOW IN THE LEAD.  How could that happen??!!  Of course, each of us blamed the other.  Rick insisted that Brown Socks caught up while I was standing in my many port-o-potty lines.  And I on the other hand, just knew that it happened at some point during his three flats.  None of us wanted to take the blame for Brown Socks being ahead of us.  Despite the sheer panic I felt for the situation that I was in, he seemed like a very nice guy.  I almost felt guilty for wishing yet another mechanical to befall him so that I could take the lead again.  He thanked the men for repairing his bike and moved on.  He then vanished into the crowd of people devouring cookies and oranges.  Every once in a while I would see him weave in and out of the crowd, visiting with folks and not seeming to be in any hurry.  I frantically looked from our place in line to see where he went, hoping that he would hang there for awhile so as not to get too far ahead of us.

When Rick’s bike was finally finished, we jumped on our bikes and headed off to try and catch the guy with the belt.  I didn’t even get to savor the cute little Air Force guys cheering us on, because I was so “focused” on my “Ride Within the Ride Game” and beating Ol’ Brown Socks.  I’d like to pretend that somehow I beat Brown Socks to the Finish Line, but I’m afraid that the “guy with the belt” beat me at my own game.  I rode as fast as I could, crossed the finish line, but never found Brown Socks.  However, I did find our three kids waiting patiently for us, sick of frappucinos and French fries….and more than ready to go home.