Father’s day stuff (pt 2)

(a continuation of an entry I started writing back on 6/17. When I finished the entry, I discovered it was too long for the page. To read the first part, you will need to skip back 30 days)

Since my knee hadn’t been cleared by the doctor yet, I was going to work the ride instead. The Capitol Classic is one of two of our bike club’s signature rides. The other, The Cottonwood, didn’t roll this year for lack of administrative volunteers (half our board has stopped coming to meetings). So my knee was a gratuitious injury as far as the ride goes.

This was my first time participating in a planned tour like this, and I had no idea what to expect. Thus I was there a little early of my needed time. I loaded my truck with a table and bags of groceries. I was going to be working the first SAG stop on our tour – myself and one other guy. Our tour has 3 different ride lengths (as most do – 25, 65, and 100 miles) but all of the riders would go past this stop.

A few minutes before the race was to begin, we drove out to the location – an abandoned driveway on the county line. My friend and I barely set everything up when the first rider approached. He had left early, well ahead of the pack, and was glad to see us.

About half an hour later, the riders started pouring through. A SAG stop is a refreshment stop on a bike tour. We have mix-your-own Gatoraide and water, plus banana’s, cookies, and bread and PB & J for sandwhiches. There are also Fig Newtons and what not. Plus we have toilet paper and a tire pump and first aid.

It was a blast. As an introvert, I don’t enjoy “meeting” lots of new people all at once. On the other hand, I love being able to stand behind a table, distancing myself from others, and saying “Here, have a banana! You’re making great time! Nice bike!” It was a very easy way to “meet everyone” without wearing myself out.

The SAG went well except we ran out of supplies. One of the other board members brought another bag of goods, and those too were all but used up. In the end, the scraggling riders all ate PB&J because thats what we’ve got – and you’ll like it! *laughs* Another rider had suffered 2 flats already.

I saw some friends from the community whom I hadn’t seen in a while. The pressman from one of the hospitals was out with his son. Some members from out at the Land were also riding. Some of the community leaders I work with at my office also rode by.

By 11am, we were told we had seen the last rider. My helper had somewhere else to be (it was, afterall, Father’s Day) so after helping load everything back into my truck, he took off. Myself? I began to drive Sweep.

For me, this entailed first driving back uproute about halfway, to make sure I knew who the last riders were. Then I began driving a 35-or-so loop of highway. I developed a hand-sign so riders could recognize me without having to concentrate on my vehicle. Again, I quickly found where the last riders were. After another shot around this loop, I knew that everyone had committed to either the 65 mile or the 100. I completed my loop, and told the midway SAG stop people who the last riders on the 65 mile loop were. Then I drove out and started along the 60 some mile loop that helped make up the 100 mile ride.

The 100 mile loop was already deserted. Most of the people who ride a Century ride are established, highspeed riders. About 40 miles into this loop, I encountered what I was to learn was the last rider. He was 15 minutes behind the rider ahead of him.

After confirming with the other sweep team (who were driving counter circuitous) that he was in fact the last rider, we all drove up to the next SAG stop and waited there for him. He was a muscular black man, very fit by appearance, but also of larger build, which means more inertia. He was very comfortable with his pace, and while we avoided telling him directly that he was “last”, he gathered that we were going to strike this SAG stop after he left.

I stayed with him. His route from here was through some pretty bland country side, and the hour was slipping up towards noon. I made a pattern of driving 2-3 miles ahead of him, pulling over and stopping, letting him pass me, then waiting another 2-3 miles before speeding to catch up and pass him again. Sometimes, when he passed by me, I’d be standing in my truck bed leaning over the cab. I shout mild encouragement to him, he’d smile and gesture and keep on pumping.

When he finally reached the midway SAG stop (the one where both loops come back together), the SAG operators had gotten on their bikes and rode out to meet him and ride up with him. Being the last rider here, he enjoyed the luxury of pouring the cooler of water over his head. A full cooler was transfered to my truck, and I agreed to stay with him.

Fifteen miles later, he pulled into the last SAG stop, at Richland Corners. By now it was around 2pm, and the county roads were fairly deserted. I started to literally tail him; both because it was so hot, and because locals would not be expecting to see a bicyclist as they pop over a hill on our narrow roads.

The last 10 miles, I drove pretty much beside him. We talked through my passenger window. Found out about his circumstances. Part of the reason he was last is because he got lost – missing a turn early in the ride. We joked about the fact that he had an additional 4 miles on everyone else, so he could stop 4 miles early. I also found out he was the rider who had suffered the multiple flats early on.

Three miles to go. He had gotten a second wind. He could see the water tower on the hill by the lake, which effectively marked the finish line. We were heading north, so a westerly wind was now cooling instead of a headwind. And then with my window down I heard the PHOTFassipfaaassipfaaassip as he had yet another flat.

He was out of tubes, and didn’t want to mess with patches. We tried electrical tape over the tire and wheel to help seal the breech, but there was just too big a hole. I reminded him that technically, he had ridden 101 miles. He conceeded, tossed his bike in back, and we drove to the finish line.

The club VP was there waiting for his tirepump (which I was carrying). Everything else had been put away, but we both got out of our vehicles and clapped for him as he took his bike out of my bed. He didn’t have any cheering crowds, but he accomplished a personal victory, and was content. We all thanked each other.

I don’t remember what I