Wises Landing Century Ride Report
August 16, 2009

        The predawn air was still and cool as I rolled into the YMCA parking lot at 6:24 AM.  I smiled as I pulled my bike out of the truck bed. My riding buddies were in for a surprise.  A moment later, Bill Pustow drove up—perhaps it is his German background, but Bill is refreshingly punctual and usually one of the first to arrive.  Then Denise from Ohio pulled in. She’ll be here to train from now until she competes in the Louisville Ironman.

       The sky brightened over the parking lot as more LBC members arrived and readied their bikes.  At 6:59 AM, the sun peeked over the YMCA building.  Then the questions started, “Hey Larry, where’s your bike?”  “Are you riding that thing?” That “thing” was a Trek 2000, very similar to the one owned by Tim on the Twinspires Racing team. It is really nothing unusual, except for the fact that  I have NEVER ridden a typical road bike on a century course.  Since 2001, I’ve completed countless century rides, but I have always ridden a recumbent bike.  I find them comfortable, efficient, and a great platform for taking ride photos or videos.  But yes, my Bacchetta Corsa recumbent was missing that day.  “No biggie,” I explained. “I just felt like trying something different.”

       I wasn’t the only one trying something new.  Ben Meredith, the young man who usually rides a tandem with his dad Steve was there on his own road bike for the first time today.  One man showed up in a generic plain red jersey, a tipoff that he just might be new—and he was. This was to be Mark Willis’s first century ride.  Amelia Dauer, a regular at the EP Tom Sawyer evening rides showed up for her first century as well.

       With all the talk on the list server concerning unprepared new century riders, I’m pleased to report that these new riders had done their homework.   Ben, Mark and Amelia had all been accumulating some hilly miles over past several months.  I felt confident they would be able to complete their first century rides.  As for me, well, I knew I could ride a century, I just hoped my rear end would hold up without the support of that nice comfy fully supported recumbent seat.

     Most of us snagged a couple of Bobbie Leslie’s oatmeal cookies and then gathered for the ride briefing.  After a brief warning about a couple of steep curvy downhill stretches and some introductions of the new riders, we were underway.   Traffic was light as we pedaled through Buckner and La Grange.  Before long it was down Morton Ridge Road and into Wises Landing.  I was pleased that everyone was being careful down the first of the two technical descents.  Two years ago, one rider had lost control on a sandy curve, despite the warning—no mishap this time.  Then we were rambling down Wises Landing Road.  That shady rural corridor along the Ohio is always a pleasant contrast to suburbia.

       As we climbed back up State Route 754 towards Bedford, a church bus began slow pursuit, for miles, and miles.  The long, mostly straight climb separated the riders into sub groups, so there was plenty of opportunity for the bus to pass; yet, it remained behind us. Jeff White pedaled alongside the bus and then up to our group to inform us, “The bus driver is frustrated, he wants to pass!”  I was nonplussed. There had been plenty of opportunity; perhaps he was not used to driving the bus, at least around cyclists.  We slid even further to the right on a long straight empty stretch of road and waved him on.  Eventually, he passed.  It amazes me, drivers just really don’t know how to act around cyclists—some are incredibly impatient—others are polite to a fault.  I suppose that in some parts of the country, cyclists are still as uncommon as visitors from Mars. We need more cyclists out there so people can get used to seeing us.

       After the stop in Bedford, we headed out towards Milton, but instead of heading down 421, we turned off onto 1226, a much more scenic and low traffic road.  As I rounded the corner, I was dismayed to  see that Joe was off his bike and bleeding from his right knee.  Fortunately, it was just a low speed slipup, a toe strike on the front wheel from turning too tightly at slow speed.  No other bike was involved. One Band-Aid later, we were on our way.

       Most of the group stopped for lunch in Prestonville where the Shell station offered several types of sandwiches.  Paul, however, warned us about the cheeseburgers. A previous encounter had left him feeling unwell.  Ok, so Willisburg Cheeseburger  fans can rest assured they have no competition from Prestonville.   A couple of Ironman trainees continued on without delay.

       Next we were off along the Kentucky River with no available store stops for some 30 miles. The new century riders were looking well, none of them struggling.  Young Ben and his dad were in fine form along with Mark and Amelia. “Hey Nate, someone’s chasing you for that green sign!”  Rick Croslin egged young Nathan on, getting him to sprint for a county sign that nobody had any interest in pursuing.

       Then came “Dreaded Drennon,” as Bernice calls it, that long stretch of uphill highway into New Castle.  About three quarters up to the top, I found Steven Barnhouse by the side of the road with a flat. I was sweeping, and he is a strong rider, so I know he had been there a while. He tried to wave us on, but Bernice piped in saying we couldn’t do that.  I stopped and sent Bernice on her way.  It turns out his rear tire was totally blown, at least eight inches of cord showing.  With a skeptical look on his face, he asked  if I thought a dollar bill could boot the tire.” No, Steven, it’s way beyond that.  What you need is a new tire.”  “Yeah, I thought so.  I guess I’ll call for a pick up.” “Why do that when you can have a new tire?”  I reached into my back pocket and handed him my spare Schwalbe Durano.  The look of astonishment on his face was priceless.  I may as well have been David Copperfield pulling a rabbit out of a hat.  “Well, Shazam!  What are the chances of that?  You’re carrying a spare tire?”  “Pretty good,” I said, “a spare is part of my ‘go bag’ for a century ride. You never know when it will come in handy.”

       One last store stop in New Castle, and we headed for home.  The Pyrons dropped back to help me sweep.  They said they’d had their big push and wanted to take it easy, “tapering off” in preparation for the Ironman, August 31.  The last four of us climbed the hill into Buckner, pausing to wait for a passing train.  As the train cleared, a big smile formed on Bernice’s face.  The main peloton had waited for us in the shade, across the tracks in Buckner.  The show of “Mad Dog Love” was a much appreciated gesture as we glided back to the finish.   I always enjoy ride captaining, but this day was particularly fun for me—Two new Mad Dogs earned their pedigree papers.  Now, where did I put that Bag Balm?