The bottom line is that Charles and I rode. We completed the planned 161 miles of the MS150 in about 10 hr 30 min pedaling time, over the two days, April 17 and 18, 2004. It was the greatest high: an exhilarating, liberating experience. I accomplished what I set out to do and enjoyed almost every minute of it. I recommend it for all. Join us next year when I hope that Eric will also ride with Charles and me.
Here’s the looooooooong version.
After retiring in 1999 we moved to Houston near Rice
University. I began riding a
“comfort bike” (old person’s padded seat, high handlebars, shock absorber
on the seat post) to nearby destinations. I
rode almost everywhere. Days would
go by that I didn’t use the car. Last
May, I decided it would be fun to ride 150 miles from Houston to Austin over 2
days with 12,000 other bicyclists in the MS150.
Each rider raises at least $300 to support the National Multiple
Sclerosis Society. This year
we’ll raise $9,000,000 on this one ride, and we’ll be supported by over
three thousand volunteers.
I rode through Houston’s summer (brutal) and in September
I purchased my $500 Fuji Absolute “road hybrid”: aluminum frame, 27-speed,
hard saddle road bike (but still without the roadies’ drop handlebars).
My evolution as a cyclist included: using
Lance-Armstrong-trainer Chris Carmichael’s book, installing clipless pedals,
gaining courage to wear Spandex biking shorts (including into Los Angeles’ Our
Lady of the Angels Cathedral), having not one but two bikes stolen at
Houston’s Museum of Fine Arts (they and Amex paid), using a recording heart
rate monitor for training, and finally ringing the gift from my son, an
“antique” Mickey Mouse bicycle bell.
Chris’s book told me to clip in, strap on the monitor,
and ride at 86% of my maximum heart rate to build my aerobic resistance.
I rode every bayou trail in Houston and got to know the city in a whole
new way. The Memorial Park Picnic
Loop is open for cars on weekdays from 11 to 3, before and after it’s reserved
for bicyclists and rollerbladers. I
heard the guys at the bike shop call it the Fruit Loop but didn’t pay any
attention. It’s the perfect
controlled training site: no traffic, repeatable.
I now owned a bicycle speedometer/odometer and started to record my
training. In September, I rode 20
miles at an average speed of 12 mph and came home proud of my accomplishments.
By November, I’d graduated to clipless pedals (scary to
learn) and spandex (a sight to behold). I
could do an aerobic 16 mph. I
rented a bike to tour Los Angeles with Eric.
By December I ventured my first group ride, the Katy Mills
Fitness Ride. I wrote the ride starter and asked about the pace, whether I was
fast enough for the group at 16 mph. He
wrote back that all are welcome. I showed up at 7:30 am on a brisk December
Sunday and knew immediately that I was in trouble. Everyone else wore team jerseys, bulging spandex, and pumped
tires on $2000 bikes. The starter
gave me a map and promised to ask whether any of the 30 wanted to ride at my
pace. At the start I dutifully
identified myself as the person who wanted to ride at 16 mph.
They sneered and suppressed a laugh as we started.
The first mile was a warm-up at 17 mph and I could almost keep up, then
they picked up the pace and I was alone eating their dust.
I finished my 30 miles alone at 16 mph average, a great time for me,
while the others completed 45 miles at 24 mph averages.
WOW!!
Back to the Picnic Loop and more training.
Around noon I’d notice a number of cars entering the parking cul de
sacs, parking in pairs. I thought, “Wow! So many couples cheating on their
spouses.” When I noticed that
almost all of the occupants were guys, the name Fruit Loop made sense: gay
nooners. I persisted riding
non-stop and reached the ability to ride 17-18 mph solo.
I felt pretty good.
I then started training with some Colombians and
Brazilians. Since I had been training and they had not, I surprised the fastest
of them, a 36 year-old Colombian with a carbon fiber Trek bike painted in U.S.
Postal colors. He’d speed up and
I’d draft on him. Every time he
turned around I’d be right behind him grinning.
The first time we rode together I got his attention; the second time, his
respect. I was on my way to
deserving the Spandex. (Now that
he’s trained up, he beats me, but I hold my own with the others.)
I also started riding with a group on Wednesdays at 9:30
am. They call it the West Oaks
Ride. I call it the Old Farts’
Ride. It’s almost 50 miles with a
stop for lunch of barbecue sandwiches at the Swinging Door in Richmond.
We are usually 10 to 12 riders, mostly retirees.
Don, the leader, has been riding every week for 8 years.
Bob, the senior rider, is 70 and has been riding for 18 years. They both built their steel road bikes from scratch: not by
assembling purchased components, but by welding the tubing.
They generally average 14-15 mph and I can keep up most of the time; but
heading into a strong wind they outpace me.
To prepare for the MS150, there are group-training rides
almost every week. Pay $25 (profits
to a charity) and get a tee-shirt, water bottle, map, rest stops with water,
Gatorade, bananas, oranges, cookies, pretzels, and porta-potties every 10 miles
or so, mechanical support, and sag wagons for the weary. Between 1000 and 3000
riders choose from mileages of say 20, 40, and 62.5 (a metric century).
The energy of the mass start, the opportunity to join a paceline of your
speed, and the total support offered make them great fun.
I’ve done the longest distance option on almost every one since the end
of February.
My first ride, The Wild Wild West ride of 62.5 miles, showed that I was either the fastest of the slow riders or the slowest of the fast riders. In addition to regular cyclists, there were skaters, recumbents, tandems, and even a unicyclist. It’s amazing that the skaters can form their own paceline and maintain speeds of 18 mph over long distances.
The Lions of Humble had the worst ride - bumpy shoulders on
major highways, too few rest stops. Aging
and toothless lions and lionesses offered conical water cooler cups of Gatorade
when cyclists were looking for liters of it.
Not good.
The Baytown YMCA Gator ride, one of the best, started
across the Fred Hartman Suspension Bridge (looked like pictures of the NY
Marathon crossing the Verazanno Narrows Bridge), went past the San Jacinto
Monument, used the Lynchburg Ferry to cross the ship channel. Perfect police support (never stopped for a red light), great
rest stops with boy scouts holding your bike, and a tailwind on the way home
made it heaven!!!
On the Space Race from Johnson Spacecraft Center, I planned
to do my first century (100 miles). It
was fun for the old man to line up with the young hammerheads on their big-bucks
bikes. They’d look and ask how
far I was going? 100 miles.
Yeah right! One hour into
the ride it started to rain. I cut the route short to 60 miles, and pedaled hard to get
out of the rain ASAP (2 hrs and 45 miles later).
Lesson: there’s nothing like rain to help focus.
I completed the ride at 17.3 mph., a personal best for that distance.
I’ve now ridden twice from Chappell Hill to Washington-on-the-Brazos, one of my favorite rides. It’s beautiful, rolling hilly country, gorgeous gentlemen’s ranches, and wildflowers!!! Bluebonnets, buttercups, coreopsis, wild poppies, black-eyed-susans everywhere. Beautiful sun, good friends, and the thrilling reward of the downhill earned by the effort up. It hardly gets any better than that.
The Bluebonnet Express featured the last 30 of 80 miles
directly into a strong wind; not a lot of fun but it builds character and
muscles. The Katy Ram Challenge
started with an incredible paceline at 23 mph.
I enjoyed that pace as long as I could then got dropped, still averaging
19 mph for the first hour. A half
hour wait at rest stop two for one of only 4 potties caused me to reschedule
down from a 72 to a 62-mile ride. It
was still fun.
Riding the MS150 is more fun when you are a member of a
team. Teams provide: training
rides, team jerseys, luggage transportation, dinner and breakfast in LaGrange, a
tent to sleep in, a masseur and most importantly a group to belong to.
There are over 300 teams - most are corporate sponsored. While my
Colombian training partners were debating between Toyota and HP, I opted for the
West U Team. It has no corporate
connection but is composed mostly of riders who make the West University Cycles
shop their local country club. We’re proud to be considered the “rowdiest” team with
our own call and response cheer, “No Pride” “No Shame”, and a tradition
of playing a midnight kickball game at the LaGrange overnight. Jeff, the bike shop owner, describes the group as “a bunch
of drinkers with a biking problem.” I
was honored by the invitation to join. The
team is suffering from the bike shop’s name change. It used to be West U Schwin and the team was called the
WUS’s.
This year’s theme was “that 70’s team”. The jersey back featured a smiley face with “Have a nice ride” and the front had a 70’s bike with a banana seat, high handlebars, and streamers. Cool. Way cool. Cooler than those others filled with corporate logos.
Charles planned to ride with us and Eric would provide
support. Hotel rooms are booked
months in advance. I was lucky to
be “willed” a hotel room in Fayetteville that had been reserved in the name
of our friend Ginger Maughs’s late husband, Bruce.
He was an avid cyclist and rode in the MS150 thirteen times.
He’d get an early start and was always one of the first finishers.
Unfortunately Bruce was killed while cycling when he was struck by a
pickup truck. The rooms in
Fayetteville continue to be reserved in his name.
Staying in that room with those “ghosts” reminded me of the
importance of riding safely.
On the Thursday before the ride, Charles and Eric and I met
with the Colombians to make plans for the big event. I wanted to start with my team but they convinced me to start
“unofficially” about 10 minutes early from the Katy location. (because there
are so many riders, there are two parallel routes for the first 30 miles).
This avoids the confusion and danger of the mass start (almost 6000
riders at each of the two locations), and eliminates the need to pass all the
slow amateurs. Antonio will share
one of the hotel rooms with us, and now German has decided to bring his sleeping
bag and crash on the floor. The
fourth bike will be transported in the trunk.
Eric will take my car and rack on Friday and go with baby
Virginia Grace, Ginny, and her parents to Austin to visit his
Grandparents-in-law. Saturday,
he’ll check into the hotel in Fayetteville and meet us in LaGrange.
We’ll borrow Janet’s van and Lucila will transport Charles and me and
our two bikes to the start. Antonio
will ride home with us.
On Friday I cleaned my bike, degreased and lubed the chain,
and packed. Would I need leg
warmers?, arm warmers?, rain jacket?, extra power bars?, hammer gel?
Old age caused me to pack cautiously; my bag contained all that plus
twice as many jerseys, shorts, and changes of clothes as I’d need.
I’ve taken business trips around the world with less.
The day arrivesToo excited, I awoke at 4:00 am, 45 minutes early.
We left at 5:15. The first thrill of a large, supported ride is to see nearly
every vehicle on the highway carrying bicycles. It’s affirmation that others are equally crazy - a
religious experience where others are drawn like the tide to a single spot where
the rites of a strange cult are executed.
Who are these others?
Young? Old?
Families? How status-worthy
are their bikes? Fun speculation as
we drive in the dark. Many turn off for the original starting point as we continue.
Traffic is not too bad as we approach Katy’s Rhodes Stadium at 6:15.
Others have the same idea and delays dropping off our bags threaten a
late start. German and Antonio go
through the ritual of pumping up their tires at the last minute.
Dawn is breaking. And we’re off.
Only a few cyclists on the road. We meet German’s friend Shann and form a five-man paceline,
good speed 18-19 mph but not too fast. The
day looks gorgeous: 67 degrees at the start, a little cool on the bike.
Should I have used arm warmers? We
pass about 100 cars parked at the high school, others with the same starting
ideas. These are the “pros”:
good pace, know how to ride. Head
north on 359, wind at our back. We’re
sailing along. First rest stop at
mile 10. Use the facilities but no
food or drink; we’re there before they are ready.
Great! Moving on, Charles is
worried that he might develop a cramp. We
slow and the Colombians go ahead. We’re
still doing great. Charles reminds
me to drink and I drop my water bottle, a klutzy, amateurish move.
This will be a big hazard when the stampede passes so I get off the bike
and go back to pick it up – embarrassed.
At the second rest stop we see Jeff, Gabe, and James from
the bike shop. They are surprised
to see us since most of the team will be following a different route.
The day is clear and we’re heading west into Bellville for lunch.
We’re averaging 17 mph for the first two hours.
The road now gets rough, the infamous Chip-n-seal.
Progress slows and it’s less fun, but we arrive for lunch in Bellville,
mile 35, at 9 am. That’s the
earliest I’ve ever had lunch.
We meet Antonio and German, grab a turkey sandwich, boiled
potatoes, and fusilli pasta with butter – our high carb lunch.
German is making amends with his ex-girlfriend on the Toyota team.
I refill my bottle with Gatorade and discover it sprang a leak when I
dropped it. I worry about getting
by with one bottle – no flexibility between water and Gatorade, I must commit
to just one. Where’s the West U
tent? I’m supposed to get my
team’s “secret weapon” at the tent. We
search the entire grounds twice and can’t find it.
We’re there too soon. German
will visit Amy at the Toyota tent and meet us at the next rest stop.
Hammerhead Antonio pushes on. We’re
off.
We’re making good speed and as I pass one group I hear a
voice calling “Bill.” It’s Jennifer Sickler, an opera volunteer.
I had earlier turned down her request for a ride back to Houston because
the car was full. Now we have room.
I offer her a ride home. She
accepts. We’ll make plans at the
next rest stop. Charles and I press
on.
At rest stop four Antonio has been impatiently waiting for
German. I meet Jennifer and we
exchange cell phone numbers and make plans to meet for the return trip.
We’ve now got the rest stops down to a science – pull in, fill
bottle, eat banana (potassium prevents cramps), cookies, line up to pee, drink
in line, pee, top up bottle, go. Don’t
waste time. Rest stops are getting more crowded as the horde (fast riders
or stop-skippers) is catching up. We’re
off.
We’ve slowed the pace because of Charles’s concern
about cramps (weather and work kept him from much of his training).
It’s already getting hilly, or at least rolling.
I develop a pain in my knee. It’s
not muscular. Did I move my seat? Change
the fit of my bike? Why is this
happening at mile 45? Is finishing
now in doubt? It must be either a
joint or ligament problem. Ride it
out. Keep pedaling.
Rest stop 5. Move
through efficiently. Off again.
Hills get bigger. Our pace has slowed. Clouds
are coming so it won’t get too hot. We pedal up a large hill and are rewarded with the best view
of the trip: rolling ranchland, dappled sunshine, and patches of bluebonnets
everywhere – truly Texas (thanks Lady Bird).
We pass through Fayetteville at noon and leave the route to
find the hotel. I tried to phone to
confirm our reservation but encountered unlisted and non-working numbers.
We do find it and they do have rooms for us.
We phone Eric with the correct name and phone number and tell him we’re
already in Fayetteville. On to
LaGrange…
There’s a crowd here cheering us on and it works.
We find new energy. Along
the way we’ve seen individuals cheering us on.
I’m deeply touched by the ones in wheelchairs or with canes who hold up
hand lettered signs of thanks. We
pick up the pace and pedal on to LaGrange.
We’re heading into the Colorado River Valley, which we’ll follow all
the way to Austin. We’re going to
complete the first day at least. Charles
is not sure if he’ll continue, depends on whether his leg tightness develops
into full-fledged cramps.
We turn south for the last 7 miles to LaGrange.
We’re heading into the winds that had been helping till now.
The pedaling is tough but we’ll make it.
The sign says 3 miles to finish. We’re
here. Crowds, music, applause as we
complete day one. Smiles of relief
and joy. We’re half way there and
we’ll have a chance to rest.
We arrive in LaGrange at 2:15 pm, earlier than planned.
We’ve pedaled 85 miles, averaged 15 mph, in 5:20 pedaling time, and
7:20 elapsed time.
As Eric said, “This is huge.” The finish is at the Fayette County fairgrounds in LaGrange
(population 4,739). Tonight they
are hosting an additional 12,000. There
are: tents of all sizes from 3-ring-circus to pup, bicycles everywhere, baggage
pickup in the cleaned out livestock pavilion pens, four shower trailers, Elvis
imitators on stage, school busses picking up and dropping off, massage tables in
each tent, cell phone circuits totally overloaded. This is a phenomenal ride with over 3000 volunteers.
The logistics are incredible. Everything’s
going smoothly. Thanks MS150 organizers and volunteers!
I let James and Gabe wash my bike and lube the chain; it
was sticky with leaked Gatorade. We
find the West U team tent and chill. The team provides a team tee shirt to
change into. Our massage will come
up soon, Eric is on the way, we’ve got Shiner Bock on tap, and someone’s
folding chair to sit in. Cook has
fired up the barbecue. The massage was great.
Eric has arrived. We’re chillin with our Shiner Bock – me, Charles,
Eric – it doesn’t get much better.
The West U team’s secret weapon was a miniature disco
ball (70’s theme) that looks either cool or obscene hanging under the bike’s
saddle. I didn’t get the ball but
did get a big peace sign necklace and some green beads to go with my massive red
disco ring. It’s quite a costume.
We walk past Halliburton’s team tent, and I remember I’m wearing my
peace sign necklace. Is it now a
costume or a political statement? I’m too much into bicycling to dwell on that today, but I
resolve to wear my costume for the rest of the ride.
The company’s great, dinner is delicious, and there’s
continuous 70’s music courtesy of Sirius in someone’s truck.
Cyclists are really cool, friendly folks when they are off the bike.
Sometimes sitting on the saddle makes us competitive-aggressive.
After dark Eric will be able to drive the car into the fairgrounds to
pick us up, plus our bags, and the bikes. German
has made up with Amy and will ride with her tomorrow.
He asks if we could deliver him back to the fairgrounds at 5:30 tomorrow. Imagine our answer; he slept in the Toyota tent instead.
We drive the 14 miles to our hotel.
Fayetteville (population 793) is the smallest town in the US to have a
courthouse clock. It doesn’t work, but it is lit.
The hotel could be from the old west, wooden front with squared off façade
and a wooden balcony and sign. Inside
a restaurant has replaced the downstairs saloon; the rooms are upstairs.
We carry our beloved bikes up to our rooms, shower, beg the restaurant
for a piece of pecan pie after the 9:30 pm closing time, and lay out our clothes
for tomorrow. Just like the pros on
tour, I wash out my jersey to use it again tomorrow and hang it at the
air-conditioning vent. Lights out.
I sleep but am so excited that I wake up at 3:30 am and lie in the dark.
Up at 5:15 and out by 6:00. Breakfast
at the Whataburger seems to take forever. Will
we miss our start? Dawn is
breaking. We make it past the fairgrounds and start at 6:52.
Lots of others had the same idea.
Our route today will be through Buescher and Bastrop Parks,
the scenic route. It’s a very
hilly narrow road with no shoulders. We
must get there before the amateur hordes arrive; otherwise it’s too dangerous.
Charles is feeling better and riding well and we’re off well.
The hills are a bit steeper and longer.
Charles is riding his mountain bike and can gear down for a 4 mph climb.
My road bike stalls out even in the granny ring at 7.
I ride ahead on the hills and wait for Charles.
We’ve ridden an hour and are almost to the park.
We’re at Suicide Hill, a 500 ft descent, guaranteed to
get your speed up. One experienced
cyclist is telling his first time family to keep far to the right, out of
everyone’s way. The view is to
the entire valley. We’re ready to
descend. It’s a scary thrill.
Worry about other cyclists. A
crash at the bottom could wipe out tens of us.
We start down 20, 25, 29, 33, 35, 37.5 mph, faster than I’ve ever
ridden a bike. WOW!!!.
If I didn’t have to climb the hill, I’d do it over and over.
A right turn and we’re into the park.
We hit a few hills. Like a
roller coaster, descend as fast as possible so the momentum carries you up the
next hill. I’m riding well. I rode this stretch once before and needed to walk my bike up
three of the hills. Will the
training pay off now? At rest stop
2 we again see the West U shop crew. It’s
great to say hello; we’re among the first team members to arrive.
Everyone here is looking fit. The
10-mile stretch connecting the two parks is arguably the best biking in Texas.
The hills are short but steep; the descents are fast; it’s pure joy and
freedom. I feel like one of the 8
year old bikers in ET. Will my bike
take flight? It could.
WOW. I’m making it up the
hills. No walking today.
Passing the youngsters who are standing on their pedals grinding it out. It’s great to know I won’t meet an oncoming car at the
turn at the bottom of the hill.
But wait. There
are so many cyclists with flat tires. Why?
Are they all type A’s who have overinflated their tires so they could
go faster? There’s talk of tacks.
A flat really puts a damper on an otherwise perfect Sunday morning.
The shop guys later tell me there’s an old guy who lives nearby. He’s mad because cyclists interfere with his trip to
church. Besides, many cyclists are
godless (most organized rides are on a Sunday morning.
Unless your religion has services at another time, you’ll face a
dilemma.). Luckily neither Charles nor I get a flat, but we must have seen 50 to
100 who did. BUMMER!
How many more of these hills? I’m loving it. Walked
up none. Stood in the pedals for
only two. Training pays.
I want more.
We’re now out of the park entering Bastrop on route 71,
the main connector of Houston and Austin. One
lane is blocked off for the riders. The
automobile tie-ups are massive. No wonder the old coot threw tacks.
Long but gentle rises. Right
turn into Bastrop and lunch. It’s
9:30.
Phenomenal organization.
Subway sandwiches served at a rate of 4000 per hour with volunteers doing
a two-fisted mustard and/or mayonnaise squirt. The lines move quickly but we’re moving slowly.
We have a leisurely lunch and remind ourselves, “It’s not a race;
it’s a ride.”
We head out into the flat, open valley.
The route winds and turns south occasionally into a fierce headwind.
Find someone to hide behind. Each
stretch is not too long and the turns west and north are welcome.
We’re stopping at every rest stop for a long rest so the hordes are
catching up.
There’s no doubt; we’ll make it. Even with the wind, I’m so excited and elated that I
don’t have to tell myself “I
can do this,” “Only X more miles,” “Don’t be a quitter”.
It’s sheer joy.
We’re at the outskirts of Austin. Signs pointing to new home subdivisions are everywhere.
We climb a rise and there’s the UT tower.
The end is in sight. Keep
climbing. There’s the state capitol (higher than the US capitol).
What a beautiful sight, but I’m sad the ride is almost over.
We’re in the midst of the hordes and our riding space is
narrowing. It’s more crowded.
Passing is difficult. There’s
more traffic. We need to stop for
lights. Multiple shouts of SLOWING,
SLOWING, STOPPING substitute for our non-existent brake lights.
Maybe 200 of us accumulate at one light.
We cross over the freeway and we’re on the UT campus.
Nearly home. It’s a bit larger than I’d remembered. The crosswind near the Darryl Royal Stadium is fierce. Turns
are hairy as some jokers are trying to sprint to the finish.
MLK Blvd and cheering crowds. Turn
into the finish. Charles and I are
riding together on the right hand side looking for Eric.
Cross the finish to cheers. There’s
Eric with a camera. We’re
beaming. One cyclist stops in the
middle of the road with enormous cramps. I’d
like to just keep on pedaling.
We finished day 2 at 1:45 pm. It was 76 miles at 14.9 mph with 5:05 of pedaling and 6:53 of
elapsed time.
Thanks to everyone who supported me in this endeavor.
Lucila who put up with absences while I trained, listened to my constant
babble about cycling, and got up at 4:45 to drive me to the start. To training
partners and the West U team for making me a better rider.
To friends who encouraged and listened.
To sponsors who contributed to such a worthy cause.
Most of all to Charles and Eric who came along and participated in a
bonding experience I’ll never forget.
Registration $25
Team membership $40
Donations $300
Two days bonding with your sons PRICELESS!!!
Thanks guys.
Now that it’s over, what’s next?
Columbus hills ride May 8, Shiner Bash May 15, Katy
Flatlands Century July 18, …
Bike to the Beach October.
Now I can cycle far. Perhaps
I’ll learn to cycle fast. I plan
to try out next year for the 16 out of 20 champion Will Rice Alumni Beer Bike
Team. I only need to sprint at 25
mph for 2/3 of a mile. And I have
almost a whole year to train.!!!