FooRider
baccheater '06 Corsa
Posts: 255
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I've been back on the bike and participating in charity rallies since 2004, but I had never tried the Mesquite ride before. At the urging of the Stradas and a couple of DF buddies from the Plano club, I signed myself up for the 56-mile course. My wife, Cheryl, signed up for the 20. It takes the two of us a bit longer to get our collective show on the road and to get unloaded and set up, so we arrived at the Resistol arena (or Mesquite Convention Center... whatever) at around 7am. As a result, we got a prime handicap parking spot next to the hotel and set about setting up her handcycle and my bike. And then we waited. And waited. By a few minutes before 8:00, Cheryl had returned from her pre-ride pit stop, and we still hadn't seen a single familiar face on a recumbent. I later learned that this was because everyone else had parked on the complete opposite side of the convention center. But no matter. With a few minutes to spare, we made our way to the starting pack where Cheryl met Richard and Linda, and I hooked up with my bunch. The start was... awkward. Fred Flintstoning it up a grade to start on a wet street with a bunch of high-strung DF riders is not the ideal way to begin a ride, but we managed and set about picking our way through the pack toward clear air. The Stradas and I quickly got separated from Paul, Ken, and a couple other guys I didn't know but probably should have met. Early on, I was impressed with the traffic control, not only for the motorists but also in the way that we cyclists were funneled to where we needed to be by means of liberal application of road cones. Sure, it made things a little dodgy having to at the same time avoid cones knocked over by inattentive riders and greasy-looking puddles on the streets—but there were half a dozen intersections and lane transitions that would have been much less safe without them. Route layout and intersection were, with few exceptions, better than for the Wild Ride, and that's saying something. I thought the route was a nice mix of urban and country riding, and while I could have done without some of the teeth-rattling, multiply-patched sections of pavement, sometimes that's just the price you pay for beautiful scenery and the not-entirely-unpleasant tang of cow poo in your nostrils. The route was, at once, less hilly than I'd heard in the past and more hilly than more recent reports had led me to believe. Maybe it was just that I was having an off day (or feeling the effects of not having ridden in nearly two weeks), but it seemed like we did an awful lot of climbing for the less than 1500 feet of elevation gain the ride is supposed to have. But it was all good, and the best part is that instead of getting smacked by the thunderstorms that were predicted, we got a nice, sunny day. And Blue Bell ice cream for afters. I kind of wish that there had been a chance to knock down my sixth metric of the year, but given that I thought I might have to downshift to one of the shorter routes because of the weather, 56 miles (and change) is just fine. Motorists were sharing the road nicely, we didn't have any unpleasant racerboy encounters, and the company couldn't have been better. Unless... Nah. Scratch that. I don't know if Jessica Alba even knows how to ride a bike.
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