My Cycling "How Hot it Was" Story and Other Goings On

Hey y'all. It's been awhile. Locally we're into the transitional period between the late, mind-blowing epic winter/spring swells, and the summer doldrums. The tourists are filling in now and taking the upper hand everywhere over us locals---the roads, restaurants, of course the hotels, the grocery stores, and all the entertainment businesses. We still have 'em though when it comes to the beaches and ocean, thankfully.

The wind is southerly about 18 mph and we've been enveloped in smoke all day from the wildfire covering over 63 thousand acres in Pocosin Lakes Wildlife Refuge in Hyde County, North Carolina, about 45 miles southwest of Kill Devil Hills. It was started by a lightening strike and is feeding on the marsh peat billowing enough smoke to been seen on NWS national radar. One local woman reportedly saw so many black bears passing through her yard escaping the fire, she said she was afraid to go to her mailbox by the road. We need a soaking rain in a big way.

There's also another fire in Virginia to the north-northwest of us in the Great Dismal Swamp, allegedly started by logging equipment. So we have smoke here on the Right Coast too although so far not too many buildings have been destroyed.

The surf here now is small and locally dependent on the tide and of course the wind. The water temperature is between 70-76 degrees Fahrenheit. We're tropical again and it's so fine. However as I've said before, we're pointed into the doldrums, so for me bike road racing is the thing.

So far, in this late-start season for me (due to recent surgery), I've raced in one duathlon relay (the 25 mile bike leg), two criteriums held at the Virginia Beach Sportsplex, and one time trial, my favorite, the Peter Teeuwen Memorial Omnium in Chesapeake, Va. That particular race that day gets my award for the highest air temperature in which I've ever raced, an astounding 104 degrees F. with humidity around 90 per cent. One of the guys in our Kitty Hawk Cycling Club, Robert Netsch, raced that day and also won the previous day's Va. State Criterium Championship the day before in 107 degrees, a new record for that calendar day in Chesapeake.

Everybody's got "how hot it was" stories, so here's mine. I sat with Robert and a few riders from other clubs he knew under a canopy tent one of them brought. We warmed up on our trainers there and waited our turn to ride the time trial. It was demoralizing just sitting there waiting in the suffocating heat. As each rider returned to our pitiful oasis, he would dismount, shake his head, sigh, and babble something about how poor his time was.

It was my turn now. Riders start from the start line every 60 seconds in this time trial. As I moved into the line, fifth rider from the line, my handlebar tape started uncoiling in my hands, as the heat had melted the tape holding it in a tight wrap around the bars. I tried to quickly tie it, but nothing worked. I flew back to the tent in a panic asking everybody there if they had any kind of tape in their vehicle. One rider did and I followed him to his truck, made a quick repair with some electrical tape, and rushed to the line. Thanks Dave, for the assist!

I took my place at the start line and thanked the official for being there to start us in such absurd heat. I looked down at my two water bottles, enough I thought, to carry me through the 23-mile time trial. I knew it would be close, but felt pretty confident I could make it through.

I looked out on the wafting waves of intense heat rising from the road before me, the first 6-mile stretch. I saw the previous rider's image fade into a distorted figure seeming to melt bike and all into the scorching asphalt. This was profound heat---the kind that can create doubts and second thoughts if you choose to let it in.

My cycling mentors have always told me not to go out too hard on a time trial because the adrenaline surge at the start can have a rider find a speed he would never be able to hold for the whole distance. You must know your own ability and limits. If not, you redline, you bonk, and the lactic acid build-up in your muscles snuffs out your ability to carry the full race distance.

I started, stood on the pedals, and sprinted up to my tempo speed. I dropped down to my saddle and settled in. I was riding on borrowed Zipp wheels, 404's on the front and 808's on the rear. These are carbon fiber, deep-dish wheels like the pros use. For me, this was like Cinderella wearing the golden slippers. They are worth the same amount as my bike in dollars. They were generously loaned by Chip Cowan from Outer Banks Cycle in Kill Devil Hills. Thanks Chipper! I'm sure though, he was entertained to see a rider like me with such high performance gear. You know, one of those "what's wrong with this picture?" kinda deals for the local riders who know me.

So back to the heated time trial. I'm one mile out settling into my steady state tempo. The Zipp wheels are making me feel like Superman plus I was sure I looked pretty cool too. I'm already thirsty so I pull up a water bottle and take a short gulp. I lower the bottle to the top of the bottle cage, blink, and now I'm watching the same full bottle spinning on it's side across the burning asphalt to the far side of the other lane. I turned forward and wondered whether I should go back and get it, start crying, abandon the race, or listen to the inner voice reminding me I can make it on one bottle because I was after all, as immortal and invincible as I'd always been. The heat is only another obstacle standing in the way of my growing cycling credentials. Can't this inner voice shut up just once?

So now the plan was make sure I had half a bottle left halfway through. Water rations no less. I passed riders walking who had abandoned the race. One carried a shoe in his hand. I reached the halfway mark with my half bottle. I poured a little of the almost scalding fluid over my helmet and the back of my neck, shot a little in my mouth in celebration. This heat was demeaning.

The Chesapeake Ruritan Club is the registration building for the time trial. The time trial begins and ends in front of it. It is a white stucco building which can be seen straight down the last say, mile and a half of the course. It is little more than a shimmering white gable end looking as though the road leads right into its side from my distant view. Mostly open fields frame my view of it on both road edges. But there it was heat-distorted ahead finally in my sight. I was now seeing in its simple form the end of my self-imposed torture. I was sure there were people cooling off in the shade with cold drinks in their grip near that building. I was also sure I wanted to be one of them as quickly as possible. I somehow quickened my tempo, relishing the coming euphoria of ending this sublime suffering. I passed several of the riders whom had started before me.

I saw visions of every sort, from fantasy to Dante's Hell as I crossed the finish line, I'm sure speaking in tongues. I was one and a half minutes slower than the same time trial on the same date last year. I was nonetheless alive and on the correct side of the grass, sitting in the shade, under the tent among friends, feeling how superb a freezing cold bottle of water can feel poured over my head after riding in such conditions.

Tomorrow I'll ride in the Farm Bureau Langley Speedway Criterium in Hampton, Virginia. The predicted temperature is a freezing 86 degrees F.

More later. Keep riding........something.