Day 12: Riding with Opie

I’m starting to get the notion that the day after a century ride is a lot harder than the day of the century.  Yesterday, I felt fine after my ride.  So good, that I stayed up late messing around with the website.

 

Today, despite being able to sleep in until 7:30am, I woke up feeling totally spent and that never changed.  It was hot--93 degrees by midday--and the wind was in our face for most of the ride, but it was also dry and the ride was a short 40 miles.  Early on, we took a little detour down to Shoshone Falls, which were spectacular.  Paul headed down the road while I took many pictures (to be posted when we get access to high-speed internet).  I climbed slowly out of the gorge, and Mike Monk was taking pictures.  I said, "You're catching me on a bad day.  I've got nothing."  Mike said, "No problem.  It's a still picture.  No one will know."  At the beginning of the climb, I saw Matt speeding down the hill.  Shortly afterward, he zipped past me going uphill, and then passed me again as I neared the crest of the hill.  He asked if I would wait for him, and I said I would.

 

It turns out that Matt, who loves to climb, decided to ride down and up the canyon three times for fun.  He estimated that he did the climb in about 4 minutes--that is, about 15 miles an hour going up about 800 feet.  My reward for waiting was that Matt road with me for most of the ride back to the hotel.  After a while, I told him that I was not feeling well and suggested he go on ahead.  Instead, he suggested that I draft off him, and doing that, I was able to ride 3 or 4 miles an hour faster than I could have alone.

 

Matt's nickname--bestowed by the other two young studs (Paul belongs in that group too, but he is stuck rooming with his middle-aged dad)--is Opie.  He doesn't smoke or drink or swear and is probably a virgin.  He said that whenever he was tempted to party in college, he thought it would always be more fun to cycle (not to mention, cheaper).  He grew up in rural Wisconsin and knows many things about farming.  (I learned a lot about silage today.)  Opie's roommates are trying hard to corrupt him.  They bought him a porn magazine, which he refuses to open.  Opie suggested that Paul might like it.

 

Paul likes Opie and tries to watch out for him.  He asked if he minded being called Opie.  The answer was no.  Opie in turn wants to turn Paul into a racer.  We'll see.

 

There are other interesting characters in our entourage.  A sports medicine doctor from Richmond, named Theresa, is riding from Boise to Casper, with her dad (Aldo) and her two young children and an au pair.  When the rest of us are relaxing after our day in the saddle, Theresa is attending to her children who are clamoring for her attention.  On day 1, she lost her dad who got lost and ended up walking his bike on the interstate after getting two flats.  For a while, all of us were playing "Where's Aldo."  Eventually, Aldo showed up at the hotel having gotten a ride in a state police sag wagon (and happily no citation).  Now Theresa has to contend with a ban on her kids' attendance at route rap.  Personally, I thought her kids' squirming was appropriate, but Mike disagreed.  Theresa  is also providing pro bono advice to the many riders who are hurting somewhere or other.  She told me that the whirlpool was just the wrong thing for sore muscles.  (It facilitates flow of lactic acid from the blood stream into muscles.) The best therapy is standing in a trashcan full of ice water.  I decided to opt for second best--time in the pool.  She's tendered advice to Paul (broken clavicle) and Paul (inflamed Achilles tendon).  I suggested that Paul B might ask her about his hurting knees.

 

I meant to write about the former green beret and our other cycling buddies, but we have to get to sleep early tonight.  Tomorrow is 111 miles. 

 

Cheers,

 

Len