Thursday, July 27, 2006

Haiku for Toby

Toby where are you
your little min pin pinchers
'neath an auto's wheels

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

7/26/06 Today's Ride -- A return to the scene of the crime

Route: 51.88 miles, Barbourville - Woodbine loop.

Weather: partly cloudy, 87 degrees, 6 mph wind.

Performance: average speed 15.6 mph, time 3:24:38. Average HR 141 bpm. link:

Comment: My first return trip to Paint Hill since my April 19th canine encounter. I am still not dead from rabies, and I now carry my trusty Halt everywhere I ride. Of course the offenders were nowhere to be seen. The woman I talked to and her kids were hanging out in the front yard as I rode by, this time going the other way.

Paint Hill is not nearly as tough when you ride it going out of town; the numerous switchbacks keep it from getting overwhelmingly steep and I managed the whole ascent seated. I had previously ambled around downtown Barbourville (driving down my average speed, unfortunately). It was a nice diversion other than the fact that Main Street was being resurfaced so all I had was the ground-up base layer. Other than being a flat tire waiting to happen, it was like riding on cobblestones.

My seated ascent of Paint Hill, while a psychological trophy, signaled the end of my legs for the day. I had packed a Clif Bar as I always do on my longer rides. Unable to find a suitable place to stop for a break, I reached back and took it out of my back pocket. I ripped open a corner. But the plastic wrapper fooled me, and in the blink of an eye I was left holding an empty wrapper with my precious energy source quickly receding somewhere on the road behind. I will not turn your stomach, gentle reader, with the sordid details of what happened next, but suffice it to say that the uncommon masochism that makes people voluntarily ride a bike until their legs and lungs feel like molten fire can drive you to do some other rash things.

Redneck heckler sighting: Nil. Not one single auditory signal deriding my presence whatsoever. Rare. Maybe the summer heat has them all in a state of roasted malaise.

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