As I rode my bike to The Club, I followed behind two hipsters* casually meandering on their bikes. At one point, one of them turns his head, and gallons of chunky, pink vomit spews from his mouth! It splatters on the ground, I swerve to avoid it, but can’t help admire the sheer volume of the substance that a second ago just burst from this skinny fellow’s mouth. There lay an entire pot-luck’s worth of ambrosia salad-like goo on the ground! But this was not what made the encounter odd. What threw me was that, after spewing the pink stuff, the guy keeps on talking to his friend, as though he merely turned to spit or cough! The friend didn’t seem to notice or care, and they carried on their merry little way. In my world, tossing your cookies deserves a stopping of the bikes, or at least a few “OH my gods!” before carrying on.
When I finished working out, I noticed someone stole the rear tail light off my bike. This is not the first time this has happened, or even the third. I could obsessively remove all bits from my bike when parking it, but I always figured if anybody really needs a light, and they can’t bear to buy one, I’d be glad to donate mine. It does create an ethical quandary, though. One recognizes the need to be safe, and the ‘right’ way to be safe at that (as opposed to wearing black and cycling at night and riding really fast so no one gets you) but is willing to steal to do it. I always assume a thief would want to steal “bad” things-guns, Benadryl. Who steals ‘good’ things? I think now of the movie (“My Baby’s Daddy…I think) where the convict robes a baby store. With the gun to her head, he asks the cashier about baby formula, teething rings, and what not. But who, in real life, steals good things? And who steals them from a really shoddy looking bike (this is my old one folks)? Plus, while my taillight had been stolen, my headlight, cyclecomputer, and other things remained. I am curious.

*The coolest of the Portland crowd; thick belt-wearing, underwear-exposing, sweater-donning, tattoo-clad crafty-types who occupy the “it” districts of P-town (which I think is currently N Mississippi). They can easily be identified by hats that would look hideous on anyone else (mesh trucker caps, beanies, fuzzy-handmade-knit-caps in the middle of summer)

I rode 100 miles! And it was…kinda easy! In fact, this ride was amazing. We had impeccable, cool, overcast weather, very little traffic and lovely country scenery. I rode the Strawberry Century last year with Zoe, but we opted for the 70 mile option. The century takes a 30 mile-loop on top of the 70-mile loop. I think they tricked me because, while the 70-mile loop is flat as can be, the 30 mile addition was nothing but hills! And then we hit a head wind for a while! Although, last year we fought a head wind for what seemed like hours, so this year was cake by comparison.
The helpers were super cool. The highlight was the pasta salad…yummy! Well, the highlight on the ride was pasta salad; the highlight of the ride is the amazing strawberry shortcakes they serve you at the end. The ride may be way out in Lebanon, but it is classy!
There were about 3 people I leapfrogged with for the first half of the ride. Then at the end, I rode with a group of about 8 folks. It motivated me to push on, laughing with them and sharing various analogies of how tired we felt. I pushed on the down hills because the ease motivated me to go for it, but slugged on the up hills. Everybody else pushed on the up hills and recovered on the down hills, so it was fun to keep passing each other.
The most interesting thing was seeing a guy riding his bike with his cat in Brownsville. Yes, his grey tabby sat perched across his shoulder blades as he rode. The large cat spread across the guy’s whole back, but since he was hunched a bit (riding a road bike) the cat sat comfortably. I wondered how long they rode like this. I also wondered what happened when the guy had to stand up, say at a stop light. Who knows, but it was cool.
I intended to ride the “Ride Around Clark Country” Century, and didn’t. I intended to ride “Tour de Valley” ride and “America’s Most Beautiful Ride” in Reno and the “Reach the Beach” (I am most bummed about not doing this one), but I skipped all of them because I have hardly been training this season. But I rode the Strawberry Century, kept a 14.2 mph average, without much pain and anguish and I didn’t ride at all in the past 2 weeks (expect for errand runs and that sort of thing, which doesn’t count). So now I know there is no excuse. I could probably hop on my bike any time and ride a century and finish it. That is a powerful feeling.
Now I have 2 things to work on. I want to improve my average. I am averaging about 14-14.5 mph. My goal has been, and still is, to ride at 15 mph. Last year when my average soared after buying a new bike, I felt less motivated to work on this goal. However, now I am realizing there is a big difference between averaging 14 and 15 mph on a century! Reaching my goal won’t be as easy as I previously thought, making it more interesting to strive for.
I also need to work on my training and average for the sake of riding in heat. My performance drops drastically when it is hot outside. I just made plans to ride another century in Bend for Independence Day, and it will surely be a scorcher. Being in the saddle for 10 hours is no fun, if I can keep it under 7 hours that would be ideal. I also love riding in Colorado, but the heat there wipes me out!

Every so often I hear a song and then I simply have to hear it over and over again. It become almost an obsession, and while I would tire of other songs quickly, this one song holds its passion. Most recently this obsession was a tie between the two Moby tunes “Extreme Ways” and “Slipping Away”. Last summer it was “Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani. In 2004, it was “The Last Song” by the All-American Rejects. Well, a couple of weeks ago a new song found it’s way into my head. First I heard it on the radio, and I had no idea who sang it. But after a brief Internet search, I discovered She Wants Revenge and from then on couldn’t stop listening to “Tear You Apart.”
It is interesting how a song can define a phase, or section of your life that you are going through. There are so many songs like this. Every time I hear them, I can almost smell the time the song identifies. The memories wash over you. The memories are then more important than the song. The recollection for some reason is always bittersweet. This phenomenon can’t happen to songs by any favorite artists, because those songs are listened to over a longer period of time and the significance is lost. Why does a certain song grab you? Why do certain songs grab some people and not others? Is there significance there? Can we draw interpretations about our collective personalities by looking at this or is it just simple variations in musical preference?