I'm fairly good at the whole brave face thing, but I knew even that wasn't going to last, so when I heard about the Viva McAllen bike ride, I thought to myself, excellent! Road therapy! I needed a long ride anyway, and hey, it's been a while since I got a medal for my collection. Plus, I wanted to see if all this interval and spinning work was actually working for me.
Esmeralda was also doing the 60, so it was like Shiner, the Sequel. Minus the hills, of course. She was all amped up, but I was pretty mellow, just looking forward to getting out the ickiness of the week in the form of some really solid times, and buckets of sweat.
Things started well enough. Got some compliments from cyclists about how good my form and cadence were, and maintained a good average speed. At about mile ten, we went over some railroad tracks that seemed a little bumpier than usual. A little further ahead, I saw the SAG vehicle repairing flats. Wow, that sucks, I thought. So early in the ride and poor people got a flat.
It started getting harder to maintain my speed. I checked my form, and was letting the hamsters in my head figure it out when a lady came up behind me and told me my back tire was a little saggy. Thirty seconds later, it was completely flat. Huh. Okay.
Now, I know the theory behind changing a tire. I say that because in my racing time before, I never had a flat. Not once. I was actually kind of excited, because I had a CO2 cartridge and wanted to see if it was as cool as everyone said. Got the tire off, replaced the tube, put the canister on...and nothing. Hmm, maybe I did it wrong. Re-positioned the canister, and...nothing. Meanwhile, all these people are passing me, and my ride for time just became a survival ride.
The SAG vehicle showed up, and the guy had a pump, bless him! Tire fixed, off I go. I motored as fast as I could and manage to keep my legs fresh. I was fairly happy, maintaining a 20mph pace. On my bike, that's a fair accomplishment. Just past mile twenty, I caught up to two guys. We stopped at a light, got started and about a block in - my tire popped and went flat. I'm not sure how many expletives I actually said, but there were enough going on in my head. No flats for 22 YEARS, and now two within an hour, are you kidding me?
The guys were kind enough to stop to help, but when another SAG vehicle came up, I waved them on. They encouraged me to keep going, they expected me to pass them again. Just let me get this tire changed...
Mitchel and Oscar cracked jokes with me as we fixed the tire, trying to keep me positive. Poor Oscar, we made him take apart the wheel three times before it could be inflated. Once it was, I looked at the tire and something was off. Sure enough, one of the flats had shredded the side of the tire itself. I was done.
Now, Oscar drives a Scion. While I could spend some time here mocking the wanna-be-a-car car, he was gracious enough to stuff me, my bike, Mitchel and himself into said non-car, so no jokes will be made. However, part of the bike and I did have to hang out of the back of the car while he drove 70 mph down the expressway. I tried very hard not to look down, and kept a firm grip on the bike.
Getting back to the start at the Convention Center, Mitchel starting joking about how this would make for an interesting blog. She told Oscar he should read it. He asked me where to find it. I had already "liked" Veloce magazine, so I suggested we become friends on Facebook. He starts looking me up, and lo and behold, we already were friends. We started cracking up. Big thanks to the both of them. They helped me out, and helped keep me positive. Good people.
Mitchel wanted me to get my medal. I felt bad about it. In my mind, I didn't finish, so I didn't deserve the medal. She kept encouraging me, so her and I went to the finish line. She went over to the people handing out the medals. I have no idea what she told the lady, but I got called over, and after asking me if I was okay, she handed me my medal. I jokingly said it was my non-finishers medal. In the end, I'm glad she got me to do it.
Perspective time - my tires were original to the bike. Considering how old they are, it's really not surprising they gave out. It could have been much worse - this could have happened at Ironman. Or even worse, I could have had the blowout when I was going full speed and wiped out, really harming the bike...I mean myself. Ah, who am I kidding, Skin heals.
Overall, it was a bad ending to a bad week. But it happened, it's over (hopefully), and once I have some time to lick my wounds (and purchase new tires), everything will be okay.
As I was driving home, I heard this loud pop behind me, and a hiss. I figured it was the other tire giving out. I glanced behind me, and it was the CO2 cartridge, finally discharging. I sat there shocked for a few seconds and then starting laughing. Cause on days/weeks like these, it's better to laugh than cry.
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