Training Camp Take Two

Two base camps in three weeks sound like heaven to a cyclist.  My goal for the weekend was to get about 160 miles in on the bike.   Big fail on that goal!  Instead my mileage totaled about 109 miles due to rain. 

Cindi & I getting ready to ride.  Love Cindi in a Big Shark kit!!!

Friday started out great.  Cindi and I left right on time and headed southeast.  No navigation errors, no issues, just a fun, talkative trip.  We made it to Nashville before noon, enough time to change clothes and get out to the Natchez Trace for an afternoon ride.  I would guess we had about 25 head out in small groups.  We were supposed to practice pacelines but that went south fast.  The groups split apart and we did what we could.  I knew Nashville was hilly, but I don't think I mentally grasped that there was nothing! flat.  I felt like I was either climbing or descending.  It was a lot of fun though.  We rode out for about 65 minutes.  On the ride back I was able to catch up with Richard and go at a conversational pace.  He has a beautiful new bamboo bike that he got because his daughter's nickname is Boo. 



The view from the bridge on the Trace.

Friday night was dinner at Fido's.  Yummy sweet potato gnocchi was dinner before heading over to socialize at Blackstone.  I cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard.  Cody's stories had us all in stitches, shaking our heads.  I won't divulge details as to protect the identity of the not-so-innocent, but I will say it was fun and we all made it across to the hotel in one piece.

But my evening did not end there.  We had a bachelor party next door to us.  As I walked to my room, I encountered the bachelor, comatose and unconscious in the hallway, with his soon to be brother-in-law.  I politely stepped over the groom and went in to go to bed.  I fumbled for jammies and finally crawled into bed before hearing a knock at the door.  Good sense would have told me not to open the door at 1:30AM in nothing but my jammies, but I often lose my good sense.  There stands the brother in law who proceeds to explain to me that he couldn't get the bachelor up and his sister was going to so mad and a million other trivial details.  I listened for a few moments before shaking my head and telling him "it's not my problem" and shutting the door.

Saturday morning got there far too quickly and it ushered in the rain.  It did not look good for the planned 80 miles on the Trace.  As the skies continued to open, more and more folks backed out of the ride.  There were about 12 of us who started out towards Percy Warner Park.  Within three blocks, two turned back and my feet were starting to schoosh on the downstroke.  By the end of four miles, I could no longer see through my glasses.  I rode about 35 minutes out before crying uncle and heading back.  The only problem was I didn't quite remember how we had gotten there.  Relatively quickly I found the road to the hotel and decided to take it straight back.  There was heavy traffic, but at least I knew where I was.  I warmed up in a hot shower before we headed out to lunch and a mani/pedi.  My thought was that if I couldn't ride, I might as well do something productive.  Next up was a core/stretching class by Amy that I muddled through with my weakling modifications.

And then came Saturday night.  Dinner at Bosco's was first.  Good food, great company, bad innuendos sums it up pretty well.  And then we went to Cadillac Ranch.  Amy was bound and determined that someone needed to ride the mechanical bull.  While I am happy to say I stayed much longer than eight seconds, I must sadly tell you there is no photographic evidence.  Although the photos below do display the talents of some of my teammates who took the challenge as well.  In hind sight, it probably would have been a good move to go home after that, but when has that ever stopped me.  Coyote Ugly was next . . . and it got ugly.  That's all I can say because what happens at team camp, stays at team camp.  Naw, it wasn't that bad…nothing anyone who knows me wouldn't expect, but again, protecting the innocent.  I will just say that after all the years of warning students about the dangers of horse play, I had to go and prove it myself.  Black eye, bloody (possibly broken) nose, and eight of us piling into the cab rounded it all out.   

Sunday morning came even quicker than Saturday morning and my face hurt more than I can tell you.  It hurt to put my glasses on when we went to ride.  I would guess about 25 of us went to ride.  Most of the group split off and met some guys from Grand Fondo bikes.  Seven of us rode West End/Harding out to the trace and did a few miles out there.  It was chilly, damp, and windy, but it felt good to spin.  It wasn't my best quality ride, but we managed to get 47 done. 

Tom's look regarding Cody's story should tell it all.

Cindi conquering the bull.

Our bull riding cheering section.

Bring it!

After a shower and lunch, Cindi and I headed home.  The ride home was much the same as the ride there . . . non-stop talking and stories.  In spite of the lack of mileage, it was a great weekend.