That’s OK, the need for speed is a hard addiction to break. It rained fairly heavily on us for about 10 miles, and they were some awfully rough, and bumpy, paved county roads that we rode on. By mile 50 my backside had begun to squeal a bit when I hit some unexpected bumps. I rode with various groups, met some neat people, and did fine until mile 65. There my thigh muscles cramped like nothing you’ve ever seen. I may actually have cried like a little girl. But only for a second or three. The decision then was to quit, or to try to spin out the cramps (riding in a low gear) and keep going. Since I didn’t come to quit, I spun out cramps for about 10 miles. Not very pleasant.
I finished strong, but not in a good time because of riding 10 miles so slowly. But I was not so concerned about the time, I wanted to finish the race.
Here are pics of Brad and I. Brad is the short one with sunglasses. You can just tell he’s a punk by looking at him, can’t you? He is, but I love him, he’s a great guy.
The reason I’m laughing in the head shot is because of something the Irish woman who took the pictures said at the moment she snapped the photo. She zoomed in, looked in the view finder, and exclaimed, “My, there’s just way too much face!”. Really…
It was a blast, I’ll try to do it again next year!