The Ride

This is an old, old post that was done 4th of July weekend, 1995. I am resurrecting it for my mother, who thinks it is hysterical....

The harsh, raspy breathing echoed off the dimly lit privacy fences between the drab two story apartment buildings. A curious fine clicking and the sound of something being dragged, accompanied the now gasping respirations.

Clickclickclickclick/ssssssshhhhhhhh/clickclickclickclick/sssssssshhhhhhh.

The breathing became faster, as if sensing the end was near. It was a horrible sound, like the screech of metal against metal. A tumbling and jumbling of sounds filled the still evening air as the clicking and dragging and breathing entity rolled down the two remaining steps to apartment #2. Sprawled on the patio, the clicking mercifully silent, the need for dragging ended, the tortured, agonal respirations slowed.

Quieted.

Calmed.

As the darkness of evening stole the little remaining light that seeped into the patio, a warm red glow filled the air. Steady, soft light. Bright enough to read by. Bright enough to illuminate the bicycle laying on its side on the patio. Bright enough to illuminate the body of the cyclist, chest heaving in silent agony. Bright enough to show the whole world ......


WHAT AN IDIOT I WAS FOR RIDING 60 (yes folks that's sixty) MILES ON A BRIGHT SUNNY DAY WITH ONLY ONE PUNY APPLICATION OF SPF 8 SUNSCREEN.



I am now the proud (?) owner of the sunburn from hell. And *whatever* possessed me to ride for SIXTY MILES I will **never** know. It was just supposed to be a nice gentle ride to Huntington Beach, about 10-13 miles or so. Lay on the beach, soak up the atmosphere and head home in the afternoon before the wind along the coast became too bad. *But NOOOOOOOO* Dummy here *had* to keep going cuz it was *only* noon and I felt *great*, not tired at
all, and why not keep going for *just a little further*, and, well, since you've gotten *this* far, Laguna Beach is *just* another six miles. Yeah, just another 6 miles. All uphill. Well, let me tell you what happens when you don't have *quite enough* fuel on board your body and the whole thing shifts from aerobic (oxygen using) to anerobic (non-oxygen using) metabolism.
It gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "too pooped to pop." You can physically feel the change and the foreboding that goes with it. I was still 3 miles north of Laguna when it happened. Out in the country with no 7-11's near by and not enough sense to stop and eat my apple and orange. I entered Laguna pushing my bike up the last two hills. But I puttered around town a bit and ate lunch and felt better. So I headed for home. And *that's* when
I saw the sign that said "Long Beach 28 miles". I nearly passed out!!! But I made it. I walked about half of the hills between Laguna and Newport, and made frequent rest stops, but I made it. The nut that holds my seat level came undone about 6 miles from home and I suddenly found myself perched on the cargo carrier over the rear wheel. (It was *quite* a thrill.) Fortunately I found a garage-type guy with the wrench I needed who was willing to help me. (And *I* learned an important lesson in never traveling without tools!) And I stopped at the drug store just down the street from my place for *lots* of ibuprofen pills to soothe my aching muscles. BUT I MADE
IT. And in the end, that's all that matters. It was a physical challenge unlike anything I've ever done, and I'm so proud of having survived and actually *enjoyed* the trip (well, except for the last 10 miles or so that was head-on into a very cool evening breeze...) that the sunburn from hell on my nose and thighs seems a small price to pay for the satisfaction of completion. Monday, just before I left for work, the nose decided to shed it's skin and it leaked that yucky burn fluid all night long. You should have heard the hoots from my co-workers and the Rudolph jokes.... ;) ) As a reward for bringing me home, I am treating the bike to an overhaul at the local bike shop. (Besides, that way I don't have to make excuses *not* to ride this week heeheehee.)

I have decided that I was possessed by the spirit of Forrest Gump on this ride. Ya know the part where he starts running? To the end of the lane, then the end of the town and the county line and and and... that's kinda the mentality I had. Just a little further, little further...

And that story at the beginning? That was me crawling the last few inches home and dragging that wonderful bike behind me. Except I managed to pass out *inside* the house!! LOL

Hope you had a Happy 4th and thought about me slaving away at work. Thank heavens the city fathers outlawed fireworks of all kinds in this city. Sure cuts down on the workload. We were busy with all the other holiday stuff tho. Gunshot wound to the head (fatal), gunshot wound to the belly x 3 (no heartbeat on arrival, cracked the chest, fatal) and the assorted stupid riffraff.

Time to rub more lotion into the sunburn,

Chris