Friday, March 20, 2015

Rest day?

     Yesterday was going to be kind of a rest day, only 20 miles from Irvine to Laguna Niguel.  I've been starting off at the ass crack of dawn, so it felt decadent to eat breakfast, hang out and talk story about Saipan and Afghanistan, eat lunch and then hit the road at 1330.  This time, my old friend Lothar Cramer wanted to do some of the ride with me, and as an avid cyclist, he is quite familiar with the route and area.  I've been using Google maps for cyclists (yes, I know, it's in beta form) and so far, what I lovingly refer to as my bitch has guided me, turn by turn, to my destination.  The ride was fine until Lothar pointed upwards and said, "That's where we're going."  So, I employed my strategy of stopping when tired, and pedaling on when my heart rate slowed down a bit.
     And to channel a bit of Marshawn Lynch, I'd like to give a shout out to my parents, who endured me for 2 weeks while I put my kit together in Santa Barbara, shout out to Michael and Nikki Blair for their hospitality in Culver City, shout out to South Central L.A. for not jumping this white boy as I rode through the neighborhood on a loaded touring bicycle, shout out to Victoria and Brainard Jones in Irvine for their kindness and a shout out to Lothar and Emily Cramer for opening their home in Laguna Niguel.  Also, a future shout out to Sandee Aga and Rod Hepburn, who have offered an overnight stay at their homes - everyone's generosity and kindness is much appreciated.
     My bitch, so far, has been very good to me, guiding me along some fantastic routes through residential areas and finding lovely bicycle paths.  She even took me past the worlds oldest continuously operating McDonalds, in Downey, CA.

     But when I showed Lothar where my bitch was planning on taking me tomorrow (now today) he said, "Oh, you don't want to go there."  And this is coming from a serious cyclist, one who has a set training schedule, one who races, a real MAMIL (Middle Aged Man In Lycra), the man doesn't even stop on hills.  That's the good news, potential soul crushing hills at the beginning of the ride averted.  The bad news is that at the end of my 50 mile ride tomorrow, I was told yesterday that there was one 'mother of a hill' on the way to my next shelter.  But unlike Lothar, I'm not a racer.  I'm a plodder.  And today, I pedal and plod down towards Oceanside, CA, and that mother of a hill at the end of the ride.


                                  Victoria and Celine, then in Thailand, and Victoria now, all grown up.  

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