Running Shorts

I don’t know why it has taken me so long to write about the MS Tour de Vine.
Perhaps my brain was fried ... or perhaps I have a tendency to block out things when I don’t do them as well as I would have liked.
You see that weekend—- the hottest weekend of the year—was a weekend filled with anticipation, perspiration and frustration.
If I recall correctly, it was either Prince Amy or Fast Kathy who thought it would be fun to ride our bikes in the fundraiser for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. (Some 500 bikers did raise more than $380,000.)
Tour de Vine ... a bicycle ride with rest stops at area wineries, that sounded great. Her-Mix-A-Lot Anne was in. So Easy Deb and I, well, we said OK, even if we didn’t have pedals that clipped onto fancy bike shoes. Shoot, we weren’t even sure how to the change the gears on our new bikes. But we wanted to ride with our friends.
And winery rest stops sounded great.
(Let me tell you right up front, there were rest stops AT the wineries, but they were not IN the wineries. Sorry, no tastings for road-weary bikers.)
But Easy lined us up with a riding group to train for the event. For weeks, Juan Ascoli taught us the ins and outs of keeping the chains on the bikes, climbing hills, road safety and generally keeping vertical while on two wheels. After a practice ride in Greene County, we felt pretty good.
Our goal was to ride 50 miles the first day ... and at least 50 or more the second day.
Anne had another goal. She wanted us to camp.
We all—except Amy—said “NO.“ Quite emphatically.
So, naturally, the night before the biggest physical challenge I was ever about to endure ... we were pitching a tent in the heat on the grounds of St. Anne’s-Belfield.
Fast supplied the tent and a canopy ... and, for some strange reason, a baby swimming pool.
That pool became the hit of the weekend. As the heat index soared into triple digits Friday, Saturday and Sunday, we met tons of nice folks who stopped by to cool their toes in the lukewarm water. People brought ice, people brought beverages, people brought good conversation. I remember that well.
It was the riding part that I tend to block out.
I don’t know if it was the heat, or the fact that I had a cold, or that fact that I just needed to have practiced a whole lot more, but although I started off well, I began to falter somewhere around rest stop three.
Fast was still fast, and luckily was able to catch up with some of her Boar’s Head cycling buddies. (They were way cool and seemingly unfazed by the heat, leading me to realize that the man who sold me my bike probably was correct when he said, “You aren’t a biker.“)
But I plugged along up what seemed to be never-ending hill at Batesville and made only one non-scheduled stop when a bug flew in my shirt.
The next thing I remember we had finished 50-plus miles and I was sitting by the baby pool, when a cycler from a nearby tent asked me if I had any aspirin. He was packing up and heading to Richmond to stay with friends for the night. As I got up to search in the oven that had been our sleeping accommodations the night before, I became dizzy.
Deb, ever the smart one, said we should check out the showers, which we did. Only I remember I ended up in the shower with my clothes on.
I was still a little foggy when I met back up with the rest of the crew for some much needed beverages and dinner—- back outside at St. Anne’s.
Deb, just a tad prickly from the heat, announced that it was too hot and she was going home to get a good night’s sleep. Everyone thought that was a reasonable idea. Except Anne. She really likes to camp. So Amy, ever the trooper, stayed with Anne at our campsite. Fast convinced me to enjoy the air conditioning at her home, which revived me mightily.
Except for my cold and the heat and the lack of my skill.
So when we lined up Sunday morning, we agreed that we would go to the first rest stop (which was not at a winery), before determing which distance to complete.
It was hot, even thought it was 6:30 in the morning. But I wanted to do 50 more. It didn’t take long to realize that that was not going to happen.
Before I got out of the parking lot ... I got into an altercation with my bike. It cut my shin and bruised my thigh, but I won the battle and was soon biking up Old Lynchburg Road.
Feeling that my cold medicine might have added to my dehydration woes of the day before I opted to ride sans nose woofer or little red pills. (Take it from me. Take the medicine.)
Anyhow, after barely making it to the first stop, my weary legs and heavy breathing made me give in to my wiser riding buddies. We would do the shorter 25-mile route.
I know Kathy could have gone more, the others looked fresh as sweaty daisies, too. I felt frustrated that I was holding them back. But after I ran off the road while trying to replace a water bottle and made another unscheduled stop to relieve my stomach of the weight of too much rest-stop goodies ... (They have GREAT rest stops. I loved the sandwiches of peanut butter and the sandwiches of ice cream) ... I headed back to camp.
We were rewarded with medals, certificates and another fine meal.
But it was still hot. Way hot.
So, we do what we do.
We stayed outside and cheered on our friends and friends whom we didn’t even know.
Then we went back to our newly iced-down baby swimming pool and we sat and talked and laughed and shared beverages with friends old and new.
It had been a long, hot and draining weekend, but we were among the last to leave.
And you know what: I can’t wait to do it again.
I love a good challenge. And I love my friends.