MS tour 2007 Day 1

07 MS Tour DAY 1
At 5:00 am the alarm went off and I was pushed out of bed by excitement, apprehension,anticipation and muted fear. This past years riding in preparation for 2 days under the spotlight has culminated into one thought, will I make it or ride in the SAG vehicle. Have I absorbed enough calories ?, is my stamina up to snuff ?, will the bike perform ?, questions that can only be answered these next 2 days. Marie drove me to the starting line, my shirt pockets filled with best wishes, gatorade and doubtful confidence. The starting crowd was familiar from years past, the Elvis team , the Buttwatchers, the Goonpatrol, the Road sharks, and this year my bike mechanic Jonathan ,riding , Eric taking his place at stop 3.Unloaded my bike, pumped up the tires, checked all my gear , donned my numbers and joined the crowd. Now all fears were gone, I was another rider, all reservation disappeared, time to function and I was ready. The starting fireworks go off and I join the legions , about 1000, on 2 days journey, for me an inner journey, none the less a journey. The first few miles most riders are paced by adrenalin, I on the other hand set my pace and stick to it no matter how slow. At mile 1 a rider stops to repair his flat tire, an annual event, there's always a flat in the first turn, I on the other hand allow the crowds to clear the path for me picking up nails, sharp rocks, and glass. I'm blessed with my kind of weather, more warm than cool, slightly overcast, slight breeze out the south. The first 10 miles I bore witness to most of the riders passing me, I became disheartened though when the kid on the tricycle, the old man with his cane mounted on his recumbent and the rider with a full size speaker blaring fight songs mounted on his rear carrier, all passed me with elegant ease. Curses I think to myself,, they'll all fail when we hit the alps, my strategy will prevail. Part 2 of my plan, I pass by the first rest stop, jumped ahead of 200 riders. Onward and onward I pedaled searching my grove, body becoming a machine and functions without thought. From Rest stop 2 to the end the side of the road is spattered with spent riders and broke bikes waiting for a SAG pick up. I count my blessings and ride on . At stop 3 I talk to Eric the Bike tech, not too many flats this year as he aligns a wheel for a rider. I let him know that my bike and I are functioning well, just slow. I gulp the the available grub , grapes , oranges, nuts, fig newtons, and 10k. I keep telling myself, eat before your hungry and drink before your thirsty. Its about 5 miles to lunch when I meet with my old friend King Kong the mountain, big as ever and daring me to scamper up it's side. In my world its an Alp, a Pyrenees, I imagine the top being snow covered and the road lined with spectators cheering us on to the top. I don't take its dare and artfully work my way up using my gears and cunning, never stopping to question the path, just to do it, searching my MP3 player and finding "Born to be Wild" , cranking the volume up to help spur my calves to give that extra effort needed to not stop, as I peak to top the oxygen mask falls out on my bike from the pressure change, I thought for a minute I saw a mountain goat, or maybe its the lack of oxygen playing tricks with my mind. I went into a daze momentarily and pictured myself on the red Western Flyer of my childhood, my right pant leg rolled up, my arms pulling back on the extra wide handle bars, pushing that one gear to it's max.As I crested I began to regain consciousness and looking down reved up the adrenalin.The down side gave me the rest I needed, I coasted for about a mile before having to pedal again. 32 miles an hour gets scary on just 2 wheels.Lunch break, whilst I chew on a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, my mind has done complete turnaround, I know I'll make it , maybe slow but I'll make it. Now I can enjoy the ride, fresh air, picturesque scenery, the smell of dairy's and not a milk smell , the pastures of cattle and horses, the llama farm, the emu farm , an occasional goat and here comes another hill. Hill after hill after hill, after hill, my thighs feel the effort and develop that slow constant burning. I am undaunted and tackle each as if I were cresting Mount Everest. Rest stop 5, take time to checkout equipment, spend an little time recuperating , load up on food and drink, decide to crank it up a bit, I'm feeling good, I started down a desolate area, very wooded, big shoulders and shallow hills. Suddenly my nose twitched and picked up a foul smell.. As I rode on it became prevalent and more foul, 2 young men come up from behind, I turn to the first one and remark , "smell that?, "what?" he says, "that stench, you don't smell it ?,", "What is that", he yells to his partner and me. My attention is drawn to the right , my eyes pick up a shadow moving in the woods, "what was that!" I thought, tall, slow, and stinky. We approached a turn then I recognized the area, its' where last years "Big Foot" sighting took place. I grabbed my camera ready to shoot, the shadow's gone, I dare not stop, not that curious, I snapped some pictures of footprints on the shoulder ( see photo section part 3 ) . The 2 young men and I moved on to the next hill and agreed to act like nothing happened, who'd believe us anyway.Next rest stop, number 6, last stop , I can smell the finish line, I'm confident, relaxed, enjoying the break, drinking, eating, joking, chit chatting with the volunteer workers, I've kicked ass even though according to the volunteers there's only about 10 riders behind me, not counting the hundreds that have dropped out. Crossing the interstate signaled me about 5 miles left, time to pour it on and finish this puppy in eight and a half hours. The woods get deeper , the hills are smaller , the entrance to the park is in sight and I'm pedaling for all I have. I approach the finish line and the crowds are encouraging me , probably looked like I needed help .Turned in my bike , found Marie and don't think I've ever felt this good after the first day,looking forward to tomorrow with aspirations of doing even better.Time to eat plenty, drink plenty and rest. .

MS Tour 2007 day 2

Day 2.


Woke up feeling great, had a Nutrigran bar breakfast, hurried to the starting line.
Retrieved my bike , filled my water, and had my tires pumped up . I was early, but it's never early enough. Making my way to the starting line I notice the numbers of riders has diminished
and the remaining crew are the "in shape" serious riders. I'm honored to be in this crowd no matter how slow. I move toward the front to get a good spot to start from, I run into Jonathan my bike mechanic, he's ready, he's rested and pumped up. 8:00 AM sharp, the gun goes off,
I start in the first third, feeling good, I stay with the crowd out the Park, about 2 miles, then
tapered off a bit for the first set of hills, after that the road flattens out for a while, it was then
started overtaking riders, not sure why, I was pacing about 15 miles per hour, feeling good and developing ideas that didn't make sense. I stopped at the first stop, grabbed some water and
went on, feeling better and better mile by mile, Day 2 the hills are in the beginning and wane as we near the finish. My legs pumping and pumping relentlessly, feeling no fatigue, no failure I started pushing harder and harder faster and faster. Stop 2 , not stopping I have water and food in my back pocket. I seem to be riding with the elite speedsters, we're averaging 20 miles per hour, hill or no hill, it's like I'm in a Alfred Hitchcock movie.. Suddenly I'm going faster, 30 miles an hour, I think I'm in the front of the pack, leading the breakaway, way ahead of the peleton, how can this be, is it a "dream?", some "magic beans?" I found yesterday, a "genie?" in my water bottle or has "Big Foot?" from yesterday given me talent and skills I didn't have.
Seeing the heat rising off my tires I stop at stop 3 to have equipment checked out by Eric.
He's in disbelief, my tires are worn and smoking from the heat , he hurries and throws on
a set of tires while I refill my water and food. Eric checks out the entire bike and gives me an OK to push it. He tells me I'm near the front but I take it as a joke . Not a lot of riders at this stop, I must be in between groups. I jump back on the road, onto lunch, noting the lack of riders around me, but then being in the rear usually I'm alone. I approach King Kong Hill and scurry up without even changing gears, I shoot down the other side at about 50 mile per hour.
What's going on . No one is passing me. Why?
I cruise into the lunch stop , only a handful of riders there , no one's eating much lunch just a bite and on their way, I follow suite, grab a bite and on my way. I'm now averaging 35 miles per hour, I'm passing skinny riders on skinny bikes. There's Jonathan up ahead, as I pass him
he starts to say ,"hey Mr Gary", but I'm to far gone to reply, he's just a outline in my rear view mirror. I've got 2 waters on my bike and 2 in my shirt pocket, no need to stop anymore.
I pass a few more riders then see something blue coming into view up ahead. could it be, yes it's the lead motorcycle, I get alongside and start to pass, he accelerates to keep ahead of me and we're off to the finish. Passing up stops 5 and 6 put me on the home stretch, the hills are behind me now and I approach Hammond. With a personal escort I zipped through town and approached the finish line in disbelief, I was first in, it's not a race so no one wins,
but someone is first in , it was me. The crowd cheered, camera's flashed, congrats everywhere .
Next year I'm riding again, thinking of a team, Elvis, Elmer Fudd, Miles Standish, and Ravi Shankar.
thanks for your support.....
later
gary

PIctures of 07 MS Tour. Part 3

It's time for the MS Tour.

It's here, the MS tour is this weekend. I rode 60 miles last Saturday, 50 miles last Sunday, got a new rear wheel put on the bike and Jonathan gave it one last look and a few final adjustment s.

Wednesday night I took a final 5 mile shake down ride. All systems are go . If I hold together and the bike holds together we'll be fine. There's nothing left to do but to "DO IT ".

It's Thursday night, I feel like a kid going fishing this weekend. Excited!

I also feel like a athlete, a actor , a dancer , a circus performer , that's trained, practiced,
rehearsed, or studied all year and everything relies on my performance this weekend.

The real bottom line is I've already won. Getting prepared for this event puts me in excellent
physical and mental health, so if I don't get to the starting line I've won, I've gained ,
I've prospered in several personal aspects of my being.

I've packed my camera and notebook to record anything of interest and if I'm lucky
I'll find some excitement.

I've been promised that the hills were lowered this year.

Next entry will be the results show. . . .

later

gary

A long, long, long, time ago when I was young, my friends and I would ride our bikes on the
cement edge along parts of Bayou St John, sometimes you stayed up , sometimes you fell in the grass and sometimes you fell in the Bayou. Courage is when you do it at 56. See video.
later
gary

Long hard weekend, did 60 miles Saturday and 50 miles Sunday,

does my ass hurt, you better believe it, I even earned a saddle sore.

The video is of a trip down the Bayou St John bridge at the Lakefront.

Less than a month to go , put the Trek in the shop for a pre tour inspection ,

new tires, tubes, pedal straps, adjustment s and a new seat.. .

Starting to get apprehensive, must be the fear of failure.

later

gary

Still in the race

Although I've been side tracked lately, the MS Tour ride is still on and I'm still signed up and getting ready. I've managed to get in 50 miles on Saturdays and 25 on Sundays. N0thing I can do here will get me ready for the hills, (mountains) except an occasional overpass.
The Tour is 6 weeks away and my efforts are pointed to peak at the right time, not too soon and not too late. I'll hold the Saturday 50 and add to the 25 Sunday, this don't' include the 30 on weeknights.. Ran into George on the River Levee, he's on a faster bike, his goal is to finish faster this year, I think he has the bike and the persistence to accomplish his goal, as for me, someone has to come up the rear and make sure everybody gets in safely, I just wish they'd
leave me some grapes at the rest stops. Here are some pictures of some beautiful streets in the quarter ( click on them to enlarge). I love the stoops and small porches. I've sat on a few of these in my younger days, dated a girl or 2 that lived in the quarter. The Mississippi at night , what a sight. Yes, my other bike is a huffy, when the TREK is in the shop I ride the Huffy, it's slow but comfortable.

Today I thought about risk and returns. So I ride on the street a lot, I ride on the West Napoleon Speedway, I've taken the ride of death on Williams Blvd, I've cruised on Simon Bolivar,Washington,Freret, Esplanade, Rampart, etc , etc, etc, without a bullet proof vest.
Traveled all over the French Quarter, the Warehouse District, the Irish Channel,
St Roch, even Tchoupitoulas St. from one end to the other, why, why why, . . .
Without risk there is no life, to live is to escape death, what an adrenalin rush , a death defying
act every weekend. If you want to see whats out there you must take the risk, go see.
You don't get great pictures sitting on your sofa. I don't take risk for the sake of taking risk, and the risk are calculated and controlled, timing is everything. When they walk past my casket,
(hopefully my MP3 player will be playing), know that I lived, not just existed, got scared,
got courageous, got mad, got yelled at and yelled, I've chased and I've ran, emotional life,, gives you reason to continue on in spite of whats hurled at you. So if the bus runs me over, don't
feel bad, I knew the risk, and probably took it head on cussing the whole time, may even have pictures of it happening . No, I'm not Captain Ahab and the bus is not Moby Dick, it's more like
I'm Hemingway and the bus is a bull in Pamplona.

MS Tour , first weekend of October, for more info go to , (mslouisiana.org.)

Ever go to Canal St.. and look up? click on each to enlarge.

Spring has Sprung.

Spring, morning is still,

air is fresh,cool, sunny is today's promise. The journey is the center of all , the bike the vehicle, places are fixtures. I feel life around me, not just today's but the past and the future. I absorb the fixtures, inhale them , process them , squeeze every ounce of life out of them, make them part of my inner self, my soul, my mind, I make them what I"m living for at that precise moment. Focus, focus, meld with the lives around me.

The blacktop street is smooth, worn ,

tired from carrying the weight of

civilization , it's has life , I too travel it, this chalkboard of the city, I leave my life's weight and gather those left before me.

The French Quarter has life abundant, old and new, a young lady on a bike passes me , I assess her, checkered sundress, red dyed hair, tattoo of a black rose on her right calf, green tennis shoes, a metal loop in her lower lip and long strapped black bag flopping off her shoulder.

She rides with direction and intent,

where could she be going and why.
Where has she been and why?

I take a moment to fabricate her life,

I fit her into a box of my liking, her life fills my needs for her to exist,

onward to the next fixture. I visit the

once home of Tennessee Williams,

his life still gives off an energy there,

and if you listen, you'll hear Marlon Brando yelling "Stella" and Liz Taylor calling Burl Ives "Big Daddy". Just off the corner of

Royal and Ursuline my eye is struck by a man perched against a rough, beige colored stucco wall, his hands are behind his back and his left foot against the wall, his cocoa tinted complexion is handsomely favored by his deep blue dyed Nehru shirt,his baggy linen trousers once white now spottily stained, he gazes upward yet his eyes are shielded by his straw panama hat, so what story is behind that bushy mustache. Is he a leftover from last night, does he work nearby, is he visiting, hanging out,

on the prowl, laying low, people watching, waiting for someone,

how will I ever know his reason for being ? Perhaps he's spent his entire life on the low wild side, picking up thrills and dollar bills when and where they presented themselves. He peeks at me with one eye as I ride past, just a glimpse to access my life in a quick thought. He and I are both bookends, markers, drawers in a chest, legs on a chair, unnoticed yet integral to a panoramic picture of life in this city.

A tourist couple crosses the intersection as I wait. It was "Beryl I ate too much corn and beef " and her husband "Ralph Ive never been off the farm ", they were obvious in tourist shorts, New Orleans T- shirts,

designer flip flops, straw hats, cameras, and a naivety that made me envious.

Ralph's eyes followed me as I passed through, for 2 seconds he thought how great it must be to be me.

For those 2 seconds he was right.

later,

gary