After being a hard-core, hairy-legged, roadie-bashing mt. biker for my first few years of calling myself a cyclist, I have undergone a transition over the last couple of years. It all started when James Ramsaur at
Lincoln Parish Park where I worked through part of my college career loaned me an old road bike somebody had dumped on him a few years before. It was probably an early '80s model, and it was too small, but it rolled. I began to enjoy the occasional road ride, going out for hours at a time covering the beautiful countryside around Ruston.
After moving to Houston and realizing the mt. bike riding here was not as convenient as it was in Ruston, and Raine getting interested in road riding and us getting the bug to ride in the Hotter 'n Hell Hundred, we bought our first road bikes. A Trek 1500 for me and a Trek 1000 for Raine. We rode around the paved bayou trails here in Houston for a while and then drove to Wichita Falls for the '06 HHH. I set off to do my first century(100mi ride) and Raine went on her first real solo ride looking for 25 miles. Raine made her full distance and I was so proud of her. My 100 mile attempt was foiled, however, when they shut down the "Hell's Gate" cut off an hour and a half early and I got there only an hour before the published cut-off! Missed it by 30 minutes. So I was forced to take the shortcut back along with a lot of other riders and finished with 75 miles for the day.
After the HHH we continued riding our road bikes together and I used mine for my primary training tool for MTB racing. Throughout all the '07 series most of my miles came on my road bike. As I had started racing for a Specialized dealer the Trek had to go. I swapped the components off my bike onto a Specialized frame and had a
sort of new bike! It has continued to evolve from that point as I get more miles on it and get more comfortable on it. I also began to join the Sugar Cycles shop rides on Sat. mornings, getting comfortable riding with others in pace lines and packs. I was a fast guy on these rides but definitely not nearly the fastest. This was the extent of my roadieness for a while, just solo training rides, rides with Raine, and shop rides. I was still a hard-core, hairy-legged, mt. biker just without so much of the roadie bashing part.
Then came the Tour of New Braunfels. My shop's cat 5 team was down a man, so they asked me to pitch in and help out. I had no idea what to expect, and whether or not I would even be able to stay with the pack. My mt. bike season didn't start for another month so I wasn't getting into race shape yet, but I figured I would give it a try. We were all hyped up about the race, making big plans and talking strategy. The Thursday before the race I even gave in to the pressure and shaved my legs! We arrived in New Braunfels and hit the road on the neutral roll out, and all our planning and strategizing was out the window. We weren't all riding together, we were separated from the start, some of us jumped on the front when they weren't supposed to, etc. Eventually our field of 50 starters was whittled down to around 25 still in the lead pack, and true to statistics 3 of our 6 team members were off the back. But surprisingly, I wasn't one of those 3!! I had managed to ride smart the whole time, and didn't have much trouble staying with the pack. I did chase down a couple of breaks, and even attacked once on my own half way through the last lap, so it wasn't like I was sucking wheel the whole time.
As the pack approached the finish I was sitting somewhere about midpack, not as far forward as I should have been and definitely not organized with my remaining two teammates for a lead out. A couple hundred yards away from the line some guy a couple riders ahead of me made a bonehead move and went down, taking a few other riders with him: one of which was me. I hit a downed rider at 25+ mph and to the tarmac I went. I got the breath severely knocked out of me after impacting the stem and a pretty good road rash all the way down my right side. My front wheel was broken and my chain was wrapped all up in my back wheel. Once I got my breath back I fixed my bike enough so I could pedal to the line and I rode in. Everybody who responded to the wreck expected me to want a sag vehicle to carry me back but I told them "I don't quit." Other than the wreck, I really enjoyed the race. It was a good fitness test/indicator and I felt good afterwards. I can see myself doing more road races in the future, but MTB will still be my #1.
So now roadie-bashing and hairy-legged are out the window, but I still plan on being a hard-core mt. biker. And as they say, but it's never been more important to me: keep the rubber side down.
We went up and came back and did all that stuff in about 7.5 hours. That's less than the amount of time it would have taken to drive there, walk in the front door and say hello, and then immediately get back in the car and drive home. That's why it's a time machine.
