Bike Virginia Day Three: Nothing but Sunshine

Miss Piggy in Saltville

28 June 2015

"The first four miles, you're going to feel like you did at the end of yesterday's ride," Tom said.  "After that you'll feel great."

Of course I didn't belive him.  We were going to have to ascend 4000 feet in 46 miles.

He ended up being right.  We had a real dinner last night. We all got a lot of sleep, which helped. I did an extra round of PT before bed and another in the morning. I made my own coffee, the brown water provided by the hotel not being strong enough. The temperature had dropped into the 70s.  The air was dry, the sun was out, and the headwind wasn't much.

We started riding at 9:30 a.m.  All the fastboys and racergirls had apparently gone out at 8:00 with George Hincapie (none of us was interested in meeting him).  That left the regular folks, the people who look like us and are willing to talk and pedal at the same time.

Today's route was through a valley of rolling hills.  I spotted three Confederate battle flags, two of them on the same pole.  I don't know what these people think the flag stands for, but this description of southern heritage is what I think of.

In southwestern Virginia, even the cows are white:

More rolling scenery:

This cow posed for me:

Not counting on any cool days, I'd only packed sleeveless jerseys, so I pulled out one of the ones I bought on Friday.  Tom said I looked goth dressed all in black.  I asked him to take a picture.

This is me in my natural habitat, a Primal jersey. This is the closest I'll ever get to wearing a little black dress:

A herd of cows on a hillside:

More scenery:

At the rest stop in Saltville, Tom ran into his friend from work again.  Although he'd done the century yesterday, he and his group were out again today.  We decided to ride the remaining 15 miles together.

On the edge of town:

Tom and Tim had a lot to catch each other up on.  I found myself with a burst of energy at the same time that I could feel my legs beginning to get tired, which was a weird feeling.  I started to ride ahead, making sure that I could see Tom, Ron, and Tim in my mirror.  I don't know what happened to the rest of Tim's group.  I think some of them passed me early on.

The closer we got to the end of the ride, the more energy I had.  "I can smell the barn," I told Ron.  "I just want this to be over."  I was finally relaxed.  I hadn't realized how wound up I'd been all weekend.

I stopped one more time to get a picture of a white horse.  This one's for you, Larry.

 The four of us finished the ride more or less together.  We asked Tim to get a picture of us.

Then, as is becoming a sometimes tradition, I collapsed on the grass by Tom's car:

We hung out for a while with Tim and his buddies in their camp.  We exchanged biking stories and they gave us snacks.  I now know that somebody climbed Mount Mitchell in a unicycle. They were amused by the late Norman B supposedly having ridden over the Rockies on a penny farthing, and then contemplated what a mountain bike version would be like.

Riders were breaking camp, the next half of the rides being held from Tennessee.  The vendors were close to packing up, too, so we made another pass through the stalls.  The Primal jerseys were marked down even further, and Ron wanted to look through what was left.  There was nothing worthy in his size, unfortunately.  The Bike Virginia clothing was going pretty cheap also, so I picked up a vest (Primal, too, but that's not why I bought it).  On Friday, Ron gave me an old Bike Virginia jersey he'd picked up but that didn't fit him quite right.  Then there's the icky t-shirt I got for registering early. Add these into the mix and I'm coming home with 6 new pieces of clothing.

We each have one meal token left, but I'm really not into another slab of cold lasagna and bowl of brown lettuce.  It didn't take much for me to persuade Tom to eat some real food tonight instead.

Tomorrow we'll get an earlyish start for our drive back to New Jersey.  We'll caravan with Ron as the pinball as far as Front Royal.  Then I'll peel off towards DC to fetch Jack.

The fourth of July weekend will be the first that I've spent entirely in New Jersey since Memorial Day weekend.  Jack will be home, with no more long-term trips in the near future.  My life should be normal again, at least for a little while. The cats will be happy.

*****

Perhaps I bought this jersey in honor of the wasp I startled last weekend?

I don't know about that, but I do think it's my new favorite.