Yes, you read that correctly. Today I have completed my third year of daily yoga. Technically I began on 12/4/06, but I missed two days right before Christmas for a medical thing, so I count 12/6/13 as my yogaversary. Purists would say my uninterrupted consecutive practice began on 12/25/13. However you count it, it’s a heckuva lotta downward-facing dogs, which is something worth celebrating and announcing to the infinitesimal corner of the internet in which A Dude Abikes inhabits.
October 29, 2016, Liberty Hill, Texas: The morning began with A Dude Abikes awaking before the alarm, at 5 am. Not a great start. But still better than the 4:24 am wake-up by lightning camping out at the Hill Country Ride for AIDS six months and a day before. It was on that day I first rode a century — 100 miles (104 to be exact). That was no picnic. Today I was planning on going for it again, but events conspired against me, as they often do in bike riding, as with life. Today was Bike Austin’s Armadillo Classic to “Support Cycling by Cycling.” And I sure did a whole hell of a lot of cycling.
First there was the ADAB patented pre-ride Epsom salt bath. By the time I got it drawn and got in, it was time to be getting dressed. Then, it wasn’t hot enough. And I had to take a dip in my host’s very chilly pool to bring down some inflammation from the massage I got the day before for an irritated TFL joint or something. Then I had to get a hot shower to recover from the pool. My host then made a lovely bowl of runny yogurt with apples and protein powder, to which I added oatmeal. I directed driver and rider Gregg to the wrong school. By the time we arrived, I had to sprint to the porta-potta. Then get all my stuff together. 7:30 came and went and I missed the start. Relieved.
The third member of Team T.I.T.S. (Time in the Saddle), Saurabh arrived early, so we figured we’d ride together. But the fog rolled in and the sheriff held us up an hour. I lined up with the 68-milers, which was my original goal anyway. It was good to see fellow riders from the Peddler Bike Austin rides. They finally let us go and I y the time we reached the cut-off point for the 68-milers, it was too late. They had closed the Dillo Door. So 50 miles it was, exactly. I met up with Gregg and Saurabh and we rode for a while. I had made great time the first 11 miles, so dawdled at the rest stops, taking on as many banana and peanut butter wraps, cookies and pickle juice that I could, chatting with the volunteers, EMT and other riders. It was a social ride, after all.
More to follow, but I wanted to get this out there.
“The mountains are calling, and I must go.” -John Muir
September 14, 2016, Sacred Mysteries Bookstore, Livingston, MT
I’m sitting in a small room in an old building with a high ceiling, surrounded by books and pictures of deities, saints and mystics from all the traditions. The creaky, sienna-colored, peeling paint wood floor I slept on was hard, even with my new sleeping bag and pad. So I’m sore and groggy — trying to wake up without Folgers in my cup. There’s some traffic noise from the street and the hum of the mini-fridge and something else I can’t identify. I notice a large black, green and red sheet with cuneiform writing and the Hindu elephant god, Ganesh: the remover of obstacles. Last night when I arrived, the spiritual class being held recited a prayer to Archangel Michael titled “Traveling Protection.” Apparently, I’ve come to the right place.
How I Got Here
“The trick is to tick things off your bucket list without kicking said bucket.” -A Dude Abikes
Thanks for Donating Almost $2,800 to Support Me and a Great Cause!
The HCRA recently had a reunion ride where the funds were presented to the 10 beneficiary agencies. The Ride beat its fundraising goal of $550,00 by $22,000, which is great news! This means more funds can pay for services for people living with HIV in Central Texas – a number that’s sadly growing. Here’s a link to a short news story and video on local NBC affiliate KXAN. It was filmed by Frank Martinez, whom I’m proud to report I arranged to be there.
Here’s also a photo of those of us sporting the LOVE SPOKE Jersey.
(from the left): A Dude Abikes, Dale, Rick, Heather, Tim, Prentiss, Jorge rockin’ the Love Spoke Jersey on the HCRA Reunion Ride, S. Walnut Creek Trail, Austin, TX, July 24, 2016
A Big Public Thank You to All My Supporters!
A Dude Abikes (yes, I donated to try to win a bike and can thank myself!)
Many thanks to Jimmy for the jerseys, to Mike and Chris for great advice and help with my ride in the Bike Shop, support from Brandon and all the guys, and the $100 donation from Tiffany and Barry in the main office!
Every donation, from $17 to $202, was personally meaningful to me and I’m very grateful for each and every one of my donors and each and every dollar. Knowing we had doubled my fundraising from last year helped me doubled my mileage from 50 to 104, a personal best. Plus, it goes to a great cause.
Thanks to Just Some of the Folks in the Bicycling Community Who Helped Me Out:
Saurabh D for being a great riding partner – you’ll be back to beating me soon!
Bryce H and Death Valley Beth – for some wise email coaching
Paulo H – for being a bad-ass 15-year cyclist who’s going to turn pro someday
Gregg K – for taking me to the Ride
Randy L – for helping me go fast and furious on the Dripping Springs Joy Ride
Marty H – for rescuing my jersey early on Ride morning
Stravafollowers – for all the kudos and supportive comments
All the HCRA volunteers – particularly the goddesses on Mount Olympus (call me!)
Dale A – for being the drill sargeant, nature break Nazi and sweeper on Joy Rides
Tim Y (aka Frank) – Chairman of the HCRA Board
and last but not least…
Prentiss Douthit and Nancie Guthrie, the tireless staff of the HCRA!
What’s Next for A Dude Abikes? Prostate Ride 8/27!
Meanwhile, here’s the donation link if you’d like to support my attempt at a 60-mile, hilly and very hot ride (it’s Texas in August, ya’ll!). I hope you’ll pitch in whatever you can for this little known but important cause:
Despite swearing off of charity fundraising rides, I’ve gone ahead and registered for another one. The one-day Austin Community Ride on August 27 benefits www.1400Miles.com, which is “Probing the Conversation on Prostate Health.” Did you know that Prostate cancer is the second leading cause of cancer deaths in men?A Dude Abikes didn’t know that or the fact that it’s also fairly treatable if caught early, but he does now, and he knowsa good cause when he hears one. So I figured why the hell not go for a 60-mile ride in the Hill Country in the heat of a Texas summer to try to raise some money? As long as I’m riding a century every week, all those miles and all that blood, sweat and tears ought to mean something. So I’ll attempt 60 miles and hope to raise a modest $600.
It seems like a lot of people I know are struggling with their health right now, and several have lost the ultimate battle. Two people recently lost their mothers. One of them had recently lost her own mother. Another woman I used to know has had a stroke and likely won’t come back from it. Someone close to me is having a major health challenge that affects their quality of life. And while not comparable or a matter of life or death (well, sometimes it is), biking 100 miles a week is exhausting for this amateur cyclist.
“Such is life” say the French. “And so it goes,” wrote Kurt Vonnegut. “Life goes on” says every other condolence card ever written. But as the kids say, “The struggle Israel.” I don’t know why they say that, but they apparently do. Is that an anti-Semitic joke? Maybe a political statement about Palestinians wanting their own country? Or just absurdism? Oh wait, I’m just now being told it’s actually “The struggle is real.” OK, that makes more sense. That’s A Dude just trying to make light of a serious topic.
Today I went on a 22-mile bike ride with the 1400 Miles whose motto is “Probing the Conversation on Prostate Health.” Their slogan is “Don’t Fear the Finger” (which for women who don’t know, stands for the DRE, the Digital Rectal Exam). OK, I can tell by the perplexed look on your face and the tilted puppy dog head that I need to spell it out for you. A DRE is when a doctor sticks his (or her) digit (finger, not an actual number – that would be weird) up your butt to feel your prostate gland.
As the recent recipient of this lovely procedure, A Dude can say it’s not pleasurable. But then, neither is prostate cancer, so the DRE is one way to screen for it. I did not sing “Moon River” a la Chevy Chase in the 80’s classic movie Fletch (which I’ve seen a dozen times with my brother). Nor did I ask the doctor if he was using the whole fist or say he should at least buy me dinner. But he did know the scene, so that’s good enough for me to trust him. What does the perineum have to do with biking? Well, alot if you put in as much T.I.T.S. as I do (remember, it’s T.ime I.n T.he S.addle).
Lois: Have you designed any buildings in New York?
George Costanza: Have you seen the new addition to the Guggenheim?
Lois: You did that?
George Costanza: Yep. And it didn’t take very long either.
— Seinfeld, “The Race”
After last month’s personal best of 104 miles in one day, it turns out that going on a 50-mile social ride isn’t that exciting to do or write about. The century ride took 10 hours, and it took a lot out of me at all levels. I expected fatigue and a bit of a let-down emotionally, so I was glad for the break. After two days completely off the bike both before and three days off after that 130-mile week, including the Hill Country Ride for AIDS, I still put together a decent 105 miles the next week, including the 50-miler.
It’s less than 24 hours to the biggest bicycle ride of my life, and A Dude Abikes is rushing around in order to relax. I’m getting a massage and reflexology treatment with my friend Richard. First I have to go to work to borrow a car; I’m not biking the day before, especially in the rain. Later, after the painfully pleasant massage, mostly on my legs, Richard offers to discount the rest of his fee if I’ll pick up a used recliner at a second-hand store. The lure of easy money is irresistible, plus I like to help. With the savings I pick up two necessities at a bike shop on the way — a rain jacket for the downpour forecast for the morning, and sunproof arm sleeves for the hot and sunny afternoon predicted to follow. But being stuck in Austin traffic stresses me out, and undoes alot of the relaxation. Whatever, my legs feel great, like heavy weights have been lifted from them. Little did I know how important the session would be for my lesgs, tight from 1,600 miles of training since January. Something major is coming.
It’s early morning on a cloudy Sunday in the Hill Country town of Dripping Springs, Texas. Fifty cyclists trickle into the empty school parking lot slowly, as if arriving at a wake. They spill out of Subarus and Priuses (Prii, my high school Latin teacher’s voice echoes from the past), weird clowns in brightly colored costumes, but tight and made of Spandex, shoes not floppy, clicking on the ground. Aliens looking down would be perplexed by this bizarre parade. Their faces still show signs of sleep, coffee tumblers clutched closely in hands that would soon be covered in fingerless gloves. There was banter and hugging friends, and talk about the chance of rain, while mentally they were each preparing themselves for 22 or 44 miles of relentless pedaling up and down country roads.
The Hill Country Ride for AIDS“Joy Ride”, they call their training outings. But underneath the frivolity and anticipation of just another weekend sporting event being replicated around the world, an air of solemnity hung over this group. Despite my staunch atheism I can’t help but shake an eerie feeling. It’s as if the ghosts of people lost to that damn fucking virus — so many lives lost, and still without a cure — are also gathered in that parking lot with us. Brothers, sisters, lovers, husbands, wives, partners, mothers, sons and daughters. They were there, watching and waiting, their energy drawn to the event, simply by virtue of being remembered. I imagine a silently cheer emanates from the ghosts of HIV victims past, urging the living riders to go on in their names. Continue reading →
A Dude Abikes 