I could have stayed home. Lance called at 6 am. “I’m calling folks and canceling, he said.”

“We’ve got to be at the boat launch at 7,” I countered.

“I’m in my bike gear,” he said.

“Well, there you have it. Let’s be at the boat launch and see what people think.”

Outside on my deck a light rain is falling, the wind is blowing, and it is still dark. I’ve just pulled on my tights.

“You don’t have to go down,” Lance offers. I’ll tell ‘em it’s cancelled.

And without Mike and John saddling up in the rain, we might have let Lance cancel the entire event which would have been sad. Not only had John and Karla come down from Spokane, but Emma, form Seattle, had brought along fellow cyclists, Brian and Mark, expressly to experience our famous Joseph club ride.

Corrie, Mike, Tamara, John, Brian, Emma, Sean, and Mark rode on Saturday. Lance arranged for Helen and Sherry to leave with him at 10. Nicky, and Karla plied us with cookies. Jim, Helen, Sherry, Carroll, Lance, and Jan drove sag and all but Jan got to ride on Sunday.

Significant by his absence was our newest long distance rider—Cliff Mitchell. He desperately wanted to do this ride. The weather had been so fine last year and he has trained to do the distance. But he added the proviso “If it doesn’t rain.” Despite the cajoling and badinage he must have suffered at the hands of Mike and John, Cliff didn’t show. I figure he was home under the bed. He had promised to ride out to Bogan’s with a hot latte for John if Sunday was better. John wants to know where his Latte is.

Well, okay. It would have been tough to sag Cliff’s recumbent. Better you were home under the bed, Cliff, I guess.

Our Seattle guests arrived a bit late. While we were deciding whether to cancel, Sean, Mike and Tamara saddled up and headed out. “Will you play guide?” Sean asked me. And that’s how I found myself the official TRC host for the first day. We started late, rode slowly, and still were only a few miles behind the leaders when Mark had a flat. He scorned the idea of a patch. Wouldn’t have dried properly in the rain anyway. Brian and Emma, who gotten ahead, came back. We put in a new tube, having found the offending stone. The tube wouldn’t take air. We put in his second spare. It started to fill, then hissed and went flat. We hadn’t gotten all of the stone. Brian felt something and, using Emma’s knife blade, tried to remove the piece which was too small for my eyes to even see. All this in the rain only a mile or so from the top of Rattlesnake grade. It didn’t look like we’d be catching anyone this day. And then out of the rain and mist a white Lance appeared chasing the cold cyclists into his pickup and changing the tire himself. Someone remarked that you don’t know who your friends are until you have a flat. Still it was my fries Mark purloined at Bogan’s later.

It was there in the rain changing Mark’s flat that I noticed the helmet cover Mark was wearing was really a shower cap. “Why pay 20 bucks when you can steal a cap from a motel or if you are really desperate, pay a buck and half for one?” was Mark’s justification. Later he confessed the nerdy look and guessed he’d have to drop the 20 bucks.

Tamara fell victim to her own enthusiasm for the ride. She and Ben rode out 50 miles and back. Somewhere on Rattelsnake she encountered an on-road bovine and a car. The road had no curb but the pavement had an edge to her dismay. The shoulder injury required medication and it turns out as she puts it she is a wimp. Even ibuprofen makes her sick. At the top of Buford grade it hit her. She looked wan and shaken this morning but there was smile on her face this afternoon and she was thinking competition. “How can I go faster down hills? she wanted to know. Why she asked me, I’ll never know. We pointed out her lack of obvious assets such as weighing more than 200 lbs. Unenlightened, she went home for a shower.

Mike and Sean were the only ones to complete the ride to Joseph. They had rainfall the last 35 miles and a headwind. Sean managed to do 15 to 16 down hill into Enterprise, but still averaged only 14 mph.

With Tamara out, the three men continued. John, however, poster child for anorexic adults lost another 15 lbs last year and lacked enough body heat to stay warm. Says he shouldn’t have worn the light lavender tights. We could have told him that. He got so cold he couldn’t ride. The shakes made him unstable enough that Mike called in an emergency sag.

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“I think we’re done,” I shouted to Lance who slowed his 4x4 and rolled down the window. In the back of the pack, Brian and I were riding just beyond the top of Buford grade, Emma and Mark only bit behind. The rain had gotten serious. We were cold. It was already 4 in the afternoon, and we were running out of light. We had 35 miles to go. Mark, Emma, Brian, and I accepted the ride back to Joseph.

Emma reported that this was her first time sagging. She said she wasn’t ashamed but I’m not buying that. Emma’s not fast, but she is steady. The little I know of her is that she is dogged. She’ll go all day. Mark says, “Emma takes no prisoners.”

The 4x4 was stuffed. Lance was driving. Jan was relegated to the short people section—the back seat where I found myself along with Sherry and Emma. Jan complained that it was too warm in the cab. While I was really pretty comfortable, I was still wet. My skin was chilled under my wet clothes. “I’m too cold, Lance,” I said. Sitting in the back seat with three women and I couldn’t get warm. What a time for my wife to be in Connecticut.

Apparently there is an ordinance in Joseph requiring super-size portions. At dinner Sean’s sandwich was as big as two burgers. Sherry’s chef salad came on a plate large enough to roast a suckling pig and it was piled high. Tamara’s nachos got passed around. Lots of take home boxes appeared. Take home, I thought. On a bike? Na, we’ll eat it for breakfast. I don’t remember anyone skipping breakfast this morning. However there were several crescent shaped pancake remains. Maybe these were the same folk who were eating dinner cold for breakfast.

There was some jockeying for riding rights. Carroll was going to ride, putting Sean in the car. And then John’s seat post bolt broke. John would drive Sean’s car and both Sean and Carroll would ride. But Ace hardware was open on Sunday morning in Enterprise. To Sean’s dismay John was back on the road and Sean was driving. Last I saw of Sean was his complaining of being cold riding down Rattlesnake. He had driven partway up and ridden down to get in a bit of hill climbing.

I felt sorry for him, but not too sorry. I was climbing Rattlesnake myself. But I had had a great day. After having fallen 40 miles short of my century and accepting a sag on Saturday, I headed out with Mike and Sean Sunday morning. On top, on the rollers, I turned back 2 and half miles. This gave me the extra miles I’d need for a century and let me ride at my pace to Bogan’s.

In the chill air, I enjoyed riding hard across the rollers. After lunch with Sean hanging back with Carroll, Lance and I topped Rattlesnake together, then decided we didn’t want to wait. We headed back to the boat launch refusing to consider a stop at the Blue Mt. Café. We stopped at Taco John’s for a drink where I planned to wait for my bag and Lance planned to complete his second annual Joseph weekend century by riding home.

Lance’s and mine weren’t the only centuries today. Jim arrived saying he was thinking of riding on for bragging rights to a century. When Helen, yes Helen, triathlete and world traveler wheeled in, I teased her with “Only five more miles to go.” She didn’t get it. She had already made up her mind and the only question was how she was going to get those miles and get home. Jim stepped up to join her for the miles and take her home. Helen completed her first century in 7:57 saying, “Thank God I didn’t fall off.” That’s Cliff’s prayer, but I don’t think he’ll mind her using it. Cliff was home under the bed anyway.

They also cycle who only drive sag. Milton would have said it if they’d had bicycles in the 17th century. (For the literarily challenged, here’s the reference. They also serve who only stand and wait.—John Milton, 1608-1674.

Thank you’s go out to all those who drove vehicles So here are our honorary cyclists of the weekend: Karla, Nicky, Jim, Jan, and Carroll. Karla and Nicky showed up in the rain with hot cocoa, hot coffee and fresh, still-warm cookies. Jim, who laughs easily and often, took his self-appointed job as first-half sag very seriously. Back and forth he went from the lead group—Sean, Mike, Tamara, and John—to the trailing contingent—Mark, Brian, Emma, and myself. He was full of handy reports such as “It’s raining in Joseph right now.” At some point he made a telling observation about the TRC club. After 10 years club members, have to buy a Subaru Outback.

Both Jim and Nicky got to ride today with Jim actually adding on miles with Helen to complete his first century. However, neither Karla nor Jan had even brought a bike. No problem on Saturday. Too wet to put rubber on the road if you had a choice, but Sunday dawned, chilly at 37 degrees, but sunny and glorious as the clouds lifted revealing fresh white rugged peaks with the snowline descending to 400 feet from us—Mike insisted it was only 400 feet. It was a day you wanted to be on a bike. Karla and Jan spent it watching out for the rest of us.

Special thanks to Lance, who, though he wanted to cancel the ride, immediately began arranging new plans to get us all to Joseph. Without Lance’s leadership, this ride would not have happened. Without Jan’s patient sagging, Lance wouldn’t have been able to manage it. Cycling family of the year?

In fact this entire weekend could have been deadly without the help of good friends. Had the four of us had to make it to shelter Saturday afternoon, hypothermia and its consequences might have become all too real. Sagging wasn’t just nice, it was necessary. With a little help from my friends, we all had a fun and safe cycling weekend.

And Cliff, he was under his bed. Hey, have you got John’s latte under there with you, Cliff?

Bogans

Guess who finished a century?

They also cycle who only drive sag.