BillandBob.com

So I grabbed Bob from the airport “late” Friday night, and she was nice enough to return the favor gawdawful early Saturday morning and take me out to Anahuac (Home of the Texas Alligator, or some such) for the start of Bike Around the Bay. This is the second running of the event, a two day ride around Galveston Bay.  The first time the event was held was in 2007. In 2008, it was canceled due to Ike. So, in 2009, we get the second running in year three. While it is billed as 148 miles, in reality, it is a bit more. Day 1 was 78.4 miles, and Day 2 was spec’ed at 75.4. Not really meaningful differences at these distances, but 150 miles just sounds better to me than 148. I know: I’m odd that way.

Under normal circumstances, the trip towards Galveston would face headwinds from the prevailing sea breeze, and the trip North would have tail winds. However, an early cold front turned that around, and also brought a fair bit of overcast skies to the event (visible in Bob’s pictures).

One of the things that was well done about the ride was that the routing seemed to take us through areas that had some significance, and weren’t just selected for convenience or safety. For example, the first rest stop was about 12 miles into the ride, but was next to a historic marker that talked about oil discoveries in Anahuac. The rest stop on High Island was also at a historic marker talking about birds.

While Bob mentioned tailwinds, this was really only effective on the 17 mile leg from Stowell to High Island, where you can see that I was cruising at about 22 mph. This was the first extended time where aerodynamics were actually working for me, rather than against me! The fun ended, of course, climbing the bridge over the intracoastal waterway — the big dip in speed followed by the big spike (Lee-roy Jenk-ins!). That was a nice climb, and it was a good capstone for the “fun” leg, putting us squarely onto the salt dome that is High Island. After a brief pit stop in High Island, we turned down the Bolivar Peninsula, where the wind was mostly coming across us.

I’ll save thoughts on Bolivar for a separate post, but it did include a quick restroom break and about 45 minutes for lunch (mmm… PB&J!). Needless to say, Bolivar is not connected to Galveston, so we crossed over to Galveston on the ferry. Since the ferry also acted as an effective aggregator of cyclists, we were met on the Galveston side by three of Galveston’s Finest for a grouped police escort through the city. But apparently a UH alumnus (he had on a UH jersey) and I had other plans.

When I got off the Ferry, I dutifully headed out with everyone else behind our three motorcycle police escort. GPD had put up traffic cones for us, dedicating a lane of traffic to the bicyclists. Very cool! However, the pace was a little slower than I was wanting to do, so I found myself passing people. We got about a half mile off the landing, and the pace at the front started getting faster. The front of our pack hit the turn from Ferry Road to Harborside, and it was full-gas.

For the first half-mile or so, the police escort kept up. The cops pacing us essentially played a modified version of leapfrog. The trailing rider would ride up to the intersection controlled by the middle rider, who would then go to the next intersection, where the lead officer would race ahead of us to the upcoming intersection. It’s a nice theory, but it is predicated upon two important factors: 1) that the rest of the group is riding such that they are through the intersection in a timely fashion versus the leaders, and 2) that you have enough police officers to keep up with the pace of the “protected” vehicles (aka us).

The UH alumnus was playing lead sled dog until I caught him around 15th Street, and then I shot past him. On an ordinary day, I’d have been thrilled to draft off of someone at 19 mph, but, well, I was “feeling it” and wanted to see how far I could go how fast before blowing up. Somewhere in there, the two trailing cops realized that we had gapped the rest of the group so they slowed down to give the rest of our ferry group a police escort. So much for condition #1. I missed the turn onto 25th street, so UH Guy got ahead of me. However, that only lasted until somewhere between Post Office and Avenue G (Winnie). There was a steel plate in the road covering over a construction hole of some sort, and UH Guy slowed just a touch to get over it.

I bunny hopped it.

Yes, I don’t know who was more surprised. Me or him. I don’t know how often one gets to see a 300 pound man in spandex get airborne on a bicycle in one’s peripheral and then primary vision, but I doubt the queue is long for repeat experiences. Me? I’m pretty surprised when something idiotic vaguely athletic that I plan to do actually executes right. No time to savor the moment, though, since it is back off the saddle and pumping my legs. I’m in what should be pretty close to my red zone (heart rate in the 160+ range), my quads are hurting, but I’ve got time to make up from my missed turn, and I need to focus on not letting the trolley tracks in the road eat my wheel.

We hit the turn onto Avenue O, and now our lone motorcycle cop is starting to struggle. UH Guy is pretty safely tucked into my slipstream, and I’m having to sprint-and-drift to let the cop get ahead of us from one intersection to the next. He’s having to really gun his motorcycle to get far enough past us into the intersection to stop the mostly non-existent traffic ahead of us. We go past Kempner Park and Garten Verein, and I have enough presence of mind to yet again be impressed by the route (emphasizing some of the interesting/historic aspects of the Bay area). By the time we hit 31st Street, the cop is cooked. It’s just unsafe for him to keep up, and I’m sure that the rest of the peloton needs him more. I only know that it was 31st Street because it was the intersection where DiBella’s Restaurant is. THAT I recognized, but the rest of the streets are really pretty much a blur. So much  for condition #2.

We go past Bob’s alma mater, Ball High School.  I get a little smile and push a little harder. We get to 53rd street and make the left, headed for Stewart. I’m slowing down a bit to get into “city traffic” mode. Somehow, I still have enough lung power left to call warnings to UH Guy. We make the turn onto Stewart, and the right lane is sectioned off for us with a cop in the intersection controlling traffic at 61st and Stewart. I know this intersection pretty well. Time to sprint.

We go flying past the cop, and I have almost dropped UH Guy. I turn my head to yell “Thanks!” to the cop, and UH Guy is about four bike lengths back and losing ground. A mini-van jumps into our lane and gets stopped at a light (Texas First Bank). That’s not a supported feature! He’s about to kill my buzz! I coast and then have to slam on my brakes as the light turns green, but mini-van guy is pondering the miracle that is traffic signalization. Mini-van guy catches a clue, perhaps sensing the depths of karmic shame he will be inflicted with should he get beaten “off the line” by a 300 pound man in spandex on a bicycle while suffering the added indignity of doing so in a mini-van, and he takes off. This distraction gives UH Guy the opportunity he needs, and he makes it back onto my wheel as I am accelerating down Stewart. We get past the “Y” where Jones Road splits from Stewart to carry us into Moody Gardens. The home stretch.

A woman in a Grand Cherokee really, really wants to cut across our lane, making a right into an apartment complex. I start shouting, “Don’t F-ing do it. Don’t you F-ing do it!” as the gap has closed such that at best I am slamming on my brakes to miss her (and potentially wearing UH Guy like a stole), and at worst, I am slamming into her door trying to fly sans bike. Fortunately, while she makes a couple of feints, she ends up letting us go past before cutting across the closed lane.

The bridge over Offut’s Bayou on Jones Road is not tall in any absolute sense. But Einstein must have been a cyclist, because that bridge’s height is entirely relative. Having blown through Galveston at 20+ mph, I had to down shift and get out of my saddle to get over that bridge. Wow my quads are screaming, and I am expecting UH Guy to come flying past me for The Win. Instead, he gets close enough to me on “the climb” to say, “Great Pull!”, and then I am off onto the downhill side ahead of him. Victory is mine!

I make the turn into Moody Gardens and there are no signs. Nothing saying, “Riders this way”, no “FINISH” banner, nothing. I am now confused. I am also utterly spent. I back down on the pace, as I blow past the front entrance to the hotel and wonder what the valet would say if I tried to have him “park” my bike. Oh, well. No signs are present, so I guess we are in The Very Back.

I cruise through the parking lot, looking for idiots who might want to run me over, and then catch sight of the big “FINISH” banner. Full-gas. At this point, that means a whopping 20 mph. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got left. I kick through the finish, and I’m done. For Day 1. According to my Garmin, I expended 8,700 calories, and covered 78.37 miles. UH Guy crosses the line shortly after I do, and I congratulate him on his ride. The next finishers won’t be coming by for more than five minutes, including several of the people I have met on the Taco Ride. I feel a little smug, but I also know it was really a race against me and my expectations and that my antics through Galveston may have hurt me for the next day. However, it was probably the single most fun ride I’ve had on my bicycle.

Time to hydrate, grab some dinner with Chuck and Jean and get to bed. But first, a shower and a nap. A GREAT Day 1.