Wednesday morning

"Yeah, that Allen, I hear he is outstanding in his field."

"Really, that's not how I heard it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I heard that, first, it wasn't his field, and, second, he wasn't standing."

"Oh, I guess I misunderstood something."

"Yes, I think you did."

Good morning! Wednesday it is. Already. Again. The Long Day, but that's OK. It's going to be packed with fun and excitement. You know it is!

I'm reading through the Bible this year, and I'm still on schedule. Right now I am in the middle of Jeremiah. It's an interesting book. Jeremiah stands alone in the world. Alone. That's a hard place to stand, but God stands with him. That's always a good thing to remember. Jeremiah had a hard time with it, though. Who wouldn't? His struggles produced some beautiful writings. Read Lamentations some time.

OK, about last night... We had 21 people riding! Eleven did the time trial, while the other 10 did various things, like a different shorter route or turned around early. Eleven of us made our way to the county line to line up. We took off in 1 minute intervals, somewhat seeding ourselves. I opted to go 5th, hoping to not get caught by anyone.

As I hit the (rolling) start point, I was going about 15 mph. I carefully turned my Garmin on, since I wanted to capture all the data from the ride. I very quickly got to 20 and then 25 mph. The first mile or so is pretty easy. Even though it doesn't look like it, it is slightly downhill.  I rode hard but carefully, trying to maintain constant pressure and taking what the rolling course gave me.

There was a slight headwind at times. I was in areo position  the whole time but could feel the wind  at times. I felt pretty good the entire ride. I didn't bog down on Lost River hill as badly as I usually do and seemed to recover fairly quickly. The last set of rollers came and then the final hill. I managed all of them pretty well.

The last mile was my fastest, rolling along north of 25. I pushed hard to the finish, giving everything I had left. I was pleased that I didn't get passed; not even close. I didn't have much time to celebrate or contemplate this fact, however. I'm known in the endurance world for my dramatic finishes (or near finishes).

There was Derby City Marathon of  2010 - full body cramp that caused several to think that I was a special needs runner. There was the Indy Mini of 2010, where I was drug across the finish line with my head bobbing up and down before being laid on the ground for the stretcher. There was RAIN of 2011 - hospital trip. These are some that come to mind.

Last night was a different sort of dramatic finish for me. I pushed hard to the finish line, and I wanted to clearly and concisely capture the finish on my Garmin, which happened to be in my left wrist. I hit the finish at full force going 26 or so. Well, when I reached over to turn off the Garmin, I did not hold a straight line with my bike. I headed to the right.

To the right I went. Onto the shoulder I went, avoiding the biggest drop off. Right into the high weeds I went. Avoiding a sign, held by a metal post, I held on for dear life. I was concerned about the high weeds and what they could be hiding. I expressed my concern in a rather loud way; more about this in a second. As I was rolling through the weeds, fully clipped in to my peddles, I was expecting to crash and crash badly, but I didn't. I was still upright.

I looked to my right. There was a cornfield right there. The first row of corn also had a nice patch of cultivated dirt between it and the high weeds. I opted to head for the dirt. Once I hit the dirt, I slowed dramatically. I guess I should say that I stopped within a few feet, which allowed me no time to get my feet out of my pedals. So I fell over. Right over to my right. Into the corn. I laid there for a few seconds, mostly concerned about my bike. I clipped out, which is hard to do on your side.

My bike was fine, even though it had a little dirt on it. I was fine too, even though I had a little dirt on me. Roy Ritter came running to check on me, while Tim S. stood by laughing. Why was he laughing? It was the loud expression of concern that I articulated as I was leaving the pavement. He called it a scream. This is where he is wrong. I clearly remember it being a very deep manly expression of courage, kinda like the ones in Braveheart.

So my exciting life continues...

Here is the data from the ride - pre cornfield trip, right before it, like a second before it.