It was the first day of riding for me. I didn’t have high
expectations for setting any records. So, when Lydia asked the dreaded question
after our daily devotional and instructions- “Who wants to sweep?” all remained
typically silent. It’s a strange tradition I have yet to fully understand.
Nobody wants to sweep, meaning nobody wants to volunteer to be the last rider
in for the day. The “sweeps” attend to the slowest riders, or flats, or
whatever situation causes a few to fall behind.
I volunteered. Arron, another first day rider and my riding
buddy from last year opted to join me. Trail conditions were so bad, and some riders
so green, it took three hours to go the first 20 miles. The trail had been under
water in spots, so was covered with a slippery silt that made it necessary to walk the bikes on higher ground (if there was any). We we had to ride through a lot of the slurry, so everyone was fully muddied.
The day grew hotter. The general “requirement” of riders is
to maintain a minimum average of 12 miles per hour, and many times we were under 10.
Arron and another rider had to drop out at 60 miles. Conceding "defeat" can be an emotional
moment for some. I was left with Diane to sweep with, and at the 71
mile point was about to collapse from the heat, so had to drop out. Diane is hardcore, so insisted on finishing. Our support
stalwart, Tom Weber, being the gentleman he is, insisted Diane not ride solo, so pedaled my bike the last 20 miles while I rode in the support
vehicle. Yes, you read that right- Geezerman rode my bike! Ok, for those of you not veteran riders of the FCBA
that might not mean a lot, but the value of a bike graced by his derriere is double! No matter that it's virtually worthless and not at all likely to even be stolen (I’ve “tricked” it
out into a rolling joke, and not really a funny one at that), I'm honored. Then again, Tom has a pink bike, so obviously he’s not too
particular.
So, it was my first time ever not finishing. I’m good with
that.
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