Cyclists Don’t Play Bingo

I AM going to Yoga at 11:30am. I am NOT wearing a dress. I am NOT 60. So went the morning I surprised my wife on her birthday by throwing a brunch with all her friends. I had planned this brunch for three weeks, involved just about every one of her closest friends, sent out the E-vite to her closest gal pals I thought could attend, created a mushy gushy video to stir the emotions, bought her gifts at he soon to be favorite store-Nordstrom, had Ace of Cakes style cupcakes crafted and didn’t blog for an entire week. When I sprung the surprise, I seriously think she was two seconds away from tossing my bike, a duffle bag of clothes, and my custom confections on the front lawn.

As you can see, she is a cyclist. Since it was raining, Yoga took the place of her Saturday morning ride, which was upsetting enough. There is not a rainy day, a stressful workweek or a single a life event that can put the nix on a cyclist’s Saturday ride. Just the other day a friend of mine did a Cyclocross race on the same afternoon they had planned a family Christmas card photo shoot. Even I went for a ride the day before my mom’s retirement party. We rode on our honeymoon. Here I was trying to tell the woman who went mountain biking on a 33 degree morning before her cousin’s wedding in Wisconsin she would have to skip exercising on her birthday weekend. That’s like trying to stop a ferocious charging African Lion from chowing down on a wounded Wildebeest.

Mistake number two: Cyclists don’t do formal wear. In fact there is a whole chart describing what minimal level of formality is absolutely necessary for each event. It kind of looks like this:

WEDDINGS:

Being in the Bridal Party: Dress or Jacket & Tie

Anything Else: Nice jeans.

DEATH:

Spouse: Dress or Jacket & Tie

Anything Else: Nice jeans.

HOLIDAY FAMILY EVENTS:

Parents Present: Dress or Jacket & Tie

No Parents: Nice jeans.

Please note that a brunch with friends isn’t even on the formal attire list. Needless to say, out of the 10 girls that attended, only one wore a dress. Amazingly, she was a cyclist. Consequently, I could practically see her skin crawl when she noticed all the other girls wearing…nice jeans. I apologized profusely for my stupidity of even thinking that a bunch of cyclists would get dressed up for anything else besides the death of a spouse, being in a bridal party or attending a family event with their parents.

Third mistake: cyclists don’t do things that sound like they’re for old people. In fact, anything that reminds a cyclist that they could even be remotely close to the end of their life is avoided with the same fear as riding off a 200 foot cliff. There is a reason they don’t advertise cruises in cycling magazines. Unless there is beer involved and a ride has taken place, cyclists don’t do bingo. There’s a reason Masters races are called Masters races and not “you’re too old to compete with the regular younger guys category so we’ll call you Masters to make it sound like you’ve mastered this cycling thing” category. Seriously, the mailman better get ready to run the day he drops a social security check in my mailbox. Brunch? What the hell was I thinking?

Somehow she obliged. She wore nice jeans. I promised we could ride in the afternoon and reasoned that it wasn’t really a brunch but more of a lunch with friends with cupcakes and presents involved. I don’t think we spoke in the car. The restaurant door swung open. Inside were all her friends, except one, wearing nice jeans. She melted into the conversation. While nothing takes the place of a Saturday morning ride, being with your friends, eating devilishly delicious cupcakes, and opening presents is certainly a close 2^nd.

The Joker & Cycling Heaven: A Milwaukee Area Group Ride With Team Extreme

There’s a joker on every group ride.  I love him, in a bromance kind of way.  With impeccable timing, the joker’s the one who “accidently” drops a 4 letter bomb at the top of the climb to Holy Hill.  He’s the guy who wonders out loud why a road would be named Amy Belle and how promiscuous she might have been in a rural Wisconsin tool shed.  He’s the one who stands on the pedals before a ripping downhill, bursts into an Irish accent and liltingly shouts “time to bomb down frickin’ Donegal.”  Inappropriate but innocent, the joker keeps the ride alive.  The joker makes late winter’s cropless windswept farm roads and the first four hour ride of the season bearable.  It is just one of the reasons I try to hook up with a local ride when I travel.

When you travel with your bike, there’s no need to pour over maps, ride by yourself, and stop every few miles to make sure you’re on track.  Next time you travel, email a few local clubs or teams wherever you’re going and inquire about riding with them.  Cycling is a social beast.  Name a cyclist who doesn’t enjoy riding with new people.  Just be honest about your ability and remember that you’re a guest on someone elses ride.  This past weekend I hooked up with Team Extreme Cycling in Thiensville, WI for their regular Saturday ride from Extreme Bike & Ski to Holy Hill and back.  It all started with a simple email from one cyclist to another.

To: patrick@teamextremecycling

Got your email from the wicycling.org website.  I’m a cat 3 rider in Cincinnati.  I race for BioWheels bike shop here.  My family’s in Mequon and I’ll be in the Milwaukee area Saturday for a reunion.  Was wondering, since you look like you’re located in Thiensville, if there’s a group ride on Saturday that I could latch onto.  

From: teamextrememtnbike

Hi Joe - Thanks for the email. (Here’s the info on our group ride Saturday.)  Hope you can make it.

Saturday March 14 Afternoon Edition Group/Team Ride

Departure Time: 1:30pm

Departure Location: Extreme Ski & Bike (the Shop)

Route: Holy Hill and Back including the Rustic Road Sections (40-45 miles); no drop!

I did make it.  The ride with Patrick & Team Extreme to Holy Hill was the highlight of the weekend, no offense to my family party which was the focal point of my trip. 

The ride met at Extreme Bike & Ski in Thiensville, WI, a great shop, well stocked and for lack of a better term extremely friendly.  I would never have discovered it had I not ventured out of my cycling travel cocoon.  As the riders gathered, chatted, filled bottles and tires, I realized I was a few cents short of enough cash to pay for a CO2 cartridge.  Kindly, the woman behind the counter re-rang it up with one of the team guy’s discounts and all was good.  When’s the last time something like that happened on your road trip?  I was just one of the regular guys on the regular group ride.  Its little things like that that’ll make me pop in there next time I need something or recommend the shop to someone I know in the Milwaukee area.

The bike path behind the shop led to the farm roads just north of Milwaukee’s suburbs of Mequon, Germantown and Richfield.  They were flat by Cincinnati standards, but had enough curves to keep it interesting.  I barely remember seeing any cars till our double paceline crossed over the freeway.  The pace was perfect, just hard enough where the guys at the front were working hard, the guys behind could talk and the joker could poke fun at joggers and innocent landmarks.  The gradual incline of the farm roads gave way to the rolling hills of the lake country surrounding Milwaukee that make up a stage or two of the International Cycling Classic a.k.a. Superweek.  Hogsback was a favorite that bombed, rolled and twisted its way between the farms and Holy Hill.  The highlight was the climb to Holy Hill, 900 vertical feet of switchbacks topped with a cathedral in the boondocks.  Holy Hill is cycling heaven.