Red and the Rocket Ride

This is Red.   

Is he handsome, or what?  I was going to call him Rusty, but he just isn't that bad.  He cost $20.

 

This is our beach.  It's a mile away.  (For crows, a little less than a mile.)

When Jason introduced me to Red at Village Cycle last Friday, my inner matchmaker instantly kicked in.  It was obvious that this bike and this beach belonged together.  

Popeye is not especially happy that I have brought home a trash bike.  He is quick to point out that there is no room in the garage.  So Red stays outside by the garbage cans, out of the way, and out of sight. 

Red and the beach.  First date at last!  Monday, 3:30pm, low tide. 

In the giddy free spirit of beach cruising, I set out barefoot and helmet free.    

Ride without a helmet?  

What was I thinking?  That there wouldn't be any cars on the sidewalk?  OK, there weren't. 

But there are much more dangerous things for a mountain biker going from Shimano XTR pedals to flat footed beach cruiser. 

Two words:  Coaster brakes! 

Make that three words:  Coaster brakes! Yikes! 

As for no shoes, well, that seemed a fine idea.  Until the light turned just as I got to the crossing at A1A. 

Putting a foot down on hot pavement turned into an agonizing, two minute, tippy-toe dance.  No wonder all the beach cruiser kids ride in flip flops. 

OK, so finally.  The beach and Red, together at last!  Perfect! 

We start out toward the south, obeying the sailor's (and biker's) rule.  When there's a choice?  Upwind first!  

Except...  less than a mile, and kaBOOM!  Afternoon thunderstorms sneaking in from the north.  Holy cow!  Where did that come from?  Here's something else.  Old Red can be pretty fast when properly motivated.

On the way home, I am already plotting our next excursion.  Sadly, since I am committed to real rides most days, it could be awhile before there's time for any more frivolous low tide cruising. 

The thunderstorms of Florida are fickle creatures.  Back at home, one mile from the beach, it is bright and sunny. 

But the window has been blown for a repeat excursion today.  Best get going on the regular chores.  

Later, around 7pm, the laundry is folded and dinner prepped.  The sky is blue and the house is quiet.  No more Tour to run on TV in the background.  And no call yet from Popeye. 

Opportunity!  I hop on Red one more time (just say yes to shoes and helmet) and head again for the beach.   It's high tide, but I can check out the waves and get right back for dinnertime.

Whoa!  Look at the crowd.  What's going on?  Suddenly I remember.  A launch!  What luck!

There is the usual circus atmosphere.  Families line the railing, eating from sacks of Taco Bell, and passing out drinks from brown cardboard trays.   High tide or not, I walk Red down the ramp to the beach, threading through the crowd and onto the sand. 

The sand is soft, but rideable with a bit of effort.  Toward the north the crowd thins with the absence of condos. 

 

OK.  It's a picture perfect launch, if not the perfect picture.  (There's always someone who's missing it, right?)  

Speaking of missing out, I definitely need to get Popeye on board with this redneck beach cruiser thing!

Because the only other thing missing from this picture, is a coozie on the handlebars and a PBR.   

And that, at least, can be fixed.

Wickham Park Marathon

3 weeks later...

Wickham Park Marathon

personal results:

DNF @ 15 miles

 

WPM is no ordinary marathon.  And although I have never taken on an ultra-run, the 50, 100, and 200 Mile Fun Runs don't look too ordinary either.

At Wickham, there is no support.  There are no race packets, age groups, T-shirts, or medals. The timing is you - writing your time for each loop down on a clipboard.  

Just the same, you really do get your money's worth for this one.  Because there's no fee either. 

But absolutely best of all?  There is absolutely no pavement. 

OK.  So we have a 200 mile, off-road foot race of fifty miles a day, over four consecutive, 12.5 hour days.  All on a 3.75 mile, flat, sandy loop.  In bright, sunny Florida at the beginning of our bright, sunny summer.  With some stretches of shade and roots, for a little variety.  Probably no one would be surprised to find a fallen body or two, to step over later in the day, either. 

An ultra run, like weight maintenance, takes a certain lifestyle.  You have to walk the walk (or run the run) to get it done. 

It would be nice to be in the kind of shape it would take to qualify for days 2-4, wouldn't it?  

My longest run this year had been about 8 miles.    

But it's all in your head, right?

Two loops - 7.5 miles - totally confident.  

Three loops - 11.25 miles - probably doable.  The 7:30 start is much earlier - and cooler - than I would ever do on my own. 

Four is the number, then!  You can always do more than you think you can.  Although, to still be running at the end of 15 miles, I would have to be having a really, really good day.  

Since the goal setting comes too late for any actual distance training, there was only time for one last thing. 

And that is, show up.    

I love the start time.  Pretty much whenever you want.  But to be in with the in-crowd, and to get a good parking spot under my favorite shady oak, we arrive at 7:21.  No hurry, no worry.  By 7:24, the camp is set, and we walk over and sign our names on a clipboard, with plenty of time for the 7:30 start.

Camp Pop-High, Wickham rendition.

Lawn chairs and cooler.

Shoes.

We are ready!

 

 

7:29am

To the starting line.

 

7:30.  Go!

Popeye's point of view,

looking over my shoulder at the start.

A moment later, I am looking at the back of his head,

getting smaller in the distance.

 

The Fake Rock for first place in the 200.

You even get to carry it back on the last lap.

No expense is spared for the prizes. 

Or the signage.

3 runners made the entire 4 days and 200 mile.  One girl and two guys - Wow!  

Not me, that's for sure!  But I did give it my honest best.  

Somewhere along the fourth loop, as predicted, my run ran out. 

Heading for the clipboard to sign in my time, I look over at the lake and decide that's really where I'd rather be.

15 miles and a sit in the lake.  Wickham is truly my favorite marathon, ever.  Even for a DNF.