Friday, July 16, 2010

The Lung

Young Wes, Stef's nephew, Stef and Foxx back there on the tandem. They all rode to meet me at El Charro, Downtown Tucson.

After work last night, met Stef and his clan for a few margaritas downtown. Callie was waiting for me when I got home, and as it was still early, we went to the park and she played catch and caught up with the neighborhood pack that was there as well.

Foxx with the Schwinn Twinn I brought back from Tulsa two years ago. I loved this bike, "Little Soldier" but it was just too small for a big guy like me. For Downtowners like Stef, Angela, and the kids, Little Soldier is perfect! Biking is great to get around the city on a cool Summer Evening.

I started packing up the bike for the ride in, and before I knew it, I woke up in bed about 11:30—I must have fallen asleep about quarter ‘til 9. I believe I made another attempt to pack up the bike but this next time I work up at 4 a.m.

So with Callie watching and waiting, I made my lunch, filled the water bottles, loaded on the saddle bags, lights, and aired up the tires—then packed the Grand Prix in the car. Callie finished a quick neighborhood patrol, and then we both went back to bed.

Gentler Readers of This Blog, 5:30 a.m. came quickly—my hour of sleep interrupted by the alarm clock. I thought about calling in sick. Then I thought I’d just call in to say I was running late. My legs still hurt from Sunday’s Owl Head Ranch Ride. But I had to Cowboy through and get going—soon I was pedaling up Ina Rd.

I was not getting very far, mes amis. It felt like I pulling a MacGregor 26. I looked down and saw that my back wheel was not on straight, and the left side was rubbing on the frame. Last weekend I put new tires on the Raleigh Super Grand Prix. I quick jumped off and fixed that up. At 6:15 a.m. in Tucson, Gentle Readers, the temperature was almost 90—and the humidity was just as high. Beads of sweat rolled down my face and arms—back on the bike and rolling along, much better I might add—the sweat evaporated quickly.

On up the road, another rider spied me, waved, and then soon he was coming up beside me. It was Brent “The Lung” Barber, one of the talented local Tucson riders of note. “Hey I know that jersey!” he said. The Lung—built like a young Andy Schleck—riding effortlessly and with power! He was just out for a quick spin, you know, a few mountains before breakfast… He bid me farewell and off he went. I continued my climb, started to feel my old self, and then picked up the pace for a pretty quick ride into the office; just what I needed.

Barrio Bike Boyz, Tucson, Arizona

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