I made it to Front Street about a quarter till 7:00 and with cyclists covering almost every square foot of street along the river, it looked like the road has sprouted bikers the way a freshly plowed field sprouts weeds after a hard spring rain. Every type of bicycle, every type of human body, and every imaginable type and color of cycling jersey was on display among the 947 riders.
I remember when all this started. Brian Waldrop had the idea to put on a triathlon in Greenwood. We, the Money Road Cycling Club, kicked the idea around for awhile but never came up with a suitable plan. Eventually, the idea morphed into a cycling event and the rest, as Jim Bob says, is history.
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| A bad picture of a good beginning. |
The air horn sounded and we, the 62-milers, slowly, like a mile-long freight train began to move. Only slower. It took awhile for the whole group to get rolling and when we did it was at a snail's pace. I didn't mind because I was a little worried about my fitness. I did the Heart O' Dixie Triathlon two weeks ago. I ran the following Monday and broke down. Basically, besides swimming, the last two weeks have been days of inactivity. Believe me, you can lose a lot of fitness in fourteen days.
But it wasn't too bad. I tried to pedal easily as the peloton made its way down Howard Street, left on Johnson to Main Street and then out Highway 49 South. I soon began to believe I could make it as we left the highway at Malouf Trailer Park and followed the old highway to the Yazoo River bridge between Greenwood and Sidon. There we crossed over and cycled to Highway 7 where we turned back north and headed for Itta Bena where we found a rest stop at the main intersection of Basket/Schley and Humphreys Streets. I was surprised by this and was amazed at the energetic and vivacious people serving the cyclists. I noticed Mayor Collins in the crowd and made a point to personally thank her for the hospitality.
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| Selfie at the start |
When I left Itta Bena, I got stuck out on the road alone. Not to fear, someone would come along. About a mile from the stop, a couple of guys passed me so I jumped the wheel of the trail rider. I stayed on about another mile and dropped off. I was still leery of expending too much energy too early. Another fast group came by and I couldn't resist jumping on for a bit. But once again, prudence told me I had forty-five miles to go on legs that had done little the past two weeks. Swimming does not prepare the legs to ride. I knew that from past experience.
I crossed Highway 82 alone and eventually a small group came by and once more I jumped a wheel. I stayed with these folks until shortly before we came to the last turn before the highway at Schlater. Eventually I let them go and made the last turn to Schlater alone. Not long after that, McLeod Meeks and someone I did not know came along. I jumped their wheels and stayed with them all the way to the rest stop in Schlater.
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| Minter City. Photograph by Jackie Blue. |
I chowed a bit and then left alone again. Once more I was not alone long. I middle-thirties woman came by and asked her permission for a draft. She obliged and we stayed together almost to the next stop. Her name was Lee and she lives in Hernando. That is all I know about her other than the athletic plans she has for the upcoming months. We made a good team. At first she did the lion's share of the pulling, but eventually I started feeling strong, and I took the lead. We asked each other the usual questions like, "Have you ever done this before?" When she told me she did the 46 miler last year, I said, "Then you know what's coming up." A big smile flashed across her face. "Yeah," she answered, "Minter City." More on that in a bit.
When we got onto Highway 8, a strong group of eight or more riders came by and I couldn't resist the temptation to jump on. They were strong, but I stayed all the way the the next rest stop even though it hurt. At one point, I looked back and saw that Lee didn't get on. I felt bad about that, but I hung on all the way to the church and felt strong for the first time all day.
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| Part of the spread at Minter City. Photograph by Jackie Blue. |
The rest stop was jumping as usual. Bicycles were everywhere and cyclists were feeding, socializing, and enjoying the shade and the break. Someone greeted me with a huge silver tray of cookies. I ran into old friends like Davo Pittman and Justin Nunnery. I chatted and grazed and drank until I realized that if I didn't get going, I was in danger of becoming lethargic and lazy.
I left alone and shortly found out that my aggressive wheel riding had sapped what little strength I had. The twelve miles from Minter City to Money were slow and less than fun. I never got on a good wheel, and I found myself regretting that I did not drop off when I saw Lee wasn't behind me anymore. We made a good team, and I needed someone.
Finally, however, I made it to Money and grazed on the food, listened to the music, and drank like a sailor on leave. When I decided to leave, I pushed my bike out into the road and there she was.
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| Lee and me after the ride. |
"I'm done," she murmured.
"I am too. Let's be done together."
So we left. It's amazing how much easier it is to ride with someone. Although we did some drafting, mostly we rode side by side and chatted. I guestimate that I probably did four miles per hour faster than I would have alone. So we made it in. I only stopped shortly on Front Street to snap a selfie with Lee, to cool off, and take some liquids. I wanted to go home. I missed Luvie and Baby Kitty and was eager to get back to them. Next year, maybe I will cycle a little more and be better prepared. But it was a good experience and an event that is already on the 2017 calendar.
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