So yesterday was beautiful.
I experienced a Zen moment when rolling downhill for miles. The sky was blue, the grass was green, pedaling was easy, and flowers were blooming along the side of the road. There was a long downhill for several miles. Pedalling was easy.
I was having a wonderful day.
About half a mile from the end of the route, I noticed some young boys, about 8-10 years old, playing football in the front of their house. They asked me if I wanted some water and held up a bottled water. I checked my water, and I still had half a bottle , so I thanked them but said "no". Then I heard a pop like a cap gun, and I thought maybe they were shooting at me. Within a few seconds I realized that my back wheel sounded funny, so I stopped. Sure enough I had a flat tire. I was only 1/2 mile from GOBAville, where there was a mobile bike store. I had several options. I had a patch kit for a tube. I've changed tires before, in the cool comfort of my husband's garage, with the bike in a stand, and my husband at my elbow correcting me when I was about to do something wrong. I haven't ever changed a tire at the side of the road in the hot sun. I also had a spare tube, but I wasn't sure if it was in the bottom of the pannier on my bike, or the identical pannier that I had left in camp. So I could unload the pannier and root around in the hopes of finding a tube that didn't need patching, but I would still be changing the rear tire at the side of the road. A couple stopped and the man offered to help me change the tire. I told him about hearing the pop, and he said, "Oh, that's bad. Sounds like a blowout." So he started looking for a hole in the sidewall, but instead he found a gash about an inch and a half long in the center of the tire. He said, "well, you can't do any more damage to that tire by pushing it." And he and his wife continued on their way. I kept pushing the bike. Riders kept passing me and asking if I needed help...
After pushing for about 1/4 mile, I rounded the turn into the fairgrounds. At about the same time a pickup slowed down and asked me if I wanted a ride in to the fairgrounds. It was one of the riders who had asked if I was OK. His name was Don and he was from Toledo. I accepted and he loaded my bike and he took me directly to the bike store's mobile shop. So nice of him to offer this practical help.
The poor young man in the tent was overwhelmed with doing intake, as riders rolled in from the day's ride. His boss has gone for a break and he was working all alone. He didn't have time to fix anything, he was just taking orders.
I left my bike with him and walked up to my part of the campground. I showered, then I got a text from my friend from our bike club that she had arrived and was with another friend. They were in the lower half of the fairgrounds. I let them know that I thought dinner was at the expo center, and they should come up to the main entrance. Dinner was being provided by GOBA, and was catered by the same Mexican restaurant we had eaten at the night before. The line was already a quarter of a mile long.
The caterers were half an hour late in arriving, but once they got there, they moved the line along very efficiently. It's hard to visualize 1100 people lined up to eat dinner. The inside of the Expo building was full.
We moved to another building on the fairgrounds where there was a wine-tasting from area vineyards and an entertainer. I received a troubling phone call from a family member so I missed some of his performance.
Afterwards I went to pick up my bike. It wasn't done, but they told me to come back in an hour. It was a long walk from the bike shop tent, so I wandered over to a barn where 4-H kids were practicing barrel racing, as I had done when I was a kid. My friend joined me and we chatted until the appointed time.
When is arrived to pick up my bike, the owner had it ready. He was explaining the difference between my old tire and the new one I had chosen from the three that the young man had offered me. I told him it didn't matter because I considered this a temporary repair, since I planned to buy Vittoria Raddoneurs like I had on my other touring bike. He said he wished he had known that because he had some of those In stock. But it turned out, not in my size. But he has a perfectly acceptable substitute,Michelin puncture-resistant ones. So he said he could install them in a minute or two. He also told me that my cassette was dangerously loose, and that he had fixed it. Probably saved my life at some hypothetical point in the future. And he only charged me $5 for that service.
So it was a blessing that my tire had a blowout.
Today, Day 4, was not a great day. It was a long day, a 50-mile ride. I was up at 4:30 to pack my things, eat breakfast, and get my bags to the loading spot for the truck. Somehow it was 7:00 before I left. I thought I hit a high point on the route where it would be all downhill after a few miles, and I texted my husband with a screen print and a photo.
But I was mistaken. Shortly after the rest stop there was a sharp downhill with a curve, immediately followed by an uphill with a 12 % grade.
Everyone walked uphill. There was no time to shift into a lower gear after the downhill. There were a lot of smaller hills.
It turned into a very hot day. The community organizations in Fairport Harbor prepared a lunch (for 1100 people) that included cabbage rolls that I can say were some of the best I had ever had. After lunch we rode past a lighthouse. Fairport Harbor seemed like a really nice town to come back and tour some day when we have more time.
I stopped at a gas station and bought some sunscreen as the sun was shining very brightly and I could feel my skin crisping up after a couple of days of riding with no sunscreen. The temperature was 82 degrees. The route turned to the west and we had a breeze from the east, so I was looking forward to a tailwind. There were a few hills along the way and the car traffic was really heavy with semi trucks, gravel wagons, and cement trucks blasting by.
I started having difficulty breathing and climbing the hills. There was a couple from Xenia riding near me. I later learned their names were Mike and Sue. They noticed my difficulty and insisted that I stop in the shade across the street. They wanted me to sit down in the shade, but I had trouble doing that because of my recent knee surgery, and to be honest, my weight, so we just stood there. Mike wanted to take my pulse but I told him I could get it from my Fitbit. It showed 130 even after resting for several minutes, but finally fell to 120. My normal resting heart rate is 75. They told me they had just heard of a rider having a massive coronary after complaining of being short of breath. So, they insisted that I call the SAG wagon. I consented. I had ridden about 36 miles.
The SAG (Support and Gear) driver came, drove me to the rest stop, then transferred me to another SAG driver. All the SAGs for the GOBA official ride are amateur radio operators volunteering their time for the whole week. They are "people" people.
GOBAville was set up in a park in Willoughby. As we drove through downtown, I noticed that it looked like a a charming town with numerous restaurants.
When we arrived, I went to sit down for a while. My heart rate did not go down immediately. It was jumping back and forth between 110-120. I walked across the paved area to a Port-a-john and back and my heart was racing again. I visited the medical tent where a doctor examined me, took a history, and told me I was probably just dehydrated. She said if she had any IV's there she would put me on one, but she did not. So her prescription was to go and sit down and drink at least six bottles of water.
The sun was still blazing down. Luckily the "Knights Kingdom" where my tent was set up was not too far away from the medical RV. I got my luggage, took my tent out and pegged the corners to establish my camp spot, then took out my chair and went to rest under the canopy.
I drank four bottles of cold water there, adding NUUN tablets to two of them. I just sat there for a few hours. My friends came by and asked about me. They told me that due to the way the GOBA people had laid out the various areas, the showers were up 96 steps. Other people mentioned 93 steps, some said 98. No way was I going to do that, with the sun blazing down. Finally as the sun was starting to go down, I gathered my things to go up to the shower truck. I found a way where the incline was less. It was quite steep, regardless. As I walked up I noticed the arrows painted on on the pavement indicating that is where we would leave to go ride the next day. My mental reaction was totally irrational, I got MAD. I knew I would NOT be able to ride up out of the camping area, I would have to push my bike. After my shower, I walked down to the village, found a restaurant that looked likely. Had a great kale salad with salmon. A couple of glasses of wine, then walked back to GOBA and fell into my tent and fell asleep immediately.
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