Rubber side down: Day 25

                                                                         Day 25
                                                            Richmond, IN to Marysville, OH
                                                            105 miles, Avg speed 15.9 MPH

     Yesterday I was hoping that today we'd have warmer weather, clear skies, and tailwinds. Instead we got 50 degree temps, rain, and headwinds. Therefore, tomorrow I'm hoping for subzero temps, snow, and headwinds of gale force intensity. We'll see what happens.
      It was overcast and raining by time I got up this morning. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, I put on warmer gear and this time my raincoat. There was the potential that it would clear later in the day, but this never happened, at least until we'd checked into our hotel.   It was a wet, soggy day. Nobody got lost. Nobody got injured. Nobody shot anyone, although there clearly were temptations. The biggest issue was my legs. They were "dead," still recovering from yesterday's adventure. "Dead legs," or more precisely "Crural Mortis," as we were taught in medical school, describes the state of one's lower extremities when they don't respond in the manner that the central nervous system directs them too. The CNS says, "Legs, climb that hill".   The legs say, "No, I wont!" This is how it went all day. Have you ever gone to a stable to go ride a horse, and the trainer brings the horse out, but the moment you try to get on, the horse bolts for the stable? Well, that's how my legs behaved today. Badly.
   I was involved in multiple pacelines all day, at least until the second and final SAG at mile 75. The point of this is that everyone takes their turn at the front to bare their share of the load. One member of our group chose not to do this. (He shall go nameless because I've learned that some people on this trip are reading this blog and revealing his name could result in my facial disfigurement.) Everytime it seemed that his turn was about to come up, he would somehow end up at the back of the line. After awhile, I asked him if he was planning on taking a pull? Response...."No." Are you planning on sucking wheels all day? "Yup." It was just that simple. Well, I will give him credit for his honesty.
     We got in relatively early to the hotel, 3PM, which allowed me to spend more time luxuriating in the recovery portion of the day. This consisted of shower, stretching, recovery drink, laundry, and ordering a new pair of legs from Amazon. This sopped up about two hours. Then it was time for our RAP session where we discussed the general plan for the final day of our ride. It was pointed out that there were going to be two final brief stops at the end of the ride, so we could all gather prior to departing en mass to the Atlantic Ocean for our wheel dipping ceremony. The upshot of this is that the riders that tend to finish first on any given day, like the 'kiwis', and little Chris from San Diego, would have to wait for the rest of us. Thus, there was no point in hammering it on that final day. This would be akin to taking laps around the Champs Elysee on the final day of the tour, except there likely would not be any champagne as that would be against the rules.
     Little Chris, (as to distinguish him from big Chris), who I've included a picture of, is somewhat of a mystery man on this ride. Very little is known about him. What is known is that in spite of being an exceptional rider on this trip, he is apparently a "B" rider in his group back home. (I'd hate to see what the "A" riders are like.) He practically always rides by himself, does not like to draft behind anyone, eats dinner in his room by himself, and is wanted in 23 states for a combination of unpaid parking tickets and trashing hotel rooms. I've also included a picture of the Kiwis, Jason and Patrick, or is it Patrick and Jason? I've alluded to them in past posts. They are brothers from New Zealand who always ride together. They are very affable guys and very strong cyclists. To add to their workout, they carry on their backs, 2 Liter Camelbaks, filled likely with concentrated Kiwi juice and vodka. This may explain why they are in very good spirits all the time.
   At dinner, at "Big Boy," I learned that Craig, the strongest rider in the group, possibly emboldened by the renegade group that yesterday bushwacked their own path to Richmond, has announced that from now on he's going to find his own routes to our hotels, and won't be riding with the group anymore. My first thought on hearing this was, "Is it something I said?" Craig will still be staying at our hotels and using the van to transport luggage but will be passing on the SAG stops, mechanical support, and clever banter that only we can provide. As for me, I can assure all of you that I won't be doing this. Look, I have hard enough time changing a tire, so the thought of hitting the road solo has no appeal whatsoever. In fact, hitting the road is something I have no intention of doing. It's going to be rubber side down, all the way to the Atlantic for me, baby. Hopefully.

-Grinner