Explaining the unexplainable (aka the family meets the bike course)—Saturday afternoon…
Photos: Theresa and I by the infamous last hill on the way back to Madison and the two words I didn't really want to think about.
-By the time I got back up to the room, Vardo was in the process of getting ready to meet her parents, who had made it into town. When she was done, I hopped in the shower and started the process, too, as I had made plans to meet up with my parents for lunch as well. Vardo and I decided we would likely end up meeting up at dinner and not before, and we headed out to meet up with our respective parental units. With my parents just having explored the incredible farmers’ market Madison hosts every Saturday morning, we steered clear of most of the capital square area and headed to my local favorite, the Great Dane Brewing Company, for lunch. I had also talked with Theresa, who was approaching Madison, and invited her to join us when she got into town; Cara, as it turns out, got a bit later start and wouldn’t be in town until later in the afternoon, as would my sister and brother-in-law and Kathy and Steve (I felt a bit like a travel agent when I was coordinating all of the arrivals).
Mom, Dad, and I headed over to Great Dane, waited about 20 minutes to get a table, and joked that it was very easy to tell the UW football fans from the IM crowd—physique and apparel choices were markedly different. Sadly, once we were seated, I found myself in the unique position of not being able to order a beer, so I settled for Diet Coke and water and placed my order for chicken pot pie (it was cold and I figured I could probably handle the calories). Theresa ended up being able to join us, too—even with my incredibly cryptic street directions, she found a place to park and cruised in with time to spare. It was weird to think that my parents had never met her, either—much like my mom never having met Michele until the night before, it was very odd for me to think that my parents had yet to meet her, but it worked out well that we could do introductions over lunch before the rest of the gang descended upon Madison later.
After lunch, the four of us headed out for a tour of the bike course—I wanted my parents to see the course so they could get a feel for what I was doing over the summer, and Theresa had heard enough about the course that I’m sure she felt like she had already seen it. Given that I really didn’t want to move my car from the parking garage, we ended up taking my parents’ car with me at the wheel. On the way to the car, though, we passed the finish line area where they were staging materials for the next day—I was in awe of the multiple pallets of chicken broth they already had queued up and ready to go, along with soda and other items. We also paused to take some photos of me with the big inflatable m-dots in IM village—random, yes, but entertaining.
With the photo ops passed, we headed out on the course I know so well. It was weird driving the route—I hadn’t done that since the Friday of IM weekend 2005—and even weirder narrating the course to people who had never seen it before. My parents kept noticing things I never had—mostly scenic barns and farmsteads set off the road just enough that I never noticed them from the bike—and I laughed when my dad commented on the hills on the way out to Verona. I basically told him to wait and see the rest of the hills if he thought those were bad—but I have to admit I felt a bit like a rock star knowing that, if he thought those were big hills, he’d be down right amazed at the fact that I could handle the others with relative ease.
As we took off on the loop and the stretch between Verona and Mt. Horeb, I pointed out the sign for Poppa’s Knoll (aka Donald Farms or something like that)—it always makes me laugh as my dad’s name happens to be Donald. I talked them through the gearing as we turned onto Hwy 92 from County Road G (gotta be in the little ring and ready to turn right into a pretty good uphill), and had a blast driving down Witte Road—I refrained from telling my mom that’s the road where I hit 43 mph one day as I couldn’t really see any need to freak her out anymore. The Garfoot Road downhill was another fun one to explain—I made darn sure everyone in the car knew that I rode that very conservatively and rode my brakes, but I don’t think the protective hay bales around the signs at the bottom of the hill made anyone any more comfortable. Old Sauk Pass was, again, fun to explain—as a general rule of thumb, I try not to swear in front of my parents, but there’s really no good way to explain what a bitch it is to climb those two hills back to back other than to say what a bitch it is, so that’s what I did. As we were driving up cell tower hill, I got a text message from Kristie saying that they had arrived—good news for sure, but they made sure to rub it in that they were already at a bar.
We headed back into Verona and made a quick stop at the Walgreens—my dad’s memory card was full and he needed a new one for race day, so we piled out of the car, took a quick water break, and headed back to Madison. On the way back, Cara called with a location update—she was nearing Madison and in need of directions, which I attempted to explain—easier said than done with a very limited knowledge of Madison streets and while driving one’s parents and friend around in one’s parents’ vehicle. We also stopped at the hill at mile ~102 to take pictures of the road painting—the “one more hill/way to go/now run” graffiti that always made me smile during training. With those pictures completed, we headed back into Madison—leaving just enough time for Theresa to go back to her car and for me to head to the hotel room to grab some stuff before walking over to the restaurant for dinner. Steph and Jenny called when I was in the room—they were almost to Madison and left me their dinner orders in case they were running late to the restaurant. With their phone call, I knew the location of everyone in my support crew except Catherine and her family, but I trusted they would be at the restaurant shortly.
Mom, Dad, and I headed over to Great Dane, waited about 20 minutes to get a table, and joked that it was very easy to tell the UW football fans from the IM crowd—physique and apparel choices were markedly different. Sadly, once we were seated, I found myself in the unique position of not being able to order a beer, so I settled for Diet Coke and water and placed my order for chicken pot pie (it was cold and I figured I could probably handle the calories). Theresa ended up being able to join us, too—even with my incredibly cryptic street directions, she found a place to park and cruised in with time to spare. It was weird to think that my parents had never met her, either—much like my mom never having met Michele until the night before, it was very odd for me to think that my parents had yet to meet her, but it worked out well that we could do introductions over lunch before the rest of the gang descended upon Madison later.
After lunch, the four of us headed out for a tour of the bike course—I wanted my parents to see the course so they could get a feel for what I was doing over the summer, and Theresa had heard enough about the course that I’m sure she felt like she had already seen it. Given that I really didn’t want to move my car from the parking garage, we ended up taking my parents’ car with me at the wheel. On the way to the car, though, we passed the finish line area where they were staging materials for the next day—I was in awe of the multiple pallets of chicken broth they already had queued up and ready to go, along with soda and other items. We also paused to take some photos of me with the big inflatable m-dots in IM village—random, yes, but entertaining.
With the photo ops passed, we headed out on the course I know so well. It was weird driving the route—I hadn’t done that since the Friday of IM weekend 2005—and even weirder narrating the course to people who had never seen it before. My parents kept noticing things I never had—mostly scenic barns and farmsteads set off the road just enough that I never noticed them from the bike—and I laughed when my dad commented on the hills on the way out to Verona. I basically told him to wait and see the rest of the hills if he thought those were bad—but I have to admit I felt a bit like a rock star knowing that, if he thought those were big hills, he’d be down right amazed at the fact that I could handle the others with relative ease.
As we took off on the loop and the stretch between Verona and Mt. Horeb, I pointed out the sign for Poppa’s Knoll (aka Donald Farms or something like that)—it always makes me laugh as my dad’s name happens to be Donald. I talked them through the gearing as we turned onto Hwy 92 from County Road G (gotta be in the little ring and ready to turn right into a pretty good uphill), and had a blast driving down Witte Road—I refrained from telling my mom that’s the road where I hit 43 mph one day as I couldn’t really see any need to freak her out anymore. The Garfoot Road downhill was another fun one to explain—I made darn sure everyone in the car knew that I rode that very conservatively and rode my brakes, but I don’t think the protective hay bales around the signs at the bottom of the hill made anyone any more comfortable. Old Sauk Pass was, again, fun to explain—as a general rule of thumb, I try not to swear in front of my parents, but there’s really no good way to explain what a bitch it is to climb those two hills back to back other than to say what a bitch it is, so that’s what I did. As we were driving up cell tower hill, I got a text message from Kristie saying that they had arrived—good news for sure, but they made sure to rub it in that they were already at a bar.
We headed back into Verona and made a quick stop at the Walgreens—my dad’s memory card was full and he needed a new one for race day, so we piled out of the car, took a quick water break, and headed back to Madison. On the way back, Cara called with a location update—she was nearing Madison and in need of directions, which I attempted to explain—easier said than done with a very limited knowledge of Madison streets and while driving one’s parents and friend around in one’s parents’ vehicle. We also stopped at the hill at mile ~102 to take pictures of the road painting—the “one more hill/way to go/now run” graffiti that always made me smile during training. With those pictures completed, we headed back into Madison—leaving just enough time for Theresa to go back to her car and for me to head to the hotel room to grab some stuff before walking over to the restaurant for dinner. Steph and Jenny called when I was in the room—they were almost to Madison and left me their dinner orders in case they were running late to the restaurant. With their phone call, I knew the location of everyone in my support crew except Catherine and her family, but I trusted they would be at the restaurant shortly.
posted by roehr @ 1:25 PM
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