"Neither  snow, no, nor rain, nor heat, nor night keeps them
from accomplishing their appointed courses with all speed."
Herodotus

"How do you know if you have pneumonia?" "It's hard to breathe."

This was one of several questions asked by one of a trio of "Kranky" cyclists on a recently completed 300+ kilometer ride.  Even when bundled up against the inevitable coldness that a constant rain in 46 degree weather brings, chills and shivering happens and energy stores are rapidly depleted.  Questions then start to plague the mind: Is it going to continue raining? Will my bike come to a grinding halt? Will I finish in time?  Will my lights work?  What gear should I be in?

While these questions are in your mind you don't notice that you are making progress; that it has been 30 minutes since you lost your rear view mirror and you are only thinking about the next control point perhaps "only" 40 minutes away.  Or that story that one of us has just told has us ten minutes closer to our next goal.

"I should have put my control card in a safe, dry place."  "Oops, the route sheet is so wet I can't read it."  "Should we have coffee here or should we go on?"

Along the way you are continually gauging how you are feeling, how the bike is handling, how you are handling the bike, how much time is left, or what, and when, you should eat.

(If it seems as if the foregoing statements are a re-hash of generalities, I apologize...I will now opinionate.)

It was great fun to ride with Tom and Carter and Jeff.  Very companionable folks (just like all Kranks).  Supportive, strong riders; funny, determined, and smart.

I love riding at night when the whole world is lit up by the full moon; when I ride down the middle of "Main Street" at one o'clock in the AM; when my whole focus is on the road twenty feet in front of me; when the sounds of silence are broken by a whirling free-wheel and frogs looking for companionship; and, if I am properly attired, the coldness of the night is just something that can be commented on to my riding partners (and at cocktail parties).

I love it when we all gather around the flat-fixer, to offer help but really to just stop riding for a few minutes.  It is especially gratifying when the sag support comes by just when a floor pump is needed.  Foster, Greg, you are the real Good Shepherds!

These are a few of my favorite things:

Clean, ubiquitous restrooms; hot soups; cold turkey wraps; V-8, sodas, water; smooth paving; a full moon; Les Lanternes rouges; shower caps and plastic vegetable bags; stories of other rides and riders; balaclavas; 30:30 granny gears; Fosters Freeze shakes; and, not least, wonderful support from the Home Office and the brevet volunteers.

Shout out to my hero, Carter "Big Mac" Mc.  I did not realize how badly he was injured until I saw him in his underwear (huh?).  He had a five-inch gash, along with various other smaller scrapes, on his lower leg and his shoulder was hurting him so bad during the ride after his fall that he was "tilting" (as he was riding) many degrees from vertical.  I asked him at the last control point if his arm was numb and he replied that it was and that he was leaning that way because of the numbness.  Very disconcerting for him.

He finished the ride within the allotted time. Bravo et bon courage!

To Tom: Most improved rider.  He is getting stronger and smarter with each event.  Even though we are the perpetual red lantern(ers) we are learning to come in a little faster than previous rides, but are still having more fun than we ought to.

Jeff from Whittier: Congratulations for your accomplishment with all speed.  Welcome to the Red Lantern.

Long distance bicycling, like getting old, is not for sissies!

"Can you die from pneumonia?" "Only if you stop breathing."

On my epitaph: He forgot to breathe

Earl