Based on 15 minutes of research, I can't tell you if Edwin Arlington Robinson was a bicycle rider, although I think it is unlikely. However, I can tell you that he is no longer with us. (No, he didn't move from Kalamazoo to Florida for the warmer weather, he's dead.) But if he had been a cyclist and was still alive, I believe that his most famous poem would have gone something like this.
Whenever Richard Cory rode downtown,
We people on the trail path looked at him:
He was a cycling man from sole to crown,
Clean shaven legs, and spandex shaping slim.
And he was always garishly arrayed,
And he was superhuman when he rode;
And still he startled pulses when he said,
"On your left," and he never even slowed.
And he was fit - yes, fitter than Ted King -
And admirably schooled in shifting grace:
In short, we thought he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we walked, and waited for the light,
And went without new shoes, and cursed instead;
And Richard Cory, one calm winter night,
Went home and put a bullet through his stinkin'
stationary trainer.
Yes, I think I'm ready for spring. And I was certainly ready to look at the League of Michigan Bicyclists 2015 Michigan Ride Calendar that I had just picked up from one of the local bike shops. Leafing through the pages was like reminiscing with old friends; the Ride of Silence (I'm trying to type quietly), KalTour, the Holland Hundred, and, of course, DALMAC.
And there are new friends that I might be making, like the 200K West and the Thumbs Up 400K, as I'm thinking about blowing the dust off of my Randonneaurs USA number and doing some randonneuring rides this year. And if not the Mountain Mayhem Spring Classic, a ride that I have avoided, because I view steep downhill descents as more terrifying than exhilarating, perhaps their Beat the Heat Tour later in the year. It might be that my downhill discomfort will decrease in proportion to the increase in my power of self-deception by then.
However, I had to acknowledge that there were some old friends that I hadn't visited last year. Like my more frenemy than friend, the National 24-Hour Challenge. I broke my 4 year string of rides and stood up my old buddy, the One Day Ride Across Michigan. I then broke my 6 year string of rides and stood up my even older buddy, the Vineyard Classic. And I chose a warm home over a cold rain and avoided the Color Burst Bicycle Tour.
There are also those friends who have drifted away, like the One Helluva Ride, a ride I haven't done since 2008, as well as acquaintances, such as the Leelanau Harvest Tour, the Apple Cider Century Tour, and the Blue Water Ramble, rides that I have done only once. Maybe I'll do them again someday, although I'm also content just to live with their memories.
Saddest of all, however, are the rides that are no longer with us and, no, they didn't move to Florida, they're dead. I'm thinking, in particular, about the Turning Leaves Century.
The Turning Leaves Century was held just outside of Dowagiac on the second Sunday in October. I did this ride 4 times, in 1998, 1999, 2001, and 2002, missing the 2000 ride only because I was living in Japan that fall, and the KBC didn't volunteer to provide air fare for a trip back to Michigan. The course went as far east as the lake country west of Three Rivers, an area relatively close to Kalamazoo, but also an area where I never rode, except while doing this tour. The ride also featured delicious soup at one of the SAG stops, swarms of bees at another SAG stop, and almost 50 straight miles of riding into a headwind, if the wind was unfortunately directed. To me, it was always a bittersweet ride, as it marked the end of the touring season.
My takeaway memory of my first ride was that it was cold, but otherwise uneventful, while the 1999 ride was wet. I remember reaching the 75 mile SAG stop with KBC's turn of the century Ride Captain, Randy Putt, where he easily convinced me that a 6 mile shortcut back to Dowagiac would be preferable to 25 more miles of rainy riding. I still like to think that we did a Century Ride, albeit in base 9.
My 2001 ride was the most memorable ride of the four and mostly for the wrong reasons. Soon after the start, I discovered that I was riding with my C- legs that day. I struggled to keep up with my riding companions, yo-yoing off the back of the group several times, before being dropped for good about 25 miles into the ride. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing, as I could now ride on my own without the pressure of having to keep up with a group that was riding at a shouldn't-have-been uncomfortable pace. This wasn't necessarily a good thing, as I had the privilege of riding close to 50 miles due west into an unfortunately directed headwind. But I whined my way through it and was rewarded by finally turning south, reaching the final SAG stop with about 12 miles to go.
At this point, I was surprised to see most of the people that I had been riding with 65 miles ago. I had thought that they'd be farther ahead of me, but it turned out that they were also taking longer breaks than my own "let's just get this ride over with" short breaks. They were getting ready to resume riding; I didn't feel like taking a break for the aforementioned reason, and I joined them.
We were within a large group of about 20 riders. My KBC riding companions had solemnly sworn to each other that, yes, they were all going to take it easy these last 12 miles, the better to lure me into riding with them. Of course, once we turned east, one of the non-KBC riders decided that what our group really needed was a "take advantage of the tailwind" 10 mile sprint to the finish, and almost all of the KBC riders decided to join in the fun.
Dave Newman, an ex-KBCer who moved to Colorado in 2003, was the one exception besides me. He didn't feel like riding hard, but because he also felt better than me, he offered to let me draft off him; an offer that I gladly accepted. So, I leeched off of his rear wheel all the way to the Southwestern Michigan College parking lot, where I watched Dave ride another six-tenths of a mile around the perimeter of the lot. The Touring Leaves Century was actually only 99.4 miles and Dave was a stickler about getting in his 100 miles worth. I got in my extra 0.6 miles, and then some, by driving home.
I arrived at the 2002 ride in very good shape and, in contrast to the previous year, my legs didn't let me down. Still, what I remember most about that ride was the $5 deal I got on the previous year's sweatshirt.
And at the time, I didn't know that this would be my last Turning Leaves Century. In 2003, the ride was held the day before I started work in Ann Arbor and 2 weeks before I moved to Dexter. So, I had other things to do that weekend. Then, after 32 years, that was it for Turning Leaves Century. I moved away from southwest Michigan and the ride folded. Coincidence? You be the judge.
But I still have that sweatshirt and it's a nice one. Sometimes I think about the irony of honoring a lousy ride by wearing this sweatshirt, but I like to think that I at least learned some things from the ride or, more accurately, relearned some things that I shouldn't forget. That no matter how much you'd like it to be, sometimes it just isn't your day. That sometimes you just have to grit your teeth and stick with it. That sometimes you need to stop gritting your teeth, chew, if not swallow, your pride, and rely on your cycling buddies. All of these are good things to keep in mind, as we begin another cycling season. And when I finally wear this sweatshirt out, I can use it to muffle the sound of gunshots at my stationary trainer.
Rick Whaley, KBC Newsletter Editor
