What Tim Chose

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name Tim C Hose
sex male
birthday 03.27.81

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Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Okay, so post graduation, I decided to take a little teeny tiny one hundred and sixty mile bike trip. The idea had it's genesis a few months back when we all decided at my campus ministry that it would be a swell idea to borrow some road bikes, train up for a couple of months and then bike fourty miles a day for a week from my college town of Jonesboro to Bryant, which is just south of Little Rock. Once we got to the church of the day, we would take an hour off and then get around to mission work, that being whatever they had for us to do.
Well, in typical fashion for anybody who isn't an actual athelete, we didn't really train until the week before. This nifty little complication led to some slight muscle soreness durning graduation, but all in all, I was ready and good to go.
Day number one started out very well.
It rained. Yep, there we were at seven o'clock in the morning, ready to go, but it's raining. We didn't get to start until ten, so we only got to bike for twenty of the scheduled fourty that day. There was work to be done at the church, though, so by noon we packed up the bikes in the trucks and drove the rest of the way into camp. Lots of scraping, painting, and yardwork followed. The local news crew, K8 came out to interview some of us and to snap some pictures, then we ate some church lady food and all fell into a happy tired slumber.
Day number two looked great. Blue skies, slightly stiff legs and back, but we were ready to get on the road, yes sir. So we did. We had six hours set aside to get the fourty three or so miles down to Brinkley. I figured it would only take three hours or so at the pace of fifteen mph. we had hit the day before.
Nope. Some of the group (not me, happily enough) were not up to that pace, so a relaxed ten miles was where we settled in. Lord, it was the longest, straightest, and slowest four hours of my entire life. Also, it felt like somebody was chiseling my rear end apart with an axe. Those road bike racing seats aren't made for cushion, lemme tell you.
At the end of that long road was Brinkley, where we took a day off from riding and instead did yard work. Sleep some more, then up at six am to head off to Lonoke.
Day number three actually went very well. We got to start off the first leg of the trip by staying at thirteen miles an hour for an hour or so. I found myself marveling at the idea that I was so much happier going thirteen mph than ten.
After a while, though, I decided that I was just like that.
If somebody offered to put me in a room that was either 180 degrees, or 179 degrees, I would still take the room that was 179 and somehow feel cooler. Like I'd cheated the system, or something.
Oh well. Lonoke rocked, my buddy Roy and I got to stay at this house where the kids there had built a potato gun and a golf ball gun, which they offered to show us. It took me and Roy a moment to glance at each other and then say, "Look at it? I want to shoot it!"
So we did.
Yay! Corrupting the youth of tomorrow!
They took us out to an old road and we shot golf balls at a baseball game for about an hour until we ran out of golf balls. Then we used rocks until the back end of the gun fused closed and we couldn't get any more propellant in there. We found out later that my friend Courtney had been at that baseball game. Heh.
Okay! Day number four. The sweetest action day of all.
We hit Little Rock, and guess what?
We got a full Police escourt through town.
No crap.
Biker cops, traffic police, regular police, the works.
Oh, and not just through the outskirts of town, my friends. Nope, it was over the bridge and straight through Main Street at noon. It rocked like crazy. I have never felt so cool in my entire life. The bike cops are going nuts, because they get to show out, kids are waving at us from the sidewalk like we're important, cars are blocked up for blocks, and we got to bike past some model on the street in a photo shoot who looked at us like we were cool.
It was kind of surreal.
And awesome.
Yeah, mostly awesome.
Aaaaaaanyways! We ended up at the outskirts of Brinkley, where we were handed over to the Brinkley police until we got to the final church. That was almost as cool, because even though they have a bike lane, we didn't use it. I think motorists hated us, but I didn't really care. Woot!
Okay, so after eating at R.C.'s Moonpie cafe (Not a joke, dear Lord that's not a joke, no matter how much I wish it was.) we slept like the exhausted pansies that we were. Well, it was after a fourty-seven mile bike ride. Go figure.
Day five was yardwork. Just yardwork. Painting, actually, for my crew. We went and painted an old lady's deck because she didn't have anybody to help her. She was really nice, but talked to her cat like it was a real person.
Mrrrow.
Day six was when it all went bad. We got sick. Mad sick. Luckily it was the end of the trip, but everybody on the trip (twelve people) got hit with an angry, vengful stomach flu. Luckliy for me I was at my friend Payton's house by this time because I was visiting him.
Let me tell you, I was the life of the party.
If, of course, that party was held in the toilet.
And hated me.
Payton is one stand up dude though. He stayed with me from 3:30 until nine, then left me sleeping and got me Pepto, Aleve, and Sprite, a curative trifecta that rivals Robitussin. After that the guy sleep on his own couch to give me his bed.
In short? He rocks like socks.
That brings us to day seven, I suppose, which is where I went home. Home is for another entry. I'm tire of writing, and there's too much wierdness to fit in here. I just got done jousting my best friend on four-wheelers with fun noodles and mop handles. Nobody died!
You crazy kids have a good night.

TimChose [ 10:17 PM ]