Celebrity Ride: DUDE, I AM FREAKING OUT

My bloggy friends from the midwest might not want to read any further. I've read the posts from Trimama, Iron Wil and Trasaratops about snow before Halloween. We Houstonians, in contrast, just had the best cycling Saturday in six months. I used the weather to go on a blogger celebrity ride with Ironman Royalty.

The subtitle of this post is taken from my Texas homie, MisheleK, whose blog bears the name, "Dude, I Am Freaking Out." Like me, Mishele is a member of the greatest tri club on the planet. Unlike me, Mishele is Ironman Royalty. She has finished the Great Floridian long course event, Ironman Arizona and Ironman Wisconsin. I have yet to start in iron distance event. If you like Nytro and a. maria (a/k/a Little Miss Runner Pants), you will also enjoy reading Mishele. Check her out and leave her some comment love.

Mishele is one of those amazing, young 20 somethings, like Cara, Elizabeth, Curly Su, A. Maria, et al. who are taking to endurance sport and blogging about it. Nytro does not make this list only because she is getting much older, long in the tooth, and hopefully very slow. Not to get all old and fatherly, but it is fascinating and encouraging for a father of a daughter, like me, to see young and powerful women who take on challenges and accomplish great things for themselves. I see qualities in all these little sisters that I hope for my own daughter to have as a young adult. Typical of the sisterhood, as well, Mishele does not give herself near enough credit for what she's done, what she has overcome, and who she is as a result. Las hermanitas de hierro (the little iron sisters) are top drawer.

OK, enough mush. Our day was the perfect match of weather, terrain, and company. It was cool and overcast when the sun came up, with a freshening breeze that was never stiff enough to qualify as a headwind, but just strong enough to cool us off. We went to my hills in Montgomery County and rode probably longer than Mishele had planned on. I always gave her the choice of route, but she is an Ironman, after all. She would never choose the short way home even if her legs fell off and she was bleeding from her ears. We saw cows, a smattering of roadies and triathletes, beautiful meadows, and the first hints of fall color.

The only sour note was Mishele's refusal to declare who will hold her allegience in the wager of all wagers. SOMA: Greyhound v. Nytro. Even after knowing me in real life, she refused to unreservedly join Team Greyhound. She is an every day favorite reader of Nytro's blog, and chick loyalty is apparently some mystic bond that the y chromosome crowd just cannot comprehend. Am I going to need to hire security to guard my transition area from Chick Ninjas of Team Estrogen?

Fortunately, nobody lost any limbs and no blood was spilled. But we did make 70 miles through the rolling hills and pine forests followed by a little transition run. The Iron Sister found her post-race legs and we picked each others' brains and experience. She is applying to law school and wants to enter my profession, while I want to toe the iron distance line that she has already crossed three times. We both helped each other out . . . at least she helped me quite a bit. She can speak for herself about whether I had anything to bring to the table. To me, that is one of the coolest things about the endurance sport community. People who, under other circumstances, might never have even met because of differences in age or gender or experience share the cameraderie of a long bike, encourage each other, and broaden the horizon of their friendships.

Post ride O'Doul's from the cooler for perfect recovery and a good stretch. It was a very very good day.