The Apple Cider Century

The Apple Cider Century

This weekend was our first weekend back to Michigan since ‘The Great Race’, of which my training consisted of one 20 minute stationary bike ride, all of 5 miles, in which I did not pass out as once feared. In other words, bring on the bikes and the kids, I’m ready to go.

We hosted a small army of cycling enthusiasts and children for the weekend, 25 total. Pre-race day activities included John’s Jambalaya, Su’s Swimming Hole (of which Su was amazing absent for), Molly’s Smores, and the highlight of Saturday evening, Dave’s Hornet Nest Dance. It appears in our absence from Michigan, a call was made to all hornets in a 100-mile radius to build the world’s largest hornet’s nest, likely large enough to place it in the Guiness Book of World Records. The hornets were so sneaky and crafty, that they built their Trump Tower of Hornet’s Heaven deep into a tree, and only came out to buzz and bite when small children walked by. I’m sure all of our friends are cursing us under their breath.

The hornet’s nest proved to be an IQ breaker amongst a highly educated group of professionals. The lawyer in the group suggested drafting a waiver for all overnighters to sign in case they got bit and wanted to sue us. The restaurant owner suggested luring the hornets out of its nest with food. The CNN Bureau Chief suggested calling in the camera men to tape what could be evidence in the Hornet’s Nest Trial, should all 25 people sue us. The 7^th grade kid in the accelerated program at Blaine suggested burning down the hornets’ nest, which was enthusiastically echoed by all of the kids when they chanted, “BURN IT, BURN IT, BURN IT.” Which was quickly then discounted by the fireman in the group that this was definitely not a good idea. Finally, the Internet Executive decided that we should search online for the perfect hornet nest removal system. Which of course, yielded the most logical solution, “Call a professional.”

But as men typically do, they don’t heed the sound advice and prefer to listen to their inner demons and construct a plan that seems only logical to the male species. They conferred and agreed to the “Ding, Dong, Ditch” plan and nominated Dave to carry out the ill conceived plan…after everyone had left. So, in the throes of “getaway day” at the house, after the last of the bikers had left, Dave revved the car, strapped Max in his car seat, donned his hornet repelling getup (which also looked like a general female population repellent) and did his best “Ding, Dong, Ditch.” Ding-dong…who’s there? A big ole bottle of raid sprayed into the door of the hornet’s nest, followed by Dave quickly ditching the premises to a waiting getaway car and high tailing it back the safe confines of the city, where the biggest pest we have are rats, not hornets. And those, we definitely call the professional for.

While you may find the hornet nest story amusing, many of you are asking the burning questions, “Did you pass out while riding your bike?” And the answer is, no! I managed to pull my 39 years of bicycling experience and make it a whopping 5-8 miles (depending on who you asked, we either went 5 miles or 8 miles, I like to say 8 but Dave quickly corrects me to 5) with Max strapped firmly behind me with his every encouraging words, “Geez mommy, can’t you go any faster? They’re passing us!” (The ‘they’ would be a small entourage of school aged children from Blaine) The boys in the group, and a few adventurous moms, completed anywhere from 25-50 miles so they are true heroes in my book. Perhaps next year, I can train a bit harder and just maybe, aspire to lead the pack instead of trailing the pack. Then again, next year, I’ll be 40 during the race, and rumor has it it’s all downhill once the big 40 hits. But downhill with a bike, may not be a bad thing….