We're back from a wild, woolly, and incredibly wet week in the American and Canadian prairieland. First stop was good ole Hartland, for our usual summer visit and the annual Trek ride to raise money for childhood cancer. This was the 18th Trek ride, and Ivan has ridden in all 18 … not too surprising for the biking fanatic, eh? We rode the 100K (62 miles) version but Mark and I are fully convinced that Ivan can still do the 100 miles … get him a few more BBQ chicken wings at the 50 mile aid station and watch him go!
The big to-do this year was the fact that we were gonna be joined by the celebrity-biking-rock-star we like to call: fancy Lancy. A record 3,500 riders signed up this year and I can’t help but think they were more than a little disappointed that he gave a whopping 28-second pre-race address. But they weren’t all there to marvel at his majesty … from the looks of some of the $5,000 bikes and spandex-clad-GU-infused-cyclists at the start line, a lot of them were there to strip him of his imaginary yellow jersey and forever be able to claim they beat Armstrong at the venerable Tour de Waukesha … (if only we all aimed that high). One guy on the chase, took a wet downhill curve too fast and met up full speed with a tree, chest first, broke his ribs and had to be heli-flighted outta there. Another guy somersaulted multiple times before he, too, was sent to the ER. Because he was causing so much bloodshed, Lance-a-lot had to leave before completing the race. Or was it perhaps that he just couldn’t handle the gnarly vert that corn country had to offer? We’ll never know.
The next few days, in between frequent bouts with rain, we managed to check everything off the list: bike around Christopherson Fields, play a little tennis, do a little shopping, and of course, eat, eat, eat. We visited Matt and Shel at UWM and got a tour of the shwanky new med school facility, where we completed a crash course in otolaryngology. Wednesday came too soon and it was time to leave; Mark went back to SLC and I went on to Getty’s graduation in Winnipeg … or “Winter”peg, as the locals like to say.
The big to-do this year was the fact that we were gonna be joined by the celebrity-biking-rock-star we like to call: fancy Lancy. A record 3,500 riders signed up this year and I can’t help but think they were more than a little disappointed that he gave a whopping 28-second pre-race address. But they weren’t all there to marvel at his majesty … from the looks of some of the $5,000 bikes and spandex-clad-GU-infused-cyclists at the start line, a lot of them were there to strip him of his imaginary yellow jersey and forever be able to claim they beat Armstrong at the venerable Tour de Waukesha … (if only we all aimed that high). One guy on the chase, took a wet downhill curve too fast and met up full speed with a tree, chest first, broke his ribs and had to be heli-flighted outta there. Another guy somersaulted multiple times before he, too, was sent to the ER. Because he was causing so much bloodshed, Lance-a-lot had to leave before completing the race. Or was it perhaps that he just couldn’t handle the gnarly vert that corn country had to offer? We’ll never know.
The next few days, in between frequent bouts with rain, we managed to check everything off the list: bike around Christopherson Fields, play a little tennis, do a little shopping, and of course, eat, eat, eat. We visited Matt and Shel at UWM and got a tour of the shwanky new med school facility, where we completed a crash course in otolaryngology. Wednesday came too soon and it was time to leave; Mark went back to SLC and I went on to Getty’s graduation in Winnipeg … or “Winter”peg, as the locals like to say.
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