I'm back!!

From my bike ride. Not back to cycling. No, I'm still a golfer who occasionally rides his bike. Which reminds me, "The Hurt Locker" is an excellent movie. Go see it.



"Hey ladies, just thought you might like to see what a real golfer's body looks like."


That's me in the center, in the slimming black "Twin Six" kit. Brian on the left (my right) and Wesley on the right (my left). Photo by Pat Cash. I would say "courtesy of Pat Cash", but I didn't ask him. I'm sure he'd be cool with it, because he's courteous, but you never know. I really do hope it's ok, though, because otherwise all I've got is this artist's rendering ...




Even though I've abandoned riding for the more noble endeavor of golfing, Sunday came with the realization that I'm always going to be a cyclist. Riding is a blast. There's no way around it. And not just riding. Riding hard. I can't help myself. I went as hard as I possibly could for much of the ride. There's nothing like the feeling of putting the hammer down, exiting the workshop and going for a hard ride. My accelerations were ungodly. My form unmatched. Bystanders were vigorously barking on me.

This was all fun and games until the road went up. Even the slightest hint of an incline put me instantly in "The Hurt Locker". It's been years since anyone on anything other than a road bike has passed me on the way up a hill. Unless you count Sunday. Oh yeah, I remember. Here come the 12 year old girls. Hi girls. Nice streamers. Ok, you go on ahead, I have to check on some things while I climb this hill. Oh man, I am SO going to coast past them after I crest this thing. Whoosh!

So I got into Ft Calhoun after roughly an hour. Not Bad, considering.

I saw several old friends. Named things like:
Munson, Randell (with hair on his legs), Redemske, Keffer, Bazant, Armstrong, Ed Brown, Wesley, Gordon, Ellis, Savoie, Brian C. Just kidding about Armstrong. He's not a friend of mine.

But most importantly, I seen Shim. He made some gesture toward me that I can only assume meant "Way to go, sport!" He grabbed his right cheek (of his face) and rapidly slapped it repeatedly against his gums, making, well a loud cheek-gum-slapping noise. I responded with a subtle and confused wave.


By the end of the ride, I had nothing left - other than the uphill ride home. Oops.

I have a strict policy of never getting off the bike and walking due to lack of fitness, so I was concerned about getting home. I did something I've never done before. I took a longer, flatter route to get home. I don't think I'd have made it otherwise. "A man's got to know his limitations," as Clint Eastwood said in a movie that is not called "The Hurt Locker".

Fredcube, where were you? Quarry Oaks or something?

We were worried sick?

Well I'm glad you asked. As a matter of fact I was at quarry oaks, see?

Here's a shot of me sending a ball to its final resting place somewhere far, far to the right of the fairway. I'll miss that ball. It was so cute and round. Maybe (definitely) I should get up on my right toe better. Oh well, it's a work in progress. Notice, I also broke the tee which is on it's way back to earth in the photo. So yeah. New ball and tee from one swing. Damn.



Here's another lovely view beside the Platte river. This is from the tee box on 13 or 14 (I think 13). My drive went roughly (literally) to the right of about where that cart is leaving me with 207 yard uphill to reach the green in regulation.



From this lie ...


Well, I don't normally hit the 3 hybrid 207 yards level on a good lie, but it was a good swing. I ended up left of the green, but the distance was correct. I most likely got some cart path to lend a hand, but I don't know cause I couldn't see the green from there. Nonetheless, I was very proud of my big boy shot, as can be seen here:


Yeah, that's the mighty Platte River behind me. I went on to bogey the hole (which is what I like to call fredpar).

The course is beautifuller than any I've seen (I've not seen many, but it's still awesome). We were playing from the white tees (1 in from the tips). Until we got to this hole ...




From the white tees, there was no danger. Just nice green fairway all the way to the green. So we decided to play from the black (where I took this photo from) which meant carrying this 180 yards of cavernous weed valley cliff thing. Awesome. By some miracle I took a 3 wood and gently swung it, thinking "just get it halfway there". Cha-ching. Yeah, that was a par (or fredpar, I can't be certain). Anyways, I landed and stopped on the green. Pretty impressive for me - and actually anyone in the world. I'm just saying.

Next highlight. The signature hole at Quarry oaks. Number 17. 394 yard par 4 from the tips (which we played because it was the signature hole). As you can see It is a dogleg left, and really really cool. This was also my best drive of the day. I sent it 250 (way down hill) to about where the guys are standing on the right side of this photo. FORE!!! No, I waited til they cleared out.



I actually did par this one - not just some weird fredpar.


Damage: I don't know, 10 balls lost or so. Which means 10 penalty strokes. I'll have to clean that up a bit.
front 9: 54
back 9: 49
So um: 103

Then we went to Miracle Hill where the warm up at Quarry did me some good. 45 and 44 for a personal best 89 on the course. Sweet.

And yeah, it turned out better than work as I had predicted.