Letters From Hollywood

Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. Not even the names have been changed to protect the innocent. They say something’s funny until something bad happens … then it’s hilarious.

Maybe I’m crazy, but I signed myself up for a 100-mile bike race last weekend. My thought process went a little like this:

“100 miles… wow, that’s impressive.”

“But … are you really capable of that? Maybe you should start off with the 50.” “Ehn, who cares, it’ll make for a great story!”

Sure enough, here’s that story.

Race day rolls around, and despite not training – at all – I’m ready to take on the world. Two water bottles, check. Gatorade Camelback, check. Plenty of energy bars, sunscreen, and spare tire tubes: check, check and check. I may be crazy, but at least I’m prepared.

It was supposed to be an easy trail down Griffith Park (think Hollywood sign), through the streets of Downtown LA, along the LA River, down to Long Beach and back. I was wrong about the easy part.

Because I’m an optimist, I’ll give you the good news first. The good news is that I am now a pro at changing flat tires. The bad news is that I scored six – yes SIX – flat tires! I was prepared for three. Which is two more than the normal person prepares for. Luck was on my side … bad luck.

The madness started at about the halfway point in Long Beach. You know, the farthest possible spot away from the start. Here are just some of the highlights.

Tire two went less than 5 miles down the road from the first on the steepest climb of the ride. It was on a bridge over top of the LA River to head back. Frustrated, I began changing the flat and quietly reciting, "Aren't you glad you came prepared?"

Admittedly the third tire was my fault. I was mad, and as a result, rough with the tube putting it in. This resulted in tearing the valve of my last spare. This is the point where I seriously considered calling someone to pick me up and take me home.

I stuck it out, but regrettably, I forgot the patch kit at home. I did learn something though; people are a lot less likely to stop and help the guy on the side of the road screaming obscenities. After I calmed down, a very kind and generous gentleman stopped to offer me his spare tube.

I thought for sure that was the worst of my luck. There’s no way it could get worse than three flat tires. Boy was I wrong. When I got the next flat is the scene were you cut to me literally throwing my rear rim 100 feet over a fence into the LA River. Ok, ok... I exaggerated. It was more like 50 feet. Unfortunately after 5 minutes of sitting on the side of the road in the blazing heat, I realized that I actually had to go get it. I always thought they were kidding when they said the LA River is just one big sewer drainage system.

Despite the large population of tree hugging hippies out here, the LA River is hardly a river at all. It’s certainly nothing like the Susquehanna. Someone had the bright idea to concrete the whole thing over. Genius.

Ironically, these all happened within 25 miles of each other on the LA River bike path, not the shoddy construction laden streets of LA. I mean, you think road construction is bad there? I just found out the state colors aren't orange and black!

But outside of those 25 miles, the ride was rather enjoyable. I even got to work on my tan! Apparently SPF 50 sunscreen doesn’t do much. The farmer tan is the least of my worries. I also have the infamous watch tan, not to mention iPod-arm-band-tan. Maybe it’ll catch on as a trend.

The weather was beautiful. I found Long Beach to be my favorite part. It’s somewhere I definitely want to spend more time this summer. I also met some really neat people along the way. Especially those who stopped to help and encourage me. Most importantly, I made it back alive. You can’t ask for more than that.

Until next time, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

Kemer