By Brent "Batman" Fisher

The 2002 Beauty and the Beast Tour took place on April 27^th. I had gone down "The Beast" on the Texas Chainring Challenge last year and was enticed to make the climb back to the top. After switching to a recumbent five months ago, the challenge of taking on The Beast became a quest begging to be faced. I am not a hammerhead, merely a recreational rider who tries to ride about 100 miles a week. However, I have normally been a decent hill climber on my old bike and historically had used this to my advantage to catch riders on the uphill portions. Typically, the question I am asked most often, is how the recumbent does on the hills. It is not surprising that my Burley Django accelerates nicely downhill as it weighs about 50% more than my Trek. What I am beginning to notice is that I can still make up ground on some other riders while climbing. The Beauty and the Beast was no exception.

On my way into Tyler on Friday night, I drove up Highway 69. There was a reasonably long climb that made me think that it would be a worthy challenge on a bike. As it turned out, that climb was part of the 70-mile loop because there was a sign, Mt. Selmon, at the crest. Immediately, I recognized that The Beast was to my right. So, I drove down the hill and up to the other side. I wanted to get a good look at the landscape in order to mentally prepare myself for what was ahead when I pedaled through there the next day.

In my haste to get out of Houston, I neglected to bring the information about packet pick-up. I called my friend, David Ashby, who had initially planned to do this ride. He logged on to the website and relayed the pertinent information. I found the host motel, picked up my packet and headed for my motel. Preferably, I would have found a good Italian restaurant for some carbo-loading. But, in the end, I decided I had done enough driving and wanted to get set up for the next morning. I ordered a pizza to be delivered. It seemed like a relatively inexpensive means to stock up on some carbohydrates. As a bonus, I could eat the leftovers for breakfast.

I woke up around 1:15 AM to a rumbling tummy. Fortunately, I had packed some gas relief medication that allowed me to fall back asleep for a fitful couple of hours. Actually, I ended up oversleeping because the alarm clock did not sound. Instead of more pizza, I opted for the motel's very nice continental breakfast, which included waffles, biscuits and gravy and/or egg and cheese, fruit, and cereal. Once again satiated, I loaded up and headed to the University of Texas Tyler campus. I met up with the TCC Ride Directors, Lee and Sharon McCord, as well as some other Chainringer friends like Tommy Fitzgerald and Jerry Gardner.

One forecast had called for some thunderstorm activity, but most forecasts were mostly cloudy and breezy. Apparently, east Texas' definition of "breezy" is 15-20 mph winds. The first 25-30 miles would head into this "breeze." Due to the rolling hills and numerous trees, the wind was not a major deterrent as it only took me an hour to complete the first 18 miles. I stopped at the second rest stop to release some fluids and acquire replacements. In addition, I couldn't resist the sopapillas provided. I had planned to stop once more to catch my breath before taking on The Beast. But, the next rest stop was the split for the 70-mile loop. I wasn't interested in mileage. I wanted The Beast. Inexplicably, I couldn't see anyway in front, or behind me. Had I missed a turn? That seemed unreasonable as the Tyler Bicycle Clbu had graciously located volunteers with hunter orange flags at each turn in order to direct riders. Before long, I saw a couple of other cyclists. Suddenly, much quicker than I expected, I recognized my landmarks. The Beast was just ahead.

On my descent I closed on the two cyclists in front of me. The initial climb was deceptive. I didn't want to drop to my triple and shift to the top of my rear cluster too soon, but I didn't want to expend too much energy at the bottom. I dropped to my middle chain ring and was able to keep my cadence near 90. I quickly shifted to my triple when my cadence had fallen near 80. I then began to move to my lowest gear as I was maintaining my distance with the two in front of me. My speed dropped to 6 mph, but I was not losing ground to the two ahead. A sign alongside the road taunted, "Can you say steeper?" I responded by kicking into my next higher gear while maintaining my cadence. The cloudy skies and thick tree canopy gave way to lighter sky and a glimpse of sunshine. The crest was in sight. I kicked into a higher gear and smiled as a family sitting by the road offered cheers and encouragement.

I turned north and experienced the "breeze" become my ally. Buoyed by the tail wind and the euphoria of conquering the beast, I sailed along, nearly effortlessly, between 31 and 33 mph. The work is over, just cruise on into the finish, I thought. Well, the hills didn't simply turn flat and there were sections where the route changed direction to face more headwind or at least stiff crosswind. Nevertheless, I was able to complete the second 20 miles in almost the identical same 66 minutes. It was during this time I caught and passed several riders, often during the uphill climb.

At mile 48 I was beginning to feel the need for a rest stop. One water bottle was almost empty and the second is more difficult to reach. Both cages are mounted to the back of my seat, but stiffness in my left shoulder renders the left water bottle nearly useless. Rough railroad tracks provided the solution to all of my needs. Flying down the hill, I braced my self as I crossed the tracks. I heard something go splat, the unmistakable sound of a water bottle landing on pavement. As I continued to climb, I contemplated turning around or going on. Then the switch was thrown and the light came on. By turning around, I would salvage my Polar water bottle, get a chance to switch left and right bottles, and have the opportunity to "mark my spot" in some bushes.

I found my water bottle in the mix of others that had been lost and accomplished all that needed be done, I cruised through the last 16 miles. Although, admittedly, the "Baby Beast" did cause me to once again beckon my granny gear. I finished the ride with the PA announcer remarks about being a Burley man relaxing on my "recliner." The Beast is slain.