Jim, You Deaf Bastard

When I was in Coeur d’Alene for the Ironman, Jason was staying off his feet and prepping for his big race while I had a big training weekend on my schedule. Coach T scheduled a century ride and a short brick run for the day before the race, but since I was volunteering at bike check-in that day, I wasn’t going to be able to cram in volunteer duties and a six hour ride. I ended up having to slog out 100 miles on Friday, but nobody was interested in riding the full distance with me (sad trombone) so I organized a “Bec-share” program: Jason’s dad Jim would ride the first two hours with me and then I’d meet up with Teresa, Paul, and Vicki to bust out the last four. I’d be like the Stanley Cup of TN Multisport athletes, getting passed from one cyclist to the next (uh, in a non-slutty manner).

Jim wasn’t interested in doing anything too strenuous because he rode with us the day before, so we took off at a fairly easy pace and did the beginning part of the CdA Ironman course–an out and back along a paved trail that follows the lake. The trail has a couple of long, gradual climbs that aren’t too bad, but I didn’t want to kill my legs since I still had several hours of riding ahead of me. We did the out and back twice and realized we still had more time to tack on, so while we pondered which route to take we ran into a nice older woman with a Southern drawl and a little foo foo dog.

We chatted up the woman for a bit and she gave us directions for a little loop we could tack onto our route that would take us back to Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive. The gist of the directions were as follows:

Woman: “Take a right on Yellowstone Trail road, and ride along that for a while, then left on Bonnell.”

Me: Right on Yellowstone Trail, Left on Bonnell. Got it.”

Woman: “Have fun, y’all!”

Me, to Jim: “What a nice lady!”

Jim and I took off to go find Yellowstone Trail road. When we came across it, we took a right onto it and were immediately faced with a hill. I climbed it, avoiding potholes and jagged sections. Since I’m better on hills than Jim, he fell a ways behind while I continued to grind up and dodge chunks of broken pavement. The climbs were not especially fun–so much for my plan to try and save my legs from getting worn out on too many hills.

Me, sweating profusely: “What a horrible woman!” The nice Southern lady with the foo foo dog was clearly a sadist in disguise, hell bent on rerouting unsuspecting cyclists onto shitty quality roads with non-stop climbing.

After ascending for some time, the route flattened out and turned into a long descent. I coasted around a bend and noticed a left-hand turn up ahead, so I slowed down to read the street sign and identified the road as Bonnell. “Oh good,” I thought, and pulled onto Bonnell, then stopped so I could wait for Jim. He’d round the bend, see me at the turn and then we’d complete our little out-and-back route before heading back to the house.

I waited for a bit, then saw a red shape winding around a corner. I recognized the form as Jim shooting down the hill on his Felt road bike. As he rounded the bend, I smiled and waved at him so he’d know to turn left onto Bonnell.

My reaction as Jim rounded the corner.

Instead of glancing over to his left and noticing a human being on a bike smiling and waving at him, he instead stared straight ahead and tucked down so he could continue to bomb down the long descent.

I went from “smiling and waving” to this:

My reaction when Jim blew by me.

Frustrated, I started hollering, “JIM!! JIIIIIIIMMM!!! Stop! JIMMMMMM!!!!!!”, but he was in the zone and couldn’t hear me at all. Jason’s dad was hell-bent on screaming down this hill as if he were shot out of a cannon, his eyes glued straight ahead like a rally car racer. I continued shouting for him to stop to no avail; he pedaled around the corner and out of sight.

Sighing, I hopped on my bike and went after him. I descended…and descended…and descended. The longer I descended, the more I cursed Jim because I knew that once I caught up to him, we’d have to turn around and climb this son of a bitch to get back to the main road. I figured after a while he’d notice that I was nowhere in sight and would eventually pull over to figure out what happened, but the further I went, the more I began to suspect that he was just going to keep moving forward like a Roomba vacuum with no boundaries.

Eventually, the (poorly) paved portion Yellowstone Trail road dead-ended into a dirt and gravel road that was not remotely suited for road bikes. As I pulled up to the end, I saw Jim standing at the base of the dirt path looking exceptionally confused. He noticed me and lit up.

Jim: “Oh, there you are!”

Me: “What the hell! You didn’t see me?!”

Jim: “Nah. I was wondering if you had gone onto the gravel part and was debating whether to start following it.”



I asked him how he managed to not see or hear someone standing just off to the side of the road frantically waving and shouting at him. He laughed and said, “I wanted to try and catch you! I like descending!” Good grief. When I pointed out that we were going to have to make a long climb back to the main road, he shrugged and said, “Eh, it’s okay, I’m only riding for two hours.” I’M RIDING 100, YOU FOOL. Jerkface made me do extra hills!

We turned around and made the long, arduous climb back (I can’t remember exactly how long it took, but it was at least 12 minutes of ascending). When I got back to Bonnell, I pulled over and waited for him, then pointed at the road and said, “That’s the turn you missed.” He laughed and said, “Oh, really? It was that long ago? Man, I really missed it, didn’t I?” I responded by shaking my fist at him and saying his Christmas gift this year was going to be a hearing aid.

When we got back to Teresa and Mark’s rental house so Teresa, Paul, and Vicki could start riding with me, Jim cheerfully said, “Well, that was fun. See ya!” and headed back to our rental house so he could hang out with Jas while I suffered through another four hours of cycling. I’m sure he’ll argue that he was making me do extra hill work so I’d be extra ready for the big climbs at Ironman Canada. Jim, if I have a good bike split, I’ll forgive you; otherwise, you’re so visiting a hearing doctor.

3 Responses to “ “Jim, You Deaf Bastard”

  1. teresa says:

    Totally forgot about that. Love Jim…he’s hilarious….and that red shirt rocks!!

  2. Diana says:

    Welcome to my world. Your Christmas gift idea rocks.

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