This weekend was a busy one. Saturday morning we headed out to Choctaw for a cycling event, part of their annual Land Run Festival. There I met my nemesis again. For some time I've known that I had a violent allergy to Indian Paintbrush, which comes into bloom near mid-April. It's a beautiful wildflower; a large swath of them is a stunning sight. Sadly, it's a sight I don't much enjoy, as it can makes my eyes run and fits of sneezing to commence. Last spring I found during a ride that it made my chest feel tight, and my breathing less 
effective. I had scheduled only a fifteen mile ride because I was unsure about how well I would do during the blooming period of My Nemesis. As it turned out I was wise to choose the shorter ride. This time I was apparently struck stupid. I attempted a 40 mile ride. I say "attempted" because I ended up "sagging in". I was short of breath during the first half of the ride, which I put down to my poor early season condition and my recently infrequent yoga practice. We had just started back up on our hill training earlier in the week, and I was not really prepared for the many big hills on the course. I was 10 miles in 
either direction from a support stop where someone could call the sag wagon for me when I suddenly found myself unable to breathe. No matter how hard I tried to inhale no air got to my lungs. This was a small ride - only 60 riders, so there were no other riders in sight, and there was not a support vehicle continuously riding around the course. There were many hills still to go, and I was out in 
the middle of nowhere. It scared me, but there was nothing to do but go on. I did not know where I was, so I got to the nearest intersection with a sign, then I called Shana and left a message, thinking that she might have finished her ride and could come out to get me. Then I continued on, peddling up the hills as far as my strength would take me, walking the rest of the way up, then coasting down. I figured I would keep going until I got to the next rest stop or Shana got back to me. I got to the rest stop first, but it was a while before they were able to get someone out to get me. I think this may be the last time I try a long ride in Indian Paintbrush season.
Vivian came to spend the night later on Saturday. She's trying to talk now - the first thing she said when we got home was D- D- D- looking for Roxy. She has turned into the busiest creature on earth. Her only direction is FORWARD, her only speed AS FAST AS POSSIBLE. When she really gets her feet under her she will be a menace. Rita and Skippy were also here for the night, so the house was like a 3 ring circus all evening. The adventures started up again at 4 a.m.
Last night Shana and I took advantage of a generous offer for dinner and an inspiring talk at the Hilton Skirvin Oklahoma City, which will always be the Skirvin Plaza Hotel to me, because that was its name when I first came to Okahoma City. In 1911, when it was built, it started life as the Skirvin Hotel. I worked in downtown Oklahoma City for a few months in the early 70's, passing through the elegant lobby a few times. The "Oil Slicks" were in town and parties were lavish. Then came the bust in 1982. At that time it was experiencing hard times and it was not a surprise when it closed in 1988. I came back downtown to work in 1990, spending some months working right across the street from the hotel. That was still in the days of Oklahoma's recovery from the oil bust, and the empty Skirvin seemed like a sad reminder of all the tough times we had experienced. Several attempts to restore the hotel to its function were proposed and collapsed before its current resurrection as a part of the Hilton empire. I can't speak for the guest rooms, but the lobbies and meeting rooms have been treated to a sensitive renovation. It is even more beautiful than I recalled. The only odd thing is that the acoustics of the building make the piano bar in the first floor lounge sound creepily like the Overlook Hotel from the mezzanine.
This weekend found me back at the Wichita Wildlife Refuge in spite of overnight temperatures down into the 30's. As we get into the spring and summer the cycling events become closer together, I'll take a trip to Florida, and time for camping will become harder to arrange. Any weekend not otherwise spoken for or when actual tornadoes are not forecast becomes a camping weekend. Back at the turn of the century Camp Doris was a mining camp. Now it's a small campground. At one time there were several campgrounds in the refuge, but now Doris is the only one. It's worth the effort to 
arrive early enough to get my favorite campsite. The facilities are more than adequate and because the campground is quite small, it's very quiet at night. My favorite site is at the end of a loop so there is almost no car traffic after about 8 pm, and little foot traffic in spite of the fact that we are at very comfortable walking distance from the "flush-o-rama" and the bath house. There is a ravine behind, so no noise or light comes from that direction (although raccoons do). We frequently have deer passing through. Best of all, the best tent site is screened from the road by trees so it feels very private. 
Dinner preparations were closely supervised by a posse of turkey vultures. I had noticed them cruising above the campsite the night before. This night they cruised around until sunset, then settled in to roost in a tree a few yards from our tent. All the jostling, pushing, and shoving in the tree sounded like someone bumping big cardboard boxes together as they silently shoved at each other with their powerful wings. Upon securing a perch the victor then had to rearrange his wings and get comfortable again while the loser took off and circled in to land on another perch. Once everyone was settled into a comfy perch they were silent until they took off first thing in the morning.
I met Alex for lunch today to celebrate his birthday. While we were enjoying our meal, I commented that although I take several pictures of Vivian every time I see her, I seldom take pictures of him or Jamie. I thought he had dutifully posed for me in the parking lot when we were getting ready to leave, but when I loaded up the pictures I saw that Alex had had the last laugh. He has made the face of a rabid beast. Double click on the picture if you dare to get a closer and more disgusting view. Fresh pictures of Princess Vivian are being served over at my Flickr Gallery, link on the sidebar.
This weekend saw the 26Th annual Redbud Classic. It's named after the Redbud, Oklahoma's state tree, and one of the one of the earliest blooming Oklahoma native trees. It takes place in early April, when the Redbuds are in bloom. There are a variety of events including runs and cycling tours of various lengths, a kids' run, and a baby stroller event. This is the first year I participated. I've mainly avoided it because of the hilly course, the unreliable weather of early April, and sheer unadulterated laziness. Usually I am not ready to tackle a ride of any length this early in the season. Because I now live about a mile from the starting line, I had few excuses that would hold up, so I signed up, along with Shana and several of our group. The first part of last week saw high temperatures into the 80's, with morning lows in the high 50's to mid 60's. I mention this because this morning I rose to find a temperature of barely 40 degrees, with an expected high of 70. I weighed my clothing options, as did we all, and decided on a jacket, but no leg warmers. I thought I would warm up quickly, and the temperatures would rise quickly enough to make them unwanted baggage early in the ride. This turned out to be not at all true. At fifteen miles I was so cold that I swear I could not feel my calves at all. then we turned south into the wind. The good news was that we were not burning off much water, so our stops were pretty brief. The cold temperatures made lots of people get cramps in their legs. All of our group finished their chosen distances, albeit with generous amounts of whining. I was really glad I only chose to ride 33 miles instead of the fifty mile I had considered.
