from The Killeen Daily Herald
By Rebecca LaFlure
Bikes, helmets and brightly colored Spandex could be seen for miles on Copperas Cove’s rolling hills Saturday morning for the city’s first bicycle race of the year.
More than 300 men and women from across Texas competed in the TBi Copperas Cove Classic Road Race, sponsored by Team Bicycles Inc. and the Copperas Cove Chamber of Commerce and Visitors Bureau.
It was TBi’s and the chamber’s ninth year to organize the biannual event.
This blog is written by Kahne, an instructor at Tyler Junior College.
That translates: riding the trainer–in this case for two hours (35 miles). It’s not the most exciting ride in the world. True, I have my iPod and Fatboy Slim sets a fine tempo, but after a couple of rides he’s wearing a bit thin. (Except “Acid 8000”–that never gets old!) But I gleaned some useful information about nutrition, pace, clothing. (The Zoot shorts don’t cut it–not without some Body Glide. And the Hammer Gel Vanilla? ICK!!)
from www.lakecities.com by Anthony Scott
Originally from Portland, Texas, an area near Corpus Christi, Scott Franklin moved up to the Lake Cities and took up bicycling as a new hobby about four years ago. He quickly became sick of riding alone and decided to seek out a riding club in the Lake Cities area only to find that no such group existed. He took the initiative.
He is the president of the Corinth Cycling Club, a group that meets on various days throughout the season. Usually it has group rides on Tuesdays, Thursdays and weekends.
by Hugo Martin from the Los Angeles Times
Not the ocotillo. Anything but the ocotillo.
As I flew over the handlebars of my mountain bike on a rocky trail outside of El Paso, I knew my landing would be hard. I just prayed I would not land on those nasty ocotillo plants that bordered the bike trail like roadside land mines.
Even a prickly pear cactus or an agave plant would be a better landing alternative to the ocotillo, whose quills extend like hypodermic needles.
But I lucked out. I landed on a patch of hard gravel — a feather-soft landing, compared with the cactus thorn beds I missed by just a couple of feet.
After two days of mountain biking in the Redd Road mountain trails northeast of El Paso, I understood why folks in the Lone Star State say “Don’t mess with Texas.”