Hotter'N Hotter'N Hell?

Yesterday, I rambled (or babbled, depending on your point of view) about a ride I've never done in a place I've never been anywhere near.   I've been to Texas once in my life, and came away convinced that nowhere is near anywhere else in that state.  Perhaps you can forgive me for having such an impression if you understand my perspective:  New York, where I live, is closer to either Boston or Washington, DC than Dallas is to Houston.  And Houston is further from Wichita Falls, the home of Hotter'N Hell Hundred, than New York or Boston are from Montreal.  

Anyway, after I declared my fascination with (which, I guess, implies some interest in doing) HHH, I was a wuss today.  The temperature  reached 104 degrees in Central Park.  Even though the humidity, by definition, can reach only 100 (percent), it seemed to be even higher than the temperature.  

Penny-farthing thermometer

I might have gone for a ride had I wakened earlier, or gone toward the water.  However, as much as I dislike the heat and humidity, they weren't what deterred me.  I took one look at the haze that smudged the sky and said, "I am not going to breathe that shit!"  I could have dealt with the heat simply by hydrating--I've done that on rides when the temperature, if not my mileage, reached the century mark. However, I do have a fairly sensitive respiratory system, and I didn't think going for a ride in those conditions would do me much good.  I might go for a short hop later tonight, after the temperature cools to, oh, about 92 degrees.  To the folks in Wichita Falls, that's probably a chilly Hotter'N Hell Hundred.  (Is that an oxymoron?)

Hotter Than...

Today was so hot...


Today was hotter than...


Today has been one of those days when, it seems, everyone has his or her own version of one of those two declarations.  Today was so hot that my lycra melted off me.


I could have used that line a few years ago.  These days, I don't own any lycra bike clothes, or much of anything in lycra.  So I have to come up with something new, I guess.


Being the religious sort that I am (ha, ha), I can't say hotter than aitch-ee-double-toothpick.  But it seems that a bunch of riders in Texas can.  They even have a ride named after it:  The Hotter 'N Hell 100. 

Now, I'll admit, I have never been to HHH (the last "H" is for "Hundred") or, for that matter, Wichita Falls, Texas.  But if it's even hotter than it is today, or they have days like this every day for months on end (as they have in the part of Florida where my parents live), I'm not so sure I'd want to go there, at least at this time of year.  


Now, I have ridden in the mid-afternoon heat of days even hotter than this.  So I suppose that I could condition myself for HHH.  After all, I have ridden a hundred miles on days when the temperature reached 100 F.  I admit, though, I haven't done anything like that in a while.


But something about the ride intrigues me.  Well, any ride with aitch-ee-double-toothpick in its name is bound to get my attention. The grandparent of all such rides is, of course, l'Enfer du Nord, or the aitch-ee-double-toothpick of the North, otherwise known as the Paris-Roubaix. It's held in early spring every year, and the weather has ranged from hot and dusty to windy and snowy--and everything in between.  At least, anyone who signs up for HHH knows it's going to be hot, or so I imagine.


Is that hot weather guaranteed?  If the day turns out, by some chance, to be more like a perfect spring day--say, 70 degrees F without a cloud in the sky or much humidity--can the participants demand a refund of their registration fees?


Hmm...What if a cyclo-cross race were held and all the mud dried?  Or what if there were no snow for Iditarod?  What would people do?


If you're reading this and you're going to ride in HHH, I wish you well.  Have fun!