Chapter 1

Exercise is something I avoid. I avoid strenuous exercise even more, so a 100-mile bike race is usually not something I would sign up for or even watch on television. This leads me to question why, at four-thirty in the morning, I am loading my radio gear into the truck and heading for a local brewery that served as Ground Zero for a five-hundred-participant bike ride through the countryside. Not that I planned to ride. No, I was just going to sit and watch them ride out and keep in touch with the various aid stations and waypoints along the route to ensure everyone was safe.

The sun was still below the horizon, but the sky had already faded from black to morning grey, but the few people on the site were little more than formless blobs as I pulled out the antenna tower and started erecting it. It was something I could do in my sleep and had several times, or so it seemed. I puttered away at my task as cars and SUVs went past my location towards the parking lot or people walking bikes and gear back towards the field where they would mount up later this morning.

After rolling out the antenna cable and putting the gear on tables under a pavilion, I checked the connections and flipped the power. No smoke escaped, and the radio came to life.

“Good morning, campers. This is Vic at Net Control. Anyone awake yet?”

I let go of the key and listened for a response.

“Net, Aid 1, have you loud and clear at this location.”

I pulled my maps over and checked the location of the aid station, put a checkmark next to it, and replied.

“Thank you, Aid 1. Break. All stations, we will do a net check-in at oh-seven-hundred. I will monitor if you want to check out your gear. Net Control is clear and listening.”

I pulled up my chair, got my paperwork ready, and started filling in the details for today’s event. The weather would be hot by sun up, and the riders dressed for it. Everyone wore shorts and t-shirts, or even less. And there was plenty of form-fitting Lycra, for good and bad, parading past my location.

“Morning, you in charge?” a voice asked me.

I looked up, and she smiled down at me from her lofty five-foot-four height. Like the other cyclists, she wore skin-tight lycra cycling shorts and a loose-fitting lycra top, unzipped below her chest. She wore a sports bra that helped contain what I knew were substantial breasts. The radio burped and interrupted my trance.

“Net, station calling, say again?”

“Net, Aid 2, how copy?”

“Loud and clear Aid 2.”

I ignored the rest of the routine transmission, but when I looked up, she had gone with her bicycle to the staging area, so I went back to my paperwork.

The sun peaked over the tree line and bathed the site with a warm glow and a promise of a hot day. I looked at the clock and picked up my mic.

“All stations, good morning. At this time, we will do a check-in by the numbers. Mile one, please check in.”

I had just received the report from mile thirty when I heard a new voice.

“You’re right, T; he does look tasty.”

I held my finger up.

“Shh,” I heard Tabitha say, “he’s working.”

“Mile 31, please check in.”

I looked up as Mile 31 checked in. Tabatha had a friend with her. She was taller, only by a couple of inches, and lithe, whereas Tabitha was curvy.

“Mile 32,” I said curtly as I continued to look.

The friend smiled at me, and I smiled back as mile 32 rambled around their check-in.

“Need anything?”

“Just looking,” the friend said.

“Look away. I have to finish the roll call.”

I took my attention back to the sheet in front of me and finished out the roll. The ladies were still there when I looked up again.

“This is Samantha, Sam,” Tabitha said.

“Hi Sam, Vic.”

“Pleasure.”

Sam was a brunette but on the light side. Her shorts were a royal blue and cupped her ass nicely. A matching sports bra contained her chest, but there was some visible cleavage, and she also unzipped her cycling top.

“Ever done one of these?” I asked Sam.

“Nope, first one. But I’ve been riding with this pain agent for three months, so I think I’m ready.”

“And we’re only doing the half today,” Tabitha added. “You handling this alone?”

“No, I have a second coming, but she didn’t think she needed to be here at oh-dark-thirty since I have the gear. She’s probably sitting out in the traffic jam on the road.”

Many people were still coming into the facility, and the attendants waved them to the outer lots.

“Anyone I know?” Tabitha asked.

“Lupe Sanchez, I think. I only met her last month at the meeting. Newly minted.”

“Cute?”

“Mother of four, grandmother of three, about sixty.”

“So not cute,” she said with a laugh.

I just shrugged. I would rather have helped Tabitha out of her Lycra, but she knew that. Lupe was an operator, and I was not interested in dating her.

“Net, Aid 2,” the radio chirped.

“Excuse me,” I said as I went back to work.

“See you later?” Tabitha asked.

“I’ll be here all day,” I said. “Aid 2, Net, what can I do for you?”

The incoming traffic flow reduced to a trickle as the parade of bicycles past my location increased. I saw more spandex and Lycra on display than I had seen in years. The temperatures rose, and I removed my sweatshirt and ensured I had enough water for the next couple of hours. I put the mic down after taking a request from Aid 3 when another woman interrupted me.

“Hi, Vic, right?”

“Hi, Lupe, have a seat. We’ve got work to do,” I said with a smile.

I let her get settled, then got into the work.

“You attended the meeting, right? Seb is chasing the Race Coordinator, or near enough so that when we have an issue, we call him, and he gets an answer. Some of these things we can figure out, but most need to get passed. Got your radio?”

“I don’t have one yet,” she said.

I passed over my spare. I always carry a spare.

“It’s on frequency already, but for now, just watch.”

I pushed a button on the main radio and switched to the in-house frequency before keying up.

“Shadow, Net, time to work.”

“Morning Net, what’s up?” Sebastian’s voice said clearly.

“Aid 3 is looking for water. Seems they only have a flat. Are they supposed to get more?”

“They should have six. One minute.”

“Thanks. Net clear.”

I slid over my note with the Aid station’s water request to Lupe.

“When he calls back, we will pass it on to the Aid station,” I said as I returned my radio to the primary frequency.

“Seems simple,” Lupe said.

“It is until it starts getting busy. I do miss things, especially when it gets going. When you are not chasing Shadow for things, keep an ear on the network traffic and copy it with me. Also, ask questions.”

“OK.”

I picked up the mic again.

“Aid 3, Net. Aid 3, Net.”

“Net, go ahead.”

“Traffic passed to Shadow. You should have more water than you have. They are looking into it.”

“Thanks. We have some time.”

“A few minutes, yes. More as I know it. Net clear.”

“Aid 3, clear.”

I looked at Lupe.

“Once we have an answer, I let the folks know things are in progress if we have the time.”

“Makes sense.”

I looked over my shoulder. The cyclists were gathering for the anthem.

“Here we go.”

I picked up the mic again.

“All stations, we are doing the opening ceremonies. Riders to their mark in fifteen minutes.”

As I talked, a van drove past on its way to the exit.

“Net, Shadow.”

I nodded at Lupe to take it.

“Go ahead, Shadow.”

“Water is on the way. Shadow, clear.”

“Thank you, Shadow,” Lupe said.

I sent the update to Aid 3 as yells of excitement behind me indicated the riders were on their way to the start line, half a mile ahead of my location. I watched the parade of Lycra again without comment and noticed that Lupe did as well.

“Ever ride?” she asked me.

“Me? You think I developed this physique through extensive exercise?”

She laughed.

“All stations, the riders are at their mark, and the flag is up.” I paused. “And they are off. Remember bib numbers for first male and first female on each course. Red bibs are the century, and they are on the course now. The metric will be Blue and behind them in about fifteen minutes. Green bibs for the 30 milers, and they are still thirty minutes from release. Net clear.”

We watched the first round of cyclists head out and recorded the riders as stations passed their information back to us. We repeated the message as the rest of the riders headed out over the next hour or so. The morning progressed, with a minimum amount of traffic passing around the network, mostly related to where each race’s lead was on the course at the time. I took a few minutes out for the bathroom, more water, and a sandwich. It was routine work. I should know better.

The first riders were back around 1 PM, and behind us, the noise level started to climb as the band cranked up and the number of people increased.

“Now it gets interesting. You will want to ensure you have a headset if you work in locations like this. It can get noisy,” I said.

I pulled my headset out of my bag and put it on the table next to me.

“Just in case. I have a second one and Y-jumper if we need it.”

Lupe just nodded as we added another update to our lists.

The clock moved slowly, and the dust increased around us. More and more cyclists rode in. Some dismounted just past the finish line and walked their bikes to their cars. Others rode into the scrum behind us and dismounted there.

“I’m not sure if I hate the rain or the dust more,” I said as the radio chirped.

“Net, Aid 2 priority.”

I looked at Lupe with what I am sure was a strange look on my face as I picked up the mic.

“Net, go ahead, Aid 2.”

“Net, we have a rider down.”

That brought me to full attention, and I pulled a notebook towards me and ensured I had a clean page.

“Pay attention,” I said to Lupe, then keyed the mic. “Go ahead.”

“Rider down reported between mile 30 and 31 with injuries. No bib yet.”

“Roger that. All stations stand by. Priority traffic only. We have a rider down. Break. Water...”

I paused as Lupe pushed the map at me and pointed.

“Water 4, do you have someone who can drive down to Mile 30 on the metric and validate?”

“Water 4. Expected you would ask. Jim just left this location.”

“Thank you, Water 4. Aid 3, please stand by. All stations holding traffic for the Net, please send now.”

The radio was quiet, and I looked at Lupe.

“We want to get the bib number and determine if more help is needed, but please let Shadow know we have an issue.”

“Net, Jim.”

“Jim, go ahead.”

“Busy?” I heard another voice ask, but Lupe engaged them.

“Bib number 249. We are going to need transport and a SAG. Priority two.”

We do not send personal data over the air, but we have priority status. One is life and limb—Cardiac, heatstroke, etc. Two is severe bleeding, including broken bones. Three is cramps and other things that prevent a rider from moving forward unaided. Five is wounded but able to continue. We are not first responders.

I heard Lupe pass the message to Shadow and turned my attention back to the radio.

“Jim, do what you can to keep the rider comfortable. It could be a bit yet. Start your paperwork and stay near the radio.”