There’s still time and limited space to sign up for the 40th anniversary Texas MS 150 charity bike ride from Houston to College Station, April 27-28. The MS 150 is limited to 13,000 riders, and you don’t want to get shut out. The Texas pedal pusher is the largest, most successful, and money-makingest charity bike ride in the U.S. The goal this year is $9.4 million.

Things have changed for the better – and by better I mean shorter. It was a longer and winding road when I pedaled my first MS 150.

Ken’s first ride

They say you always remember your first. And it’s true. For a week after, I walked like a bull rider after being tossed and stomped on at the Houston Rodeo. That’s okay, I always root for the bull.

I had just joined the Houston Chronicle and one of the editors asked me to write about the MS 150 because the newspaper’s society columnist Maxine Mesinger was being honored as grand marshal. I said sure, but why just cover it when I could actually ride the ride? How hard could it be? I always ride my bike to H-E-B and Buffalo Grille.

That year I pushed and grunted the entire 180-mile (don’t believe that “150” come on) from Houston to the UT football stadium — on my old one-speed bicycle. I eventually did about a dozen MS 150 rides, but on a 21-speed bike I bought the next week.

The voice of experience

Three years ago, the MS Society folks changed the route from Houston-Austin to Houston-College Station. That makes sense. Houston is 79 feet above sea level. Austin is 489 feet above sea level. So basically you’re pedaling a bicycle straight up a wall to the state capital. Throw in occasionally cold weather and the wind in your face and, let’s just say, it’s not a walk along the beach.

College Station isn’t Death Valley, but at 289 feet above sea level, it’s a slightly less daunting climb than Austin.

People would ask me, how hard is it to ride the MS 150? Is it like running a marathon? I’d tell them, it’s a challenge, but it’s nowhere close to the degree of difficulty of a marathon. I can ride my bike to Austin, but I can’t jog around the block.

Serious bikers would get mad at me because I told people that you don’t have to train like a Navy Seal to do the MS 150. Just hop on your bike, do the ride, limp a few days, and you’ve got a story to tell. You did something your friends can’t do.

Serious bikers thought I was mocking them. I responded, “why don’t you wear even tighter Spandex shorts so we can tell your family history.” Well, I didn’t say that to their face.

MS 150 organizers are offering different starting points this year for different levels of cardio. On Day One you can choose to ride 100, 75, 55, or 50 miles to pull into La Grange for the Saturday night stay. On Day 2, you can choose between routes covering 81, 79, or 50 miles.

The routes are so clearly marked that it’s practically impossible to veer off the route or get lost. Practically. One year my friend Sean and I left the overnight camp an hour early because, frankly, we’re cheaters and didn’t want to reach the finish line long after everybody else had packed up and gone home.

We pedaled the entire Day 2 by ourselves on side streets, back roads, and highways with the word “old” in their name. We made it to the finish line just as the last bus headed back to Houston was pulling out.

I ride slow. The years I managed to stay on course, I was passed by — among others — children, a guy on a unicycle wearing a tuxedo and top hat, former Sen. Phil Gramm’s wife on rollerskates, riders pulling a cart with their dog in it, and a rolling wedding procession on two wheels.

The Stragglers

In order to ride the MS 150 you have to raise a minimum of $400 in donations from your friends or co-workers (or just kick in the $400 yourself). For details how to sign up, click on events.nationalmssociety.org. Riders typically join a company group who rent fancy tents and hire catering for the overnight at the La Grange campgrounds. But individuals are welcome to join all on their lonesome and fend for themselves in La Grange. That’s how I did it my first MS 150.

Which sort of riled me. The following year, I created my own group called the Stragglers, open to anybody who didn’t belong to a group and promised not to wear skintight bike shorts. We did all right for ourselves. I.W. Marks donated a giant tent that was nicer than my first five apartments. Tony Vallone (yes, that Tony Vallone) came to La Grange and personally prepared dinner for my Stragglers. Take that, you Spandex-wearing, bike glove-wearing, bike shirt-wearing, team-belonging, physically fit bikers.

I didn’t sleep in the Stragglers tent. I also didn’t line up for a group shower. That year and every year since, I booked a room at the Best Western in La Grange. I liked to take a long hot bath after the first day ride. One year, I noticed a cigarette burn mark on the edge of the tub. Smoking while taking a bath, I’d like to meet that guy.

If you get a flat along the way, no problem. SAG vans patrol the route, and you and your bike can hitch a ride to the next R&R (rest and refreshments) stop. Bike stores set up repair stations every 10 miles. Experienced riders pass up the R&R stops. I never missed one. They had cookies there. I also ate a banana at each stop to prevent cramping.

One time a Straggler named Austin got a flat tire and flagged down a SAG van. I told him, the rest of us will see you at the next rest stop. When we got there, there was Austin — and Sean — sitting at a picnic table eating Oreos. I asked Sean how he got there ahead of us. Turns out he snuck on the SAG van with Austin. He said, “we had a flat tire.”