Springs Sat Training Ride: Part Deux

A week into my Colorado life, making the ride in downtown Colorado Springs less fraught with anxiety and anticipation; I knew what was coming.  Knowing where I was going and where to park was also reassuring.  Less comforting was the tread on my rear tire.  Unloading the bike, I noticed the Gatorskin I glued the day before the Quad Cities criterium on Memorial Day was finally showing some threads.  Not bad service, I just hoped it would last the ride.

Cruising past the Starbucks on Tejon, no riders are there yet: 9:50am.  Looks like the 10am start is an approximation. 

The ride starts easy as it heads east.  We navigate the city streets, stopping for stop lights and moving in and out of the traffic.  A couple of small climbs before we turn south and hit race pace.  There are a number of new riders this week: a couple of professional women with aussie accents, a Kelly Benefits rider, a fellow from the Ride Clean squad and the usual squadron of Air Force team guys.

We hit the turn south.  There’s a stiff headwind and I’ve been telling myself just to hang in there.  The legs don’t feel that great and my head feels like it’s covered in gauze, perhaps the afterglow of the margueritas I had last night at Christi’s?  But I’m up in the first six and driving the pace, taking my turn.  The road has a slight downhill pitch and the wind takes care of any sweat. 

New today: a recumbent blasts by, probably about 32mph.  The big sprinter in green kit tries to keep the wheel, but there’s no draft and it’s like pulling on your own.  Our pace settles in at about 29mph and we pick up the recumbent on a slight incline.  I move over to the inside position, and soon the recumbent sweeps backward through the group, taking the riders sandwiched against the road’s edge with him.  Soon he’s back, coming past fast on the outside.  We learn to leave him to do his thing.

The first hill sprint comes and I stay in the front of the first group this time, pleased that my acclimation to the altitude is coming along.  A tiny girl from the AWB team with that funny accent is right there as well and the big green sprinter is pipped at the line by a smaller rider who comes by in his wake.

I call off the second sprint; it comes right after the nasty railroad crossing and I don’t want to hit the rocks too fast with my dicey rear tread.  Half the group takes off and I do an easy pace.  We’ll meet up when they do the turn-around.