Snippets

Post ride, fragments of ideas, random thoughts and images, tiny chunks of time spent on the bike compressed and tied to the effort spent. How long was that? My computer tells me the entire ride, from home to ride start to somewhere south of Fort Carson to home again, lasted two hours and forty-five minutes. The computer breaks down the calories, kilojoules, wattage, speed, cadence: information that attempts to quantify the lovely buzz in my quads, the slight ache in my shoulders, but the numbers are grainy despite their precision.

Some crystaline pictures. We are a small group crossing Tejon as the morning traffic at Starbucks watches us depart over a steaming mochacinno, maybe twenty riders. The forecast of rain mid-ride as cut our numbers by two-thirds. I'm new; is this normal? 'I don't know,' the guy in the Kelly Benefits kit says, 'I usually don't come when the forecast is for rain.' I realize I'm riding with folks who didn't check Weather.com before they left.

The exceptions are from the midwest. Byron from East Lansing, his pro mountain bike friend, Kelly and myself did look at the forecast and still came. Without so many riders, what will the training ride be like today? An easy cruise?

Kelly's blue Giant kit is a permanent fixture at the front as we hit race speed and begin south. I pull through and notice I'm holding 34mph into a stiff SE wind. I notice that and count pedal revs to ten, then twenty and pull to the right. I don't feel well; my legs are gummy and I'm a bit tired. I've strung out the line with my pull and it takes a while to find a comfy spot behind someone big enough to shelter me.

We're moving up the hill to the first sprint point and I'm following wheels and go over fifth, second week in a row that I can still draw breath over the top. I'm pleased. Kelly and a fellow from Spike who seems intent on impressing her, go over first. I move in behind her as we line up at 40mph for the turn right. Drafting her is like drafting a paper clip and I feel like I'm pulling but not getting any credit. First chance I move over to Spike and feel about fifty pounds come off my legs.

Kelly is attacking. Attack, Kelly, attack. Kelly is attacking into the wind. Does Kelly weigh more than eighty pounds? Attack, Kelly, attack. Spike follows. Spike is bigger than Kelly. Chris follows Spike. No one follows Chris. Spike is tired. Kelly is tired. Attack, Chris, attack.

As I pass her, Kelly is breathing in gasps. I was breathing hard, too, but when I come from behind, I relax my face and control my breathing for a few moments. She glances over and I smile. The effect is immediate and she falls back to the group.

I'm by myself and it feels too hard, too far from the last sprint and my legs are tired. I ease up and Spike catches me. I ride behind him and the right arm wiggles, the international signal to pass and pull on that side. I decline. The group swallows us up.