The last dingleberry

Two bright red Planet Bike jerseys move through the paceline, Katie Compton and her husband Mark, smooth into a twenty mph wind out of the south, southwest.  Marksheffel road moves back and forth, first putting the wind on our noses, and then it pushes on our right shoulder.  The group is riding into its own red, guys not yet ready for the pace of the silver medalist in the Cyclocross World Champs; it’s February!  The riders push a bit too hard.

I’m in the echelon, shaded from the wind by the left thigh of a young rider.  He’s clueless and suddenly moves left and hits my bars with his leg.  He thinks its my fault and I make a note not to ride near him again.  It’s important to trust the person you’re riding behind; they control your fate, whether you will be pushed backwards as they blow up, or worse, hit the tarmac as they do something unpredictable.  My bars wobble and I hear my friend Cody snort; he’s in my draft, the sweet spot behind the biggest guy in the pack.

Planet Bikes move forward into a rotating paceline a few miles south.  I’m coming off some kind of viral thing, power wasn’t back all week, and I choose not to rotate, but sag back behind ten wheels or so.  I’m feeling myself out today.  The sprint up Link Hill will tell me where I’m at, but the legs actually feel strong.  I take a pull before the left turn and get myself towards the front as the pack turns onto Link Road. 

I don’t see it.  The truck that was standing still when I pass, moves forward into the apogee of the turn for the second part of the pack.  Brakes squeal and bikes slide on the loose cinder in the turn.  Mark rides directly into the ditch and then back out of it.  I’m ahead, no longer taking turns, feeling the road rising and the twelve or so wheels in front of me accelerating.  I just want to hang.  Glen and Marissa are on a pink tandem, coming slowly backwards through the group.  They offer a nice draft and I slide in, complacent with just keeping a good pace up the climb.  We’re over and a gap of about 100 meters to the riders in front.

The gap is closed by a train crossing, barriers down.  A break for the legs. 

Fresh, we jump on our pedals and the stragglers that have caught up, are off again.  It’s amazing what a two minute break will do for the energy levels, I push hard and move into the paceline.  It’s much easier to do this than to ride alone into the wind.  A new guy, young and on a tt bike, is in the rotation.  As he moves into the crosswind, he leans down and goes into the tt bars.  Katie glances over and shakes her head.  The second time, she yells at him.  I give up a spot and yell over to him that he shouldn’t ride ‘on the bars’ in a group, in a crosswind.  He looks bashful and says ‘sorry’.  I smile back; this is the way we learn.

Where the road splits at Old Pueblo, there is a rise over a bridge and then it’s a mile to the sprint line, our turn-around.  Another new guy sticks his nose into the wind and pushes hard, ending our rotation with me in third wheel.  Mr. Planet Bike is in front of me, pushing hard and there is a gap.  I push and close it and holding on is like holding my breath.  I keep it there just a bit longer than comfortable and then wiggle my left elbow, ‘come on by; I’m done.’

No one does.  We’re going 30+ into a heavy wind and everyone else is thinking that it’s much too comfortable to sit behind me.  Finally, a few riders come through, and I see Katie has been sitting in my draft.  Mark has also come through and we all ease up and roll a bit before turning back north.