Road ride

I started riding bikes as a roadie.  And a safe roadie.  All of my rides consisted of driving my car up to Flatwoods and doing the seven mile loop.  As many times as I could.  Which is usually only 2 or maybe 3 because I get bored to death.  And I get distracted.  And uncomfortable in my seat.  So I squirm and sigh and I haven't been having that much fun.  That's why I spend so much of my time on my mountain bike.

I've ridden a few times on the actual road, and I've always been scared to death.  Is that next car that comes up behind me going to be the one that causes my death?  And this was years ago, before the spate of what I'm calling roadkill of cyclists in the Bay Area over the past few months.  Nine people on bicycles have died in the past four months.  Nine. 

But some folks I know from my mountain bike club also do road riding in the hills north of here around San Antonio.  I've been pestering them about tagging along, and yesterday was the first time that schedules worked.  It was Becky and Sally and me.  This was Becky's third time up there and Sally's second.  We did spend some time at stop signs looking at maps trying to figure out which way to go but we did find our way back to the cars.

I was worried, worried, worried  about keeping up.  I can't hang right on someone's back tire in the woods and I can't do it on the road, either.  Even if they are parting the wind/air for me.  I'd end up back 20 feet or so behind Becky and Sally.  I had on a deep red jersey, so I called myself the little red caboose.

I've read some things about driver road rage against cyclists, but we didn't see any of that at all.  Most drivers swerved all the way over into the other lane and gave us tons of room.  In fact, that earlier fear about imminent death never crossed my mind.  Really.  Guess I was too preoccupied worrying about keeping up and not wimping out.

We'd not talked about the planned ride beforehand, but when we were unloading our bikes and getting set up, Becky said, "I really want to get in 40 miles today!"  I almost choked.  But I had sorta invited myself along to this ride, so what could I do?  I've done a 50 mile road ride before, on the Withalacoochee Trail, but that's all flat.  And we stopped every 10 miles and ate, either our bars or lunch or ice cream.  I didn't know if I could make a 40 mile hilly ride. And after climbing Happy Hill and burning my legs and lungs and still not having 10 miles invested yet in the ride, I was kinda getting worried.  Would I be able to make the ride or would I be a total nut sack?

I was able to hang with Sally and Becky, but barely.  They are both stronger riders than I am.  They both have been riding longer than I have as well.  I'd drop back and catch up when I could.  But then we discovered something funny.  On the downhills, all things being equal, I was faster than them.  We'd all worked like hell getting up a hill, and I was at the end.  We'd crest and go down the other side, gloriously flying down with the sense of power and freedom and a funny thing happened.  Going downhill, I was faster than they were.  I'm thinking it's because I weigh more than they do and am closer to the ground, but I was just flying downhill.  It was wonderful.

In the end, we did a little over 31 miles, not 40.  I probably could have made the 40 if I'd had more fuel, but I was really, really glad to stop.  I felt amazing and strong. I didn't have one moment of boredom.  I was amazed at the hills and the gorgeous scenery. My bike felt good, not uncomfortable at all.  And I can't wait to do it again.