Our winter has
been unusually slow in arriving this year.
Most years you can calibrate your calendars because the first good frost
hits Seattle on Halloween evening. We
are past Thanksgiving and we still haven’t had ice in the morning.
I am not
complaining. In fact, this supports my winter training goal of not breaking any
ribs. It has allowed some riding without yet having to dress like I am a scuba
diver. On a recent Coffee and Lies ride
we faced rain and temperatures below 10C (50F for you old school laggards).
With the
exception of Big John most of us were underdressed. The rain went from light to heavy and the
mild temperatures were our saving grace.
We were in the early stages of hypothermia but all was good and it
looked like everything would be okay until one of our clan flatted.
Sooner or later we all get a chance to be "the guy with the flat tire"
Moonlight
Burnside displayed either kindness or impatience and took charge and made quick
work of the tube replacement. In less
than five minutes we were rolling again.
The problem was that those five minutes of inactivity, in the rain, were
enough to get way behind the hypothermia power curve.
Before the flat
tire triggered the stop my socks were wet.
My feet were still warm, but they were wet. After we stopped they were
still wet but now they were cold. Water that had soaked into the Lycra that
wrapped my shins was likewise chilled now.
El Chefe’
commented that his gloves had become useless bags of cold water. When we came
to a short climb I refused to get out of the saddle for fear the rain would wet
my saddle and then get my chamois wet.
Since my chamois was the only thing below my waist that was dry I stayed
seated and just downshifted.
Though I knew
hard pedaling would warm me up I was still inclined to hold my steady pace. I’ve seldom done a good job at really taking
it easy for an extended period and I am somewhat determined to keep the rest of
2016 Z1-2, Z3 max…..
Finally I
settled in with Big John and El Jefe’ and we just platooned back. John remarked
that we the three of us formed a grupetto that had a cumulative nineteen feet
of handsome and we didn’t argue. Flattery
is rare at my age.
Hey, we're ALL good looking.....
The prospect of
hot coffee kept us smiling and soon we were getting close. There is a shortcut
that takes a more direct route but involves a crazy steep climb. Nineteen feet
of awesome turned sharply south and wrestled up the hill. As a result of the climb when we rolled up to
Fuel for our post-ride cup of Joe we were finally warm.
When I stood up
after sharing coffee and lies there was a puddle below my chair and my wet
gloves left a ghost print of dampness on the table. I felt like one of the fabled soggy bottom
boys.
After putting a
towel on the driver’s seat I left the hill and returned home and spent a good
long time enjoying a hot shower.
A week later we
assembled to do it again. Predictably,
this time we were dressed for battle. Some wore better, some wore thicker and
others simply wore more layers to protect them from the elements. I was
reminded of a ride in the spring of 2012 when Hank, who had missed the previous
week’s ride looked us up and down and commented, “Man, it must have been really
wet last week.” If you are going to have a reaction it might as well be an
overreaction.
In the true spirit
of the off season our jaunt around the island was a refreshingly
leisurely-paced affair. We chatted and savored our man time. Maintaining a modicum of movement through the
dark days of winter will allow us to resume in earnest in the New Year without
the awkwardness of having to get reacquainted with our saddles.
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