Cyclocross is over and there is snow in the mountains.
Winter, as I define it, is in full swing.
The rituals of the season though familiar are for a moment, fresh. The audible click when my boots locked into
my Nordic bindings was a sweet sound I had forgotten until I heard it
again. When I heard it I smiled. Assembling and donning the proper layers of
clothing to cope with cycling in the cold and/or chilly rain brings a
satisfaction when it all works out. I go
to work in the dark and I come home in the dark. It isn’t good or bad; it just is. When I need to work on bikes in the garage it
is cold down there.
This past Saturday El Chefe’ and I started at sunrise and
spent the first four hours of grey daylight riding and talking. We wanted to be
sure and finish before the day got dry and comfortable. We achieved that goal. When we finished we
had more than a hundred kms which was the longest either of us had ridden in a
while, yet we both felt pretty good. El Chefe’ was still in race shape but was
kind enough not to drop me.
We bumped into McWoodie on the I-90 bridge. You can always spot the brown kits from an
amazing distance. We finished with a
loop of the island. It was good to catch up with El Chefe’ and I was reminded
that he is an exceptional human.
It felt really good to go long. After a season of intervals four hours seemed
like forever. The slower pace necessitated by the distance and road conditions was
welcome. Saturday afternoon my legs were
tired. Not sore, not tight, not achy,
just tired. It was a great feeling. The
voluminous mound of post-ride laundry reflects the season as much as anything.
The Sunday morning rendezvous for Coffee and Lies was
surprisingly populous with a peloton that peaked at eleven riders sporting the
brown. For perhaps the first time all
year we had our entire executive committee riding. I was wondering if we might get a State of
the Team Address from el Jefe. That
didn’t happen; we just rode. That was
enough.
Our team rides in deep winter are a treat. Although
conditions are typically bleak the pace is slower and during the ride I get
some unhurried time to spend chatting with each rider. This is the season of base miles.
Before it was the Coffee and Lies ride it was known as
the “Hank Ride.” Ironically Hank hasn’t been on his namesake ride for about
three years. Hank’s passion has gone to
the dark side and he now competes in rowing events and uses cycling as a
supplement to his rowing training. How
misguided…
A similar story with a very different ending comes from
another neighborhood ride. That ride goes
four days a week and on Sunday it departs before the Coffee and Lies ride. Those riders are known as (fake name to protect
the innocent) The Flanders Boys Ride named after the group’s leader Tim
Flanders.
For the majority of this year the Hank ride and the
Flanders Boys rides had no Hank or Flanders.
Mr. Flanders spent last year battling cancer. In my “denial is the key to success” way, I
acted the coward and kept up on Tim’s illness from afar. In the spring months things looked grim. Time to talk about time grim. By summer things were looking better and by
fall, Tim had begun riding again. His
outlook isn’t ideal; kind of along the lines of something is better than
nothing. Compared to nothing, something
is infinitely better. Sometimes
something is enough.
On our ride our group met up with the Flanders Boys including
the man himself. During the conversation
Tim mentioned how painful it had been when he returned to riding a few months
ago. I asked him if he enjoyed that
pain. He met my gaze and matter-of-factly
confessed that he had enjoyed that suffering.
His expression told me he knew what I was asking.
As our group gets older our priorities are shifting away
from the podium. We still relish being
known as “The nicest bunch of guys that will kick your ass.” Don’t get me wrong; we aren’t ready to trade
our carbon and titanium bikes for wheelchairs. I am just noting that as much fun as it is to
kick people’s asses we are finding great joy in just riding and sharing those
experiences with each other. We have finally figured out the quality of a ride
can be expressed without using speed as the primary measurement.
It was enjoyable to catch up with my band of brown
brothers. It reminded me what a special
group we have. I hope they don’t do any
retroactive background checks and boot me out.
No comments:
Post a Comment