Prepare to cry!
With summer
vacations peaking there were but a half dozen of the black and orange men
rolling this past weekend. Most of us
still have some significant Dolomite fitness in our legs so every week is
another chapter in the book of leg breaker throw downs.
I had reason to
believe that there were some tired legs in the group which I thought could lead
to a more social ride. When Moonlight
Burnside rolled up in all of his deep dish carbon glory my hopes were squashed
like a late inning Mariner lead.
I often channel
my inner Jens Voigt and try and animate rides for entertainment value. Sometimes my actions lead to levity and the
group takes a kinder, gentler pace. This
was my secret hope this overcast morning.
In a hushed
voice I said to El Chefe’, “Let’s see if this works” I rolled forward and pointed to Moonlight’s
rear wheel and said, “It looks like there is a crack in the carbon right by the
spoke nipple.”
As Moonlight and
the rest of the group all leaned toward his rear wheel with eyes open wide I
took off down the road unnoticed. Just
for fun I got down in the drops and pushed the pace.
Typically a move
like this, first pioneered by Scott Zorn, gets caught within a minute or
two.
As the climb
started I downshifted and kept a good cadence and felt my legs strain as I kept
the power high. I felt like I was putting out some big watts but I expected I
would back off any second when the fast guys caught me and then ride the rest
of the way with the group that had tired legs when they caught me.
I maintained a
pretty hard effort and reached the top of the hill and I was still alone. I was in a moderately aero position and although
my legs were starting to burn I kept pushing.
They had to be coming up fast and I didn’t want to give up too early.
The road bobbed
and weaved back and forth with nearly constant little rollers that gave me a
reason to click up or down a gear. I was
nearly pegged and was wondering where the hell the fast guys were. I knew I couldn’t keep this up much longer
but it was fun to be out front.
I was able to
choose good lines and the island was unusually quiet traffic-wise so now and
then I could take the whole lane on a left hand corner. My legs were growing increasingly upset with
me as the duration of my folly kept increasing.
It was now well over ten minutes and I was still a lone man settled deep
in my pain cave.
I focused on
relaxing my shoulders, using my hip flexors and keeping a smooth pedal
stroke. The focus may have helped me go
faster or it may have only been a distraction that kept me from dwelling on the
fire burning in my quads and hamstrings.
By now I wasn’t
sure if the group behind me was singing camp songs, the victims of a horrible
accident or about to catch me at any moment.
This ride had now evolved into a threshold test and I was determined to
drive on until I was caught or whatever.
I say whatever because I was getting hypoxic so my ability to reason was
compromised thus my mental options were limited.
I began to
contemplate how I would approach the one hill on the loop as it was fast
approaching. If I attacked the hill I
would blow up and if I took it easy I would squander my hard effort. As I was pondering this question I felt a
hand on my back as the boys finally caught me.
They were a
sleek paceline of OCD middle aged fellows in perfectly matched kits. I tagged onto the back and tried to recover
ahead of the climb.
A smarter rider
might have employed the technique known as the “sprinter’s fade.” That is where you start a climb in the front
of a group and then finish the climb in the back of the group. You are still in contact therefore you can
latch onto the paceline and the draft can save you as you recover.
Instead I was at
the back at the base o fthe climb and when the paceline blew apart our group of
six was splintered and El Chefe’ and I were left chasing Coz whilst Moonlight,
McWoodie and El Jefe’ were growing smaller and smaller up the road.
What is the
point of having a maximum heart rate if you don’t reach it every now and then?
El Chefe was
spitting lactic acid and laughed at his promise to keep the ride limited to Z2
or below. We finished the loop in TTT
mode.
We turned around
and all too quickly it was on for round two.
This time El Jefe’ was the instigator and soon we were flying northbound
on the west side of the island.
At first I
thought McWoodie was keeping Moonlight pinned in so he couldn’t rotate back
forcing Moonlight to tire and possibly avoiding a shootout. That option faded and we rotated through and
I took my turn in the wind.
When McWoodie
and then Moonlight came to the front it ramped up and then up again and finally
it was all on. We were going faster and
faster and I kept upshifting even though we were going slightly uphill. I was running out of high end gears and we
were going crazy fast.
One of the ways
I know I’m nearing my limit is when instead of my quads or calves hurting
everything from my toes to my shoulder blades starts to burn. I was still
feeling the burn from my solo effort thirty minutes earlier and wondered how
long I could keep this up.
El Chefe’ who
had gone long the day before shot off his flare gun and dropped back when his
heart rate caught and passed his power output.
Moonlight finally pulled off and El Jefe’ took up the charge with a
vengeance. In the moment of
disorganization Coz then pulled his ripcord and swerved off and waved us
through. McWoodie dropped back pretending
to form a chase group but then powered up and started up and pulled away from me
but a gap had formed and I could not close it.
McWoodie bridged up and then Moonlight, El Jefe and he drove on as I
looked for the team car in hopes of getting a pair of fresh legs.
El Chefe’ and
Coz and I formed a grupetto of broken men.
On the climb up to the bridge we waved at Moonlight who was now headed
home and we said kind things as we silently cursed him. The five survivors
reassembled in the park and crossed the bridge together.
One of the hot
topics (pun coming) these days is the use of spicy concoctions as a remedy for
cramps. I didn’t see anyone take a swig but there was a bottle of hot sauce on
the table when we partook of coffee and lies following the ride.
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