That's what one of the women called me when I showed up for yesterday's club ride.
"I thought we'd chased you off, since you haven't come around for, like, a couple months."
Her tone didn't register "curses, foiled again" between the lines, so I decided to take her overestimation of the time as meaning that the regulars on the ride had noted my absence and that I'd been missed.
"Actually, it's only been five weeks," I said, mentally counting back to the weekend before this year's Hotter Than Hell. "I was off growing new skin, doing a few rides I hadn't been on for a while. Had a great time fighting the wind on the Cotton Patch Classic, last weekend."
"Oh, you mean like today," she said. The wind whipped her hair across her face and she paused to pick a strand out of her mouth.
"Sort of." I watched the heavy black clouds zooming along at a pace that suggested Mother Nature had her thumb on the fast forward button. "Not so much threat of a Biblical downpour, last weekend."
The clouds had a silver lining, of course. Only about a dozen people had shown up for the ride, either fearing rain or not relishing the thought of battling the 18-29 mph wind. This was good, because it meant I wouldn't have to hang off the back to keep from getting caught up in a tightly-packed mob again.
The trip north was big fun with the wind at our backs. As we came through Allen along one of the highway frontage roads, I glanced at my computer ("digital speedometer thingy" to you non-cyclists) and saw that we were doing 25+ mph—and I was soft-pedaling!
In McKinney, we were warned by a police officer in an unmarked car after doing a rolling stop at one empty intersection. On the other side of McKinney, we were cursed energetically by a motorist unhappy with having to wait behind the group as we came to a full stop at an intersection, waited our turn, and crossed two at a time.
Heading south into Plano again, we enjoyed the challenge of climbing some of the steepest hills in the area into the same wind that made for such a quick trip out. I came within two bpm of my maximum heart rate in that section but still out-climbed three quarters of the group.
We ended up cutting the route to about 30 miles when the temperature started to drop and we started hearing some rumbling, so we made it back before the brief downpour started. It was a good ride, making up in fun what it lacked in distance.
I was waiting in line at Einstein's, afterward, and the two 20-something men in front of me started asking questions: Were we just getting back, or heading out? How far did we ride? Were we training for some kind of event? I explained that we'd just gotten back from a 30-mile ride, that we usually rode 45-50 miles, and that we weren't training for anything specific.
"Really?" he said. "You're riding just for the heck of it? That's wild."
They then explained that they'd just finished a training run in preparation for a marathon in December. I grinned, as this provided 100% of my minimum adult daily requirement for irony.
"Sounds like a lot of work," I said.
Now playing: Nickelback, All The Right Reasons
5 comments:
Susie: You too could join in the fun. Get a bike. *snicker*
Hey, I have a bike, purchased at Walmart for $80. It sits next to hubby's $600 Trek 4300. (I think I hate him)
You can't really use that excuse often, now can you? "...off growing new skin"
Here, if you call the police station and let them know your group's route, they'll hold traffic at intersections for you to pass through. It's a little irritating (for the cars) but it's safer and quicker then waiting for everyone to cross two-by-two (for the bikes).
Sounds like it was a great ride...glad you were able to dodge the weather, ornery policemen, and irritated drivers to make it happen.
And so she doesn't feel left out - hey Turtle *waves*
Susie: It's a great album, but I have to say that after hearing "Savin' Me", "If Everyone Cared", and "Photograph" on the radio, I was a little unprepared for the more massive "Fight For All The Wrong Reasons" and "Follow You Home". "Animals" should have been a clue, I guess. Turtle doesn't much care for the "noisy" stuff, but I've been playing the bits off the CD at work, alternating with Jet's Get Born, Mazzy Star's So Tonight That I Might See, and Catherine Wheel's Chrome.
Re. your 1989 bike, you do know that rubber dry rots after a few years, right?
Re. the cardboard cubicle link, I would have loved to send that around to folks at work, but I'm paranoid these days.
Eric: I always stop for lights. When I'm riding alone, I do the PR thing and always make a point to come to at least a near stop at empty intersections (in case someone's watching) and a full one-foot-on-the-ground stop if there are cars. What irks me about the local police's enforcement is that it's so selective. The officer who warned us only did so because we *had* come to a full stop at the previous intersection and he had to wait behind us a full two minutes while we waited for a break in the very busy traffic. The next intersection was empty and a bunch of our group rolled it. I think he was just looking for payback—but he was right, of course.
I'm fully in favor of following the laws, as a cyclist. I just wish the cops would hang out along some of our known routes and start bitch slapping motorists who crowding or buzzing us. Right now, it's a bit one-sided.
Emma: I hope I don't get to use the "new skin" excuse often. I'm not historically a slow healer, but I'm still having issues with the arm abrasions. As to your bike's inferiority complex, the best way to deal with that is to ride the one you've got, show you need something better, and then trade up when finances allow. Or start riding Mr. Coffee's.
Tink: We get some intersection control around here, but only for organized charity rallies. Most of the club rides follow routes that are already well known to the local constabulary, but if we were to call and notify them, they'd probably notify all the local bubbas so they could stock up on Slurpee cups and D batteries for their strafing runs.
Lou: Welcome back. Send rain.
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