incandragon

My first really big ride was fun. That is, I had fun once I was sure I wasn't going to be the last rider on the road.


The weather was cool, there were so many people that there was always something interesting to see, even before the ride began: 5-person tandem bike, various recumbents, peculiar bike styles, or just Xtreme people-watching.


The fact that I didn't have anyone riding with me was a bummer, but balanced by the fact that when I sucked eggs, I sucked them in privacy and at my own speed. Richard Jeni comments that in life you can be either lonely or annoyed ... my stage of biking expertise means that I can be either lonely or embarrassed. I passed five people in my 25 miles. I think I was probably passed by 1500.


As before, cyclists were terribly nice ... even the athletes. One team -- three deep, two wide, fast and identically uniformed -- called out encouragement to me as I pedaled along a country road. The only snarky thing that I heard was when I was passed by three ten-year-olds with bizarrely long legs on terribly high bikes. A woman, sharing my expression of perplexed confusion, looked over and said, "is it just me, or did that look just ... wrong?"


The gray lining on my silver cloud was that in the final 100 yards, when people are tired and just want it to be over, there was a gradual incline and a fearsome headwind. As B said, despite intellect telling you it was just coincidence, it certainly seemed like a personal insult. I finished in gear 2, glad that over the last 25 miles, only a bout of hay-fever actually made me dismount.