36, 994, and Seventy-two Thousand

Having been an official "always be prepared" Boy Scout of Troop 55, I pulled on the arm-warmers Saturday morning despite the forecast high of 80F. Like the weekend before, the combination of warm still air and the relatively cool waters of the lake meant fog would be a possibility. Just in case, I left the lights on the bike as well. Arriving at the lake half an hour later, I was glad to see only a hint of fog, and as the Giro Ride rolled out for the umpteenth time everyone was enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. The ride was fairly civilized, no doubt due to the fact that a number of riders were planning on doing the "long" route. That was fine with me, as my legs had been a little sore for the previous few days, no thanks to Friday's "recovery ride" that turned into something of a non-recovery ride. By the time we got back the sky was blue, the temperature was warm, and the wind was picking up. The forecast called for a drop of forty degrees Saturday night with winds of around 20 mph. I was hoping I'd have company for the Sunday morning northshore training ride, but I wasn't taking any bets.

This morning I threw the bike into the car and headed over to Starbucks, hoping there might be one or two brave southshore souls, but as I drove across the causeway it was just me, my coffee, and a breakfast of Powerbar. The car computer told me that the headwind was costing me upwards of 5 miles per gallon until I found a nice draft for the last few miles. As it turned out, though, we had ten riders today, including two from the city, as we plowed straight into the 39 degree north wind for the first 25 miles. As I often do, I'd intentionally overdressed a bit. I'd much rather be a little warm toward the end of the ride than cold for the start. My legs were still sore and so I was glad that the group kept a nice double paceline going most of the way out. It was one of those days when my head wanted to ride hard but my legs just wouldn't cooperate. As the ride turned southeast and we picked up a nice tailwind, Big Jay went to the front and started ramping up the speed past the comfort level. A gap opened; a couple of riders sat up, and next thing I know Keith and I are on the wrong end of a growing 20-second gap. Jay S. soon joined us, but our efforts didn't stop the gap from growing up to a good minute or so by the time we hit the next intersection where we eased up to wait for the rest of the group. Later, when we got to Enon, Big Jay and Jack continued on while the rest of us stopped to regroup. We rode in the rest of the way at a fairly easy pace, thanks to a nice tailwind. Somewhere along the way, my computer turned over 72,000 miles.

Speaking of numbers, I renewed my USAC racing and official's licenses last week, which is always a little disconcerting because it shows my "racing age" on it. Since my birthday is in November, it's always depressing to see that extra year tacked onto my age. I think 2008 will mark 36 years of bike racing since I got that blue Atala 10-speed my senior year in high school. The cracked frame still hangs on the wall of the basement, having finally succumbed to the stress of a long daily commute during grad school. On a slightly more contemporary note, this blog entry is number 994. That's an awful lot of thoughtless words floating around in cyberspace.