Old Guys and Fat Cyclists

So I spent most of this morning's ride feeling kind of angry at myself because I had obviously failed, practically completely, to recover from Wednesday's training. As soon as I got on the bike I knew my legs weren't good, but I was running a couple of minutes late, so I took the faster but bumpier route to the levee down Carrollton Avenue. It was lucky that I did. Lucky for Brady, that is. It was still a bit dark as I turned onto Carrollton, and there in the middle of the street was a little black camera case. Behind me there was an RTA bus about to pull out from the bus stop. I reached down as I went past and picked it up, hoping that its owner had thought to put something on it or in it so I could track him or her down. When I turned onto Willow Street I could see another rider way up the road but didn't catch up to him until we were at the levee. It was Brady. When we stopped to meet the group I pulled out the camera case and said, "I think somebody lost a camera." Well, it turned out to be Brady's camera that had bounced out of his jersey pocket just a minute or two before I came by.

The long Thursday ride started out at a nice moderate pace, and although I felt just fine rolling along at a steady pace with the group, every time I'd put my face in the wind my legs would load up right away. I dunno, maybe seafood gumbo and Merlot don't qualify as good recovery food. I'm actually thinking about making a trip to the LBS for a big tub of one of those recovery drink mixes. It would probably be a wise thing to do, it's just that they tend cost a dollar or two per serving, which is just criminal, IMHO. Anyway, at some point we picked up Tim, who was on his TT bike, and I knew what that meant. The pace jumped up right away, and we were strung out in a long line when the back half of the group had to slow a bit to get safely past some pedestrians. Unfortunately, the front few riders hadn't slowed at all and a gap opened up quickly. This happens frequently when we're doing these group training rides on the bike path, and is probably the main reason, aside from brutal winter crosswinds, that the groups split up. A couple of people jumped around to make the bridge but I decided to try and reel it in a little more gradually since my quads were not happy with the alternative option. Famous last words. I finally blew up and waited for the shattered remnants to regroup, after which Donald came up to the front and took one of his super-long pulls to let everybody recover a little. The ride back was a whole lot slower, especially since the wind had picked up a bit by then. I spent the last five miles sitting-in near the back feeling really old and worn out.


Appropriately enough, I just finished reading one of the always excellent Pez Cycling "Toolbox" articles entitled, "Kicking it Old Style." It kind of hit home with me on a couple of levels. The article itself was pretty much right on the money, reminding me that indeed, every one of those old established group rides that you find all over the country has a couple of those same old school warriors who rarely get dropped, save their expensive race equipment for the races, and tend to start off conversations with, "Back in the old days....." The other thing that stuck me, though, was that "back in the old days" we didn't have any of those old experienced riders. Almost everybody I rode with was under 30 and the few riders who were older than that had really only been racing for maybe five years. We were mostly making it up as we went along, scanning the pages of outdated copies of CycleSport, or that famous and extremely badly translated CONI manual (yes, I have a copy somewhere at home) for advice on training and racing. I remember thinking how lucky the younger riders were over in Europe where they had access to a couple of generations of old experienced guys who could help mentor the new riders. Well, we may not yet have a cadre of local ex-professionals showing up for the Giro Rides, but we do have a number of guys who have been racing for two or three decades and who can at least point the new riders in the right direction. Never thought I'd be one of those, though.


But just in case you're feeling sorry for yourself, NOW is definitely time to pay a visit to Fat Cyclist's website, if you haven't already. You will see what I mean when you go there. Whatever you may think about Lance Armstrong himself, his foundation is doing good things for people like Elden and his family for whom good things are presently in rather short supply