It was CAM #7 - our July century ride - and one I was looking forward to. After last month's ride and my friend's accident (horrific, to say the least), I was hoping (and praying) for a crash/incident/accident free ride. My prayers weren't answered, and as I asked the other folks around me yesterday, "Who was it that pissed off the cycling Gods, huh?" Gawddim it! No, really...God damn it! Sorry to offend, but it makes me so mad to have another rider go down on yet another century ride. He's okay (well, in light of the other accident, I suppose), but the mere fact that it happened was enough to spook me all over again.
As for the ride, yesterday was my strongest century of the year...although, I did not ride it as such, choosing instead to "wait," "pull" and "stay back," none of which I regret. I had the legs, the will and the power I'm use to having (even though I am not at the weight I was when I had all three consistently - I am now, officially, 8 pounds down!). However, my overall ride experience opened a can of worms for me and made me question what it is I'm looking to accomplish while partaking in this whole CAM challenge.
Yesterday morning, Herb picked me up at 6:45am, and we headed on the 101 to Ventura where we met a great group of fellow riders: The Lobsters, GT, Kurt, Brian, Rob, Devian (a very cool rider who just joined us for fun) and The Colonel. I was loud from the get-go, yelling out the window at all of them as we arrived. Well, why not, huh? Gets the blood pumping when someone yells at you that early in the morning. We all exchanged hugs and took off into the already warm sun toward the ocean bike path.
Right away, I felt it, that familiar hum in my system. My legs were solid from the moment I clipped in. I could feel my blood pumping right away and I knew I'd be in for a strong ride. Plus, I was excited (always am) to see how the ride would unfold and what adventures I'd be able to share later (with my fellow riders and on here). I snapped photos and kept a "permi-grin" all the way through the first 25 miles. We hit heavy fog, clear skies, lusciously cool breezes and gorgeous morning vistas (of hills shrouded in the golden glow of the sun). We all rode strong, each at a different level, but in the first round of miles, I hung well with the fast pack. Granted, the boys (especially Jason) were taking it at a more relaxed pace.
As we headed into some climbing, I busted ahead feeling the power in my quads. The 30+ miles I rode on Friday aided me yesterday, of that I'm sure. As we passed through the Ventura hills toward Summerland, I felt I could have pushed to my max. I kept a solid pace and waited a bit for riders. I like riding with my fellow cyclists and rarely want to 'beat anyone' or 'best my time.' Why? To me, the ride is social and, let's face it, none of us are racers. Hey, I understand folks wanting to push themselves, etc., but I sometimes wonder why they do so on these group centuries. We all have "good rides" and "bad rides" - why not collect those in the second group and bring them home on the days they are struggling? But that's me and not everyone agrees, nor do I feel they should. Do your own thing, by all means, but as someone said to me today, "when others help you, why do you not pay it forward?" This couldn't be a better sentiment for the sport I love, in my opinion.
Almost to Summerland, the "back pack" was pedaling at a steady pace when we came upon something I'd hoped we'd not see for the day - a downed rider. A very nice (and witty) man, GT, whose blog I enjoy immensely, hit the front wheel of another rider. Something like that is bound to happen in tight pace-lines. I generally dislike sucking wheel or having someone right up on my back wheel. Every amateur rider I know jumps on the wheels of others, but none of us really should (unless headwinds are horrific, which they were not yesterday!).
Mind you, it wasn't GT's fault or the rider in front of him, but just an accident. I'm just grateful he wasn't badly injured. He was a bit shocked (of course) and is bruised up badly, but he'll likely be riding next weekend (I hope so). Nonetheless, I 'tsked tsked' the men. I think they laugh at me and find me oddly overly mothering. Is it going to take one of us being killed - which can very well happen - to get these guys to cool it? Anyway, I grumbled to deaf ears, we sent GT back with another very nice rider (can't remember his name), and then we headed down into Summerland to our first real rest stop.
After a good break, we took off again to ride up Ortega Hill (which I hate and whine over all the way up it), along the 150 and over to Santa Barbara, along the coast (gorgeous!) and up to Hope Ranch (which involved another series of climbs). All along the way, the levels of the back pack varied. Lisa was riding strong. Herb was not. He's having a rough patch lately. The difficult issue with this is that Lisa wants to push, Herb can't. Do I wait for Herb? Do I stay up with Lisa? Do I drop both of them and try to catch the fast guys? Or...do I just quit the ride and go have a margarita? I'm thinking a double with extra salt is the way to go.
Anyway, it was push, chase, wait...console, push, pass, wait...sigh, catch up, pull, chase, tease, get passed, wait. Now, here is my dilemma that really has nothing to do with my buddies. I love the group I ride with as these are very smart, kind, fun folks. But I think I'm an anomaly in that I hate competitiveness. Really I do, even though Herb will risk getting his ass handed to him by teasing and telling me that I don't ("you are too competitive!"). He says he thinks I'm competitive with everyone who passes me. Oh, really? I guess I should damn well ride solo to just prove to everyone that my speeding up (oh, yeah, cause I can) is really not my way of racing them? And, oh yeah...I didn't drop him yesterday. Or anyone else. Nor did I make excuses when the fast guys left my ass in the dust within two seconds. Nor do I really give a flying rat's ass.
Is it the recent Tour de France that is bringing this out in everyone? Funny thing is...at one point (lunch), I teased Lisa, calling her Contador and myself, Lance. This was after I passed her on a downhill (had to work like hell to do it, too!) and hollered out "You'd better up your game!" Her response was then to fly past me, stand and sprint up a long hill we had (up to Hope Ranch). Did I attack and blow past her? Hell no. And anyway, why? My teasing at lunch was sarcasm, but no one got it. My point was, we aren't racing. We're all friends riding together as a group, supposedly, on a century ride. In all fairness, the fast boys did hang back long enough to regroup throughout the day. However, in the last 20 miles, it was every dog for himself with guys trying to pass girls, etc. What the hell is that?
I, on the other hand (and you may think me a dumbass, sorry sack), with my strong legs and all, hung back. Why? A rider was bonking. I don't care why he bonked...he bonked. He felt like hell and was having a hard time. Did I leave him (like he normally does me?) I didn't and rarely do. The only time I leave riders is when they purposely join on rides way beyond their riding levels. To me, that is their foolish egos getting in the way, and I don't baby egos. But with respect to the group I ride with, all of us are strong riders. However, each of us has had a bad ride day where we were hurting or had to quit. I'm always prepared to ride solo if I have to but if the ride is in a truly remote area, I'd hope that someone (likely whom I've waited for and helped on another ride) would wait back with me and help me - or perhaps, the group could help pull the one suffering rider. Oh, Herb will wait, of course, and he rode back with the bonked rider and me yesterday, and he rode back with me last week when I damn near bonked on Baldy due to heat. But sometimes...I wonder about the others and if they would even notice if I fell off my bike and into the ocean. And, yeah, that bothers (and worries) me a little.
Anyway, I promised folks that I wouldn't blog here on my frustrations, but sometimes I just have to. Some things need to be said, and I'm not sure direct confrontations are the right way to do it. So, I just say it aloud and hope the folks it might matter to hear it. Therefore, I'll say it again...we are not racing. It is not a race. It's a ride. If I'm not riding with folks that I feel are there to ride as a group (especially when there is a hurting rider), I might as well ride solo or just find one or two folks to ride with. But I'm finding the larger groups and the 'pushing' for what?-I-don't-know unappealing. As I mentioned, I could have dropped folks myself yesterday but I didn't. I find no pleasure in it, cause when the day is done, there is no podium for me step up on and no crowd to cheer my victory.
Oh, and on another note - my friend, Rob, rode his first century yesterday and I'm very proud of him!
1 comments:
ME, thanks so much for fussing over me and not taking gory pictures! :-)
You make some strong points in your article and I will reread and digest when my head clears up. But, even in my fuzzy state you Make sense
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