Getting it Done

Rode with the Barney's Monday night guys tonight. The group has diminished since I last rode with them on the last evening of August two weeks ago. Not only have the numbers diminished but so has the light. Autumn is nigh. Tonight's ride ended in long shadow dusk.

Because of a bridge project at the far end of the Reservoir, the Monday night course has changed. We now go up South Rd, a mile long climb that I absolutely love (mentioned frequently on other posts). A couple guys sorta' groaned when told we were ascending that tonight, but I secretly rejoiced.

I hadn't ridden in a week but I felt good tonight. We were about 11 guys in all and I could tell right away I was stronger than four of them. We started at a mellow pace and unlike rides passed, I hung back and sheltered myself from the strong breeze, not expending much energy. Once we passed through Tatnuck and hit Mower St and the run up to the Reservoir, however, that strategy changed. I knew I had to be in the inevitable break that always happens at this point, so I leaped past a couple riders and grabbed the wheel of the last guy in the break.

I was rider #4 in a small pod with one guy about 50 yards ahead of us. My group was moving about 19 mph. The road to the reservoir climbs steadily upward at a very gradual grade; then it upticks a bit and there's a short and marginally steep incline before the road levels out for the long run along the waterside. This section always proves challenging to the bigger guys, and I knew that.

When my group hit the base, I powered to the front and hammered into the climb. The 50 yard leader was no longer 50 yards; he was more like 15 yards and slowing. I caught him at the top, pulling the rest of the guys with me, and we hit the level section of (freshly-paved) road and flew on. I pulled aside, having caught the leader and hauled the train of three up the climb, and settled into a comfortable tuck at the rear. We rolled along at 22 mph.

Then came South Rd. I was chilling at the back with a guy named Frank when we all hit the beginning of the climb. I felt strong. Within seconds, everyone started shifting into their climbing gears and the pace dropped quickly. I saw my chance and launched an attack. Once clear, I shifted down one gear and focused on my pedaling. Full commit. Every muscle fiber pulling, heaving, hauling, hammering, roaring around and around in a steady cadence of certainty. I wasn't cracking and I knew it. I knew I could keep a steadily high pace by employing a high cadence, and I did. Only Frank stayed with me, hanging on my wheel as we raced up.

Then Frank was alongside me. He wanted to pass me and was doing so when a rare car emerged from ahead and he had to pull in behind me to allow it to pass. Undaunted, he pulled out again, then pulled a wheel ahead of me.

Normally, at this point, having expended considerable energy already, I would have faltered. Maybe it was the week off, I don't know, but I channeled my whole attention into my pedal stroke summoning an aggressive increase in cadence and right away I was parallel with Frank. Then I edged past him. Then I kicked again. And was gone.

I know the South Rd climb well and I knew what remained ahead - a quasi-steep incline, a leveling, then one final 300 yard 4% grade to the top - so I put my head down and focused on turning the pedals as hard as I could. I cranked and grimaced with singular purpose. I didn't look back.

Then I did and I topped the hill about 5 yards ahead of Frank. The two of us had buried the rest. We got to the T intersection with rt 31, the re-grouping point, and stopped. We complimented each other on the spirited go of it.

And that wasn't all the fireworks I initiated. I actually attacked repeatedly the rest of the way. Only once was I out-dueled, and that was by Peter, the "Barney" of "Barney's Crew." Coming off the Bailey St  climb onto Salisbury St, there are several stretches of super fast downhill. If you play it right and are third or fourth or fifth going down the first real descent, you can generally surge by the front guys when the road levels out and starts the short climb out the other side. The road then levels and goes for another mile or so until the second point at which the ride stops to re-group.

Tonight I shot out from the fourth or fifth position at that strategic incline point and buried the guys who'd lead the flight down. I was running clear until suddenly there was Peter, standing up and cranking it out in his big gear. He flew by me. I doubled down and gave chase and keeping it steady and somehow not blowing a gasket, I caught back up to him. He pulled aside to let me pull ahead and lead.

"A respectful thing to do," I naively thought, as I tucked in and spun with new-found power. Then a whir and a flash and Peter shot passed me and quickly gained a big gap. I tried to pick up my already high pace, and did so to a minor extent, but knew I wouldn't catch him before the re-group stop, a quarter mile or so up the road. He got there about 30 yards ahead of me.

But I had been right there, in contact, and the two of us had left everyone else behind.

Dubstoevksy and the Church of Shad