From Grim to Glorious

Four rides in four days, from grim to glorious, none of the rides particularly big by DS Mawg's standards. Today's was actually the longest at 30 miles.

Saturday's outing distinguishes itself for being treacherous (the "Grim" in the title of this post), and for me for being a gampas.

[Note: "Gampas" is a made-up word that means fool or dingbat or moron. It might mean "shrimp" in Spanish.]

Here's what happened.

It was damp and overcast all week, chilly days, several of them actually rainy. Saturday arrived and seemed to promise a respite from actual precipitation, even though the morning was heavily clouded. I decided to ride. But half way down the block, the sky visibly black and ominous in the distance and a brisk wind blowing, I realized that I'd under-dressed. So back I went to Shad HQ for warmer layers including a Pearl Izumi fleece top, a long sleeve windbreaker, and full length tights.

My plan was to climb to the airport, then take Bailey Rd to Mulberry Rd which wraps around the back of the airport and descends into Cherry Valley (Bailey Rd can be busy and dangerous during the week due to contractor traffic, i.e. a lot of pick-ups, but on Saturday it's not that bad). About four miles in, I hit the airport climb, a category four, and almost immediately began to sweat. I was overdressed but there was nothing to do but climb to the top, which I did, increasingly sodden.

Low visibility on Mulberry St

Along Airport Drive I stopped and, in the thickening mist and desperate for air, took off my bright orange, high vis windbreaker ... only to realize that I was now dressed completely in black. The only remotely bright thing I had going for me was a blinking tail light. Otherwise I was, under the circumstances (bad visibility, thick cloud cover, ground mist and fog) dressed as a basic gampas, which is to say foolishly. Obviously I didn't perish nor even have a close call, but I remain chastened by having been so boneheaded.

On Sunday, Mother's Day, I managed a one hour low intensity Reservoir Loop in between Mother's Day Brunch (French Toast, bacon, 4 berry fruit salad with creme fraiche, pear cider 2.5% alcohol, Presecco) and Greek Tapas dinner (lamb sausage, platters of bread and dips, fried smelts, chicken kebabs).

Waiting for the Monday Night Ride to get underway
Barney's Bike Shop, May 9, 2016

19 guys showed up for the Monday night ride with Barney's crew. It was a spirited ride, though tame in the early goings up Mill St. I rode with the advanced guys but, as usually happens because I'm still learning this game, I ended up getting schooled at various points along the way. I'm still basically a "new guy" among the regulars, many of whom have been riding together at this and other local group rides for years, and they know the nuances and the points of attack on this ride, whereas I don't yet.

Case in point, I was among a train of 7 guys out in front and racing along the reservoir, heading for two climbs (a short one followed by, after a little level ground and a small decent, a much steeper and longer one). Frantic Frank was among us and, as seems to happen too frequently between me and Frantic, he blocked my way forward on a climb. Hitting the first, smaller hill, Frantic, directly in front of me, mis-shifted and momentarily lost his momentum. That forced me to brake and lose my own momentum.

Frustrated, I put the hammer down, veered around him and around the phalanx of five others directly ahead, and shot up the hill like an angry moth. No one gave chase. Flutter flutter. Until after the level-off and the slight downhill right before the Big Hill - then one, then another, then all six had passed me, Frantic included. I gave game chase but couldn't catch anyone's wheel and labored up the climb 30 yards and more in arrears.

The lesson I learned is not to react in frustration. The point I proved in topping the small hill first was quickly negated by losing any chance at the Real Prize, the Big Fucking Climb, a climb that is actually kind of ideal for me and which I should own. I just need to learn patience. Unfortunately, this Monday night I had none and I blew my engine on the Small Pagoda. OM.

Alta Vista Farm, Rutland, Ma
May 10, 2016

Today's solo jaunt out to Rutland and the Prescott St/Hillside Rd/Emerald Rd/Causeway St loop, was utterly beautiful (the Glorious of the title). Finally, a warm, sunny May day, almost 70 degrees, though still remarkably dry, there's very little moisture in the air so it always feels just a little bit cooler than the actual temperature. I wore 3/4 tights, two shirts, and a paper bag between the shirts. Perfect. But not yet Early Summer.

The end of today's ride was excellent. I decided to do the climb to Bancroft Tower. As I rounded the corner on the last steep uphill part, I saw two guys walking up ahead. It was clear that we'd all reach the top at the same time, which we did.

Bancroft Tower May 10, 2016

"Hello!" I said, greeting the one who'd seen me at the last minute and turned toward me. The other guy hadn't heard me and turned around with a surprised, but smiling, look on his face. I don't think either of them spoke English and I don't know what nationality they were but we interacted warmly.

The first guy pointed down the hill we'd both just come up and said something that I took to mean "You just rode up that fucking hill?? Praises unto you!"

I smiled broadly, nodding my head, and gave him a fist bump that he happily returned. So did his smiling friend.