So what does a happy biker DO on his 1st day of retirement?
Goes for a bike ride, of course!
My local club had a 56 mile ride scheduled with the start location only 15 miles away, just over in the next county. The weather looked good for the whole day, so rather than pack it in the car, I rode out to the start. Got there in plenty of time to chat with others before we took off.
The ride got warm quickly, and it took only a few miles for a gang of six to coalesce and take off the front. I did take just a moment and made a brief stop to say hello and share encouraging words with a new cyclist.
That gang splintered a bit later as Gary and I got wound up just fast enough to miss a predetermind alternate (we were just following the track file on the GPS) with no one quite close enough behind to catch our attention to point out our error. We got to Newark, and waited, and waited, and eventually figured out WHY no one was coming. We took off to find the other gang at a store, but our original four we were riding with was up ahead now.
No big deal. We rode a bit with the other group for a couple miles before the nice roads and nice day inspired us to wind it up again. Gary is a true monster cyclist, burning 20+ mph into a headwind. And he punches a big hole in the air, so I was perfectly happy tucking in behind for several stretches today. And when we turned with the wind in our backs, we REALLY went sailing … until his rear shift cable broke, freezing him into his highest gear. Not a fun way to ride in rolling hills!
We stopped and watched the gang fly by as we tinkered and tested and eventually got it tied off in an easier gear, but now he has a 2-speed bike to finish the ride. But he STILL hauls ass down the road!
We again caught up with the other group and took a break at a store in Sodus. The gals migrated over to an ice cream shop leaving no indication how long they’d be stuck there, so once again, Gary and I took off to wrap up the last 13 miles of the day’s club ride.
After a brief pause at the finish with 71 miles on the ticker, I headed for home. The long way.
Weaving through the back roads, I eventually picked up the Erie Canal Trail and headed for Rochester. Right about the time I stopped to catch a couple photos,
I could feel that familar sign of “The Bonk” setting in. It seems a couple diet cokes and a pack of peanut butter crackers, for what is now nearly 100 miles, just doesn’t cut it. When I get in town and pass a bank, I see 90 degrees on the clock. That didn’t help.
(Not) soon enough, I pull into the driveway, stumble down to the cool basement and sit on the cold concrete floor for a while. Refreshing.
One hundred (a “century”) and seven miles of gorgeous riding, on a gorgeous day … and if I can’t get my legs to move in the morning, it’s not a problem.