cs124
10-28-2007, 06:41 AM
... I felt like a bike racer again.
I was on my regular Saturday Morning Worlds, we'd cleared the suburbs and had a double rolling paceline going at 45km/h. The HRM told me I was working but the legs felt good and I was doing my turns comfortably. A couple of small undulations started to show up some weaker riders and I saw a gap open up a few wheels in front. Clicked it down to the 14, stomped on the pedals a few times and I'd plugged that hole like pollyfiller. The bike felt great at this speed, and seemed to relish its first real hit-out of the season. "Perfect," I think to myself, "6th wheel with 5km to go till the sprint prime at the surf club"...but this little move of mine started a flurry of half arsed attacks which succeded in lining the bunch out at 52ish.
The last kilometre of this ride is tailor made for a sprint...straight, wide, good road surface, and today hardly any wind. The strong men had it lined out in the gutter but I knew there were a few fast twitchers behind me so I sat tight.
Predictably, at 500m to go some big dumb sprinter has a go. I jump on his wheel and get a tow past a handful of suffering shop rats. There's half a gap and I slide in, right behind the class of the field.
He looks under his armpit while simultaneously dropping into the 12, and in a millisecond he's gone. I give it everything but can't close the gap so I swich across, tuck in behind two other protagonists and roll over the line in 4th, 2 lengths behind the "winner" but all over the other 2. "Daylight" comes 5th and the remains of the bunch roll in 2 or 3 seconds later. I have tunnel vision and tingling fingers, but a huge grin on my face.
Whew! It's been 10 years since I pinned on a number but moments like that bring back all those old sensations and make me forget about all the reasons that caused me to stop.
Thanks for reading. :beer:
I was on my regular Saturday Morning Worlds, we'd cleared the suburbs and had a double rolling paceline going at 45km/h. The HRM told me I was working but the legs felt good and I was doing my turns comfortably. A couple of small undulations started to show up some weaker riders and I saw a gap open up a few wheels in front. Clicked it down to the 14, stomped on the pedals a few times and I'd plugged that hole like pollyfiller. The bike felt great at this speed, and seemed to relish its first real hit-out of the season. "Perfect," I think to myself, "6th wheel with 5km to go till the sprint prime at the surf club"...but this little move of mine started a flurry of half arsed attacks which succeded in lining the bunch out at 52ish.
The last kilometre of this ride is tailor made for a sprint...straight, wide, good road surface, and today hardly any wind. The strong men had it lined out in the gutter but I knew there were a few fast twitchers behind me so I sat tight.
Predictably, at 500m to go some big dumb sprinter has a go. I jump on his wheel and get a tow past a handful of suffering shop rats. There's half a gap and I slide in, right behind the class of the field.
He looks under his armpit while simultaneously dropping into the 12, and in a millisecond he's gone. I give it everything but can't close the gap so I swich across, tuck in behind two other protagonists and roll over the line in 4th, 2 lengths behind the "winner" but all over the other 2. "Daylight" comes 5th and the remains of the bunch roll in 2 or 3 seconds later. I have tunnel vision and tingling fingers, but a huge grin on my face.
Whew! It's been 10 years since I pinned on a number but moments like that bring back all those old sensations and make me forget about all the reasons that caused me to stop.
Thanks for reading. :beer: