The crowd had thinned quite a bit. John T., Scott, Greg, and I planned to ride tonight, and originally that was about it. Dan contacted me right before the ride wondering if we were going out. I told him we were, when, and where. I was pretty busy at the time, so I left it at that.
Then I thought about it. The rest of us had already agreed we needed to take Highway 37 south from Mitchell to Orleans, then jump on the line going east. Average pace for the ride would surely be 20 mph overall, and this was Dan's 2nd ride since May. It might be a bit much. I decided to let it ride and see how things worked out.
It's not like we had a lot of choice about the way we rode. Daylight is dwindling, and with cloud cover, the sunset would come even faster. We had to be back by 7:30 to make it safely. We left at 5:45 on a ride that usually takes 1:50:00. It's easy to see we couldn't dawdle.
Things did indeed work out. We rode 37 down, then Scott said he'd ride back with Dan. He didn't feel he could manage the storm coming. We can agree/disagree with his feelings (I for one think he could hold it), but he was right... John T., Greg, and I would certainly push a bit.
We held 22 mph on the way out into a very slight headwind. There was nothing difficult about it, though I did finally break into a sweat. When we got to the county line there were only three of us. It was a quick turnaround. I still felt fresh, so I took the first pull. We agreed on 25ish, and I started off.
It really was easy to hold 26ish. I was coasting, but keeping to the rules. I did bend them slightly... I pulled 3 minutes the first time (rather than 2), mainly because I wanted to clear the hills before I handed over. Galloway and I are alike on this one... I hate to tap before a hill is complete. Chances are, if I'm on front as we head into a hill, I'm staying on.
Greg and John T. both held fantastic legs. We've ridden together so much now we know exactly what each of us will/can do. This familiarity makes pace lining fun and much easier. Not that you should ever disrespect the speed you're going and the damage you will do if you pile up, but you have a confidence in the other riders you just can't give to outsiders. On top of that, three riders is a great pace lining size, because there is no oscillation in the line.
When we hit Lost River, my turn came shortly before the bridge (and the hill). I'd made up my mind on the way out I was trying for the segment. I shouted back to Greg, who was right behind me, that I was going for it. We took off hard, going into the hill at nearly 30. I called back, "Don't hesitate to go around!" He didn't. Greg flew by me, leaving me flat out. I kept pumping to salvage what I could, but he was clearly dominant. I'd guess he topped the hill 10 seconds ahead of me at least. I felt like I broke the KOM, and if I did, he must have destroyed it. More on that later.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. We picked ourselves up after the segment attempt. I drove us through the rollers, then Greg took the last hill. No one seemed to want to sprint, or at least, no one wanted to lead out. I was guessing we couldn't be far off the KOM, so I urged Greg to sprint away. He didn't.
Screw that! I pulled around John T. and headed in a slow breakaway ahead. It had no chance of working, but that was never the point. I was trying to goad the other out. It worked. Greg pulled alongside, then when John T. made his way up, they pulled away from me. I'd given all I had on the way out and back, so there wasn't any sprint left in me.
We cruised back home on 37, hitting the church parking lot right before dark. We couldn't have timed it much better! Total ride time was just under 1:38:00, which is probably the fastest pace we've held overall. Wendy's followed, and we all enjoyed our well-deserved treats.
Oh, there was on final plot twist. Greg's Strava app disconnected (on his phone), so he did not get an official KOM. I only tied Jimmy Sowdet, so... the luck of Jimmy holds one more week! If I were Greg, I'd post 28 seconds manually. He was at least that fast, I'll vouch for that.
Lord of the Segments Pt.11
Then I thought about it. The rest of us had already agreed we needed to take Highway 37 south from Mitchell to Orleans, then jump on the line going east. Average pace for the ride would surely be 20 mph overall, and this was Dan's 2nd ride since May. It might be a bit much. I decided to let it ride and see how things worked out.
It's not like we had a lot of choice about the way we rode. Daylight is dwindling, and with cloud cover, the sunset would come even faster. We had to be back by 7:30 to make it safely. We left at 5:45 on a ride that usually takes 1:50:00. It's easy to see we couldn't dawdle.
Things did indeed work out. We rode 37 down, then Scott said he'd ride back with Dan. He didn't feel he could manage the storm coming. We can agree/disagree with his feelings (I for one think he could hold it), but he was right... John T., Greg, and I would certainly push a bit.
We held 22 mph on the way out into a very slight headwind. There was nothing difficult about it, though I did finally break into a sweat. When we got to the county line there were only three of us. It was a quick turnaround. I still felt fresh, so I took the first pull. We agreed on 25ish, and I started off.
It really was easy to hold 26ish. I was coasting, but keeping to the rules. I did bend them slightly... I pulled 3 minutes the first time (rather than 2), mainly because I wanted to clear the hills before I handed over. Galloway and I are alike on this one... I hate to tap before a hill is complete. Chances are, if I'm on front as we head into a hill, I'm staying on.
Greg and John T. both held fantastic legs. We've ridden together so much now we know exactly what each of us will/can do. This familiarity makes pace lining fun and much easier. Not that you should ever disrespect the speed you're going and the damage you will do if you pile up, but you have a confidence in the other riders you just can't give to outsiders. On top of that, three riders is a great pace lining size, because there is no oscillation in the line.
When we hit Lost River, my turn came shortly before the bridge (and the hill). I'd made up my mind on the way out I was trying for the segment. I shouted back to Greg, who was right behind me, that I was going for it. We took off hard, going into the hill at nearly 30. I called back, "Don't hesitate to go around!" He didn't. Greg flew by me, leaving me flat out. I kept pumping to salvage what I could, but he was clearly dominant. I'd guess he topped the hill 10 seconds ahead of me at least. I felt like I broke the KOM, and if I did, he must have destroyed it. More on that later.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. We picked ourselves up after the segment attempt. I drove us through the rollers, then Greg took the last hill. No one seemed to want to sprint, or at least, no one wanted to lead out. I was guessing we couldn't be far off the KOM, so I urged Greg to sprint away. He didn't.
Screw that! I pulled around John T. and headed in a slow breakaway ahead. It had no chance of working, but that was never the point. I was trying to goad the other out. It worked. Greg pulled alongside, then when John T. made his way up, they pulled away from me. I'd given all I had on the way out and back, so there wasn't any sprint left in me.
We cruised back home on 37, hitting the church parking lot right before dark. We couldn't have timed it much better! Total ride time was just under 1:38:00, which is probably the fastest pace we've held overall. Wendy's followed, and we all enjoyed our well-deserved treats.
Oh, there was on final plot twist. Greg's Strava app disconnected (on his phone), so he did not get an official KOM. I only tied Jimmy Sowdet, so... the luck of Jimmy holds one more week! If I were Greg, I'd post 28 seconds manually. He was at least that fast, I'll vouch for that.
Lord of the Segments Pt.11
Jimmy withdrew to Randwise, who was quite relieved the ordeal
was over. Once again they turned to the long, winding road before them. In
Randwise’s mind, there was enough peril along the path; no sense rushing off
into the brush searching for more. Both Jimmy and Randwise were dark in spirit,
and in an effort to raise the mood, Randwise offered a bit of conversation.
“Do you suppose we’ll have good food at the inn?”
“I should hope so. I’ve high hopes that such a developed village will have fine foods such as we’ve never sampled before.”
“Do you really think so? I’ve heard tell of ways to prepare yardbird that will set fire to your mouth. And taters! You know sometimes they split them into pieces and fry them in animal fat? Dip ‘em in crushed tomaters they do. And the drinks! They bubble in your mouth and throat!”
“Oh, Rand, that’s not for me. Give me a fine salad of fresh vegetables. Split taters? Such nonsense. There is another delicacy I’ve heard of, though I scarce believe it.”
“What is that, Master Jimmy?”
“Something they call a ‘Frosty’. It’s cold, like winter, but smooth, like summer. It comes in different flavors, they say.”
“That would be a perfect addition to my yardbird and taters!” exclaimed Randwise, now completely overcome by his appetite.
“I should hope so. I’ve high hopes that such a developed village will have fine foods such as we’ve never sampled before.”
“Do you really think so? I’ve heard tell of ways to prepare yardbird that will set fire to your mouth. And taters! You know sometimes they split them into pieces and fry them in animal fat? Dip ‘em in crushed tomaters they do. And the drinks! They bubble in your mouth and throat!”
“Oh, Rand, that’s not for me. Give me a fine salad of fresh vegetables. Split taters? Such nonsense. There is another delicacy I’ve heard of, though I scarce believe it.”
“What is that, Master Jimmy?”
“Something they call a ‘Frosty’. It’s cold, like winter, but smooth, like summer. It comes in different flavors, they say.”
“That would be a perfect addition to my yardbird and taters!” exclaimed Randwise, now completely overcome by his appetite.
The conversation had just the desired effect, and soon the
pair forgot about the darkness and peril ahead. Eagerly they hastened their
steps until they came to the edge of the next village. Upon entering town, all
the merriment of spirit soon fled. Dark streets and shuttered windows were on
all sides. Mangy curs, starving and leering, emanated low, evil growls as they
passed by. The look of the village was of rot and decay, of hopelessness and
despair. One gray building after another passed by, and Jimmy began to wonder
if there had ever been joy there. No sounds beyond the aforementioned animals
could be heard – all was… void.
Presently a light shone down yet another gray street, the
first light they’d seen since entering the village. It flickered like a candle
in a mineshaft, faint, faraway, and yet the only hope to which they now clung.
They shot straightaway off to the beacon, daring not to look either left or
right for fear the light should blow out and its placement lost forever.
Finally they arrived at the door, covered in glass, bright
and clear, and happy patrons could be seen inside. The building itself was in
stark contrast to everything around it. Its walls were mostly large panes of
glass. The roof and walls (that weren’t glass) were painted in bright reds and
yellows. Booths for four average-sized Bedfordtonians lined the outer walls,
and tables with chairs for four filled the center of the room. There was a
counter where uniformed guards protected the stocks of food, though there was a
portal through which patrons could requisition meals in exchange for bartered
goods.
The quartermaster was young, with an oily complexion and
unkempt hair, perhaps in his twenties, and surly. He’d signed into service
seeking adventure, but doling out rations to the slovenly populace was not
quite what he’d had in mind. This caused a great deal of resentment which he
was all too happy to heap upon the many villagers in line. In fact, his chief
entertainment came from communicating his complete indifference to their
desires.
Jimmy and Randwise were naïve, wide-eyed and enamored with
their surroundings, the like of which they’d never before seen. Though the wait
in line was exhausting to the regulars, the time flew by for the adventurers.
Look! Over there! Is that the drink machine? You mean you can get your own
drinks? Look! What does that machine do? Is that… the Frosty machine? How do
they do that? What is that smell? It’s like potatoes, but not quite…
“Welcome to Wendy’s, can I help you?” said the quartermaster
in complete monotone and barely disguised contempt. His insincere request was
required, and he complied, if with something less than even the barest
enthusiasm.
“Do you have baked sweet potatos?” Jimmy asked, his mouth
already watering.
“We’re out.” Said the quartermaster, staring blankly.
“Do you have apple/berry salad?” Jimmy was willing to go with a second option almost as eagerly as the first.
“We’re out,” was once again the reply.
“Aw, c’mon man! You gotta have something back there!” Jimmy flashed his grin – it had served him well so many times – but he’d never dealt with the quartermaster before. “Do you have-“
“We’re out.” Clearly Jimmy didn’t understand with whom he was dealing. Randwise was a little quicker.
“What do you have?”
“You can have numbers one through eight,” he said, gesturing half-heartedly behind him. There were pictures of meals decorating the walls (interesting decor, thought Randwise), and he urged Jimmy to select one. Jimmy finally picked some ground beef; Randwise went with the chicken. Jimmy offered up a few coins, which the quartermaster accepted, and they were given a ticket. When the required materials could be gathered by equally indifferent soldiers, they might be given a half-hearted call.
“We’re out.” Said the quartermaster, staring blankly.
“Do you have apple/berry salad?” Jimmy was willing to go with a second option almost as eagerly as the first.
“We’re out,” was once again the reply.
“Aw, c’mon man! You gotta have something back there!” Jimmy flashed his grin – it had served him well so many times – but he’d never dealt with the quartermaster before. “Do you have-“
“We’re out.” Clearly Jimmy didn’t understand with whom he was dealing. Randwise was a little quicker.
“What do you have?”
“You can have numbers one through eight,” he said, gesturing half-heartedly behind him. There were pictures of meals decorating the walls (interesting decor, thought Randwise), and he urged Jimmy to select one. Jimmy finally picked some ground beef; Randwise went with the chicken. Jimmy offered up a few coins, which the quartermaster accepted, and they were given a ticket. When the required materials could be gathered by equally indifferent soldiers, they might be given a half-hearted call.
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