I needed a longer ride today, and I wanted to ride well with the guys. That was a tall order, because the heat index was near 100 degrees when the humidity and dew point were factored in, and I'm no hot weather athlete. Life is nothing without risk, so it was head first into the deep waters.
The plan was to get at least 13 miles before the guys showed up, and when totaled with the 37 miles of the regular ride would result in a 50-mile ride. That seemed doable, so long as I stayed on hydration and electrolytes. Holding the pace down early wouldn't hurt either.
I'm glad to say the early part of the plan was executed flawlessly. I wound up with something like 16 miles before the group showed up, managed a bit faster average than I thought I would considering the wind, and hadn't put out any really hard effort. So far, so good.
The next phase called for a steady push out to the county line. My original plan was for 21-22 mph out. The wind played a part here as things unfolded. It was out of the south/southwest, and pretty much laid across us most of the way out, occasionally quartering in from the 2 o'clock position. The official average was 23.2 mph, which I heard about right away! Those guys should know by now I'm a liar! Truth be told, I wasn't pushing a bit. I laid down and let it go, and it was pretty much just steady cranking. I wouldn't rate it above 65% effort.
Backing up a bit, I raised my saddle a bit before the second jaunt, and I felt it was a definite improvement. I felt as though I couldn't quite take advantage of leverage scrunched up as tight as I was. I worried about hip movement, though I couldn't detect any myself. I'll leave it there a while and see how things go.
We had 10 guys with us, and with the gusty conditions I recommended we be prepared to have an echelon formation, placing strong riders beginning and middle. The idea was to be able to set up secondary lines within the main line, as it would be impossible to get all 10 guys in one echelon on the smallish road. Instead, six of the guys opted to do their own thing, five of whom made their own line, one struck out on his own, and the remaining four of us made a second group.
Troy pulled first, and despite his trepidation, did a fine job. We never intended to blast this; most of us participated in the Jim-N-I on Saturday, and some were still feeling it. We just needed a hardish steady ride. Troy did that successfully.
John T. had the next pull, and somewhere early in the pull Troy dropped off. That left the three of us. We could see first Allen, then the first group coming into view. John T. gobbled up Allen and seemed intent on getting the other group. We were drawing closer and closer, and suddenly John T. tapped.
I had the next pull. No way I was going to let that line of meat dangle in front of me unmolested. I raised the pace enough to settle the issue quickly, and we passed decisively near the Pumpkin Center turn. Now it was time to get ready for Lost River and the hill.
I called back to Miller, "If you guys decide to go for the segment on the hill, do so, but call it out before you jump". There were only three of us, so if someone jumped out, it wouldn't be a big deal, so long as all of us didn't jump at once. I knew I didn't need to jump, I was on the front; I was simply trying to think ahead to keep them from wadding up.
Miller did call, he did jump, and he topped way ahead of John T. and me. I clawed my way back to him once over the top, and John T. clambered in behind. Miller had waited, which was kind. From there he took a short pull through no fault of his own, because as we guessed, the wind was now directly in our faces. This was the toughest piece of the entire course.
I never dropped to the end of the line when Miller jumped because technically I'd never tapped. This meant I came up next in the rotation, and I made up my mind I would finish the line regardless of what happened. I didn't think anyone would complain about it since everyone had pulled at least once. John T's pull had been a long one, so I was pretty sure he was okay with it.
Anyway, it was nothing spectacular. I settled into something like a 24-27 mph up-and-down affair until the final stretch, then held a steady 27 mph. From here I waited for the inevitable, and sure enough Miller flashed by. I never gave a thought to giving chase. I really thought John T. would be right on his hooves, but I think he was still feeling Saturday.
In the end it was a great workout, a solid ride, and another opportunity to get to know my new baby. On the ride back to our cars Allen asked me what I thought about the new bike. "See those?" I asked, pointing to my cassette. "Know what that is?" said I, baiting the trap. He gave me his typical "Here it comes" look. Then I delivered the punch line, "11 flavors of death!". Good for a chuckle. Kind of catchy, too.
Run tomorrow, probably no ride. I need to lift as well. Looks like another swim/ride combination for Thursday.
The plan was to get at least 13 miles before the guys showed up, and when totaled with the 37 miles of the regular ride would result in a 50-mile ride. That seemed doable, so long as I stayed on hydration and electrolytes. Holding the pace down early wouldn't hurt either.
I'm glad to say the early part of the plan was executed flawlessly. I wound up with something like 16 miles before the group showed up, managed a bit faster average than I thought I would considering the wind, and hadn't put out any really hard effort. So far, so good.
The next phase called for a steady push out to the county line. My original plan was for 21-22 mph out. The wind played a part here as things unfolded. It was out of the south/southwest, and pretty much laid across us most of the way out, occasionally quartering in from the 2 o'clock position. The official average was 23.2 mph, which I heard about right away! Those guys should know by now I'm a liar! Truth be told, I wasn't pushing a bit. I laid down and let it go, and it was pretty much just steady cranking. I wouldn't rate it above 65% effort.
Backing up a bit, I raised my saddle a bit before the second jaunt, and I felt it was a definite improvement. I felt as though I couldn't quite take advantage of leverage scrunched up as tight as I was. I worried about hip movement, though I couldn't detect any myself. I'll leave it there a while and see how things go.
We had 10 guys with us, and with the gusty conditions I recommended we be prepared to have an echelon formation, placing strong riders beginning and middle. The idea was to be able to set up secondary lines within the main line, as it would be impossible to get all 10 guys in one echelon on the smallish road. Instead, six of the guys opted to do their own thing, five of whom made their own line, one struck out on his own, and the remaining four of us made a second group.
Troy pulled first, and despite his trepidation, did a fine job. We never intended to blast this; most of us participated in the Jim-N-I on Saturday, and some were still feeling it. We just needed a hardish steady ride. Troy did that successfully.
John T. had the next pull, and somewhere early in the pull Troy dropped off. That left the three of us. We could see first Allen, then the first group coming into view. John T. gobbled up Allen and seemed intent on getting the other group. We were drawing closer and closer, and suddenly John T. tapped.
I had the next pull. No way I was going to let that line of meat dangle in front of me unmolested. I raised the pace enough to settle the issue quickly, and we passed decisively near the Pumpkin Center turn. Now it was time to get ready for Lost River and the hill.
I called back to Miller, "If you guys decide to go for the segment on the hill, do so, but call it out before you jump". There were only three of us, so if someone jumped out, it wouldn't be a big deal, so long as all of us didn't jump at once. I knew I didn't need to jump, I was on the front; I was simply trying to think ahead to keep them from wadding up.
Miller did call, he did jump, and he topped way ahead of John T. and me. I clawed my way back to him once over the top, and John T. clambered in behind. Miller had waited, which was kind. From there he took a short pull through no fault of his own, because as we guessed, the wind was now directly in our faces. This was the toughest piece of the entire course.
I never dropped to the end of the line when Miller jumped because technically I'd never tapped. This meant I came up next in the rotation, and I made up my mind I would finish the line regardless of what happened. I didn't think anyone would complain about it since everyone had pulled at least once. John T's pull had been a long one, so I was pretty sure he was okay with it.
Anyway, it was nothing spectacular. I settled into something like a 24-27 mph up-and-down affair until the final stretch, then held a steady 27 mph. From here I waited for the inevitable, and sure enough Miller flashed by. I never gave a thought to giving chase. I really thought John T. would be right on his hooves, but I think he was still feeling Saturday.
In the end it was a great workout, a solid ride, and another opportunity to get to know my new baby. On the ride back to our cars Allen asked me what I thought about the new bike. "See those?" I asked, pointing to my cassette. "Know what that is?" said I, baiting the trap. He gave me his typical "Here it comes" look. Then I delivered the punch line, "11 flavors of death!". Good for a chuckle. Kind of catchy, too.
Run tomorrow, probably no ride. I need to lift as well. Looks like another swim/ride combination for Thursday.
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