So I can’t call it the Tuesday Night Club Ride this summer because, technically, it’s not a club ride. Because C-19.
That didn’t stop a fair contingent from rolling out last night. It was under current guidelines, by a lot, but we’ve never hit 100 cyclists on the best Tuesday night (maybe 60 or 70?). I’d say we had 30 roll out in unfairly hot and windy conditions. 90° and sunny with a 15-20-mph wind out of the west.
I did the full 7-mile warm-up with Dave. Even at 15-mph into that wind sucked but was bearable. At 24, it was going to suck.
We rolled out together for the first couple of miles directly into the wind but fractured into two main groups with stragglers everywhere as soon as we hit the crosswind. We had five guys in an echelon followed by a line of ten on the edge of the road.
I was fine at that point, but with no real draft, I figured it was only a matter of time.
We had a decent pace heading south (crosswind) when two of the A guys took it from 20-mph to 25 and I lost my patience. I had a pretty good idea what was going to happen when we hit the hills so rather than work on a resentment, I bailed. I was also having saddle issues that exacerbated the heat of the evening. I want so bad for that Selle Italia carbon saddle to work but I just can’t help knowing I’d be having a more enjoyable ride on my old Specialized Romin. On the one hand, there are huge pluses with the Selle Italia – the oversize cutout is fantastic for keeping things happy after the ride. During the ride, though, it’s awesome at first but as I get tired and put more of my weight on the saddle, “awesome” breaks down in a hurry. Then I try to stand on the pedals to get the weight off my heinie and my feet start hurting…
With my saddle giving me fits, the ride back was a little on the miserable side. I was well and truly popped. I just put my head down and did my best to hammer it back to the car.
After moderating my attitude, I mentioned something to the guy who was up front about trying a little harder to maintain the pace. He’s in a bit of a pickle. He’s a true A rider, but he just can’t hack the heat. He reacts differently than most to it in that he simply can’t acclimatize. On the other hand, he gets up front every now and again and he jacks the pace up so we end up with a lot of see-sawing.
And the nice little cherry on top is that I was only a few minutes from popping anyway.
At least dinner was good. Back at it for next week.