Sunday I road 57 miles outside. Blue skies. Birds chirping. Ideal conditions.
There was a group ride leaving from a high school in town, so I rode there, about 10 miles, and hooked up with a group I've never ridden with before. There were about 25 guys all decked out in their team jerseys, with Zipp wheels, carbon bikes, etc. A serious group. They rode like it was the US National team try-outs. Two groups quickly formed once we started. I pushed into the lead group and started to feel a bit claustrophobic. We were rolling along at 22mph, cornering, hill climbing, and the guy next to me was about 3 inches from my handlebars. We were both about 3 inches from the wheels ahead of us. I've been here before - when I was a kid - but now, training mostly solo, I'm a little rusty from my old days of peloton cycling. I was just desperately trying to hold my line... imagining myself as the Apolo Ono of Northeast Indiana cycling.
We rode to Huntington in a headwind, and then made the turn for home, with a tailwind. It was at this point that the pace quickened. We kept dropping people like flies. Guys were attacking the front, attacking hills, and 'racing'. I enjoyed every second. At one point someone pushed me from the back - a little physical shove forward, indicating my turn to lead the front. That was my interpretation at the moment - I may have made a mistake and just gotten shoved! Regardless of the intent, in the vernacular of my youth: "I put the hammer down". I sustained 28mph for a while...and it hurt. There were a series of painful moments from that point as we returned home.
I finished with two other guys, we dropped everyone else. Then I meandered my 10 miles home with a headache and twitching legs.
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