Boundary Lines

I rolled up to our meeting spot, clicked my cleats out of my pedals and placed both feet on the surface of the bridge. Jim and King of The Mountain offered greetings. I reached into the back pockets of my jacket and pulled out a second pair of gloves. After taking off my half finger wool gloves with the mitten covers, I put these full-fingered gloves on and then my glove/mittens over the top of my previously pocketed gloves. Joseph commented on the cold and I asked him about his new bike. “The jury’s still out,” he said, adding that he made some adjustments and was looking forward to testing it today. The three of us chatted while we waited for the others. Soon, Rod, Stoney and Miz arrived- Rod and Stoney from one direction and Miz from the other.

“Is this everyone?” someone asked.

“I think so,” Rod replied, “I don’t think we’re expecting anyone else.”

“No Fro?” I inquired.

“No, he wasn’t able to make it today.”

Rod announced the plan, to ride 2-3 hours and everyone was agreeable. Jim said something about keeping a moderate pace which I was happy to hear. It didn’t occur to me that I had been anticipating a shorter ride, I was just happy to be out for a ride. Rod suggested the Showcase Loop and we set off.

Through the winding roads we eventually hit the highway overpass and turned right at the bottom. Miz and Jim were at the front and after we rolled through the stop sign, they pulled off and drifted to the back of the pack, leaving Joseph and I in the front. We continued on, the six of us, conversations buzzing, sometimes involving only the guy next to you and other times including the whole pack. We climbed a small hill and near the top Rod called out, “Hey, hey! Brian takes the town line sprint.”

It was mostly a joke. Rod may have been the only one who even realized or cared that the town line had been approaching. I suspected he was pointing it out to encourage me more than anything. We all know that, had there been a sprint, I wouldn’t have won it, especially on a climb. Yet here I was at the front of the pack taking a regular, solid pull.

We rode on, the roads twisting and turning. The guys who knew the loop would call out the turns to the guys in front. Eventually, while riding next to Jim, I turned to him and asked, “Is this the climb?” Jim said it wasn’t, but it was coming up. I always wonder what real cyclists think of this particular hill. Do they consider it a real climb? It always seems like it’s easy for everyone else while it’s a struggle for me.

As we approached the climb Jim said to me, “Just relax, don’t kill yourself.” I realized Jim often says this to me when we begin aclimb and I chuckled to myself. I also realized that Jim and I were at the front of the group. I was determined to keep pace with Jim so as to not disrupt the flow of our little pack. Besides, Jim didn’t seem intent on flying up the hill, so it seemed like a reasonable goal. Somewhere along the way with Jim a bike length ahead of me, I noticed Rod beside me. “Try to keep a steady cadence on this next section, just like Jim is.” His words barely registered but I kept pedaling. Eventually I heard Rod say, “Nice job, Brian. Good climbing.”

I looked up and realized we were at the church at the top of the climb. Rod and Jim turned into the U shaped parking lot. In my haze it took a moment to register... “Usually they pull in here to wait for me, but I’m here…why are they stopping?” I looked over my shoulder and realized that the other three were still climbing.

I followed them into the parking lot and followed its “U” to the end. I stopped near the street, reached for a bottle and took a long drink. I slumped over my handlebars, breathing heavily. Joseph rolled over to me saying with a smile, “Ah! The things we willingly do to ourselves!”  Soon, Miz and Stoney rolled in and we continued on. Miz, now next to me picked up a conversation from our last ride. I told him all we needed was the punch line because we had the front-end of a joke on that ride: A pastor, a Unitartian Universalist, and a nominal Jew went for a bike ride…

The next hour passed uneventfully. We rode smoothly, pushing the pace at times. At one point Jim stopped to peel off a layer. I was wishing I had brought a banana and gladly accepted when Rod offered me a handful of some trail mix. We continued on. I rode with confidence and, most of the time, with ease. The miles passed and I felt great. One of the guys was struggling and we’d have to back off now and then to allow him to catch up. I had never been on the “back off” side of the equation, at least not in this group.

Around mile 48 I began to feel some fatigue. We were almost back where we started.  I told the guys I was going to take the direct route home rather than ride to the next town over. This decision shaved 5-6 miles off my ride. Stoney and I made quick plans for a Monday ride and I said goodbye to the group. The last few miles home were a bit slower than the previous 50 or so. I pulled into my driveway, my odometer reading 55, 16.8 avg. I sang in my head (with apologies to Sammy Hagar, of course) “I can ride 55.”

It was the longest ride I’d been on in 4 years.