Training begins with an ass-kicking

I think I need to get my old bike back and not wear the gear I’m testing on group rides.

“I looked at your bike and your gear and assumed you were competitive,” said Rick, the day’s ride leader, “So when I saw you just behind me on those hills, I kept up the pace.”

Right. I should have known.

July 1 was the official start I set for myself to begin race training, which meant this past weekend was the first time I went out with a local club. I chose carefully – a women’s group I rode with a few months ago turned out to be too basic for my taste. The group that owns the city in terms of distance rides is notorious for being egotistical, brash and unsafe. I chose Chain Reaction, comprised of club riders at all levels and a large, diverse racing team that covers all categories.

Saturday’s ride started with a 14-mile jaunt to watch the racers compete at the University Oaks Criterium. Most members decided to drive and hang out on the course all morning, so it was just me, Rick the ride leader and a long-absent member showing up to test his new commuter Surly. 

Formalities were kept short and sweet. Rick took off into the hills at about three mph faster than I usually ride and I had to put down the hammer to stay anywhere near his wheel and his face-sized, bulging calves. After about six miles, we hit the hills and I had trouble breathing in my attempt to keep the pace up on the climbs. My legs ached for a lack of breakfast, sugar and caffeine. Fearful thoughts of struggling like that on longer rides gripped me. I entertained quitting and turning back as the hills kept coming, but my brain latched onto the word “quitter” and like a waterlogged dog, I literally shook myself on the bike to exorcise the idea. This seemed like the nicest, most chill group in town. I didn’t know how I’d return if I backed out on the first ride. 

Eventually we made our way to the flat highway access road and the pace slowed. Rick drifted back to chat and asked about my usual rides. “Not that fast,” I confessed. He looked at me quizzically and asked why I didn’t say anything. “Today is about you!” he said.

I shared a bit of my cross-country bike trip story, admitting that I was always at the back forcing the stronger riders to wait for me day in and day out. I learned to hate it. I hated knowing that I was the reason we didn’t get in out of the heat sooner. I hated knowing that my compatriots were spinning their wheels and yearning to ride faster. I didn’t want to ask Rick to slow down when he didn’t even know me.

“I didn’t like it when people used to have to wait for me, but I’m really glad they did,” Rick said. “It’s important. We don’t leave anyone behind.”

Right then I knew I was in a good place. Despite the hard ride, my spirits soared that I’d been able to hang on at all. Bike snobs can have their bike snobs. When Rick sent me an email that same day further extending my welcome, I marked Chain Reaction’s Wednesday evening ride on my calendar. I think I’ve found the right team.

Miles since July 1: 54