The Unthinkable

Yesterday was one of those perfect fall days — the temp started around 35 in the morning, too cold for a quick morning ride, but the sun came out and it climbed up to the 50s. Work was caught up and the boss was out of cell range, so I actually skipped out early, raced home and got out for a bike ride. Always hard to figure out what to wear when the temperature’s down, but I went with full-length tights, long-sleeve jersey, my new hurricane-proof Postal vest, cap and long gloves. Turned out to be perfect. The sun was still providing warmth, the roads were dry, and it was just a glorious day. And then — I’m ashamed to admit — someone else on a bike passed me.

I had already done about 20K and was taking it leisurely up Palmer Road when I passed another cyclist who had stopped to chat with a woman and her dog. He was just starting up again as I went by, so I poured on some steam to open up the distance between us. The Lion of Luther does not get passed. I thought I was pretty comfortably out there, 400 meters or more, but then on a long straight-away I could see him gaining in my mirror (I always ride with a mirror, despite the additional drag it creates, and the attendant risk of being passed that comes with that extra drag). Then I got to the T where Palmer Road ends, and a truck coming up Elliot Road made me come to a complete stop before I could make the turn. As I pushed down on the crank and fumbled with my pedal, the other cyclist blew right through the intersection and passed me. So now, of course, I had to chase him down, which I did fairly quickly, and then I passed him just as he was turning off onto a dirt road. My dignity was restored, and best of all, we didn’t have to keep passing each other for another 10k, which would have been a lot of work.

I recognize that there are probably lots of recreational riders (forget racers) out there who go faster than I can. I’ve seen them on the Tour de Cure, in fact. But here in the hills of Rensselaer, I haven’t seen any. And it is my solemn duty to not only pass anyone I see, but in fact to blow their doors off. 16-year-old kid, age-appropriate male competition, 70-year-old ladies — all must be passed with extreme prejudice. I could see someone nearly a mile ahead, and the switch flips and I am instantly concerned with catching up to the person and passing him before he goes off down a side road and the chance to display my alpha male superiority is missed.

Spouse says something to the effect of, “So, how your ride goes is determined by your ability to pass someone you’ve never seen before, no idea of who they are or their abilities, you just have to pass them?” So, obviously, she gets it.

As I said, catastrophe averted, and I’m feeling much better after a night’s sleep. This won’t happen again.