"Good Job"

We’ve hit that time of year when I seem to be doing a lot of riding, but not a lot of writing about riding. Balance, as anyone who has read EVL for any stretch can confirm, is not my forte. Try as I might, I seem to be an all-or-nothing sort of individual, and despite wanting to have it all in every facet of my life, and often trying to achieve it, rarely do I strike the perfect balance of completing all of the to-dos on the list. And thus, my silence for longer stretches. I do apologize.

Last week though, I was out on a ride that I do fairly routinely. I had left home on my road bike, but got a massive flat about 2 miles out (large, metal staple – you’d think I’d have seen it coming, but I didn’t and it nearly caused me to wipe out as I was heading down a steep-ish descent). Because the axle on the rear of that bike is finicky, I couldn’t get the wheel to turn without rubbing the chainstays pretty badly and decided to return home to pick up the Surly and head back out on that bike instead.

It was a very warm day and I was getting a later-than-intended start (as is often typical), but I was in a good mood, despite the mishap with the former bike, and just wanted to enjoy the ride. Since I was no longer on my “race” bike, I decided I would chill a bit and take it easy, take in the sights that I often take for granted, and do the route before getting on with work.

All was going well and I hit my turnaround point and started back home. I found myself staring off at a distant object that was shimmering in the sun, wondering what it was that I was seeing and because I was lost in thought, my speed dropped off.

Out of seemingly nowhere, another cyclist passed me on the left and shouted out, “Good job,” as he pedaled up the hill in front of us. It took a minute for things to sink in. At first, I thought he was talking to himself, but when he looked back at me over his shoulder, I realized he was in fact speaking to me.

My venting on Twitter… because I was thoroughly perturbed.

Unfortunately for me, I’m generally not the quickest with responses in the moment, but after a few seconds, I started to get angry. This isn’t the first time someone on a bike passing me has made this comment (or a similar one) and I really don’t appreciate it.

I haven’t been able to figure out why cyclists feel the need to say this or other similar comments to people they are passing. First, the individual has no idea whether or not I’m doing a good job because they don’t know me, nor how I ride or what I’m capable of doing. The comment comes across as rude and patronizing, in my opinion.

Something lit in me and I took off as fast as my legs would pedal in an attempt to catch this fellow. Truthfully, I don’t recall ever moving so quickly on my own, but I was on a mission to catch him. I had no idea exactly what I’d say if I caught him, but I was running through scenarios as I chased.

The unfortunate part of living where we do is that a lot of professionals and semi-professional athletes train here, and I had no idea who I was attempting to chase down, but because it was late morning in the middle of the week, I could make an educated guess that this likely wasn’t another lollygagger such as myself. I pushed my legs to their max, hoping that a signal would stop this cyclist so that I would have a chance to catch up. I was pedaling at over 27mph (42kph) according to my Garmin (which was a vast increase from the approximate 11mph pace I’d been traveling when the cyclist passed me) but I just couldn’t seem to quite get close enough even to yell.

Just as I reached a point when it appeared as though I was gaining on him, he made a turn in the distance and I got trapped at a red light. Ugh. I was a little upset that I couldn’t catch him, but I still hadn’t settled on exactly what it was I would say anyway. I wanted to make a point that his comment was not appreciated, but I also didn’t want to sound like a crazed lunatic either. Finding that balance in the heat of something can be challenging, so maybe it was better that things worked out the way they did.

All of this brought about a lot of thought and reflection. I wonder how many passing comments are made to cyclists that are taken as an offense or are believed to be rude in nature? I wonder how many are intended to be snarky or tactless? Is there such a thing as cyclist-to-cyclist road-rage and how extreme can individual’s reactions be in situations? I know I’ve been more than a little miffed at other cyclists from time to time, but it’s never been anything as extreme as I’ve seen take place with people in cars.

So, while I was unprepared to react to the situation that presented itself, I’m trying to plot the best way to deal with it in the future — because it will happen again, as it has before, and I’d like to be better prepared with my own response. Suggestions are always welcome!

Group Ride Blues

Somewhat recently, I went on my first group ride in quite some time. Actually, the last group ride for me prior to this one was at the end of spring. I debated whether or not to even go on this last ride, but because it was a short one, I figured I would get through it - though I'll get to that in a bit. My decision not to ride with groups is somewhat intentional, and somewhat just a matter of schedules. I have accepted that with most physical endeavors I will be last in group situations, but I find it incredibly frustrating to be with a group that says they will ride one pace, and then end up riding something much faster. I am well aware of my cycling speed, and have no delusions of grandeur. In fact, I identified easily with this post from The Rubenesque Cyclist.

I actually attended a small group ride very early in the riding season
*Photo credit - Pati W./St. Vrain Chain Gang

As I pedaled my way through the summer months, I frequently passed small groups of riders and couldn't help but be a bit envious as I heard them laughing and/or talking. They seemed to ride so effortlessly, and I have to admit that it seemed it was at least in part due to having company to keep their minds occupied. Every time I passed one of these groups of ladies (or any small group enjoying themselves), I found myself wanting to about-face and attempt to find out when they ride, where they start, if they would mind another body tagging along, et cetera... but I never did it. I should have, but I didn't.

About mid-summer, I considered putting out an ad for cycling buddies who just wanted to ride and weren't fixated on how fast they would get there, but ultimately decided that it seemed a little desperate and goodness only knows who I would've encountered. Besides that, I've found that when I word things in such a way, I tend to experience the extreme opposite (which isn't what I'm after either). I do like to ride more leisurely at times as well, but when I'm out for a long road ride, I want to enjoy it, be somewhat challenged, but not feel as though I'm going to pass out in the first 20 minutes of riding. There has to be a happy middle ground somewhere, right?

Near the end of summer, I was riding down a local highway with a wide shoulder and there were two gentlemen in front of me. At first, I figured I wouldn't pass because I assumed they would be taking off at any moment (as is usually the case) so it seemed foolish to attempt to go around them. As I pedaled along behind them, I couldn't help but over-hear their conversation. I felt a bit guilty eavesdropping because they weren't aware of my presence until much later, but truth be told, I was happy to have a conversation to listen in on, even if I had no idea who the people were or what exactly they were discussing. During their conversation, I learned that one of the riders was just starting to cycle again after a long hiatus (which explained instantly why they hadn't taken off at warp speed) and was looking to increase his endurance before the "bad weather" set in to our area.

Not too long after this portion of their conversation ended, the men stopped abruptly, catching me completely off guard as I was lost in the bliss of having others around to entertain me. I tried to maintain my composure, but veered off into traffic for a brief moment. Of course, I startled them as well because they hadn't realized I'd been right behind them for the last ten-ish miles, hanging on their every word. I apologized for not saying something (especially because I was right on their tails the entire time), and they offered a gracious nod and smile as I continued down the highway. I'm sure they had quite a conversation when they started up again about the "crazy lady" who nearly scared them to death.

Yes, I think I've painted a fairly decent (though very much condensed) picture of my desire to ride with others who cycle at similar speeds, and while I am not generally so needy, this summer's riding, accomplished as it was for me and my goals, carried with it a kind of pathetic sadness. It's not as though I started out every ride feeling doomed to wander alone, but every so often I was reminded that it kind of sucks to always ride by oneself. I do truly enjoy my alone time, but no one wants to do every activity by him/herself.

You can see how I ended up coming back to the group I'd started with in the spring months. I tease them each summer saying that they'll always get at least one ride out of me (which has held true), but this season I decided to bookend my rides. When I arrived for the group ride, there were very few cyclists riding that afternoon... six (not counting myself) to be more exact. I had been told that since there were only a few cyclists riding, they weren't going to split into what would normally be three separate groups (the A Group, aka the "I have wings, and I'm not afraid to use them" group; the B group, aka the "I'm like lightening most of the time, but my wings have just sprouted" group; and the C group, aka the "My bike weighs more than I do so I'm riding the pace I ride" group - totally fictitious names, by the way, but I do think the groups should be renamed thusly... post haste). Of course, it only makes sense to ride as a single group if those who are pedaling at faster speeds decide to slow down to us mere mortals at the back of the back. Within a mile, the group was gone and I was left behind with one cyclist who took pity on me and rode at a slower pace.

True, I was ill... sniffling and coughing through the short ride, and I probably shouldn't have left the house at all. But the strangest feeling was that I had actually forgot what it was like to ride with someone else, so it was a bit odd to have another cyclist pedaling next to me, chatting about the happenings of late. I actually enjoyed it (though I can't speak for the poor soul stuck with me), and I realized in that moment that it really isn't as much fun to ride alone, particularly on long rides, as it is to have a partner. I do enjoy my alone time and I honestly don't mind riding by myself on the whole, but it's easy to forget that cycling can be a social activity when one is used to riding solitary so frequently.

I don't exactly know where I am going with this thought, other than coming to the realization that there are times when I do want to ride with someone else, but also understanding that most people who ride for "sport" are more interested in constantly improved speeds than chatting about the happenings in their life outside of cycling. There are exceptions to this as with anything, but I keep trying to determine where it is that I am supposed to find riding buddies who not only have similar desires for a road ride, but who also ride at similar rates of speed. Part of the beauty of cycling is that it can be accomplished alone, but it's sometimes challenging to feel as though it has to always be done on ones own. As many parts of the U.S. are beginning to gear up for snow and the colder months ahead, it seems like a good time to reflect on the past and ponder where the next season will take me. Perhaps there are others out there just waiting to be found, or maybe I just need to suck it up and get through the more difficult rides with groups, knowing that they will make me a stronger cyclist - even if I don't necessarily have the opportunity to talk as much as I'd prefer during a ride... you know, as I gasp for air while trying to keep up.