One Month Later

I actually turned a pedal. Beautiful autumn day in Melbourne so joined the enormous throngs on Beach Rd and rolled down to Mordy and back. Sat on a few small groups that were going harder and faster than I planned, and while the wrist hurt a bit, it seems to have pulled up OK. Can’t say the same for my left leg, with soreness behind the knee which is almost certainly a minor overuse issue. But was just good to be out on a bike again. On the way down to Mordy sat on a couple of riders, one an O2 pro. I was redlining sucking the wheels, the O2 guy was doing easy tempo, and the guy in front was hurting but putting in a very impressive effort. We passed a small troika, with a scrawny looking one at the back on a pretty ordinary bike, pink Dunlop Volleys with toe clips and straps. Didn’t think we’d see him again. Shortly after he’s sitting happily on the back. OK I thought. Then I let him sit in front of me as I hung round the back of our little group of 5, deciding whether this intensity was doing more harm than good, and realised he was built like a Shleck. Skinny as a rake, sinew, but on those legs, he had a lot of miles in there. Shortly after, as the pace dipped a tad, he rolled to the front. He didn’t go slower, he went faster, but I thought to myself there’s no way anyone will be happy to sit behind a kid in pink Dunlop volleys. Sure enough, the O2 rider rolled past. It’s sorta sad, the same O2 rider made a point of tapping the first leader on the shoulder, acknowledging the effort, but this kid. Not enough of the uniform to even be allowed to sit at the front of the bunch. We’re not much above chickens really. Then, on the return leg, I was rolling along but decided to jump on a little string of 3, being nicely and powerfully lead by someone obviously much stronger than I. Just over the top of that non rise before you drop down past the cafe at Rickett’s Point one of the riders sitting on stormed past and got a few metres in front down the hill and across the flat. That sort of ride that comes from those that have never raced. If he was rolling through to help out, then he rode past too hard and fast, so it was ignored. If it was deciding we were too slow, then the fact he stayed all of 40 metres in front once he’d stormed off (without us changing pace at all) told you that he’d misjudged. So as we start the rise at Rickett’s Point it played out exactly as expected (and as a chicken I would have done exactly the same thing). We keep exactly the same pace, going that bit harder up the climb to keep the intensity decent. We catch him in a trice, and there’s just a slight little dig in there to make sure the pace is kept high. The bloke who have jumped come rode past is cooked, spent most of what he had and so we steam train, express train past. Never saw him again. Just one of those moments that makes even the training ride competitive. Not explicit or overt, but one of those times when someone storms past on a descent and you just know on the next rise you will have them for breakfast. And you make sure you do. As I said. Chickens really.

oddsandsods, outandabout

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