Posted by: angrybeesound | May 27, 2008

sand bagger

‘ the breakaway almost always gets caught by the peloton, but there is always hope for the breakaway, hope for glory’ 

the following is mostly true, least its my version.

the setup – yesterday, mile 92 on the seven hills of kirkland, nice weather, 50s with some cloud cover.

there are actually thirteen hills on the century route. im at the top of the last hill, rose hill. it’s decent little hill, much like the dozen others, about a mile long and gaining about 500 feet. from here on it is downhill and along the lake back to the start. ive opened up a decent little break from keith, the tri girl and old (kona qualifying) tri guy, the tri two i had rode the last 40 miles with. 

this isn’t a race. on a long straightaway i look back and see a pack of 8 or so, i know keith is in the group, but hes not leading it. theyre a minute to 90 seconds back. the game starts, im going to run for it. this isnt even a race, its a memorial day benefit ride. the downhill starts. i open it up, hit 40, but the legs are letting me know that ‘we just cant do this captain’ yes, my legs call me captain when im tired. i keep looking back, were on a long, straight downhill, there is no chance to stay in front this way, 8 are faster than 1. i get phil leggett and paul sherwen commentary in my head 

‘oh looks like the peloton sees the leader. its all over now, just a matter of time before they eat his broken dreams’

‘ i agree phil, i hope they dont pop their tyres on his broken soul, i bet the leader wished this ride were 92 miles instead of 100’ (you know they spell it tyres)

i run for a while, i tuck and keep a good head of steam, im trying to manage what i have left, 4 miles pass i get a pela song stuck in my head, no matter the outcome it is a fun game.

i look back, the group has focused into particular people, not a mash of helmets, handlebars and front tires. i dont recognize these people. theyre 100 yards, one last kick and im tuckered. im 2 miles from the finish, no downhills to help me anymore. i think of one last futile gesture, turning around and throwing my pump, my spare tube, repair kit and windbreaker at them, i pass a slower cyclist and the though (not really) enters my mind about knocking her over to make an impasse on the road 

i get hope, we get off the wide open stuff and start turning, now there are stop lights, no bike lane, or shoulder. i lose time on a light but then gain some on another, this would be an added excitement factor to the tours, make them ride in traffic. I cant see the group anymore, but theyre there. i can feel their mental lassos, pulling on me. then it happens, i hear them, i keep going, on the now flat road, keeping 24, they pass me slowly, 4 faster riders in team kits and keith sitting on the back with a shit eating grin i hope he caught bugs in. i try to keep up, but i cant. i trail the last 2 miles in, i eventually catch 3 of the 4 team riders in a last act of defiance (stubborn?) keith was a sand bagger and rode the last guys wheel all the way to marina park.

no tri girl, no tri guy in the group. it seems they were comfortable riding at their own pace and didnt see the need of drawing and quartering someone who pulled a good chunk of the 40 miles we rode together. tri girl ended up being married and she got dropped by her husband, tri guy said that was kinda fucked up, i totally agreed but kept that to myself. tri girl had a twin six jersey on. 

even though he finished first i still was 24 minutes faster than keith =P not that im bitter about the sandbagger. i ate my strawberry shortcake smugly.


it was good ride, more people did it this year than last year.

the ride is kinda a weird route, it basically looks to go up all the hills in the upper east side (and some way out on the east side) so youre doing hills then sometimes circumlocutious ways to the next hill

like all rides (least in the pac nw) i rode with some good people. nice guy named barry who was strong, but didnt have time to do 100.

on the way out to the ride i had my bike on my rack and i took a wrong turn, i look back and see two cars with bike racks following me. fools, dont follow me if you want anything resembling decent direction. one of the guys following me recognized me on the ride dude was fast. i apologized for taking him halfway to bellevue. 

tried to ride with dave and mike, they were slower, but funny. daves first century i lost count of them at the fist hill was came up. i saw dave at the end, his mentor, mike, had ended up bonking and was almost an hour back.

tri girls husband looked like a guy who would drop his wife on a fun ride, its not like she was slow. 

lots of comments on the pink fat cyclist jersey GO SUSAN!

by the numbers-

98.83 miles, 7001 feet of climbing, average speed of 17.0, max of 45

i need a haircut

i need a haircut

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