Sitting in the auditorium at South County H.S. in Lorton, Va., yesterday at our annual high school soccer referee clinic, I kept looking outside wanting to ride instead. It was unseasonably warm (low 60s — 16ºC) and I hadn’t ridden in more than three weeks. Following the Steelers on their run to the Super Bowl was worth it all though.
Although there were rides listed on the Potomac Pedalers site, I trekked up to Reston to ride with Evolution Cycling Team. One thing that was different about today — I was on time. So rather than jump on the rear, I actually asked if I could ride with them. One warned me they ride at an A pace — or something like that. I nodded.
There were six of them and one of me. We headed out towards Great Falls. On the way, we were on a lightly traveled road and they wanted to ride a paceline. That was my first time in a true paceline. My summer rides with DC Velo is more me hanging on the back but this was a single paceline, all moving up in unison then falling off. The riders were gracious to this old rookie.
Once we got to Great Falls we broke apart a little. There were some steep descents and steep climbs. The one woman in the group, Tanya, had a hard time matching pace, especially on the descents. But she was a strong rider. Maybe not quite as strong as the others.
Then Tanya was already behind the 8-ball for the next climb. As long as they were waiting for her I could hang in there.
Eventually, I sensed they wanted to go faster without Tanya and without me. But they would never suggest that. She told me she didn’t have legs going out or back today and I felt I didn’t either. Although I’d been riding indoors, it’s not the same as being out on the bike.
We were near the end when Tanya and I headed over to the W&OD trail and let the others go flying on without us. It was a good ride but I wonder why I think I can ride with the guys 20 years (or more) younger than me.
Garmin Stats (note that I forgot to start the computer at the start)
Fool that I am, I returned to Reston to ride with either The Bike Lane or Evolution Cycling. Perhaps because it was overcast, it seemed colder than last week and the numbers showed. They were way down.
Like last week, stopping for gas and food left me dangerously close to missing the start of the ride. I rolled up just as four riders were rolling out. One woman was left in front of the dark Bike Lane store telling me she was waiting for their group ride. Instantly I determined, correctly, that there would be no ride from The Bike Lane today and made my decision to catch the Evo boys leaving on the trail.
Although temperatures were in the low to mid-30s for most of the ride, the low overnight temperatures and some rain during the week left some ice patches on the W&OD. But they presented no problems.
What was neat was that we started out with five riders and actually picked up riders along the route eventually getting up to 10. We rode on the W&OD until we could get safely off onto other roads and streets.
Almost immediately I wondered why I had come back. We were in a paceline of 10 riders rolling along at 23 mph on a 3% uphill grade. There is no way, even by being paced, that I could keep this pace. I was afraid I might have to excuse myself. But we took turns pacing at the front and once the strong leader dropped off another rider took over and I didn’t have problems staying with the group again.
Out of Leesburg towards Hamilton, we climbed Dry Mill Road, in the process dropped a rider aptly named “Turtle.” At the top of the climb, where Virginia Routes 7 and 9 intersect, we waited. Eventually, Turtle came and then graciously announced that he would ride the trail back and not hold us up.
It was actually amazing that I jumped in with this racing team and hung with them. At the same time, one of their riders could not keep pace.
We headed out through Hamilton, out Harmony Church Road, and back towards Leesburg. I was able to hang on with these racers most of the way. Leaving Hamilton we could smell the fire from a fireplace burning nearby. One of the riders said, “it smells warm.”
I never thought something could smell warm — we’re mixing the sense of touch with the sense of smell — but I could agree with him. I’d love to be inside feeling the warmth of the fire.
The route today would encompass more than 60 miles. I noticed after 50 miles that when we had moderate climbs of 2-3% grade that I had difficulty keeping up with the group. Usually, I would drop 10, 20, or 50 meters behind only to catch them on the other side.
The Evolution is a Cycling Racing team, most are younger riders and these old legs just don’t have the recovery in them to be able to spin up these moderate climbs. The steep climbs are different because everyone is working hard but these lesser grades are ones where the younger riders can sit and spin and after 50 miles I have difficulty.
Maybe it’s the old legs or maybe it’s that I still suck at nutrition on the bike. I had one energy bar with me but didn’t open it. Stupid.
Without about five miles to go, I sat up for a moment while a couple of riders dropped off to go home. I lost contact with our remaining riders. Mostly they were never more than 100-200 meters ahead but that is still dropped.
I felt my energy level drop. I hadn’t eaten on the ride and should have and fumbled around to find the energy bar. I felt a little better after ingesting it and rolled on back alone to the start/finish.
Not sure where the rest of the winter takes me. I’d like to ride with Evolution more but every Saturday between now and mid-March is booked and then begins soccer season. I was asked to join the team and race with them but feel that I would probably bring them down.
I was feeling bad about not being able to stay with what was left with the group but Adam, back at The Bike Lane, reminded me that these are racers who log base miles every Saturday and Sunday plus are younger too. As I read in Bicycling magazine once, when you feel a little discouraged about not keeping up with the Cat 2 and Cat 3 riders, take a stroll in the Mall and compare yourself to those guys.
You say you want a revolution Well you know We all want to change the world You tell me that it’s evolution Well you know We all want to change the world But when you talk about destruction Don’t you know you can count me out –The Beetles
I didn’t ride on New Year’s Day, missing out on Potomac Pedaler’s “I’ve Ridden Every Day This Year” ride. It was cold and windy on New Year’s Day in the morning although not as bad as New Year’s Eve. We had winds sustained at 35 mph and gusting to 50 mph. My mailbox post was a victim. When I arrived home from work both the mailbox and post were on the ground so that became my New Year’s Day project.
I left the house this morning after 8:00 and WTOP Radio reported it was 23º (-5ºC) in Manassas. Cold. I drove up to Reston to ride with the group ride that leaves from The Bike Lane at Reston Town Center. I was running late and arrived at exactly 9:00 a.m.
I quickly parked in the parking garage and put the wheels on my bike. I rolled out of the garage at about three, maybe four, minutes after 9:00, turned the corner, and saw the group heading out. I rolled past The Bike Lane to catch the group. Funny, as I did I saw 3-4 bikes parked outside The Bike Lane.
I caught the group as we rolled through some bike paths out to the Washington and Old Dominion Trail. Adam (The Bike Lane group leader) normally doesn’t take the group on the WOD, I thought, but was willing to concede that either he decided on a cold winter Saturday it wouldn’t be crowded or this somehow was the wrong group.
Could there be two 9:00 rides leaving from The Bike Lane? Even if there were, it was too late to go back and find Adam. I hung on the back of the group — they were flying — and finally asked someone if this was Adam’s ride. No one seemed to know although there were no Bike Lane jerseys in this group. But lots of white ones.
I was told that I had joined the Evolution Cycling Club’s training ride but that I was welcome to hang on. And I did. I asked how far they were going and I was told — 80 miles. Yikes. It was a nice day, if 23º was “nice,” but I hadn’t brought any water (intending to fill up inside The Bike Lane) and no food. And no money for a stop at a store. It’s not good to ride that far with no nutrition. Oh well.
The ride was relatively easy as long as I was hanging on the rear. We went through Ashburn then to Leesburg. After Leesburg, we climbed our first long hill. It wasn’t that difficult but one learns the perils of hanging in the rear.
I wasn’t having any problems keeping on the wheel of the rider in front of me. But he was. A gap opened halfway up the hill and the first half of the group crested the hill a good 150 meters ahead of our group. In a race that’s when they attack but this wasn’t a race. Still, once we reached the top we had two separate groups out on the country roads. The gap widened more.
I finally broke free to pass a number of riders and tried to bridge to the front group. For a while, I was in “no man’s land” about 250 meters behind the lead group and 250 meters ahead of the trail group. I had no one working with me. After being stuck here a rider finally bridged to me and the two of us then worked out way up to the leaders.
We stopped at a store in Hamilton where some bladder-challenged riders, including me, made our way behind the store for a visit to some trees. Here we also broke the ride into groups and when we left there were nine of us. It was nine that we should have ended with.
We rode for a while longer until we came to a moderate climb. One of the riders, in the middle of what was supposed to be a paceline, was having difficulty climbing and we all passed him. When we crested he was way back and we waited for him at the light on Va. 9 at Paeonian Springs.
Our ride leader, a guy named “Chicken” then decided we would have some fun descending on Dry Mill Road to Leesburg. We would break into teams and try to box other riders out at high descending speeds — generally about 35 mph. Say what?
What the heck. We took off and formed our teams. We had only gone a couple of miles when we lost our trail rider again. Chicken went back for him and was going to show him the direct way back — the WOD. Chicken came back to us but reported that he couldn’t find him. I felt bad and was going to offer to ride with him but he had disappeared. We were down to eight.
We continued on and while descending, one of the guys in front of me went off the road. His tire hit the shoulder and three of us had to quickly maneuver so as not to join him. That also killed our descent. We regrouped, didn’t get any sprint points, and made it back to Leesburg.
Passing through Leesburg I was told Chicken peeled off although I didn’t see him. At a cross street, I saw another rider leave. And I missed another one bailing because we were down to five.
Another rider and I moved to the front and did a monster pull for about 3-4 miles. What was I doing pulling these 30-year-olds home? Eventually, we let the trail riders lead and we would follow their wheels.
The five of us returned to Reston and I got to go into The Bike Lane and told Adam why I wasn’t able to join him today. He just laughed. Unlike three weeks ago, I was able to hang and at least one other rider wasn’t.
I was told that the Evolution ride was a closed ride but no one on the ride took exception to me being there. In fact, many introduced themselves and went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. I don’t plan on racing because I don’t have time but I am thinking about joining this racing club. It was a great day for cycling!
Some days you have it, some days you don’t. Today I didn’t.
It was cold but I wanted to ride. It’s easier if you commit to meeting people so I called Adam Lewandowski at The Bike Lane last night to see if they would be riding in the morning. He said they would. It seems silly to drive 45 minutes to join a group ride but that’s what I did. I pulled in just as they were departing and asked if they would wait for me. They did. There were eight of them.
It was 28º (-3º C) and I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my bike, and rolled up with them. I caught them outside the mini-skating rink at the Reston Town Center where two teams of 8-9-year-olds were playing ice hockey. Cute.
We rolled out and kept a good pace. Think about the guys that want to go riding when it’s below freezing. There aren’t too many recreational types here. Well, I was. I overheard one guy talking about his personal cycling coach. I didn’t quite understand that.
Still, we kept together for most of the ride but on one fairly long climb the pack pulled ahead of me by 50-100 meters and I couldn’t close the gap. I could catch them at the traffic lights but there were two places on the course of 30 miles (48 km) where my legs just weren’t keeping up. Disheartening.
It dawned on me that the night before around 9:00 p.m. that I did 40 minutes on the stepper machine. I mentioned that to Adam and he opined that would kill my legs for sure. I simply had no recovery at 9:00 a.m. in the cold. Whatever it was, I was the slowpoke today.
It doesn’t usually happen but we’ve all had those days — at least all of us who aren’t doping have had those days. It was cold. It was still fun, but a little disheartening.
For most of the early Fall, I could not join a group ride on the weekends. Every Saturday I had refereeing, either mentoring/observing or attending clinics. I refereed travel games more this Fall than in the past so my Sundays were shot too.
Yesterday was a teaching day but today was wide open. Next weekend is the NVSC Fall Classic tournament and my referee assignments are from 8 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. on each day. If I could get a group ride in it would have to be today.
I left the house at 8:30 to gas up, intending to head out to Middleburg for a ride in Loudoun County. The wind was shaking the van and I hadn’t confirmed with the ride leader. I was unsure whether once I got to Middleburg there would even be a ride. I filled up the tank ($1.779 per gallon) and then went home knowing there was another ride a little later and a little closer.
After getting home I got the information for the Mason Neck Meander. It was described as a leisurely ride through the Mason Neck area and surrounding neighborhoods, with only a few climbs. It was rated a “C” which is slower than I normally ride but you can’t always find the perfect group.
We met at 11:00 a.m. at Gunston Elementary School. Temperatures were in the low to mid 40s and winds were gusting to 30 mph. The trip leader looked at me and said “you look like you ride faster than us so if you want to go ahead you can.” I’d rather not.
Some people enjoy following cue sheets while I would prefer not to. I don’t mind pulling (being the leader) if someone is behind me navigating.
There were six of us. I slipped in behind the leader and followed at second wheel for about eight miles. He then pulled over and three of us went ahead using our cue sheets. The route was a nice ride. It is mostly flat and in heavy woods. A lot of the road were covered in leaves. For much of the route we were next to the Potomac River, or next to homes that were next to the Potomac.
We followed a route that took us through the neighborhoods before taking us into Mason Neck Park. The three of us were ready to leave the park after a short restroom break when the trailing three joined us. We left together with eight miles back to the start of a 21-mile ride.
As I was leading I looked behind me to see who was on my wheel. To my surprise, no one was. I was riding a bit too fast for them to hang on and this was in the flat in the park. I was by myself in the “lead.” I would have to solo home to “victory.”
The last seven miles had some climbs and was all wind. The wind was strong and in my face. I had no help. I just kept working, into the wind. The wind was so strong that I could not hear cars approaching from the rear. Sometimes I thought there was a car behind me and it was just the wind. Other times the wind was so strong I never heard a car coming.
Once I had soloed for about four miles I took a peek. I couldn’t see anyone. I kept going, even as I was picking up the pace. I arrived back but forgot to celebrate as I was first across the line.
I probably then violated the unwritten rule of group rides. It’s OK to solo ahead, even to victory, but one should wait and say goodbye at the end. Be nice and say thanks to the leader for organizing the ride. But I looked back, there was no one anywhere in sight, and football was starting in 22 minutes.
For a day, a cold and windy day, my breakaway worked.
What a weird group ride today. I must say it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was advertised as a 48-mile “follow the leader” ride. Instead of everyone having a cue sheet and eventually riding their own pace, this one forced everyone to follow the leader.
I showed up at the school near Culpeper and looked at the riders. I thought I was much too strong. To be fair, the ride was classified as a “CC” ride (12-14 mph) which is slower than my normal pace. But it was the only one I could find on this Labor Day weekend. I figured I would work on keeping my speed slow and my cadence high.
There was one guy pretty overweight (kudos for riding and trying to shed pounds) and another who smoked before, after, and during breaks. I did not see him smoke on the ride though.
The trip leader announced that he had forgotten his riding shoes. No one had a wrench to remove his pedals so he couldn’t go with us. The designated leader had been only been on parts of the ride before. The “sweep” made it be known we would have to wait for him.
There were no hills of note on the route but there were plenty of “rollers” here in the Piedmont. We crossed numerous streams and had an excellent view of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Throughout the day when we came to any of the hills, I found myself going off the front and banging up the hills. I would sometimes sit up on the descent to let others catch me and sometimes just got in my tuck and enjoyed the speed. Top speed: 40 mph.
Often the best conversation starter on a group ride is a great jersey. And none is better than my Newton’s Revenge jersey. Maybe not surprisingly, no one, and there were 11 of us, ever mentioned it. But when I wear the jersey I hope it gives me wings to fly up the hills. I owe that much to the jersey.
In the early part of the ride, the group stayed together. But as they got tired, or as we got tired going at a slow pace and picked it up at the front, huge gaps began to develop. So that no one got lost, at every turn someone would have to wait at each intersection for the end of the group. Usually, I would stop and wait, sometimes up to five minutes.
Once everyone safely made the turn I would bridge back to the front, often with the leaders more than a mile ahead at that point. That made taking what was a slow-paced ride very enjoyable by giving me my own challenge of bridging through the group.
Our first rest stop was at a country store. One man was cooking BBQ — the ribs and chicken looked and smelled delicious. If I hadn’t been on a bike I would have loved to have bought something to eat then or take home. As we finished our break, we were warned of a very bad hill ahead. “It is a mile long.”
Whoa. A mile hill. I almost pointed to my jersey and said, “Now this is a hill!” But I didn’t. I just let my climbing do the talking. And if climbing Mount Washington doesn’t give one inspiration for any climb, last week our first major climb at the Blue Ridge Extreme was 18 miles. I had no problem zipping to the top. It was 0.7 mile.
For one day, one ride, everyone was looking at this old guy as the leader. Every hill, and every flat, remember, I bridged the group throughout the day, I was the one who went through the group to the front. I will claim only second fastest on the descent though as one rider was on a recumbent and he had the aero advantage, and probably 50 pounds too. We rode together a few weeks earlier on a ride out of Nokesville and he and I finished “first” on the day, out of about 30 riders. We would finish 1-2 again today, with me being the first back to the school.
I am reminded to something Phil Gaimon wrote a few weeks earlier. When he won a local crit in New York, he angered a number of folks when he wrote that he didn’t beat anyone, meaning the top pros weren’t in the race. When he won the Mount Washington Auto Road Bicycle Hill Climb two weeks ago he more carefully wrote that the big boys were in Utah and the guys he beat all had families, 9-5 jobs, rode tandems, and were in age from 9-75. He was being humble for winning but recognized that his best competition wasn’t there.
There are just too many events that I registered for where my competition is the big boys. The people I rode with today don’t compete in the hill climb up Mount Washington or the Blue Ridge Extreme Century. One young lady was looking forward to her first metric century (63 miles). On a hybrid bike.
Too many times I am comparing my finishes to the Phil Gaimon’s and the college boys who smoke these events. I am both relieved and excited at finishing while being disappointed that my times often are in the bottom 25% or even 10%.
Every once in awhile a ride with a lesser group, CC in this case, is good for the ego. I do get dropped occasionally if the boys at Hains Point put the hammer down. They ride an A pace and I can barely keep up but do manage most of the time. But if they want to drop me, they can.
I am reminded what was published in Bicycling about magazine in Jan/Feb 2008 (page 48) about getting discouraged. “When you feel like your fitness has a long way to go, stop comparing yourself with other cyclists. Go to the mall and compare yourself with other Americans. You feel better now, right?“
I spend way too much time being disappointed I am near the last of the finishers up Mount Washington or across the Blue Ridge. But today’s ride also reminds me that compared to most Americans, and even most other cyclists, I sometimes can be the Alpha Male. At least for a day.
It was back to Sperryville for an almost repeat of Friday’s ride. It was cool, perhaps 68°. I headed off and only went 200 yards and thought I might need a jacket. I went back to the car. I wasn’t worried about climbing as I knew my body heat would be enough. It was the descent I worried about as I didn’t want to get too cool.
I headed off a second time. I had gone just 200 yards and realized I didn’t have my heart monitor. I am learning to play with my Garmin Edge 705 and the heart rate monitor is part of it. I want to see what my body was doing as I was climbing. Back to the car.
The third time was a charm. I headed out for the seven-mile climb to the top. The first two to three miles are at two percent grade before the road turns up.
On Friday I never went lower than my 4th sprocket so I figured I had to match that today as well. That has 19 teeth and I can go to my lowest gear which has 27 teeth. I am hoping that what the run-up to Skyline Drive lacks in grade (6-7% mostly) that going in a higher gear will offset.
I’m hoping.
Unlike Friday I didn’t have water running down the road at me and thunder and lightning near me. There were no weather distractions so one could think about the ride up the mountain.
Supposed to be a view of Old Rag Mountain from here
As I crested the top a motorcyclist passing in the other direction gave me a huge thumbs up. It is nice to be recognized.
I switched into the big ring for my ride down the mountain to Luray. Technically I didn’t go all the way to Luray. Although I was prepared to when the road passed the National Park Headquarters it flattened out to a four-lane divided highway with a speed limit of 55 mph. I didn’t need that. I came to climb, not ride another mile or two of flat roads, so I turned around and began my climb back to the summit.
This one was a four-mile climb. I didn’t have any difficulty but there were times I wanted to switch to a lower gear than 19 teeth. But I didn’t.
I reached the summit then paid $8.00 to ride on the Skyline Drive. I wanted to go south at least as far as the tunnel which came in a mile or a mile and a half. It was very foggy here and I had no lights on me. I was worried about being seen in the tunnel but I went. No cars came behind me while I was in the tunnel.
As with much of my riding, my new goal became to ride until the road turns downward. That would be about five miles by my estimate. I just kept climbing. When I finally reached the high point, I turned around for the crazy descent back to Earth.
I love roller coasters but the thrill of descending at high speeds, around corners and just straight away on a bike is better than ANY coaster I have ever been on. This is the WEEEEEEEE! moment that makes climbing pays off.
In short order, I was back to the Skyline Drive entrance and then back on U.S. 211 East to Sperryville. Although I had cars behind me, no one caught me until I had descended four miles and the road flattened out a bit.
It was a great ride. My Garmin unit measured my distance and 32.5 miles over 4,200 hundred vertical feet of climbing.
In preparation for Mt. Washington, I will not find an 8 mile 12% grade climb with 40 mph winds and near-zero visibility. So one must train under lesser conditions.
My Independence Day route took me to Sperryville, in Rappahannock Co., Virginia. Just as I arrived it started raining. I didn’t want to ride up the mountain in the rain and hoped to wait it out. I listened to WTOP news and their weather forecast described a storm over Rappahannock Co. which would be breaking up soon. As soon as the rain stopped I started up the mountain.
From Sperryville, it would be a seven-mile climb to the summit although the first two miles would be only a two percent grade or so. I started up the mountain. After the first two miles, it started raining. I didn’t avoid it after all but at least it was a light rain.
Until the road reaches Shenandoah National Park it is a two-lane road with no shoulder. I noticed the cars with cargo on their roof racks tended to give me a wide berth while vehicles without cargo often didn’t move out of the lane even when no opposing traffic was coming. I figured the tourists were more understanding than locals of cyclists on this road. Maybe I was wrong but it is what I thought.
Once in the park, the road widens to three lanes — two in the up direction so faster drivers can pass those in the slow lane.
There was one courteous driver who passed. He was the driver of an 18-wheeler and my only thought was why an 18-wheeler was even on this road. But I was on the “shoulder” at that point which was about six inches to the right of the road. I heard him behind me and noticed he wasn’t going to pass even though he could. He waited until there was no opposing traffic. I gave him a high wave when I heard his engine rev to thank him for waiting until there was more room to pass. He responded with a quick but light reply on his air horn.
I was tapping out a good rhythm and saw a sign that Skyline Drive was two miles away. Then I heard a loud clap of thunder. I hoped not to see lightning. My glasses were keeping the rain out of my eyes but were fogging up a bit. I thought I saw a flash but wasn’t sure. But then, I was sure.
There was thunder and lightning all around. I know the safest place on a bike during an electrical storm is not on a bike. If there was an opening one could lay down the bike and sit low away from any trees. But I was in a forest. My choices were to keep going or to turn around. I had come too far to turn around and I thought I might get through the storm quicker by going through it. I continued climbing.
The rain was coming down very hard. The gullies next to the road were running full and flowing across the road. At times I was battling not only gravity but currents too. I continued.
The heaviest part of the storm did not last long, no more than 10 minutes. I was soaked. I wondered what the few riders who passed me thought. I alternated my pedaling in and out of the saddle.
On my rear 10-speed cassette, I knew I wasn’t in my low gear. And that became intentional. I reasoned that if I am going to climb Mt. Washington I have to make lesser climbs a bit harder. Not using all my gears was part of my plan.
Unlike mountain or hybrid bikes, there is no click shifting with gear numbers on my road bike. It’s all done by feel and if one must know, a quick glance back to see where the chain is on the gears.
I approached the summit and the pedaling became easier. I had made it. I biked over the summit to Page Co., and then stopped to check out my gearing. I wasn’t even in my second gear. Or third. I had climbed to the summit of Skyline Drive in my fourth sprocket which gave me a great feeling about my fitness level for next weekend.
I turned around for the reward — a fast descent back down to Sperryville on wet roads.
I left the house at 4:30 a.m. to drive to Kilmarnock for the Second Annual River Ride. We met at a YMCA Camp and I was rolling out at 7:45 a.m.
At 7:46 a.m. the phone rang. It was a referee wanting to know the rules for his U10 matches at 9:00 a.m. Now maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad but yesterday I included in my weekly message to referees not to contact me for answers you can find yourself. I explained to the referee the rules, briefly, and then instructed him to find and print the rules himself. Just one day to myself without referees or coaches calling. Is that too much to ask? Grrr.
This ride was much different from the Blue Ridge Extreme Challenge. That ride had a mass start at 7:30, this one did not. Actually, I learned later there was a mass start at 7:30 for those who wanted it. I just couldn’t get there in time. But it wasn’t required. Riders after 7:30 departed when they wanted so we all straggled out on our own. And I was there by 7:30 but didn’t see much of a mass start.
A bank clock displayed the temperature in Kilmarnock as 48ºF (9ºC) although it was in the mid-fifties when I was ready to go. I wore a jacket and a backpack (Camelbak without the water bladder) so I could remove the jacket later. Just before I started I noticed a young lady in a tank top. I thought if she could go sleeveless, I surely could get rid of the jacket. I took off the extra clothes and went out in just my bike jersey. It was chilly but not too uncomfortable and it would warm up into the high 70s during the ride.
I rode the first 10 miles solo then stopped at the first food stop at Shiloh. I needed to keep my energy level high although hated to use the time to stop. This ride was to be important to me. I am still experimenting with nutrition both before and during the ride and needed to monitor what I ate.
Funny thing about these rides. If you catch someone, you are, by definition, faster than them so you probably don’t want to ride with them. Likewise, if someone catches you, they are faster and you normally wouldn’t ride with them. But I had three high school kids go flying by me and in an instant I decided I would “catch their wheel.” I accelerated and fell in behind them and then there were four of us.
They weren’t too skilled in using pace lines as one guy seemed to do all the riding up front. Eventually, I went forward to take a turn pulling. And one needed to. It was a gorgeous day but very windy. On the flat terrain it seemed we were always going into a headwind (someone explain that to me someday) and the leader up front works about 30% harder than the following riders.
We rode together for about three miles when three other guys went flying by. They were probably in the early 30s. I couldn’t believe it when the high schoolers jumped on their wheels. I almost got left behind by the quick acceleration but soon there were seven of us in a line just loving life as we past a scores of riders.
Image I wanted to capture but couldn’t: Seven riders in a straight line and I was on the rear. I could only see the guy in front of me but the low rising sun made for a beautiful silhouette of seven riders on bikes. What great shadows. I would have loved to have sat up and been able to snap a photo but obviously couldn’t.
We rode together for about 10 miles when one of the teens dropped off. As they were discussing whether or not to slow and wait for him, another dropped, and then the third. And I thought they would drop this old guy! I was disappointed because I thought I might ride with these guys for most of 90 miles. I saw them briefly at the next rest stop (Heathsville, Mile 28) and then never saw them again.
I rode solo most of the way to the next stop. I passed a few guys along the way and was in visual contact with a rider from Kenya. Not too far from the Morattico rest stop (Mile 50) I was passed by three guys in a line riding hard. I decided not to chase them and then a woman went flying by and said “Those assholes are going so fast.” I said, “You can ride on their wheel if you want, I’m not.” I think she was with them and was upset they were dropping her. But within a half mile or so I was riding on her wheel and we went into Morattico together.
Morattico
Morattico was very pretty. It’s hard to believe that the Rappahannock River here, which it borders on, is the same river that flows through Fredericksburg. Here it is quite wide just a few miles before it flows into the Chesapeake Bay. The rest stop was at a town museum. I visited the very small, and quaint, post office. The postmaster saw me and said, “We don’t even have a bathroom here. We have to go next door.” I guess she saw a stranger in bike clothes and assumed I wanted to use the restroom. I didn’t. Since I work at USPS headquarters in Washington, D.C., I enjoy meeting some of our workers.
The run into Morattico was a stem, one of two on the day, and I only saw about six riders on their way back out. But when I left I saw a number of riders going to the rest stop. I must have been ahead of most riders.
The routes weren’t well-marked. I say that because if I have doubt that I’m on the right road then they’re not well-marked. At some intersections, there were small arrows pointing direction. The ride consisted of four loops, and depending on which ride you had to choose the right arrows. If you didn’t carry a course map, and I didn’t, you had to remember that we started with pink then went to green, then red, then orange, then red, then green, then pink. Easy.
In other words, if you came to an intersection that had both green and red arrows, you had to remember which one to take. They weren’t marked “Century – right” and “Metric – left.” Sounds confusing although now once I’m home thinking about it a simple way for century riders was every time we came to two colors, take the new one. Of course, that worked only if you could remember which one you were on. Sounds simple now but it wasn’t so much out on the road by yourself.
I was riding alone after Morattico and turned down a two-lane highway. The pavement was great but I couldn’t see anyone in the distance or behind me. I started doubting that I was on the right road and pondered just packing it in for the day. After 10 miles on my own, I came to an arrow and saw a sign for a ferry. I had remembered this as a feature and gladly rode to the ferry. When I arrived they were loading. It held seven bikes and two cars. There was a water stop there and I was told they were finally glad to see some riders. I was only the 12th rider to come by out of 150 or so registered century riders. Everyone was behind me.
The road leading in was Ottoman Ferry Road and the ferry crosses the Western Branch of the Corrotoman River. It has to be one of the shortest rivers in the world but it is pretty wide where we crossed. It was a treat to take the ferry to the other side. This marked 63 miles covered.
Merry Point Ferry (Original photo, 2007)
Two riders went ahead, one visited the porta-john, leaving four of us together. We began a climb, described as a three-mile climb but after Blue Ridge Challenge, I can’t remember anything other than a slight uphill. A husband and his wife were in front (in the picture above on the ferry), followed by Thomas, then me.
Merry Point Ferry (Photo, 2024)
I first started talking to Thomas on the ferry. He had been behind me and I was surprised he made it to the ferry when I did. I found out that he lives in the Virginia Beach area but was originally from Kenya. Thomas was good at sitting on people’s wheel and he gladly rode the third position in our line of four.
It was windy and it’s always hard to set the pace for the freeloaders behind. After a while, I rode to the front and told the husband that I would set the pace for them since he had been doing all the work. I fought the wind and kept going. After half a mile I came to a new color and we turned. I was surprised to see that I inadvertently dropped the husband and wife and was pulling just Thomas. And we would ride together the rest of the way.
Mostly I pulled but Thomas took some turns up front as well. We were a team. We stopped at Irvington (Mile 80) not realizing this rest stop was only two miles from the lunch stop at White Stone. We didn’t spend long at lunch, the live bluegrass band helped encourage us to leave sooner, and we headed for the last 24 miles.
A large portion of this was out on the peninsula to Windmill Point where the Rappahannock empties into the Chesapeake. It was very windy out here. On our way out we had passed a family coming back and we did overtake them after we turned around. This really was a highlight. The father piloted a 3-seat Co-Motion tandem with his two young daughters aboard. They looked to be about five and three years old. The younger one was slumped over sleeping, her head across her folded arms. But her feet were clipped in and her legs were still peddling. Priceless. The mother rode behind and she pulled a Burley trailer with a one-year-old inside. Sleeping.
At 100 miles, my century, I came in at 5:58 riding time and one hour more total stop time for rest breaks and the ferry crossing. My average speed was 16.7 which is what one needs to ride a 6-hour century. The total distance on the day was 104 and I could celebrate with ice cream at the finish. And a shower at the campground.
I waited for the family of five to arrive to talk with them although I didn’t ask any questions. I should have.
It was a nice ride although I enjoyed the support and terrain of the Blue Ridge Challenge more. This was too flat for my taste although the wind made it a challenge especially when I wasn’t in a line which was most of the day. I think I would rather climb for much of the day than ride on flats in such wind. I don’t know if I would do this one again but it sure was a beautiful route.
EPILOGUE (2024) – Written in 2007, slightly updated/modified in 2024. In 2007 we generally did not carry cameras and our phones were capable and poor quality photos. We rarely took photos with our flip phones. Eventually, I started carrying a digital camera with me for photos and eventually, that became unnecessary as the quality of the camera on cell phones became much better.
Seventeen years ago I did not have the amount of cycling gear that I do today. I must not have owned a pair of arm warmers but my description begs wearing arm warmers. Instead, I was taking a small backpack in which I could put a jacket. Why not fold it into my jacket pocket? I have no idea.
Our soccer tournaments are classified by competition and so too, are bike events if not by name. This would have been a lower-level event and probably did not attract more than the casual or recreational rider. I was probably one of the fastest riders on course that day but that was due more the level of the other riders and not me because I have ridden much faster over 100 miles.
This was before we had GPS computers that tracked our routes. Cues were provided on a cue sheet, markings on the road, or signs on course. I do not have a clue of where we rode that day other than what was contained in this post.
I did a stupid thing this afternoon. Much of my riding around Prince William County is on the bike paths/trails which follow the new roads in the county, particularly on Rte 234. But I need to take local roads to get there and Waterway Drive through Montclair is one of them.
Waterway Drive is four lanes, two in each direction, with a nice grassy median strip with trees and with curbs — no shoulders. There is no place to move except in the gutter beside the curb. On my way down Waterway towards the stop sign at Avon/Northgate, I was doing 34 mph, just one mph short of the speed limit. Still, some cars insist on flying by so I know they’re speeding.
Just before the road leveled out I was buzzed by a black SUV who got dangerously close – within a few inches. I didn’t respond with profanity or gestures. I just kept going. But as I approached the four-way stop sign, both our through lanes were backed up with seven to eight cars. I quickly came upon the line of cars and was able to move past them on the right to get up to the stop sign. Here the road does open a bit so there is a quasi-shoulder.
I had slowed and as I approached the front of the line there was the SUV. He saw me coming and swerved sharply to the right. But he tried to go all the way to the right and cut me off. I did put out my hand and slap his vehicleto get his attention and prevent him from hitting me. But then, here was the stupid part, I passed one more car then turned around.
Something said not to take this anymore. Clearly, without thinking I went back and pulled in front of his vehicle, basically daring him to run me over. Standing off my bike in front of the driver’s side headlight, I said to him, and his three passengers, “Play nice out here. You have a nice car and future ahead of you (he was probably in his late teens or early twenties and probably showing off for his friends) but if you kill one bicyclist you can be charged with manslaughter, lose everything you have, and spend a few years in jail. Just play nice.“
I didn’t yell. I was calm and used a conversational voice.
In retrospect, it was stupid because he could have gunned it and run me down. Except there was a car in front of us. He could have pinned me though. But I sort of felt protected because of the number of cars around. Call them witnesses.
But then came the surprise. He didn’t say a word. I don’t know if anything sunk in or not and will never know. But it was 70° and many drivers had their windows down enjoying the nice temperature. The people in the car beside him cheered me. “Alright! You tell him!” And the driver in the car behind his was cheering too.
For a brief moment, people were glad to see a bicyclist stand up to an idiotic driver. And maybe before he cut me off he also cut them off.
I went through the intersection before he did then wondered what would happen when in the next 200 yards when he got his chance to pass me for a final time. I didn’t give him that chance. I turned into the next driveway simply to let him pass without confrontation before resuming my ride.
It’s tough out there. I do not ever condone confronting a driver. They may be angry. They may be imparied. They have a big machine and they may use it. Heck, they could be armed. I rarely react to anything but on this day I did. And while it worked out OK, I am aware that it may not the next time so hopefully, there won’t be a next time.
