Back In The Saddle Down In The South

You see a tunnel of darkness, feel it closing in pain, shrieking with acceleration, and plummeting towards exhaustion. You rise against weakness, find peace in simple purpose, and your mind fills with a frenzy of speed. Going fast on a bicycle.

Visting Charlotte North Carolina last weekend, I had the opportunity to join a group ride on Saturday morning. I stood out like a sore thumb for a number of reasons, chiefly, I was showing a lot of skin. The day was forecasted to hit a high of around 60 degrees, and the cloudless sky promised not to interrupt any of the sun’s warm transmissions. I dressed accordingly, at least, I dressed appropriately for a Michigander. The ten other riders were clad in head to toe winter apparel, the kind I typically save for those days laced with snow. My bare arms and exposed legs made introductions obvious “this is Jesse, he’s not from around here”.

I was invited to the ride by Kyle Knott, and he introduced me to everyone in the group before we got started. Kyle is a cycling coach, beard enthusiast, and former collegiate criterium national champion. He had offered this group ride as a telling way to see the local roads, make good on the beautiful day, and to have fun with other fast pedalers. I am glad he suggested it.

The majority of the ride’s 75 miles were spent at a reasonable pace, and I enjoyed conversation with everyone in the group as we rolled out of town and into the countryside. If you had seen us rolling by, you may have been impressed by the fluidity of experienced riders, each participating effortlessly and without instruction in an unseen dance against the wind. The spearhead of this dance is the pair of riders that sits on the front of the group, breaking the wind for the rest of the pack. After a short time, these riders waltz to the back of the group, willingly relinquishing their position to fresh dancers who take their place. In this manner, the whole group is in constant rotation, sharing the work at the font of the ride. As a happy side affect of this traditional procession, everyone gets a chance to chat with the rider next to him as the never-ending procession rockets down the road. By this method, cyclists are able to ride more quickly in a pack, and converse quite extensively in the process.

In this group was a spattering of ability levels, all of them fast. This became painfully apparent in the first of two “attack zones”. These are areas in which the rules of polite society are forgotten, and everyone goes as fast as they can for as long as they can. Trying to make it to the finish line (often the sign for the next county) first, and claim bragging rights for the day. Once the attack started, I jostled for position with the rest of the riders, but quickly realized I was outclassed. I held on to the lead group for about a minute, and then slipped out the back exhausted. I had gone as fast and for as long as I could.

When the attack zone ended, everyone eased off the pace to recover, and to wait for stragglers like me to catch back up to the group. When I did roll back into rank, I was smiling from ear to ear. The electricity of the attack was palpable, and even now writing this, I can feel the power of those riders who pedaled away from me and my frantic efforts of speed. It was a humbling and inspiring experience.

The second attack zone followed the same pattern as the first, and from there it was easy riding back to our original meeting place. Our four-hour group ride had already passed from action into memory. I said goodbye to the group, and the day’s excursion came to an end. I would be lying if described the feeling in my legs as anything less than exhaustion. But it would be misleading to say I was anything less than invigorated by the experience.

It feels as if your legs are made of lead, you step off the bike with effort, and the whole of your body begs for reprieve. A transition from disgust to anticipation begins, and the feeling of exhaustion is quickly forgotten. Soon, you begin to plan your next ride making ready to pedal again. Going fast on a bicycle.