So I've recently added a new stead to the stables. The ebay bargain of all bargains, a 1-year old Cannondale six-13 that had only been used as a demo bike at a bike shop in Maine. Due to the beatings that I've subjected the ol' Ridley to the past couple of years, it was time for a fresh start with fully-functioning componentry.
The Ridley will remain in my possession, but merely as a second-string training bike (once I replace the rear shifter/brake lever...
If anyone has an Ultegra 10-spd replacement, let me know). So I got the Six-13 built up on Saturday night and thought I'd break him in on the GCC ride Sunday morning. In addition to needing bonding time with my new ride, I needed some more serious saddle-time with an impending charity century ride coming up this weekend.
I figured on a nice 3 hour 60+ mile stroll through the beautiful countrysides of north Alachua county. But what I got was a 90 mile epic that took us all the way north to Watermelon Park! You have to realize that my arse hasn't seen more than 2.5 contiguous hours on the bike since last september, that's a long time ago! So me and my new bike weren't really ready for the 4.5 hours, but the 100 miles next weekend aren't going to be any better so what the heck.
Sunday turned out to be a beautiful day, sunny and cool with some northerly wind that I could've done without, but all in all, not a bad day to be out on the bike. We were moving right along with some initial members of the group turning off for a shorter option.
About 35 miles into our ride I reached for a drink but wasn't prepared for the tension with which my new bottle cages held my water bottles. Needless to say, the bottle went flying and I quickly pulled a u-turn to retrieve my drinking vessel notifying my ride companions that I'd catch back on but to slow it down just a bit. Normally, even with my "early-season fitness", I'd grab my bottle and bridge back to the group without too much trouble...but on this day, my white water bottle went camouflage by rolling into a pile of like-colored gravel on the side of the road. The red top, which would've given it's location away, had shot off like a bottle rocket when it was run over. After close to 3 minutes of rolling around looking for my fallen soldier, I found both parts and headed off in an effort to reconnect with the group.
I knew that they were a good bit up the road, so I dosed my effort over the hilly, wind-swept terrain. After a couple of miles of chasing, it became apparent to me that my only hope was that the group would slow to a snails pace and allow me to catch back on. I would later find out that two guys had actually dropped off the back to pace me back to the bunch, but when I didn't immediately start back in pursuit of the group, they assumed that I had turned around and headed for home. Little did they know that I was hanging about a half-mile off the back!
I eventually lost all visual contact with the carrot that dangled in front of me when we went through some very "back-woods/deliverence" style roads littered with turns and tree canopies. Thank god for the little green arrows painted on the road for the Santa Fe Century (the route that we were following), otherwise the next time you would've seen my face it would've be on the back of a milk carton.
Following my 15 mile time trial I finally arrived at the rest stop in Watermelon park just a few minutes behind the group. I was greeted with surprised looks and guilty comments like, "Were you off the back that WHOLE time?" It wasn't their fault though, I blame the tension on my water bottle cage and the ellusiveness of my stupid bottle. It was good training nonetheless and I did enjoy the scenery.
With the amount of matches burned during my chase, I knew I would need to conserve any remaining energy if I was to make it back to town with the group. Thankfully a tailwind accompanied us home and the 25 mph pace was sustainable from within the comfort of the pack.
I peeled off from the group to take a more direct route home once we were within about 15 miles or so. Even with my easy rolling pace home, I could feel the efforts of the day and the 4.5+ hours in the saddle. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was completely spent! A shower, quick bowl of pasta and a three hour nap was all that I could muster for the remainder of my weekend. Now I can live in fear all week long knowing that I'll be repeating the process this Saturday at the
Take Stock in Children's 4th Annual Scholarship Ride.
...as in, we may be some of the most spoiled sports fans in the country! To the outside observer, or even to the inside fanatic, it seems like all the Gators do is win championships. SEC championships, National Championships, football, basketball...we are steam rolling everyone!
