Glenelg Gang-Up

Ouch.

That's shorthand for "oh-my-God-I-am-in-a-world-of-hurt."

I thought I was opening my suitcase of courage, only to discover that it was a portal into hell. And not a cartoon hell, more of a Hellraiser hell, complete with Cenobites, lashings, and exquisite suffering.

Pinhead was riding tempo. Hold his wheel, if you dare! →

The route was hilly (as expected). How hilly? Try ~2700 feet in 38 miles. Not Rocky Mountain-, Pyrenee-, or Alp-like. They were the best on offer within that route's radius.

And the speed was high. Very high.

How high? I usually ride those hills solo. When I do, I am pleased with an 18.5 mph average.

Last night my average was 20.81 mph. 10% faster than my best solo ride.

Oh, and I was dropped.

I was dropped relatively early, and then I worked furiously to bridge back to the "A" group. I used my mad descending skills (read: insanity) to shrink the gap, and I used a furious climb to just catch the back of the group. But...

I connected with the last wheel in the group near the crest of the climb. I gave everything I had to get there. Just as I was feeling the thrill of my accomplishment, I realized that the last wheel in the group...just got dropped.

Shite.

The rest of the ride was a fast run-in, endlessly hoping to catch the few stragglers off the front group.

Waaaay off in the distance is a figure appearing in the dust. Or is there? Delirium has a way of making the real fuzzy, and the unreal clear. →

Sometimes I would see a jersey off in the distance, sometimes I would only see a mirage. Sometimes I would think a distant mailbox was a rider, and other times distant riders became farm animals.

I eventually made it back, approximately 5 minutes behind the "A" group. I was a little down about that result, until I waited for friends who had flatted.

Twenty minutes later, in rolled the "B" group. Five minutes after that my friends rolled into the lot.

Conclusion: I wasn't that bad for an old man.

But the ride home was brutal.

Everything hurt. Indiana Jones hurt. My eyelashes hurt. My fingernails hurt. My hurt hurt. Ouch.

What doesn't hurt? →

And I was tired. Very tired. Twenty-minutes-to-eat-a-bowl-of-cereal tired.

And I hurt. (Did I mention that I hurt?)

I'm looking forward to next week!