Team Nature’s Path Racing Blog

For those who enjoy cycling very fast in a densely crowded field on a short loop with cracked pavement and nasty potholes (and really, who can resist?), Richmond’s Bryan Park is the place to be on a Tuesday evening.  My criterium goals are modest:  Don’t wreck and don’t get dropped. Usually I stay near the back, which is not to imply that it is safe there.  When you’re bringing up the rear, all the crashes happen in front of you.

On alternating Tuesdays the race runs counterclockwise around the 0.8 mile loop. I prefer counter-clockwise, in part because I’m left handed and so over decades have grown accustomed to doing things backwards.  More important, however, is that in this direction a sharp left turn after the descent prevents the pack from mindlessly hammering down the hill.  This effectively mandates a 20 second rest period during each lap.  That might not seem like much, but it makes a difference.

During the first lap it was obvious that some on the course were novices.  They carelessly jockeyed for position, shifting from side to side with no warning. Careless. Dangerous. Dumb.

In lap 2 I moved up to the middle of the pack.  Despite the touch of claustrophobia from being surrounded, things seem a bit more stable there.  We flew over the Start / Finish line to begin lap 3, ripped past the spectator section with its cheering throngs, and turned left for another descent.

I consciously relaxed my grip, mentally forcing myself to slow my breathing.  As we approached the sharp left turn, a rider up ahead suddenly braked hard.  His rear wheel hopped as he turned, and the bike almost slid out from beneath him.  The bike in front of me hit him, and I hit the bike in front of me.  Amazingly, all the contact was rubber to rubber and none of us went down.

Recovering, I saw that the pack was getting away.  Ed materialized from nowhere, and nice guy that he is, yelled “Grab my wheel! Let’s get back up there!”  For those readers who are uninitiated in the art of group cycling, he was telling me to ride immediately behind him, so he could “pull” me with the force of his draft.  So Ed cranked it up and I struggled to hang on.  Shaken by the collision, however, at the next sharp left turn I dropped off as Ed worked his way back to the larger group.

Pursuant to the rules of this specific event, if dropped a participant may jump back on when the pack comes around again. So I waited, rejoining the pack for lap 5.  As I descended again, the rider to my right swerved to his left.  Evidently oblivious to my presence, his left elbow banged my handlebar.  I gripped it tightly (my handlebar, not his elbow) to avoid losing control. He didn’t react at all.  I did.  That was enough.

So in the space of just a few minutes I collided with other riders twice.  I emerged from the incidents with my epidermis and its contents generally intact.  Concluding that these facts counted as a win, I left the pack, pedaled casually to the spectator section, bowed to thunderous applause, and rolled my bike off the pavement.  It really wasn’t my day.  Why test the fates?