Team Nature’s Path Racing Blog

At 7:45am I lifted the snarling beast from the trunk rack and placed it gently on the pavement in the parking lot at Conte’s. It huffed and snorted, stretched out a bit, then pawed at the ground impatiently while I loaded it with water bottles and donned gloves and helmet. The sky was overcast but the humidity seemed low. With temperatures in the low 70s, conditions seemed ideal for a ride.

Chris of the Carytown Cycling Team waved from where he stood near his truck and I waved back. During the summer months Chris hosts the Thursday evening Hammer Fest through Chesterfield and Powhatan. That’s 37 miles of gut-wrenching, quad-burning, oxygen deprivation. Great fun.

At 7:50am Craig rolled in, casually holding a cup of steaming coffee. Standing still, Craig is faster than most of us mortals are when we ride our steeds. If someone whispers “Craig is here,” Contador shivers from the chill that runs up his spine. Founder of Richmond Pro Cycling, Craig is a powerful athlete and dedicated philanthropist.

Ten minutes later the group pedaled from Conte’s. About 20 of us rolled at a casual pace through back roads, turned west on Hungary Rd, then north on Francistown. Often the first few miles of this ride are deceptively mellow. In that momentarily relaxed state I found myself pedaling near my friend Bill, from Team Rostello. He glanced over at me. “Perfect day for a ride.” I had to agree.

In a compact double pace line we wound through the curves of Springfield Road, picking up the pace and accumulating several more riders the way an asteroid accumulates mass…by accretion. On the short rollers I stood in the pedals to stay with the group. We headed northwest on Nuckols Rd and the pace increased further. The digits on my computer read 23mph. That’s fast, but an average rider tucked inside a tight, long pace line can survive, benefitting substantially from the combined efforts of others in the group.

Wes, fellow member of Team Nature’s Path, rode with me for a few minutes. In a criterium earlier this year Wes found a pothole and took a nasty fall. The top tube broke in two places and his right arm broke in one place. Except for the first few weeks following the incident, however, this development did not significantly reduced his cycling mileage or intensity.

We headed north on Cauthorne, descended, crossed a bridge over a bubbling stream and climbed, accelerating dramatically. I’ve climbed Cauthorne hundreds of times, but for me this was the first time at 29 mph. From my position about two thirds of the way back, on the curving ascent I could see most of the pace line, now single file. Hamstrings and calf muscles shifted up and down like pistons in a well-synchronized machine.

The pack had grown to over 30 riders, which was not particularly convenient for vehicular traffic. It’s worth noting that the drivers we encountered were patient. Sometimes we cyclists could do more to improve the relationship.

We paused at the stop sign, then headed west on Ashland Rd. I rode with Oliver, another team mate. Compact and strong, he did very well in the 2009 Bryan Park criterium series. I told him he should move up from the B race to the A race in 2010. I think he will.

The pack turned northwest on Abner’s Church Rd. After the 90 degree turn in front of the big white church, we tore down the long straight pavement at an unspeakable velocity and I nearly dropped off the pace line. At the stop sign the group paused to wait for traffic to clear, so I caught up. There was just enough time for a quick gulp of water and then we were off again…north on Howard’s Mill, then southwest on South Anna Drive, then due west on Pouncey Tract.

This part of Goochland County is known as Rockville, and that section of Pouncey Tract is quite hilly. I slipped to the back of the pace line, struggling to hang on. Bill saw me, moved directly in front and said “Grab my wheel!” I did and he pulled me back to the group.

The pace increased further, and I pedaled in a frenzy to stay with the pack. We approached the Rockville Library, and that squat brick structure appeared slightly blue-shifted via the Relativistic Doppler Effect. As I fought to stay with the group, my team mate Ed pulled up beside me. Ed takes care of the web site for Team Nature’s Path. He’s the kind soul who links my rants and raves, giving me a somewhat wider audience than I might have if I just blew off steam in Speaker’s Corner over there in Hyde Park.

“Heck of a pace this morning. So when are you going to write another piece for the web site?”

I grunted a few times, then somehow ejected the words, “Maybe today.”

Several miles later the road curved to the right, and again I was the last one in the line. My computer said we’d traveled a little over 20.2 miles in 56 minutes. (I need to dig out my book on Einstein theory to see about adjusting that for time dilation effects.) The main point, however, was that I had shot my wad. Done for the day. I slowed and watched the rest of the group pedal off into the distance.

Left foot unclipped, I stood for a moment, chugging down the contents of my water bottle. Then I turned around and pedaled back the way we had come, somewhat more sedately.