Two Wheel Blogs

Route: Fruit Road
Time: 1:32
Miles: 27.8
Pace: 17.5

Riding Tunes: None. I left my iPod at home.

Where have all my friends gone? They've all disappeared.
Turned around maybe one day, you're all that was there.
Stood by unbelieving, stood by on my own.
Always thought I was someone. Turns out I was wrong.
~ The Jayhawks, "Blue"

It's 5:30 p.m., and I'm the only one in the parking lot ready to ride out. I'm thinking to myself, "I knew this was going to happen."

At the end of last Thursday's group ride, one of the riders had a flat tire. It's hard to change a flat tire in the dark, and it's getting darker earlier now. So as we rode into town last week, Louis Branz said, "Next week, the ride starts at 5:30 p.m.," then added "I won't be there, but I'll email everyone."

I never got an email from Louis. I don't know if anyone else did either. But there I was, ready to ride out at the new start time, with nary another ride in sight. I found myself facing the dilemna neatly summarized by Mick Jones of The Clash: "Should I stay or should I go?". I could stick around to see if they showed up by 6:00 p.m., the usual start time. But I wanted to ride now so I could get back before it got too dark.

I considered scrapping the Fruit Road route, turning around, and doing the Belk Park loop. Since I wasn't going to be riding with the group, I figured, I wouldn't be getting the benefit of riding the fast pace the group maintains. If was going to ride alone, I might as well ride the more challenging route with climbs. But I decided against it. It's Thursday night, and Thursday nights are for the run out Quercus Grove to Fruit Road. I decided to do the ride as usual, replicating to the best of my ability the Thursday night ride as I have experienced it this summer.

As I headed out Quercus Grove Trail, I went out at the same 18 mph pace the group always goes out at. When I turned onto Fruit Road, I picked up the pace, doing my best to keep it around 20 mph, just as the group does. An observation: it's a whole lot easier to maintain a 20 mph pace when you're part of a pace line, especially one of stronger riders, than it is when you're riding by yourself. Once I crossed Route 4 and headed for Marine Road, I picked up the pace, just as the group does every Thursday night and, true to form, I got dropped. :)

I had reached Route 4 in 32 minutes. I figured the group was probably rolling out at the usual start time, 6:00 p.m., which would mean they were probably just getting underway now. I wanted to ride for 90 minutes tonight, so I planned to ride down Fruit for another 15 minutes, then turn around. I expected that I'd meet the group on my way back. I pushed as hard as I could until I got to Wagner Road, then did an about face and started back. I expected to meet the group near the Route 4 intersection, but they weren't there. I rode on, but still they didn't come. Then it occurred to me: they weren't coming. No one else was riding tonight. I was "the Thursday night group," a group of one.

Realizing I would not be seeing the familiar pace line approaching from the other direction -- something I'd like to see, by the way, as I'm more used to seeing their butts as they ride away from me in the same direction I'm headed -- I settled into my pace. I rolled over the 55 overpass, hit the Quercus Grove Trail, and headed back into town. It was a beautiful night for a ride, and I'm glad I did it. But I missed having the other riders to push me. I always ride harder with a group than I do by myself. It's good for me. I call it my "group therapy."

Run #13

A year ago, this was my fifth day of recovery after my knee surgery. I remember the first day after surgery was the worst. My morphine had worn off, and I pretty much lay in bed while the kneebender gently bent and straightened my knee for six hours, all the while wondering if choosing to have the surgery wasn't a terrible, terrible mistake. Each day of recovery got a little better, as each was marked by some minor milestone that suggested I might be able to make it through:

• Day 1: No milestone, just misery.
• Day 2: I was able to hop to the kitchen on crutches and make coffee. Basic life functions slowly returned to normal.
• Day 3: I got to remove the dressing, which allowed me to see what my leg now looked like. This was a bit of a setback.
• Day 4: I left the house for the first time, going to see my son run a warmup cross country meet. It was good to get outdoors.
• Day 5: I got to take a shower.

Now, one year later, I tried to run for the 13th time. (I didn't know it was my 13th run until afterwards.) I decided to run longer than I have before, so I added a half mile to my route. My stride didn't feel as even as it did on Tuesday. Since I was "going long," I tried to take it easy. I ran 10:27 out and 10:40 back for a total of 21:07, which translates into an 8:26/mile pace.

It felt good to run for 20 minutes again, especially as it allowed me to spend more time on the Nickel Plate trail -- and that's always a good thing. Now, as long if I can add another six-tenths of a mile to my distance, that's a 5k. And if i can do that distance -- without pain, without aggravating my repaired knee -- then it's just a question of how many seconds I can shave off my time.