Cyclists are a competitive bunch. I know, a rash generalization, and I am liable to be pelted with rose petals by the “smell the flowers” group. Fact is, I don’t know any of them. The ones that do allege to seek peace, harmony, and oneness with nature are generally sandbagging and will take the first opportunity to make me eat their dust.
Case in point, the Friday night ride, aka, the “TGIF Unwinder” The original premise of this ride, instigated by Peter Serratore, was a mellow way to end the work week. A casual ride, followed by a group dinner. That scenario played out for about a month. Then instead of unwinding, people started winding themselves up to “win” the ride.
I had occasion to lead several rides for the Appalachian Mountain Club. The AMC philosophy is that you should be an actual leader and make sure you’ve got all your flock at all times, unlike the CRW’s “cut your losses” approach. So I figured I would be in for a laid back ride, a bit slow for moi, but I could handle it. Not so. There was one woman in the group who was a bit slower than the rest, and I felt honor bound to keep her in sight. Meanwhile, the rest of the group was chafing at the bit, so I finally said if they wanted to go ahead they could knock themselves out, but if they got lost it wasn’t my problem. So I ended up “leading” the one slower woman, and everyone else left us in the dust. So much for laid back.
I am not exempt from this phenomenon. I’ll be riding along casually (as casually as I ever get) and I spy a cyclist closing fast in my helmet mirror. A powerful force takes over me, and I switch to warp speed in a desperate attempt to keep this interloper at bay. Or I’ll be on a CRW ride, chatting with my buddies when a rider goes off the front. Again, surge of hormones, and I find myself giving chase. Got to cover that break, even though we’re not in a race. That’s just the way it is.
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