Specialized comes through

Sept 29

It took some convincing, but Specialized came through for me.
I refused to have the third Gossamer/FSA crank put on my 3 1/2 week old bike. Being bike fanatics on a scale well beyond me, they understood and bent over backwards to get me the Shimano crank. (If they hadn't you never know what might have happened!) It's on. It works. I'm happy.

Rob is relieved. I never questioned his technical skills, but under the circumstances, Specialized did. It's easier to blame the little guy in the shop than the big company supplying thousands of these cranks for their products. In fact, from what I've seen him do, and how I've seen him work, the list of people allowed to touch my bike has shrunk to Rob, me and maybe Tony. Period. Why? I can only equate it to the skill you'd see in a fine luthier, someone who intimately understands the individual instrument, listens to it speak, and carefully brings it's voice to true. That's an artist. How could I trust anyone else?

So, with my new and oh, so sexy titanium crank, I hit the Saturday route later than ever before. There was no time advantage, so I cut a couple blocks off the route and I kicked it in high gear. Really, really high gear. I swore I wouldn't make it 3 miles before they overtook me. I was riding consistantly around 20mph, they're typically at 25, but I didn't even see them till beyond the S curve.

I stayed with them a bit longer than usual before we split. When I hit the hill I used the lessons I learned last week. Shut out the negatives. Cut the voices. Breathe. Believe. Become the machine.

The hill shrunk again. I wonder how much of this is due to building muscle power and how much is building brain power...

Three guys waiting at the top this time.

I made the decision to ride with the boys and see how long I could keep with the group at the bottom. I had realized last week in sprinting on the hill, I was so hyped up with the race/chase part that I was always spent by the time I hit the bottom. This time, I fell right in line and held back. I rode tight in the pack. For most of the length anyway, then I got tired of riding the brakes and let it go.

The trouble with flying ahead is in the nature of aerodynamics. It's easier to ride in the draft of someone else than to continue to cut head first through the wind in the front. That's part of the reason these guys go so darned fast, they can keep up the pace easier in the line and really only have to pull the group for a short time when it's their turn at leading off. When they tire of the front, they break off and ride the wake to the rear and slip back into the line. That's another reason why I can't keep up... yet. You can't go as fast for as long alone, and they're not ready to let me slip in.

Since you're riding critically close to all the other riders in a group, you really have to know and trust them. You can't see the road in front of you, so you rely on the guy ahead of you to avoid critical situations. At 43mph riding downhill on a bike, a pothole, a twig, a rain gutter, a rock, a puddle are all critical situations. Hitting any one of them unexpectedly can throw you and everyone else behind you into a twisted mass of bodies and bikes. Touching the wheel of the bike in front of you can have the same effect. Is it any wonder they're not eager to have me jump in?

Anyway, I coasted to the front at the bottom of the hill, rode it for a while until I felt the drag of the wind and then found myself checking out once again as the boys passed. Now, here was something to think about... I bailed and I knew it. I chose not to keep up, I decided I couldn't, and I took it easy. I thought I was alone as I turned at the light, not too far behind the boys. I was running the route through my mind and contemplating cutting it short at the end.

Rob's voice suprised me from behind. "Come on Sandie, Show me what you're made of."

Busted!!!

If I had any idea he was back there, I would have kept up the chase. But since I had already quit, I couldn't get back into the game to chase Rob or the guy behind him. One more lesson learned.

I managed to recover some speed and complete the route and took home a bunch of food for thought.