Suburban Bliss

One of the good things about not racing on a holiday weekend is I get to go out and experience training without the usual car traffic. Whether you realize it or not, normal weekend days aren't always that great. At least out here away from the city. I'm not sure how you urban warriors do it. Everyone likes to complain, and it's not like I never have to deal with motorists who think anything and everyone is just in their way, but if I dealt with as much road shoulder warfare as I read about in some of your blogs, I suspect I'd give up the sport. Or seriously adjust. I know for sure I'd skip a lot of rides. It takes tons of motivation to head out when you already know ahead of time that you're going to be polishing fenders and boiling your blood with anger. That's not my idea of a good time and it's not why I do this stuff.

One of my old neighbors was a pro bike racer and he used to say he hated training on Saturdays. Having the luxury of riding the suburbs in the daytime during the week had spoiled him. When I started racing I worked the 3-11 shift at the factory (a real factory, not the figure of speech kind some of you guys call "work") and so I was much the same. The matinee ride is so much nicer than riding in the early evening. Lucky for me, last week I got to finish up Thursday and Friday with daytime soirees both days. Thursday was a long one down to the EPRO area and back, over the deserted flatlands known as Rehoboth, which are lightly traveled to begin with. During nearly five hours in the heat, I must have seen some cars, but I don't remember any; no moto-memories usually means a good ride. Friday was shorter. Then came the weekend.

The holiday somehow manages to shut things down for people. Maybe the landfills are closed or something. Part of it is just summer. Suburban car traffic is noticeably lighter. Especially in the late afternoons. Now I know many of the 45+ set like/need to head out at the ass crack of dawn to complete their selfish training regime before their spouse/kids/whatever awakens, but I'm not one of them. Not that I've got a problem with riding early in the morning. It has it's place, and you do get the roads mostly to yourself. Anything beats 10am-1pm on Saturday. That's the typical group ride schedule, and the worst time to ride IMHO. By 3 in the afternoon everyone has gone someplace (where?) and much of the time I have roads nearly as quiet as they would be at 6 am. Except warmer. And I'm awake.

On Saturday though, I had an important social function to attend in the afternoon and evening, so I did in fact train in the morning. Of all places I had to choose from, I rode my friggin' commute route over to Blue Hills. I rode the Big Hill in 5:26, not bad but not great, then headed over Chickatawbut to do the uber-steep but shorter and lesser known access road (still posted no bikes, but the gate was open). After that I rode over to Quincy and back, then hit the big hill one more time. Approaching the entrance, a rider rolled out of the museum parking lot, filing in behind me. I did not recognize the kit, and he had facial hair, so I didn't take much notice, figuring he was just a gumby. A ranger was opening the gate to get her truck through and we squeaked by to gain a slight rolling start on the ascent. I hit my timer, stood up and went. I sensed the other guy followed but I wasn't sure and sure wasn't going to give some Fred the satisfaction of looking back and turning it into a race. Feeling strong, I stayed in a biggish gear and powered out of the saddle almost all the way to the flat spot. Then I hear "on your left" and the guy spins by, saying "dude, nice pace." WTF? He took a few bike lengths right away, and I just kept going as this was, truth be told, a CP5 test for me. The guy just rode away anyhow, even though I thought I was doing all right. He probably pulled 20-30 seconds out of me by the summit, which I reached in 5:15. At the bottom the guy was waiting to chat and wanted to know if I was heading back up. I said no, I had a wedding to attend in two hours, so I'd be scooting. We exchanged pleasantries and he told me he was a Cat 1 from Oregon who was originally from here and just visiting. That made me feel a bit better.

That story was a side trip. The meat of this piece was supposed to be about heading out for a nice ride to Tower Hill on Sunday, then a shorter and even nicer ride around Sharon and Walpole on Monday. Both were done in the afternoon, and both had practically zero moto-traffic to contend with. But... what is up with casual morons riding on the wrong side of the road? In a one mile stretch, I encountered FIVE!!! Only one of them had a helmet. Of course, you pass them so quickly there's not much time to even lecture them. Somehow this has to be fixed. Since no drivers ever look right before pulling out of a driveway or side street, maybe the problem will take care of itself; I don't know. It's not what I need when I'm TT'ing with my head down. At least the pocket-motobikes have not ended suburban civilization as I thought they might. I think the lifespan of one of those POS's is pretty short, saving us.

There, a senseless ramble. What did I leave out? Oh yeah, I got to watch a stage of the Giro. Takeaway - keep the cadence up on the climbs. What else? Ummm, I haven't give the MTB any TLC, but maybe soon. A 5 am urban ride around downtown on a Sunday moring sounds like fun. Haven't done one of those in a while. Anybody up for that? Thanks for reading.

Recap, and oh yeah, I almost forgot. So I rode for five days straight and had zero issues with motorized road users, not cutoffs, no brush backs, nothing. Just two-wheeled bozos on the wrong side of the road. But the suburbs aren't always safe for everyone. Check out this story about the infamous "Wolfie.". Holy crap. Let's hope he's doing OK and will be talking up a storm at a race venue parking lot near you real soon. In a scally cap. Thanks for reading, again.