Five days, four rides, no hating of freedom
Ladies and gents:
Just because our ever-present lameness has kept anyone from updating the blog lately does not mean that we haven't been riding. In fact, Duke Cycling was out in force over the past few days, generally rolling obscene amounts of miles while consistently not hating freedom.
Saturday found CO2Cycle, me, Jonah, el Coachadora Kevin Todd, and three (anonymous for the purposes of the web) associated operatives headed down to Saxapahaw for a long, slow ride. (If you're having trouble figuring out how to say that, think "Sexin' my Paw-Paw." Just don't actually think about sexing up your (or anyone else's) PeePaw.) For better or worse, some of the associated operatives just can't go slow (fast bastids), so it ended up being a long, relatively fast ride down to the river. Highlights along the way included goats, goats-in-cages-in-truck-beds-talking-smack, hotdog stops, and pulling the old route switcheroo on the way home, thus dividing the pack. Total miles: about 75.
Sunday is widely known as a day for dirt, so CO2Cycle, myself, associated operative B.Bergeler (ok, anonymity is overrated), and two other contacts hit New Light. Other than a general dead-leggedness -- presumably from a little too much Sexin'mypawpaw -- it was a relatively uneventful ride: one lap, a little bushwhacking, and then some extra. We'll call it an optimistic 12 miles.
DukeCyclists rest on Monday...
...In order to be ready for FakeRacing Tuesday! CO2 issued a call to arms about FakeRacing, hinting that anyone who wasn't there probably had a little hate in their soul for that thing we (and FoxNews) call FREEDOM! DukeCycling does not hate freedom. (B.Bergeler does.) The crowd was a little light (presumably from all of the freedom-hating going around -- we may need to alert Sean Hannity), and the lollygaggers at the shop decided that we should, well, lollygag. Alas, it was not to be.
Instead, from the first time up Sinai we pretty much hit it hard. Big Steve (of Cannondale 'cross-bike glory, though he's now on his road ride) decided to work the pack early, and people were getting spit off the back all the way down Cornwallis and Kerley. By the time we made it to Sinai-take-two people were looking rough (and Big Steve was gone -- whatthe?), and while Rusty made a half-hearted attempt to attack CO2 on the climb, there was no hate of freedom in CO2s soul, and Rusty fell back in line.
Things smoothed out a little the rest of the way up Sinai and across University, with the remnants (I believe there were five freedom-lovers by that point) forming a fast, but fairly cooperative paceline. We did pick up a few late adds at the top of Sinai, but after some jumpiness on their part they began to work seamlessly with the group. As always, things started to slow up just a hair on Old NC 10, as people started to check each other out and prepare for the sprint. There was a little break about a half mile from the finish, which CO2 and another guy jumped on, and they were able to get a few yards down the road. The remnants of the pack were pretty scattered at that point, and when Rusty wasn't able grab the break it looked like the finish was going to be pretty interesting, with CO2 in a good position for the win.
Then I decided to do a little freedom hating of my own: as I caught Rusty on my slog (it couldn't be called a bridge) up to the break, I told him to grab on and I'd pull him up. You may be asking yourself why I would be helping someone who is by far the strongest sprinter in the group get into a position where he could easily take a break that was wearing itself out? Because evidently in my oxygen deficient state, I hate freedom. It's hard for me to admit this, and it may not be conscious, but why else would I aid Rusty, aka Bin Laden's sprint devil?
In any event, with me spent, the break eyeing each other and equally spent, Rusty was easily able to take the last fifty yards or so for the win. Dammit. Total FakeRace miles: 30ish.
Not to be daunted in our quest for freedom, DukeCyclists planned a Revolution-and-Independence ride for Wednesday the Fourth, with plans of long, easy miles, hotdogs, PBR, and the like. Once again, associated operatives were enlisted, and they ultimately proved our undoing: while B.Bergeler joined Jonah, CO2, and me in a laid back approach to our holiday, Steve and Geoff from DCC (yeah, it's the Bicycle Chain now, but it will always be DCC to me) had other ideas. (DCC newby Ryan was also involved, though less with the leg-breaking-ness.) Instead of our casual ride down to hotdog heaven (aka Saxmapahaw, aka Sexin'mypawpaw), we tooled around Orange, Chatham, and western Durham counties for a few hours, alternately chasing county line signs, talking smack, and lusting over Geoff's new wheels.
We had a brief moment of paceline bliss, but generally it was a mid-range mash, interrupted by random sprints for arbitrary markers of supremacy. (My personal favorite is deciding a sprint line and then not telling anyone about it until I'm passing them and they have no hopes of grabbing on: good for my freedom-loving ego.) With no hotdogs, no goats, and even few cows, only Ryan's bonk served as distraction. Even then he didn't reach the always fun silly-hallucination stage, just the tired and painful stage, which isn't fun for anyone. Still, it must be said that we did a lot of not-freedom-hating on the ride, celebrating all kinds of July 4th-worthy things on our roll, including revolution, the violent overthrow of government, political dissent, and the like: in short, the stuff that made our nation great. (Most of this celebration might have been internal, it must be admitted.) Bill O'Reilly would be proud. Total miles: 70.
And then we napped. And ate. And drank. And watched fireworks. And complained about our legs. And our sunburn. (OK, maybe those last two were just me.)
All told, we got in something like 187 freedom-loving miles under our belts in just five days -- not too shabby, I don't think. And if we tack on commuter miles during that time, I'm sure that most of us would be over 200, which signifies nothing, but is a nice round number to tell your friends. A few more days like this and we might actually find ourselves in shape!
Until next time, --DukePirate
Just because our ever-present lameness has kept anyone from updating the blog lately does not mean that we haven't been riding. In fact, Duke Cycling was out in force over the past few days, generally rolling obscene amounts of miles while consistently not hating freedom.
Saturday found CO2Cycle, me, Jonah, el Coachadora Kevin Todd, and three (anonymous for the purposes of the web) associated operatives headed down to Saxapahaw for a long, slow ride. (If you're having trouble figuring out how to say that, think "Sexin' my Paw-Paw." Just don't actually think about sexing up your (or anyone else's) PeePaw.) For better or worse, some of the associated operatives just can't go slow (fast bastids), so it ended up being a long, relatively fast ride down to the river. Highlights along the way included goats, goats-in-cages-in-truck-beds-talking-smack, hotdog stops, and pulling the old route switcheroo on the way home, thus dividing the pack. Total miles: about 75.
Sunday is widely known as a day for dirt, so CO2Cycle, myself, associated operative B.Bergeler (ok, anonymity is overrated), and two other contacts hit New Light. Other than a general dead-leggedness -- presumably from a little too much Sexin'mypawpaw -- it was a relatively uneventful ride: one lap, a little bushwhacking, and then some extra. We'll call it an optimistic 12 miles.
DukeCyclists rest on Monday...
...In order to be ready for FakeRacing Tuesday! CO2 issued a call to arms about FakeRacing, hinting that anyone who wasn't there probably had a little hate in their soul for that thing we (and FoxNews) call FREEDOM! DukeCycling does not hate freedom. (B.Bergeler does.) The crowd was a little light (presumably from all of the freedom-hating going around -- we may need to alert Sean Hannity), and the lollygaggers at the shop decided that we should, well, lollygag. Alas, it was not to be.
Instead, from the first time up Sinai we pretty much hit it hard. Big Steve (of Cannondale 'cross-bike glory, though he's now on his road ride) decided to work the pack early, and people were getting spit off the back all the way down Cornwallis and Kerley. By the time we made it to Sinai-take-two people were looking rough (and Big Steve was gone -- whatthe?), and while Rusty made a half-hearted attempt to attack CO2 on the climb, there was no hate of freedom in CO2s soul, and Rusty fell back in line.
Things smoothed out a little the rest of the way up Sinai and across University, with the remnants (I believe there were five freedom-lovers by that point) forming a fast, but fairly cooperative paceline. We did pick up a few late adds at the top of Sinai, but after some jumpiness on their part they began to work seamlessly with the group. As always, things started to slow up just a hair on Old NC 10, as people started to check each other out and prepare for the sprint. There was a little break about a half mile from the finish, which CO2 and another guy jumped on, and they were able to get a few yards down the road. The remnants of the pack were pretty scattered at that point, and when Rusty wasn't able grab the break it looked like the finish was going to be pretty interesting, with CO2 in a good position for the win.
Then I decided to do a little freedom hating of my own: as I caught Rusty on my slog (it couldn't be called a bridge) up to the break, I told him to grab on and I'd pull him up. You may be asking yourself why I would be helping someone who is by far the strongest sprinter in the group get into a position where he could easily take a break that was wearing itself out? Because evidently in my oxygen deficient state, I hate freedom. It's hard for me to admit this, and it may not be conscious, but why else would I aid Rusty, aka Bin Laden's sprint devil?
In any event, with me spent, the break eyeing each other and equally spent, Rusty was easily able to take the last fifty yards or so for the win. Dammit. Total FakeRace miles: 30ish.
Not to be daunted in our quest for freedom, DukeCyclists planned a Revolution-and-Independence ride for Wednesday the Fourth, with plans of long, easy miles, hotdogs, PBR, and the like. Once again, associated operatives were enlisted, and they ultimately proved our undoing: while B.Bergeler joined Jonah, CO2, and me in a laid back approach to our holiday, Steve and Geoff from DCC (yeah, it's the Bicycle Chain now, but it will always be DCC to me) had other ideas. (DCC newby Ryan was also involved, though less with the leg-breaking-ness.) Instead of our casual ride down to hotdog heaven (aka Saxmapahaw, aka Sexin'mypawpaw), we tooled around Orange, Chatham, and western Durham counties for a few hours, alternately chasing county line signs, talking smack, and lusting over Geoff's new wheels.
We had a brief moment of paceline bliss, but generally it was a mid-range mash, interrupted by random sprints for arbitrary markers of supremacy. (My personal favorite is deciding a sprint line and then not telling anyone about it until I'm passing them and they have no hopes of grabbing on: good for my freedom-loving ego.) With no hotdogs, no goats, and even few cows, only Ryan's bonk served as distraction. Even then he didn't reach the always fun silly-hallucination stage, just the tired and painful stage, which isn't fun for anyone. Still, it must be said that we did a lot of not-freedom-hating on the ride, celebrating all kinds of July 4th-worthy things on our roll, including revolution, the violent overthrow of government, political dissent, and the like: in short, the stuff that made our nation great. (Most of this celebration might have been internal, it must be admitted.) Bill O'Reilly would be proud. Total miles: 70.
And then we napped. And ate. And drank. And watched fireworks. And complained about our legs. And our sunburn. (OK, maybe those last two were just me.)
All told, we got in something like 187 freedom-loving miles under our belts in just five days -- not too shabby, I don't think. And if we tack on commuter miles during that time, I'm sure that most of us would be over 200, which signifies nothing, but is a nice round number to tell your friends. A few more days like this and we might actually find ourselves in shape!
Until next time, --DukePirate
posted by DukePirate at 8:24 AM
2 Comments:
Bah. There's no such thing as freedom (and it's a good thing too).
CO2Cycle knows a thing or two about chasing teammates down on the DCC ride. Just ask him.
Having relatives in town, and being a known freedom-hater, my week of riding was the opposite of y'alls. So I squeezed my inner wretchedness into 4 by 4 minutes at 400 watts. Probably closer to 18.7 than 187 miles all told.
4x4x400, eh? That seems pretty ridiculous to me. You must be a sprinter or something.
What about some news about your stage race?
BTW, I'm not sure what freedom means anymore, either, but I am dead set against hating it.
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