The Gentleman's Ride '20

Race day... I mean "ride day."

Dr Mike arrives at my house to pick me up four minutes late, but that's six minutes early for Dr Mike.  We get to Rocky River Trail about a half hour before the race... errrr... I mean the "ride" starts.  Chase and Nick aren't there yet.  There seems to be a vibe in the parking lot that there's no way this thing starts on time, right?

It's a good thing I practice being in a hurry for those moments when it becomes necessary.

Nick and Chase show up, and somehow everyone is ready just in time for the socially distanced riders meeting.

For the first time (for us) we hear the rules.  Four person teams.  One rider can be lost, "Mulligan'ed" as it were. 

I confer with my team mates.

"Are we really gonna leave someone behind, like if they get a flat or a mechanical or something?"

"No," was the general consensus.

I am pleased.  I'd rather have a fun day in the woods than leave a man behind to fend for themselves.

One thing missing from the rider's meeting was the route from one trail to the other.  I kinda wanted to assume someone else knew where to go, being that this was Chase's idea, Nick got me into it, and Dr Mike did way more research on this event than I knew was even possible.  I thought it was just a flier on Instagram.  I did look at google maps the night before... just in case.

Probably the seventh or eighth time I rode my bike wearing my stretchy underwear super hero outfit in 2020.

We line up for the rolling road start.  I get right to the front.  I see Chase a row or two behind me.  Dr Mike and Nick halfway back in the pack and way off to the side.  I call them up.  As a single speeder, I prefer to start where I don't belong, fall back through the pack, and then work my way up later on the trail.

The start certainly feels less like a "ride" and much more like a race.  My heart rate is pegged... and I'm quickly losing Chase's wheel.  Look back... see Nick... further back... Dr Mike.  Single speeds are stupid.

Chase gets to the trail first... waits.  Finally, we all get to the trailhead, wait our turn to enter, and in we go.  Obviously, we can't stick together if we don't start together.

It does feel like a group ride... a sixty to seventy person group ride... which is as fun as it sounds.  Being the three lone single speeders in such a large group...  trying to keep momentum, blast up the steep climbs behind the Eaglers, I see my heart rate going from "chillin' on the couch" to "run for your lives."  Dr Mike, as promised, is slightly fading.  We stop at the top of a climb.  Wait.  Drink.  Pee.  Eat... whatever.  Gonna have a good day.

We get through Rocky River Trail generally unscathed.  Not the cleanest run through ever, but no wrecks or mechanicals.  Back in the parking lot, it's a ghost town.  Most of the riders blazed through.  Not us.  Take our time, grab bottles, wardrobe changes, eat, pee.

Out on the road and it's obvious that one guy on gears and three on single speeds do not a cohesive group make.  Chase is out front, I'm on his wheel letting him know what my max speed is... look back... Nick and Dr Mike are riding side by side having a chat.  It's apparent that we are not in a hurry.  Also apparent at this time, somehow I'm the one that's most familiar with the route, although I was hoping for at least one person to tell me I'm right.  I don't wanna add miles or end up on Highway 27.

"Just remember the way back.  Left at the Trump sign, right at the Trump sign, left at the Trump sign.."

Nick adds, "If you see a Confederate flag, you went too far."

The roads are busy, especially for people who spend most of their saddle time in the woods or greenways or neighborhood streets.  We get coal rolled.  Hard not to laugh a little.  

FREEDOM and all.

We make it all the way to Sherman Branch without seeing any riders coming back at us on the road... which means we're not an hour behind the leaders so okay?  We take our time in the parking lot.  Eat, pee, drink, a multi-tool gets broken out for the fourth or fifth time to adjust something or other.  A loose bottle cage, a slipping seat post, a popped-out fork seal.  Had I not rode the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 four days ago, I'd be tightening my chain and straightening my stem, so this is a judgment free zone.

We're in the woods and Dr Mike's legs aren't agreeing with him.  Cramps are knocking on his front door.  Give him a chance to stretch... I see the multi-tool come back out.  Whatever.  Suns out and I'm not on the couch.  Sherman is in perfect condition, we're just enjoying the ride... except Dr Mike.  He's fighting the cramps.

At one of our stops, I ask Dr Mike if he wants to skip one of the three loops.  We're all down to stick together, but I also would hate to see him in a pile of cramped muscle tissue.

"I'm good."

I'm glad we decided to stick together at the start.  

We finish the trail, stop in the parking lot, more stretching, peeing, eating, talking, the opposite of hurrying.  The sun decides to hide behind the clouds and the temperature drops enough to be noticed.  Meh.

Back out on the road and we're joined by a solo rider.  Chase is leading out the train of three single speeders and the loner.  Only nine miles to go...

I sense a disturbance in the force.  I look over my shoulder.  Dr Mike is gone.  As in, not even visible in the distance.

Uh oh.

"Chase, stop.  We lost Dr Mike."

Nick and Chase wait in the ditch, the solo rider rolls on, I go back hoping to find Dr Mike not a cramped up pile of human at the side of the road.

I get back to him, and yeth, it's totally happening.  His quads are locking up.  Oof.  Hard to spin a billionty RPMs when your quads are stuck.  He gets rolling again, we catch back up to the others... and s-l-o-w roll all the way back.

On the way back, Dr Mike says, "I would totally do this again."

That's the spirit... I think.

We finish to the cheers of the crowd that's still there.  Apparently, we're the second to last team that was still out there.  Who knew?

We didn't.

I had a good day with my friends.  I'm glad that Chase was patient with all his gears.  I'm stoked that Nick dragged me into this.  I'm certainly happy that Dr Mike got to do "a thing" in 2020 and didn't pull the plug.  I'm sad that the pizza was gone already, but happy that we were the last team tending to the keg in the parking lot.

This is (most of) my NBA bubble.  It's been a strange year of picking and choosing who I can spend X amount of time with in Y scenario at Z distance.  So many conversations had with people while the whole time in the back of my head I'm wondering where this person has been, what's their stance on science and politics, how long have we been talking, which way is the wind blowing today, would this person coal roll me on the open road?

I'm crazy.  We're all crazy.  Well, except the people yelling "I'M NOT CRAZY," because they totally are.

Speaking of crazy, mebbe go vote today if you haven't... mebbe?