You know what’s pretty sweet? When you’re actually able to do something that means something with the fitness you’ve built.
Last night, after much deliberation and even more bitching and whining, I decided to join my cycling group for a ride. I had bailed on a colleague/cyclist/friend of mine a few times, and didn’t want to be “that girl” again. I also needed the spin to loosen my legs from the torturous lunges that had been inflicted on me that morning.
So I went.
Boy am I glad I did. At about 10 miles in friend hit what we think was a large rock. Or an armadillo humping a porcupine. Either way, it did something not so good to his tire. Usually, when there is an issue with a tire, it’s actually just a flat tube and is easy to change out. We all carry spares and in 5 minutes can be back on the road.
In this instance, the monstrosity he hit actually ripped open part of the tire, causing an issue that wasn’t easily fixed.
He was a trooper and continued riding, even though there was this bulging thing happening and it wasn’t exactly a smooth ride. But at 10 miles in, and 10 miles away from home, he didn’t have much of a choice.
At 15 miles in, on the ONLY sweet downhill we get on the whole route, it went from bad to worse. The tire pretty much exploded, and while there were no fantastic flying-over- the-handlebars gymnastics, the bike was no longer rideable. There wasn’t a tire repair kit in the world that was going to bring that back to life, and we were still 5 miles out from our cars if we went straight back, and 10 miles left in the usual ride.
*Cue superhero music*
I have a bike rack on my car that can hold more than one bike, and decided that if I wanted to call him a friend I couldn’t just make him walk 5 miles back with his flat tire and cycling cleats on. I took off without the group (which is much harder riding), and rode the FASTEST 5 miles OF MY LIFE.
Every time my legs got tiered or I got a little gassed I just reminded myself that someone was stranded on the side of the road waiting for me, it was getting dark out, and he would undoubtedly do the same for me.
So I pushed on.
In the end, I averaged over 20 mph on those last 5 miles, which is faster than I am typically able to ride with a group.
And my friend didn’t get raped and murdered by some backwoods hillbilly that thought his spandex were pretty.
So it was a win win all the way around.