I'm Back, Baby! (Part 2)

Yesterday, I left you perched on the edge of your chair as I rolled off on the Cycleton Saturday morning group ride on the venerated FDR (Frustrated Dads' Ride) loop.  Or perhaps those two things are one and the same; I'm still sorting that out.  But I digress; the drama unfolded as... Well, really, there wasn't any drama to speak of.  Early on, I was mainly terrified of hitting a pothole or debris in the road that I couldn't see by virtue of being on another's wheel, but the group was good about pointing or calling out the serious hazards.

All images are screen captures from Reid Neureiter's video

Once past Tower Road, 56th Avenue pitched up, as did the pace, and the group started to string out.  At that point, I did what seemed natural; I moved forward and got into the rotating paceline at the front.  The front of the group, while potentially more exposed to the wind, is a better place to respond to changes and stay out of trouble.  Riders take turns at the front of the paceline, and with enough riders a constant rotation forms.  This takes a certain degree of finesse; when the rider ahead of you reaches the front and pulls off to the side to join the "retreating" portion of the paceline, good form is to maintain the same speed and not accelerate.  Then, once past the rider you were just following, the trick is to shift over in front of him and soft-pedal just enough that you match that rider's speed and the next rider starts to pass you.  I'll make no claim I was perfect, but with every pull I could feel old neurons firing and truly felt like I was back on the old Kirkwood ride from Houston to Fulshear.  I'm back, Baby!

The FDR loop is gently rolling, with the climbs just enough to invite attacks, and when they came I focused on smoothly joining the chase.  On the east leg of the loop, Imboden Road, there's a vaguely stair-stepping climb that made me dig deeper; some riders passed me, others flat-out dropped me as they attacked, but I held it together and didn't panic.  Over the top and then a short descent, and I was still with what I'd call the main group.

You can just make out the Gothic "R" on the back of my Rice jersey.  ARRRRRRRR!

Heading back east toward Denver, the group passed through Watkins, with some riders winding it up for the inevitable city-limit sign sprint.  Past Watkins, though, came the tough part of the ride for me: Miles of rough chip-seal pavement leading to a long false flat that got steeper and steeper as we progressed.  The hill is visible for a  couple of miles, so I gritted my teeth, kept the pedals spinning, and made it over the top in the group!

...while staring at the wheel in front of me.

From there, it's mainly downhill (and fairly fast) back to Stapleton.  I'm sure there was a group that went up the road, but that didn't matter to me.  I survived, and better yet, I had a blast!  My universe was expanded, not least of all by Strava, which showed me what other Strava users I had just ridden with.

What's more, during the ride I learned about the Park Hill Peloton (PHP), a group of riders that woke up early on Tuesdays and Fridays to ride down to Cherry Creek State Park, and quickly.  Suddenly, I had three days a week where I could ride with a fast group, I was meeting new people, riding became much more interesting, and I was pushing my fitness more than I had in a good while.  Life was good.  I could do 30 miles with PHP and get home by 7:30 a.m., and on Saturdays I did the Cycleton ride from the house for a total distance of 57 miles and still got home before 9:30.

Wow, I spent a lot more time on that than I expected.  Fear not, Good Reader, for the tale continues, but I shall end today's chapter until Part 3, when the weird and wonderful ride continues.