Lub_________________________________________dub____________________________lub__dub_________________________________________lub__dub___________________________lub__dub__________luddub____lubdub____lubdub____lubdub---We have a pulse!
The grimp was back on after a long, cold hiatus. I, who prefers to be called Zig-zag until further notice, washed the October mud off the Colnago cross and finally answered the call. After all, a sound training schedule does include climbing the biggest, 4 mile hill right out of the gate after 6 months off the bike, doesn’t it?
So, ill advised as it may have been, I met up with Brahma Mama, Legs, Birdman, and Butch, the well known trouble maker and first time grimpeur. Being that Butch was sporting three, count ‘em, three rings at the crank, he has been conferred the name “Trip”. This may also have connections to his sordid past, but I’ll never tell.
All in all, the ride went far better than expected. I rode without ego. I did not try to hold any wheels or participate in any reindeer games. I zig-zagged my way up all the steep hills and rode pretty much selfishly, to just try and make it back alive. We were at RECREATIONAL pace to be sure. To their credit, my fellow grimpeurs were uber supportive. There were no breaks, even though they were not discouraged. There were no tests of strength. There was no discord of any kind. The group stayed cohesive the entire 30 miles despite their handicap, me.
Of course, there are always one or two embarrassing moments. Still unexplained is why Trip and Brahma were at the top of the pike alone, Trip stripped to the waist, when the rest of us crested. What can a man and woman do in twenty seconds?
My own moment happened on Hopwood-Coolspring road. It has two steep climbs with angry coal trucks preventing any kind of energy conserving course corrections. Just yards from the top, it finally happened. Turning the cranks became too much for my diminished legs. Sigh, I was prepared for this. I swallowed my pride and pulled into a driveway. As my foot touched the ground, I chanced to look at my chainrings. There below me, my greasy black chain was wrapped around my big ole 52 tooth ring. DUH!
That’s about it. I will admit that when we got back to Haydentown, I felt a bit like the bull after the piquador. But, thanks to the patient support of my fellow Grimpeurs, my first ride in ½ of a year was a good one.