(As an aside before I start this little report, I love having a team blog. Its nice to have a place to verbal dump that my mother doesn't read regularly, thus prompting the "do you EVER get any work done?" phone call.)
I've been a lawyer for almost six years, five at my current position. The infamous Monday/Thursday lunchtime "lawyer ride" has been going on for much longer than that. Richard, one of my coworkers, has been trying to get me join this ride ever since he found out, five years ago, that I owned a bike and rode it semi-regularly. I've promised to come along and reneged on that promise numerous times, citing work, fitness, rain, that it didn't fit into my Team Tedder Training schedule. Fear.
As of 1:30 this afternoon, I am no longer a Lawyer Ride virgin. Turns out that jumping into the two-wheeled shark tank wasn't nearly as scary as the lore would had me believing.
Here is what prompted the decision to join up today: Dave McHenry's stupid electronic scale. We had a discussion on Tuesday morning that I lost. And lost badly. I didn't think I'd be able to keep at my racing weight during my hiatus from serious training, but I also didn't expect to gain almost a pound a week during that time. You realize how many beers a pound per week is? Lets just say...more than four and less than five hundred. So with this in mind, I decided to pack up my extra luggage and ride with the boys to punish myself for my prolonged hedonism.
Boys? Did I say boys? I meant a whole herd of spandex clad men, most over the age of 40. We roll up and I see:
-Kits that came into circulation about the time I was born. In the 70s.
-At least two riders in cycling sandals. Not ironically.
-Fenders. Its approximately 90 degrees out. I need fenders to keep the sweat out of my eyes.
At this point, I figure that if I can't make it up Thompson in front of two 65-year old men in cycling sandals, there is a serious problem with my ability to retain fitness.
The ride rolls out and up Cornell at a leisurely pace until the group reaches NW53rd. One showdown begins there. I decide to take Thompson with the majority of the riders. As soon as we turn the corner, the acceleration begins. Although I can definitely feel the lack of intervals, tempo rides and generalized not giving a shit about getting my heart rate up, I make it up to Skyline with the front third of the group.
Then its south to Greenleaf. Eight hundred meters of stand up, grind it out climbing. Again, I'm nowhere near the front, but I'm also a long ways from the back.
Then its back downtown through the zoo. This was my favorite part of the ride. Until I got cut off by a bus, I was sitting comfortably in the slipstream of someone with twice my body weight and three times my cornering ability. And just rode the wave.
I'll be returning to this ride (and would recommend it to downtown dwellers), now that I have no fear of the group having to "slow up and wait for the girl." The route is fixed, there are least two regroups and the general level of bike-handling is high. And the male-female ration was at least 40-1. Score.
I've been a lawyer for almost six years, five at my current position. The infamous Monday/Thursday lunchtime "lawyer ride" has been going on for much longer than that. Richard, one of my coworkers, has been trying to get me join this ride ever since he found out, five years ago, that I owned a bike and rode it semi-regularly. I've promised to come along and reneged on that promise numerous times, citing work, fitness, rain, that it didn't fit into my Team Tedder Training schedule. Fear.
As of 1:30 this afternoon, I am no longer a Lawyer Ride virgin. Turns out that jumping into the two-wheeled shark tank wasn't nearly as scary as the lore would had me believing.
Here is what prompted the decision to join up today: Dave McHenry's stupid electronic scale. We had a discussion on Tuesday morning that I lost. And lost badly. I didn't think I'd be able to keep at my racing weight during my hiatus from serious training, but I also didn't expect to gain almost a pound a week during that time. You realize how many beers a pound per week is? Lets just say...more than four and less than five hundred. So with this in mind, I decided to pack up my extra luggage and ride with the boys to punish myself for my prolonged hedonism.
Boys? Did I say boys? I meant a whole herd of spandex clad men, most over the age of 40. We roll up and I see:
-Kits that came into circulation about the time I was born. In the 70s.
-At least two riders in cycling sandals. Not ironically.
-Fenders. Its approximately 90 degrees out. I need fenders to keep the sweat out of my eyes.
At this point, I figure that if I can't make it up Thompson in front of two 65-year old men in cycling sandals, there is a serious problem with my ability to retain fitness.
The ride rolls out and up Cornell at a leisurely pace until the group reaches NW53rd. One showdown begins there. I decide to take Thompson with the majority of the riders. As soon as we turn the corner, the acceleration begins. Although I can definitely feel the lack of intervals, tempo rides and generalized not giving a shit about getting my heart rate up, I make it up to Skyline with the front third of the group.
Then its south to Greenleaf. Eight hundred meters of stand up, grind it out climbing. Again, I'm nowhere near the front, but I'm also a long ways from the back.
Then its back downtown through the zoo. This was my favorite part of the ride. Until I got cut off by a bus, I was sitting comfortably in the slipstream of someone with twice my body weight and three times my cornering ability. And just rode the wave.
I'll be returning to this ride (and would recommend it to downtown dwellers), now that I have no fear of the group having to "slow up and wait for the girl." The route is fixed, there are least two regroups and the general level of bike-handling is high. And the male-female ration was at least 40-1. Score.
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