The Robot Army held practice today at Forest Meadows. We climbed some hills, ran some single track, practiced dismounting adversaries with our green laser eyes, the usual routine. Riding with these guys is turning out to be seriously good for my game. Steady tempo miles keep everything running smoothly. This time, after we were done, my legs felt so much better than when we started I decided to run the gauntlet from North to South despite the traffic and make it to the Munson Monday ride. If I was a real stud I would have ridden there, but logistics you know- I do have some other responsibilities beyond riding my bike (had to put the cat in his sailor outfit.)
I made it to Munson with a minute to spare, but I soon realized nobody was going anywhere in a hurry. I waited the appropriate 4 seconds and took off solo. After a few minutes of spinning in the middle ring I began to picture them all behind me- chasing me. They were slavering dogs and I was the nimble fox. They were the landlord on payday and I the delinquent tenant. I felt a tingle all over and shifted up. I rode in this self-inflicted pensive state, rolling my tired legs around like I was breaking rocks under the warden’s hard gaze. I heard a chain slap echo through the trees and then I really started riding.
I passed three riders going the other way and held my line, breezing them like a subway blasting through the station. No more room on the express today.
I saw the colors of jerseys somewhere after the traditional trailhead, but I had just seen a rattlesnake, which detonated the firing pin of my last adrenal charge for the day. If I can just make it to the trees they will never see me again. I stood up and plowed through the only stretch of sand left on the trail and entered the trees sublimely out of control and completely calm.
I had just enough time to take off my helmet and act natural as they pulled up to the trailhead. I hope I never find out how much of a lead I had.