Friday B1 Ride
Posted: Fri Nov 16, 2018 9:48 am
They were playing it cool in the parking lot after the A1 ride rolled out. “Does anyone want an A2 ride?” Heads shook. Riders cast their eyes down, demurely. “No…we can all go as one group.” said one. “I’m not going to hammer today.” said another.
“OK, then. This is B1. No drop.”
About ten rolled out…mostly A1 and A2 types. A couple joined on the road. Everyone kept their cards close to their chests at first. Shelbourne was brisk, but no early moves. The group crossed to Blenkinsop, holding together. Everyone awaited the inevitable first attack. Who would it be? Where would it be? On Blenki?
It came on Mt. Doug Parkway. 3 smashed off the front heading up the hill, stringing out the group behind them. Someone foolishly…desperately…called “Steady!” but the gap just grew. They hammered up Ash, building on an advantage gained when the chasers had to delay their left turn for oncoming traffic. One of them bent his chain trying to keep up.
“This is too easy”, thought the leaders. “We should probably give them another chance.”
(note: some poetic license being taken…I don’t actually read minds)
Someone called for a foot down at the top of Ash. What kind of a race was this? It was a worrying moment. Such softness does not bode well for heroics. Then, to make things worse, one of the last to reach the top of Ash called out, “Remember…this is a no drop ride.” But as everyone knows, such words only cause excess twitching in the quads of hammerheads. The group rolled on, as the mechanical was still being sorted. One rider was back making sure Bent Chain could get home alright. When he looked up, the group was gone.
The chase was on. The rider back pointed his light up, in desperate hope that someone would shoulder check, take pity, and call for the group to steady. Maybe someone...just one person?...would remember that a B ride is a no-drop ride. They were only 50 meters ahead, after all…
Such foolish thoughts are for the weak. The group rolled on. But wait… a sign of hope! Heroically, one rider dropped back to help his fallen comrade. He towed the fallen rider for 3 km, chasing the group, but the rider back was already gassed from the initial solo chase. It was a hopeless case. “Go on…save yourself!” he called.
(Note: I did say poetic license right?)
At Arbutus and Queenswood, there was a quick check on the group. Was someone missing? “That Martin guy, maybe?” This was a perfectly opportunity to attack, but guards were down. Thinking was fuzzy. This worrying about the group really takes the mental edge off racers. So many opportunities squandered.
Thankfully from there (I’m told) people regained mental clarity and the hammerfest was back on. By BHP, only 4 riders of the initial 12 or so remained. I couldn’t say who gloriously prevailed in the sprint, because I was finishing my ride with B2. All I know was that it was a B1 ride for the history books.
Martin
“OK, then. This is B1. No drop.”
About ten rolled out…mostly A1 and A2 types. A couple joined on the road. Everyone kept their cards close to their chests at first. Shelbourne was brisk, but no early moves. The group crossed to Blenkinsop, holding together. Everyone awaited the inevitable first attack. Who would it be? Where would it be? On Blenki?
It came on Mt. Doug Parkway. 3 smashed off the front heading up the hill, stringing out the group behind them. Someone foolishly…desperately…called “Steady!” but the gap just grew. They hammered up Ash, building on an advantage gained when the chasers had to delay their left turn for oncoming traffic. One of them bent his chain trying to keep up.
“This is too easy”, thought the leaders. “We should probably give them another chance.”
(note: some poetic license being taken…I don’t actually read minds)
Someone called for a foot down at the top of Ash. What kind of a race was this? It was a worrying moment. Such softness does not bode well for heroics. Then, to make things worse, one of the last to reach the top of Ash called out, “Remember…this is a no drop ride.” But as everyone knows, such words only cause excess twitching in the quads of hammerheads. The group rolled on, as the mechanical was still being sorted. One rider was back making sure Bent Chain could get home alright. When he looked up, the group was gone.
The chase was on. The rider back pointed his light up, in desperate hope that someone would shoulder check, take pity, and call for the group to steady. Maybe someone...just one person?...would remember that a B ride is a no-drop ride. They were only 50 meters ahead, after all…
Such foolish thoughts are for the weak. The group rolled on. But wait… a sign of hope! Heroically, one rider dropped back to help his fallen comrade. He towed the fallen rider for 3 km, chasing the group, but the rider back was already gassed from the initial solo chase. It was a hopeless case. “Go on…save yourself!” he called.
(Note: I did say poetic license right?)
At Arbutus and Queenswood, there was a quick check on the group. Was someone missing? “That Martin guy, maybe?” This was a perfectly opportunity to attack, but guards were down. Thinking was fuzzy. This worrying about the group really takes the mental edge off racers. So many opportunities squandered.
Thankfully from there (I’m told) people regained mental clarity and the hammerfest was back on. By BHP, only 4 riders of the initial 12 or so remained. I couldn’t say who gloriously prevailed in the sprint, because I was finishing my ride with B2. All I know was that it was a B1 ride for the history books.
Martin
